#it’s like just sad and numb and tired and it’s all too much in my brain that I have no energy to express | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fatuismooches · 2 years

Note

Hello

I just saw your post with the fragile SO and honestly I loved it sooo much ❤️

Now I wanted to request kinda of a follow up. Like what if before you died you wrote them a letter, saying how much you love them and how they made your last days on earth so memorable and stuff like that. And they found it, like maybe a month or so after your death. How would they all react? (I'm specially curious of Capitano because you said you thought he would think that he killed you 😭)

I really love your writing and I plan to make more request in the future 👋

-🦎

♡𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞/𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐝 ♡

synopsis: The Harbingers are made of steel, unflinching in any possible situation. But it seems that even such strong beings falter in the face of their lover's death, especially after they find a letter you left behind. Can be read as a part 2 to this.

includes: all harbingers (platonic pulcinella) w/ gn! reader

notes: Hop on the angst train, everyone. This is the first completely angsty thing I've written, and probably one of my favorites + longest pieces. I hope you enjoy this sadness, anon...!

Pierro:

Pierro carried on. He went about his day, filing paperwork, assigning duties to new recruits. What could he do? There was no time to mourn. The entire Fatui depended on his guidance and orders. He couldn’t just drop everything to fully devote himself to grieving you. But everyone knew - in any spare moment he had, he was thinking about you. Thinking about how he used to be able to go home to you waiting for him. Thinking about the walks he took with you that were heartwarming despite the body-chilling temperature. Thinking about when you were alive.

It was another day when one of your maids came to him with a piece of paper. Of course, she was terrified at being in the presence of the Harbinger, but she presented a folded piece of paper to him, stating that she had found it while cleaning your room. Pierro hadn’t been in there for a while. He was consciously trying his best to avoid it, choosing to pick up work instead. He nodded and the maid quickly scurried out of the room. It was most likely a final memento from you. He should honor that, he thought as he took off his mask.

Dear Pierro,

Hello there, my love. I hope your day wasn’t too tiring. I know how you’re always swamped with your Fatui business and such. You’re the head Harbinger, you know! You should definitely abuse your power to get some more days off. You didn’t hear that from me though, not like I wanna keep you to myself or anything. Totally not because I’m dying to spend some more time with you before I quite literally die.

You know, sometimes I wish I was a Fatui soldier just so that I could admire you from afar some more. Those recruits are damn lucky, getting to see you more than I do. I don’t mean to complain though. I’m still tremendously grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying the best moments of my life with you. Yeah, even when I made jokes you still had that stoic look on your face but it was still hilarious. I loved when you would wrap me in your coat and tell me stories about Khaenri’ah. Even when you weren’t here, I loved when these random recruits would be scurrying to my room every so often to deliver your handwritten notes.

Truly, there’s no life I’d rather live than this one… minus the illness part though. I am sorry to make you shoulder another death, my dear, but I love you greatly. I will always be with you.

Quietly, Pierro put the paper down and rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ever since the fall of his nation, his heart had long gone numb. He had tried to ignore the prickling of his heart after your death, but your letter was really rubbing it on. When was the last time mere words could stir up such emotion in him? He didn’t know. But he promised you, this would not be your final resting place. Pierro knew, after fulfilling the Tsaritsa’s promise, he would see you again.

Capitano:

Capitano wasn’t very photogenic. After all, all you saw was a helmet shrouding his face in darkness along with his pitch-black armor and clothes. But you had insisted on taking a variety of pictures with him, claiming that it kept you happy. It wasn’t until later on when he stumbled across a scrapbook, with pages covered in photos of the two of you together, that he understood why. Since then, he let you do as you please. The doctors said it was good for you to keep occupied by doing things you liked. And well, it was rather cute, with all the decorations and fancy tape you added. Capitano often found himself looking at it to see what you added when you weren’t around.

But ever since your death, he hadn’t looked at it since. If he did, he didn’t think he’d be able to control the emotions boiling up inside of him. If he looked at your smiling face again, the pain and regret would be too much to bear. But as the days passed by and he continued to think about you, he couldn’t help but flip open the scrapbook, revisiting the memories he made with you so long ago. He flipped until he found a envelope in the middle, causing him to perk up. It had been sealed perfectly, even stamped with one of his seals. Now, Capitano didn’t want to invade your privacy, but what was inside called to him too much, and he very carefully unsealed it with a knife. Inside was a piece of parchment, similar to the ones he used to send you letters.

My knight,

I’m writing this after you just left for an expedition. You’ve just fed me breakfast (a/d fa//ed, but it’s f/ne b/ca/se it w/s c/te.) (The ending part of the sentence has been erased, but it’s still a bit readable.) We took an early bath together, and you helped me choose a nice outfit for today. You dutifully assisted me with my medicine and tucked me back into bed for some rest. Lastly, you’ve just tenderly kissed me with all the love in the world, my favorite part of course.

It’s too bad that I won’t be able to receive any more of your kisses soon. I think the sickness is really catching up to me, haha. (There are some doodles of the two of you randomly drawn in the middle of the paper, with lots of hearts and stars and rainbows. Maybe you stopped because you didn’t know how to continue.) To be honest, I’ve asked the doctors not to tell you, and somehow, they’ve listened to me. I just don’t want you to worry about me. Somehow, for someone as menacingly looking as you, you worry a lot more than I thought (no offense, though.)

I don’t want you to blame yourself for anything, my love. You genuinely made my life so, so much better. Even towards the end, I can only feel happiness that I was able to share some of my life with someone so incredible. You aren’t a monster. You’re the man I love dearly, the one who many people look up to all the time. You did everything and more, which really warms my heart.

I’m saying this because I know how you are and I need to knock some sense into you before you start getting any crazy ideas. Please don’t beat yourself up. If I could choose my destiny, I’d rather choose to be sick and be with you rather than being healthy. I’d choose you again and again, over and over, my dear. I love you, truly.

Carefully folding the letter, he tucked it into the envelope again and resealed it. He snugly placed it back into the scrapbook and closed it, placing it back into the drawer where he usually kept it. Capitano was used to the grief and destruction that war brought. But he wasn’t used to it when love brought these feelings upon him. His heart still hurt - terribly so - but… your letter seems to have brought him some peace. You would forever be in his heart.

Columbina:

It had been a while since your death. By now, everyone had become accustomed to hearing her songs every day. It was a constant reminder of your passing. Oftentimes, Columbina had begun to stay in your room longer than her own. You were gone, but something about your space soothed her soul a bit from all the grief she was going through. And she also liked to go through your stuff and remember different things about you.

There was a box that contained a compilation of the many songs and poems she gifted you, along with some that you created yourself with her help. Sometimes, she liked to go through the box and think about you, but she never had the time to inspect every piece. Until now, when she noticed that there was an unfamiliar piece of paper that she didn’t recognize. Columbina picked it up and began to read.

My lovely melody,

Lately, I’ve begun to sing more. I think you’ve inspired me. I hope you don’t mind me stealing that one song you like to hum the most. The only problem is that I don’t have enough stamina to sing for that long, and I think my voice is kind of off-key. But I promise I’m working on it! I’m not going to tell you yet because I want to surprise you with something nice, as a thank you for taking care of me for so long.

Actually, there’s another problem, and it’s that… (it seems that you wrote a lot of words here and then scratched them out; perhaps you were unsure how to word it) Well, I guess I don’t really know if I’ll live long enough to perform for you. It’s been kind of tough lately. But I’m going to persevere for you. Your poems have been helping a lot. We should make a book of them one day. And um, in the case that I don’t make it, I would like you to know how happy you made me.

I always got so giddy when I heard you humming down the hallway. Nothing felt better than when you would croon to me and massage my scalp and play with my hair. You are so comforting and sweet, and just - lots of things that would be too much to write. I always feel eternally fortunate that I was able to have a lover as amazing as you. You really did change my life. I love you very much, Columbina. Please don’t forget me.

Columbina’s usual smile had turned into a downward curve. Oh, how she wished she could hear you sing. Your usual voice and laugh had already been angelic to her, she knew your songs would be beautiful too. But you were no longer here. She would have really loved to hear your song. You would have been the best duet partner. But perhaps, you could hear her songs from the other world as she laid on your coffin once again.

Dottore:

Dottore hadn’t entered your room since your death. He was far too busy with his research and experimentation with resurrection. Mourn you? No, no, you weren’t going to be dead for long, after he finds the answer. You would be back in his arms soon enough. Both of you would be fine. That was, until no matter how hard he researched, he always seemed to hit a dead end. It was frustrating. He couldn’t believe it, but he was at the point where he willingly needed a couple of minutes to rest. Dottore headed to his room, but as he placed his hand on the doorknob, something stopped him and he looked over to the room next to his, yours. He silently walked over and opened your room, having not been in it for a while. The only reason you didn’t share a room was that his was very… bland, boring, not very comfortable, and not spacious enough for the medical equipment.

It was the same as he had left it, not bothering to change anything. You liked to decorate it, and he let you. Framed photos of the two of you were on the dresser, lights hung up around the room. It seemed to make you happy. But there was something he had not noticed before - a slip of paper sticking out from under the pillow. Dottore walked over and took off his mask - something he unconsciously tended to do when it was just the two of you - and opened the folded paper.

To Zandik,

I remember when you first took interest in me, looking at me up and down with your mask on, a wide smirk on your face. I knew my parents said they hired someone intelligent to cure me, but I sure didn’t expect it to be the second Harbinger. I think you already know this, but when I saw you, I was kinda scared for my life. And I was for a while, especially when you made me drink the most hellish concoctions and injected strange things into me. But long story short, I still fell in love with you somehow. Even though you were probably trying so hard just because you wanted to solve the mystery of my illness, I couldn’t help but think you were quite handsome when you focused on something so intensely. Your pointy teeth were the cutest. (The previous sentence has been erased but Dottore could still make it out. You were an idiot, he thinks.)

I don’t mean to insult your intelligence or skill… but I don’t think I’m going to make it, Dottore. I know you’ve been trying really, really hard (I was there the whole time, after all) to help cure me, but I think you know better than me about my condition. So yeah. I guess this is my goodbye… my parting letter.

I know you don’t care about anyone or anything really, but I hope you accept it when I say I genuinely enjoyed our time together. Yea, you were hella terrifying and a lot of scary stories drifted about you, but there was a lot of maniacal laughter and you rambling on about things I had no clue about, but I would always happily listen to you, Zandik. I would write more, but I don’t think you’re one for sappy words and stuff like that. So I’ll leave end it here. I love you very much.

His mouth was a straight thin line at the end of your letter. Dottore put his mask back on and tucked your letter into his coat. For once, he couldn’t blame someone for insulting his intelligence. He did fail, after all. But Dottore was no stranger to failure. Experimentation was a series of trials and errors, failures and successes. He swore to himself that you would not be a failure. Perhaps his journey to Sumeru, the land of wisdom, would grant him some more insight for your resurrection.

Pulcinella:

It was just after your funeral. Surprisingly, all the Harbingers had gathered too. It seemed like they had grown somewhat fond of you after Pulcinella introduced you to them, at least enough to attend your funeral. Pulcinella was grateful. He had spoken a few words in memory of you. He couldn’t keep everyone for long. They had other matters to attend to. But in his heart, he had a lot of dear words for you.

Pulcinella sat down at his desk, deciding to do some paperwork to distract his mind. He pulled out the drawer to retrieve some items but he noticed a piece of paper stuffed to the back of it. He certainly had not put that there. He reached for it and opened it to read the contents.

Hey Papanella,

Do you like that nickname I came up with? I haven’t said it to you yet because I’m not sure how you’ll react. But I think it’s pretty cute. I haven’t said this out loud yet either but… um, I guess you’re like my dad to me. My own parents never cared much for me after my illness proved to be too much work, but you always treated me so kindly. So yeah. Thanks for being a father figure to me. Archons, this is kind of embarrassing.

I’m admitting this because I don’t know how much longer I have. I know you’re always encouraging me to keep living on, and I really do appreciate it. I’m sincerely trying my best, but I think my sickness has been getting worse. Ah, and thanks for introducing me to the Harbingers. They’re pretty scary but they’re kind of cool when you get to know them. Some of them are cute too. Please don’t tell them I said that. But really, for the longest time, I thought my life would amount to nothing, and that no one would remember me. But you proved me wrong. I truly enjoyed spending the last of my days doing old people stuff with you (just kidding of course!)

I’m going to ask you to tell me lots of more stories when I see you again. They really make my day. I like the ones about you in your youth the best. They’re the funniest. Anyway, I love you, gramps. Don’t miss me too much.

Pulcinella was old. He had seen things be built and broken down, people come and go. But he always hated it the most when he had to see youngsters go before he did. Especially innocent ones who had done nothing wrong. He just prayed, that whichever world you were in now, treated you better than this one did.

Scaramouche:

Ever since your death, the soldiers had been on the receiving end of Scaramouche’s insults even more. No longer were you here to hastily save them from his berating, much to their dismay. They actually appreciated you for stopping Scaramouche from giving them another verbal (and sometimes even physical) beating. But now if he wasn’t yelling at someone, he was deathly silent, which was why even scarier than his words. Everyone knew they were forbidden from speaking about you in his presence.

When Scaramouche had to visit Inazuma for whatever reason, he always found himself walking towards your house. Once he had came across the Tenryou Commission moving your items out of your house, due to no one living there anymore and the want for someone else to buy it. Needless to say, he swiftly dealt with them and sent them on their way with rage. They had tried a few more times and he did not hold back, until later they stopped coming, apparently after the head shrine maiden gave an order on the behalf of the Shogun to leave the residence alone. Hmph.

He doesn’t know why he keeps coming here, the only thing that’s different is the new collection of dust on the dresser. But the want to see you again keeps calling him, only to leave Scaramouche sorely disappointed. He thinks he knows every nook and cranny of your house, that is until he walks on a floorboard that caves in and nearly makes him fall. He’s about to lose his temper until he sees a piece of paper hidden under the floor. The words die in his throat as he picks it up to inspect.

To my beloved Kunikuzushi,

As I write this, you’re probably yelling at some unfortunate Fatui soul and they’re all trembling in their boots. Haha, I wish I was there to see that. You should be nicer, you know. But it is kinda funny to see you mad. I hope you come back soon… it’s getting too quiet around here without your quips and remarks.

But I know as you read this, I’m no longer alive. Kuni, I… (There are wrinkled spots around this area, presumably from your tears.)

I love you, and I don’t want rage and hatred to consume you again. I’m sorry to make your heart bear such pain again. It may be fruitless to say this, but please don’t blame yourself… it was out of our control. Please know I enjoyed every moment with you, whether you were cursing at some guy who bumped into me, even when you teased me relentlessly, or silently crying in my arms about your fate. But my favorite part was your soft smiles which grew more frequent. You are loved very much by me too. I want to see you smile more, many more times before I- (The rest of the sentence was scribbled over with a pen, making it unreadable.)

I wish I didn’t have to depart so soon… I wish I was born someone else, someone more strong and healthier… if I was, would our story be different, Kuni? Perhaps we’ll meet again one day… hopefully, sooner rather than later, and maybe I won’t be the same as I am now, but…

Will you wait for me, Kunikuzushi?

Scaramouche hated when he cried. He felt weak, stupid, and disgusting, especially when you were there. And somehow, he couldn’t help but feel worse than that when he finished reading your letter. He was never favored by the Gods, having been betrayed by one already. It seemed as though he was always fated to be betrayed by people he cared about. But he knew deep down that you didn’t betray him, he did instead by not being able to protect and save you. In an effort to bury his despair, anger, and grief, he would wipe himself clean of foolish human emotions, ready to ascend to godhood with his creator’s Gnosis…

Arlecchino:

Arlecchino’s days had been exactly the same ever since your death. They were the same as before she had met you too. Bland. Boring. Dull. It was after your passing that she truly realized how much your presence had added some thrill and color into her life. Now they were empty. But she was used to that. She had felt that way for a long time.

Arlecchino didn’t do much in her room besides sleep. Her room wasn’t anything special, just the standard and rich master bedroom. That was, until you took it upon yourself to decorate it. She hadn’t bothered to change it despite the style being very much different from hers. Today she had come in briefly to retrieve some documents under her bed. But, there was a random piece of paper there, collected dust on top of it, most likely from being placed there a long time ago. Arlecchino opened the folded paper and was greeted with your handwriting.

To my sunshine,

I bet you’re wondering why the hell I chose “sunshine” of all names. Even I can admit that you are nothing like sunshine. But I wanted to spice things up a bit, and to be honest, you bring a lot of sunshine into my heart and dreary little life, despite your stone-cold face. So yeah! I don’t think I can call you that to your face though. It’d be too scary.

I didn’t tell you, but I’ve had some people ask me why I chose to stay with you despite my health being what it is. My answer is always very easy - I love you, Arlecchino. Plain and simple. They don’t know how you are with me (which I’m kinda glad for… I want to keep this side of you to myself; yes, I know I’m greedy.) The way your lips quirk up for a split second then always turn downwards because you don’t want anyone to see. The way your eyes soften for a bit when I tell a corny joke. Or when I do anything actually. Your facial expressions are pretty cute.

Ahem, moving on from that, I guess you can say that I’m not too scared to say these things because I might be leaving you soon. Not of my free will, of course. Rather, it seems like the time my illness is allowing me to live is limited. Hopefully, you don’t notice anything off about me. I don’t think I could explain all of this in person…

But I am really thankful to you for sticking by my side for so long. Even though you don’t tell me, I know sometimes you lament about your lack of ability to be verbally and affectionately comforting. But I hope you know that I don’t really care about that. You are more than enough for me. You’ve done a lot more than you think. I’m forever appreciative, my dear.

Arlecchino was left speechless, the usual bite in her throat died down. As someone who had few kind words to say to others, having such sweetness directed at her was not something she was used to. But of course, a part of her wasn’t surprised, because the only person who’d utter such things was you. It pained her, and even the children who cried after your death, greatly. But whenever she needed a reminder of you, she would uncharacteristically gently trace her fingertips over the words of your letter.

La Signora:

Everyone knew to stay out of La Signora’s way after your death. She was cruel before, but your passing seemed to reignite all the flames of anguish and hatred she harbored deep inside her broken heart. Once again, her walls had been put up to be unbreakable.

Rosalyne had gifted you a lot of makeup and accessories. She liked to experiment on you and liked it when you tried it yourself too. You had kept everything in a nice big box so nothing would get lost. One day she felt drawn to it again. She knew she was missing you dearly again, and although opening it would just cause her heartache, she couldn’t help but pry it open to see how you kept it. But on top was a hastily folded letter, stained a bit by the surrounding makeup, tucked into a small compartment. She flipped it open and began to scan the contents.

My dearest Rosalyne,

Hello there, pretty lady. You know, that’s the first thing I thought when I saw you. Tall pretty lady. Did you know that? Now you do. Anyway, I was wondering - how many of your flame moths can you create at a time?? Can you make them form a heart or something?

Haha, I’m sorry for beating around the bush. The truth is I don’t know how much longer I have left. No matter how much warmth your moths provide me, for some reason, I always feel the chill of death creeping up my spine…

I don’t mean to be your second heartbreak. I’m really sorry… you deserve so much better than that. But for what it’s worth, you made my life a lot better than it was before. I hadn’t had much confidence in myself because of my illness for a long time. But you, Rosalyne… you made me feel like an actual person, as strange as that sounds. I feel like, when I’m with you, you make me feel so loved and special. I’m far from it but I actually feel like royalty. And royalty is really a life worth living. I don’t even know how you did it, but thank you. My life is so, so much happier thanks to you.

Hopefully, I make it a lot longer after I’m writing this letter. Maybe the Gods could finally take pity on me and give me some kind of blessing so I can stay with you longer. But if anything happens, I really, truly love you, Rosalyne. (The end of the letter has an origami moth colored in and taped to it.)

Signora’s hand trembled as she finished your letter. Her heart had returned to being ice, but it felt like her whole body was being swallowed up in red-hot grief and anger. Signora would dedicate herself solely to the Tsaritsa’s noble dream. It was the only thing she could do now, with nothing else to do and no one left for her freezing heart to love. No one could ever hope to understand the grief and pain she’s been through. Perhaps, that was why when she stood in front of the Raiden Shogun’s sword, she did not feel much regret.

Pantalone:

Whenever Pantalone went out, he often found himself looking through the windows of many stores to view their products. It was almost an instinct to pull out a large sum of Mora to buy anything he thought you’d like. And he still did this, only that he stopped halfway every time when he remembered that you were no longer with him. And his heart felt painfully heavy once again, like how heavy his smile felt with the pressure to keep it up.

The silence of his office had become a norm once again, your joyful presence no longer around to brighten it up. Pantalone opted to drown himself in paperwork to ignore it. Actually, he never realized how much the tick of the grandfather clock bothered him until now. Usually, your voice was loud enough to hide it. He sighed and reached for the bottom drawer to get some new pens to sign the documents. But his eyes widened as he saw a paper clearly laid out there, addressed to him at the top. His heart beat quickened as he carefully picked it up and realized it was from you. It seemed like you had experimented with some fancy calligraphy pens he had gotten you a while ago. And you had also stolen every stamp you had from him and stamped all over the paper.

Darling,

Hello, my love. Sorry for all the random stamps. I wanted to see what they looked like. Why does the Fatui need so many different-shaped stamps? You should make one of us, actually. And do you see I’ve been practicing my cursive script? (Indeed, on the back on the paper, your name has been signed in different styles.) I’ve been trying to do my signature all fancy like you. Hopefully, I’m improving.

I am thinking to make you read me a bedtime story tonight. I found a new one that seemed pretty cute. It’s a commoner falling in love with a nobleman… a tale of forbidden romance. It seems to go fine, until the commoner s/cc/mbs to (It seems that you scratched off the rest of the sentence.) Actually, I won’t spoil the ending for you. But by the time you read this letter, we may have finished it already. I’m just going to abuse that pretty voice of yours as much as I can (kidding of course… but no joke. Have you tried some kind of service where you just read things to people? I think you’d make a lot of money from that. I sure would give all my life savings to you.)

I guess since I’m writing this, I should say another thing I’m thinking about. I’m not sure how much longer I can hang on. I’m trying my best because I don’t want to let you down. I know you’ve been trying your best, with all these fancy doctors and equipment, but um… yeah. But I should also say that I’m not regretful having spent my time with you. You made the last days of my life so relaxing, so stress-free, so… nice. I’m glad I don’t need to worry about anything with you. Let’s move on from this, actually.

I’m thinking of a lot of things, actually. I wonder what you made the chef prepare for us tonight. Mhm… I’m getting hungry. Will you feed me dessert again too? Hah, I’m going to miss thinking about such mundane things. Hmm, I think I can hear your voice down the hall, so I’ll wrap this up. I love you.

Pantalone gazed at your words forlornly, his mouth formed into a downwards line. He had never thought the loss of something besides Mora could squeeze his heart so painfully, but here you were, making his eyes sting once again. Blinking back any tears, he made sure to store your letter in a safe place. He made a note to visit your grave today. He’d bring your favorite snack too, and read you a story perhaps.

Sandrone:

It was almost ironic - the puppet master had become a puppet herself. She didn’t speak much to others anymore, choosing to lock herself up in her lab. A part of her debated making some kind of robot or doll replica of you. But it would never be the same. She wouldn’t feel your warmth, or your natural, free laugh. Nothing would be similar.

Sandrone had begun inspections on all of her created robots. It was a grueling process she had gotten used to, but she missed the chirping of your voice as she did so. She worked in silence, opening the compartment of one of them when she was caught off guard by a formerly white paper, caked in dust, inside. The only person who had access to her Automatons was you. So could it possibly be…?

My forever,

I’m actually writing this in the same room as you. You're too preoccupied with your robot building and engineering and all that stuff, so you don’t notice me rushing to write all of this. I’ll make this quick. Actually, it’s hard to concentrate when you look so pretty and intelligent. Ahh, I’m so lucky to have you with me.

I think you’re repairing one of your robots so it can lift us up and take us on a walk. I’m excited. Those are always so much fun. I know you aren’t a sappy person. But I want to make my feelings clear, since I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to watch you unscrew some bolts and hammer down the nails. I don’t need to say it outright, do I? We both know I’ve been getting worse. Neither of us wants to say it out loud, but it’s reality.

Before I go, let me make it clear, since I know you like being blunt. You are my everything. Seeing your cute little robots send me these cute little messages really made my day. I think you told me a long time ago that you didn’t care much about human emotions. I think that’s changed now. I love waking up to see that calm and content expression on your face and watching it become a bit more softer when you see me. You’re more human than you think, you know. Some people think that being cooped up in a lab with a Harbinger is not an ideal way to live. But I beg to differ. I would choose no other way to live as long as I’m with you, Sandrone.

I think you’re finished with your tinkering. I’m going to have one of the robots hide this paper in them. I think some of them like me better than you >:) I wonder how long it’ll be until you find it. Hopefully, you don’t find it too quickly because it’ll be awkward to explain this to you. Either way… I love you dearly, Sandrone.

Sandrone gently brushed off the dust on your letter. She wished she found it sooner. She didn’t know whether it was good or bad her heart was finally feeling some emotion again, but she was grateful to have some final parting words from you. Sandrone had a bubble of inspiration float up in her. She had a good idea of what she was going to build next.

Childe:

Childe had found it after he was cleaning out your apartment in Liyue. He wanted to bring all of your stuff to his home in Snezhnaya. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t throw any of your items away, even the random useless trinkets. Childe’s chest felt hollow as he opened the door to your residence. He expected to see your face brighten and eagerly pull yourself out of bed to hug him. He’d easily lift you off the floor and spin you around, drinking in your gleeful giggles as he pressed his lips to yours. But now it was just the creak of the floorboards as he walked in.

Childe had a memory connected to every piece of clothing that you had. That one he gifted to you for your birthday. Another he remembered twirling you around in on a picnic. One of his sweaters that he doesn't remember you stealing from him, mingled with your scent and his. Archons, his chest hurt so badly, but there was nothing he could do as he neatly placed your items in boxes, emptiness consuming him. He was finishing up the packing when a piece of paper folded in half fell out of one of your pants’ pockets. Childe picked it up and his eyes widened when he recognized your handwriting and his real name. Sitting down on your bed, he began to read.

To my one and only Ajax,

My greatest wish is that you’ll never find and read this letter because it means that we’re living our best lives. We’re happy, content, still deeply in love with each other… living in bliss.

But if you’re reading this, then we probably didn’t go and do all of the cool and exciting things you wanted us to. I didn’t move to Sneznhnaya and I didn’t meet the rest of your family. We didn’t go travel to all the nations like you wanted to…

Heh, that’s too bad. I was really looking forward to seeing the same sights you saw on your travels. The pretty bloom of Inazuma’s sakura trees, the beautiful snow-covered streets of Snezhnaya. Remember that time you asked me if I wanted to conquer the world with you? Of course, since I can’t ever say no to you, I accepted your proposition. But in my head, I couldn’t help but think that you should probably choose someone who can match your ability and someone who is act/a/ly g/i/g to b/ ali/e. (The previous words have been haphazardly erased, making it hard to make out.)

You know I… (The ink here has bled through the paper, most likely due to you stopping there for a good while.) I don’t even know what to say, I’m just sorry. I don’t wanna leave you, I wanna be by your side forever, wanna be attacked by your cuddles every day. But the only thing I can do now is to make sure you understand that I’m truly grateful for you. No one else has ever cared about me as much as you did. You never stopped believing in me and always smiled when I needed you. You made my feeble life worth living.

Please don’t be sad. Teucer and the rest of your siblings need you. I love you so very much…

He didn’t realize how hard he was digging his fingernails into his skin until he started bleeding through the paper. Childe had been through endless battles, and fought countless enemies, but no wound had ever burned as badly as his heart did right now. Even in the Abyss, he did not feel as bottomless of despair as he felt right now. He wanted to hold you again too, Childe thought. He wanted to kiss you all over and show you how much he loved you. But you were gone, and the letter just solidified it more. He laid down on your bed, hand covering his forehead as he stared blankly at your ceiling. Biting down on his lip hard, he tried to prevent tears from flowing again. He would just go back to being the Tsarista’s weapon again, drowning himself in battle and blood just to feel something after your death.

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whispering-ways · 6 months

Note

Hear me out. Softdom!Mike (fnaf) takes you to work with him and wants you to cockwarm him while he looks over the cams

˖⁺‧₊˚♡ checking the cameras ♡ ˚₊‧⁺

◉ summary: mike takes you to work, but you become incredibly bored incredibly quick. luckily, Mike has a solution for that.

◉ pairings: mike schmidt x reader

◉ tags: cockwarming, nicknames like love and baby

◉ notes: anon I literally adore you for this, i know in my bone marrow that Mike is a soft Dom!!! hope you like this short fic!

You were always a fan of true crime since you were little. So when your boyfriend, Mike, offered for you to come with him during a shift, you jumped at the opportunity. I mean the place was just riddled with mystery; I mean missing children at an entertainment place? You knew there had to be some sort of clue to what had happened so many years ago and you were going to get to the bottom of it.

You were expecting a fun night of snooping around, but Mike had said that was absolutely not allowed. It was understandable; he was working hard at this gig and he couldn't have anything fuck it up for him.

Nevertheless, it actively killed any excitement the pizzeria once had. It didn't take long for you to become absolutely mind-numbing bored. You'd practically done everything you could in Mike's office. Flip through manuals, make paper swans out of old napkins, watch the training VHS tapes, there was nothing more you could do within that office.

"Well, almost nothing," you thought, looking over to Mike. You had to admit, he looked pretty good in a uniform and it's not like you had anything better to do. You walked over to his chair and climbed in his lap, thighs trapping him down to his seat.

His focus shifted from the cameras to you, moving his hands to hold you up from the small of your back. "What's up love?" he asks with a soft but tired smile.

"Babe~!" you said dragging out each syllable. "I'm so bored...can I please just ride you?" you whine.

Mike's face flushes red, but it slowly leaves as he lets out a tired sigh. "As much as I'd love that, and truly I would, I'm too fucking tired for that and plus I've gotta watch these cameras baby."

You didn't want to push him, so you nod your head, dissapointment written all over your face. You lay your head in the crook of his neck; if you couldn't have his dick inside you, you were at least gonna cuddle him.

Mike hated to see you upset like this. How could he concentrate on work when his love was in his arms feeling so sad? He patted your back, making you sit back up. "Why don't you just cockwarm me for a bit love? Itd be nice to have you around me while I look at the cameras."

You nodded enthusiastically, happy at the compromise. You quickly reached to pull your shorts off, leaving you in your panties as you ground down on his crotch. Mike put his hands on your hips, pulling you up just enough for him to unzip and push his pants down just enough for you to have access to him. He placed you back in his lap gently and you conrinued to grind down on him, feeling his erection poke through his boxers.

It didn't take long for you to pull down your panties and line yourself up with Mike, impatient to have him inside you. You slowly slipped the tip in, hissing at the stretch.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight~" Mike groaned out. You loved how raspy his voice would get every time you both messed around. You slipped all of him inside you, finally bringing your hips down to his. His dick filled you up in all the right places; although it was average in size, it made up in length with thickness.

Instinctively, you started to raise your hips to ride him, before feeling Mike's hands on your side again, pulling you back down roughly. "Remember you're just cockwarming. Don't disobey okay? If you're good for me, maybe we can mess around later after my shift."

"Ugh~ fine," you say reluctantly, sinking back into his chest.

He chuckles at how much you wanted him. "Good girl," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Something about being so close to Mike managed to make you sleepy and although you did your best to prevent it, you felt your eyes close.

You woke up to Mike tapping your back again to let you know it was time to go back home. You look up at him groggily before noticing you'd been cockwarming him all shift. Mike wordlessly helped put your clothes back on and led you back to his car, letting you sleep in the back seat as he drove him.

After checking in on Abby and sending the babysitter away, he brought you to his bedroom, gently laying you down on his bed. You instinctively pull the blanket around you, only to have it ripped away a few seconds later, the cold air now jolting you awake.

You look up to see Mike above you, blanket in hand and a smile stretched across his face. "Baby you can't go to sleep just yet. I have to reward you for being so good don't I?" he said in a low voice.

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jinnie-ret · 6 months

Note

Hi! I was just wondering, could you write a oneshot of reader feeling really tired/kinda depressed, like too tired to get up of the bed to get a drink, too tired to even talk and skz just helping them through it and taking care of them? It could be 9th member or just the groupd friend. It's ok if you don't want to or don't feel comfortable with it. Thank you! Lots of love!

slump

stray kids x best friend!reader

genre: angst, fluff

content warnings: mental exhaustion

word count: 1.3k

summary: your best friends notice you've been acting different recently, and help you through your mental rut.

Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you enjoy this one. And if anyone is ever feeling this way, you can always message me, or reach out for help :)

Asks are shut, but if you want to be added to my taglist, let me know! And reblog and like if you enjoyed! <3

MAIN MASTERLIST

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Love, can you open the door?" Changbin's soft voice called out quietly, yet you made no effort to move. You knew he could just as easily open your door and walk in, but he was waiting to see if you had the energy to do it yourself.

"I'll take that as a no," and he walked away from the door, probably back into the kitchen to inform the boys that their latest attempt didn't work.

It wasn't that you didn't want to see them. It was more that your social battery was drained. Not even a good night's sleep was helping you gain energy because, well, although you weren't having sleepless nights, there was still a lot of things weighing on your mind that was stopping you from wanting to do anything.

Buzz.

Oh. They were spamming the group chat again.

kangaroo🖤: remember to have something to eat!

bokkie🐲: pls eat smthn sweaty 💞

prince🖌️: lixie you did not jst call her sweaty that isn't gnna help 😭

mongmong🎤: ignore them sweetie just pls eat smthn if you have the energy yh?

cheese toastie🦊: our minnie is so sweet

quokka boy🥊: careful or he will chnge his mind 👀

kitty boy😼: i'm cooking u dinner rn

dwaekki💪: pls come out and see us love :(

And so the guilt set in once more. You could tell they were doing their best but for the past couple of days you didn't want to do anything at all. And whilst they had asked you, you shut them down every time and waved them off.

The next day, you were due to go into work, something your best friends were well aware of as they had checked your shared calender to see if there was anything upcoming that was overwhelming you.

When you rang into work to call in for a sick day, that was the first time the boys heard your voice in like 48 hours. Croaky. Dry. Exhausted.

Which is what prompted your next visit.

"Hey, Y/Nnie, I've brought you some water. You don't have to talk to us if you don't want to... but, yeah," Felix brought in a bottle filled with ice water and you could tell he didn't know what exactly to do in the situation without you responding to him.

You couldn't help but feel the gratitude within you after he awkwardly smiled at you, and so, you spoke up from your nest in bed.

"Thank you, Lixie."

Within a flash he turned around and grinned warmly at you, excited at just this simple interaction, because him and the boys had been worried sick the past few days. They knew everyone had their moments, but they had never seen you like this before.

After he left, you sipped at your water and continued to mindlessly scroll through your social media feed on your phone. There was still a numbness there. You recognised videos that would normally make you laugh yet no emotion filled you.

And that's what made you feel weirder.

You thought about other times people went into some sort of slump and they'd normally be sad, upset for some reason. But no, not you.

You felt emotionless. The loneliness wasn't what sucked you in yet it was like a part of your brain felt like it had shut off. And that lasted for the next few hours until the members caught you out of bed looking for something in the cupboard to eat.

"Oh, Y/N!" Han jumped back with a hand on his heart, yet you carried on in your sluggish efforts to make something to eat.

"You're out of bed?" Jeongin was shocked until he winced from the small slap on the back of his head from Changbin.

"Don't eat that, it's not good for you, here, heat this up," Lee Know took away the instant noodles from your grasp and instead pulled out a container with a portion of dinner he had made last night. He seemed to be taking control yet he wanted to see you do something for yourself. He hoped it was motivating and that the simplest thing of heating up your own food would lead you towards an upward trajectory of going back to your usual self.

You slowly padded across the kitchen to the microwave and shoved the food in, a gentle hand tapping you on the shoulder as you shut the machine's door.

"Let's talk, Y/N," Chan guided you to the sofa in the lounge connected to the kitchen, the rest of your friends following through. There was no choice in the matter, yet the eldest remained calm which reassured you slightly.

"We've been worried about you," Hyunjin spoke for everyone when he said that.

"Sorry," you whisper, picking at the threads of your baggy jumper sleeve.

"No, don't apologise. We just want to know what's going on in that head of yours," Seungmin leans forward as he speaks quietly.

You simply shrug.

"Y/Nnie?" Chan further prompted.

"I don't know," you shrugged again, not even knowing how to explain what was going on.

"You don't know?" Felix looked around at the other members, confused.

Just then, the microwave dinged, and you stood up to go and get your food, but Lee Know's hands on your shoulders stopped you.

"Don't worry about that now. Just talk to us, anything," his thumbs rubbed soothing circles before he moved away.

"I-I don't know what you want me to say," you brought your legs up to your chest.

"We know you had work today," Changbin mentioned.

"It's ok, I called in sick," you mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Do you have a temperature?" Han frowned, feeling your forehead but that answered his question.

"I just didn't feel like it... but not in like a lazy way but I just couldn't... mentally do it?" your answer came out as a rushed question, not even sure yourself but it made sense to the rest of the boys.

"Ah, sweetie, you should have said," Hyunjin pouted, feeling bad that you were struggling.

"Not that easy though, is it?" you looked up and saw Chan crouched down in front of you.

"It's not, we know that, but we want you to always know that you've got us to fall back on, no matter what, ok?" he grabbed your hands as he said this, squeezing them so that you knew he was physically there.

"Y/Nnie... you know you don't have to always have energy, right? It's ok to have your down days," Han said seriously, which even caused Chan to look at him surprisingly as he moved away from in front of you.

"I feel like..." you began, but trailed off shaking your head.

"Tell us, talk to us love," Changbin insisted.

"I feel like I have to keep telling myself I can do it, but I know I'm lying to myself, I guess?" you sighed, leaning further back into the sofa.

"You can do it, we all know you can," Jeongin encouraged you sweetly.

"But if you can't right now, that's also fine," Seungmin added on.

And there was no need for you to verbally respond, because these safety oozing from them was wrapping you in a nice comfy blanket.

Oh, and Felix was also wrapping you in a blanket, that could have been why you felt the sudden warmth.

"Right, now you can eat," Lee Know nodded, satisfied with how the conversation had played out.

"Me too, hyung!" Han and Hyunjin both dashed after Lee Know, begging him for food too, and with that you smiled.

"There you are," Changbin titled your head up as you smiled, his face mirroring yours.

"If all it took was for Han and Hyunjin to be whiny and complain, we could have had this conversation a lot sooner," Seungmin rolled his eyes fondly, thinking of the two 00 liners who were bickering earlier that day.

"Don't ruin the moment Seungmin," Chan tutted jokingly.

But it didn't ruin the moment. Seeing them act normally around you again after they had cleared up what was going on made you feel better.

You felt, once again.

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @backintomykpopphaseagain @sakufilms @hanjiquokkaaa @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z

#skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz fluff #skz angst #straykids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fic

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dilfprayers · 3 months

Text

Sad Girl.

older leon kennedy x reader tw; mentions of death / self harm & sex - old man leon being comforting sigh ( recent death island manga page fucked with my brain!!!! ahhh!!! he's a natural comforter!! )

Rain droplets trickle down the window - Your cheek brushed up along it and the coldness from it numbs your once warm skin. Tears are streaming down from your eyes while he sits there, one hand on the wheel as the other brushed your thigh gently. He tried being comforting, seeing the distress on your face. Prior to this, he did have to drive all the way to get you after you were drinking like crazy at a bar. Alone. You had previously got into a heated argument with your shitty boyfriend. No wonder why you wanted to drink your sorrows away. If anything, you probably wanted to rot in that bar anyways. Alcohol poisoning didn't sound too bad since cutting wasn't good enough for you. But luckily, you had someone who cared. Leon.

He was the guy you saw on the side after getting tired of your boyfriend. You'd see him, act normally and have sex at a motel. You'd completely slut yourself out for him. It made your pay better when you opened up about being into that 'daddy' shit. He was astonished and offered to pay more after that. Yeah - all that shit for some cash in your pocket cause your job wasn't doing enough and your boyfriend took your serious situations as some kind of joke. But that was besides the point -- you both developed some kind of relationship and he started to deeply care about you as a person. So of course, he wasn't gonna allow you to tear your life away like that. He had that alcoholic stage before.. So when he caught you at the bar, it put a strain on his heart and he got you out of there in an instant before decided to take you back home. Or at least, you thought you'd be going back home. "Hun, you don't wanna go back to your apartment. Do you?" You kept quiet, acting puzzled for a second. You wanted to play dumb, ask him; "What do you mean? I do want to go home.." Thing is, he knows. He just knows. Always did from the start. Your gaze remained down to his hand that kept rubbing your thigh. Normally you'd be turned on by this, heated from merely a touch on your body like that but this physical contact was what you needed. In a wholesome way of course - Something your boyfriend clearly lacked in doing. He never gave you the comfort or the time of day and if you had to go another day like this, sneaking with Leon at night then coming back home to your shitty boyfriend, you'd probably lose your mind. "Your silence answered my question... I'm taking you home."

"What-? Then why the hell would you ask me that question then if you were gonna take me back to my apartment anyways?" He's quiet then suddenly a throaty chuckle left him as the lights turned green from above, signaling the cars on the road to move again. The car rumbled and he continued to drive, keeping his focus on the road. "No darling, I think you don't get what home is."

"...What?" You're completely buzzed out - all that drinking clearly had you unable to think straight so he explained it for you at some point as the rain pours down from the gloomy sky. "I mean, I'm taking you with me."

With you? You wanted to talk back, protest even. Keep lying that you were fine but you kept your mouth shut, slowly slumping back into the car seat. This was the one time you were gonna allow someone to make a decision for you cause you knew that even with your protests, he'd do what he wanted anyways but that was probably why you loved him so much. He wanted the best for you, even if it was to take care of you.

He moved his hand away from your thigh, putting it on the wheel as he continues on driving. He did share a glance or two with you, putting on a warm smile before focusing on the road again. "Before you ask, cause I know you'll ask. I dealt with that guy. He won't bother you anymore." "Oh. But what about my-" "Your belongings? I'm gathering them tomorrow morning. I got everything covered. Don't worry your little head." Silent, again.. You quietly nodded, gazing back out the window while the rest of that car ride was quiet for the most part - He didn't want to bother you any further -- he just wanted you to relax and rest your head. You deserved that much after all the shit you've been through anyways. But even in your depressed state and him going behind your back to plan this out, you were nothing but grateful. "Thank you, Leon..."

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #🕍 — detowrites

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daenysx · 1 month

Note

I have one !! One for the road with my lovie james potter <333 im on my period rn and i just know he'd be the best !!! I need a hug from him !!!

join the 1111 followers celebration

thank you for requesting lovely, i hope you feel better soon! ♡

james potter x fem!reader, fluff

"is it too cold in here?" you ask, discomfort drips from your voice.

james shakes his head, it really is not. you frown, bury your face back to your pillow. a groan comes out and james puts a hand on your lower back.

"i can get you another blanket but that'll be too hot, sweetheart." he whispers. he rubs gently on your skin. "what about a cup of tea?"

you can't help your tears. you feel everything too deeply, a normal thing for the second day of your period. you can't feel your legs, your bones act like they are made of porcelain, and you can sense another cramp in your belly.

"baby." james leans in closer to dry your tears. "can i do anything to help? you're breaking my heart, don't cry."

"it hurts too much, jamie."

james coos, he pushes your hair back to see your face. "are you okay to cuddle?" he asks.

you nod. "but i need to go to the bathroom first."

he helps you walk to the bathroom because your legs feel numb. when you're securely inside, james goes back to the bedroom to fix the wrinkled sheets and blankets a little bit. he isn't sure if you want tea now but he can quickly make it if you ask him to. he tries to get some air into the room by opening the window.

you wash your face before coming out of the bathroom. james closes the window when he hears the water running, 5 minutes of fresh air is better than nothing.

"can we have some tea?" you ask, feeling a bit better.

james gives you a long kiss on your forehead. "of course we can." he says, huge hands cupping your cheeks. "i'll be right back, sweetheart, go get under your blankets."

you nod, do as he says. you sit with your back leaned to the headboard, you spend some time on your phone until james returns. he comes back with two cups of steaming hot tea, puts them on the nightstand before he sits next to you.

you hold james's hand, he massages your palm with his thumb. your other hand goes on your lower belly, your mixed emotions curl up in a ball deep in your chest.

"jamie?"

james looks at you. you have an exhausted look on your face, physically and mentally worn out. he wants to make the pain disappear. he wants you to tell him everything he can do to make you feel better. he wants to call his mom and ask her for advice. he just wants to know things about how to get through these a few days every month because seeing you like this, without your usual energy and smiles wreck him into pieces.

"cuddles?" you ask.

james pulls you to his lap gently, your legs are on either side of him. he's able to rub your entire back now, and it's great. you put your head on his chest, his body becomes a huge pillow.

"why do you look so sad?" you ask with a quiet voice, pressed to his chest.

"because you look sad, angel." he replies. "i know this is all normal but i hate seeing you so tired and upset."

you play with his fingers. "i'll be okay."

"hmm." he kisses your hair. "you'll be okay."

you settle down, james keeps rubbing your back until your tea gets a little drinkable. he holds you close the entire time, his palms cover your lower back and thighs. he presses gently, only enough to relieve the numbness.

you fall asleep before finishing your tea. james forgets his own cup, he's too focused on you. he kisses your hair many times, holds your hand when a cramp hits you badly. he can see that you feel better though. it was a difficult morning but he thinks he can at least show how he's with you through everything, and maybe that will help.

#1111 followers celebration #follower milestone #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james x reader #james x you #marauders #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders fic #james potter x fem!reader

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sugerplumig · 2 months

Text

Please don’t take my sunshine away🍎 Lucifer x daughter reader (angst)

First post! I’m excited (A/N this is prob gonna suck but ima try my best!)

Tw: cringe, blood, death, screaming?

~You are my sunshine. ~My only sunshine

I could hear my fathers lullaby lull me to sleep as he rocked me around the room.

~You make me happy..

I could feel him as he kissed my forehead

I could feel him.

I could feel his Love.

~When skies are grey

If only i’d clung onto this moment a little longer.

I could’ve seen the look he gave me as I dozed off.

~ You’ll never know dear, how much I love you.

A look of sadness. Maybe Regret? I’m not sure.

-Please don’t take my sunshine away.

“I love you dad.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”______________________________________________________________

A scream of terror was made that would make anyone freeze. As both Charlie and Lucifer looked up at the sky, they were almost frozen from where they were standing. There eyes full of fright.

My face and body was bloodied from Adams hands and he punched again and again. After Alastor disappeared to who the fck knows where, it was up to me to fight Adam off. And I did, I did dad I tried my best I promise! But I lost and I.. I feel numb.

I looked up to see Dad and Charlie on the other side of me, Adam holding me by the throat with an angelic blade.

“Adam drop her. She did nothing to you, it’s me you want right?”

Dad spoke harshly to the man.

”How about no. Because you know what after you took BOTH MY WIVES away from me it’s only fair I took your DAUGHTERS AWAY FROM YOU TOO!”

The man laughed a little to happily then looked at me. My eyes widened as I saw the blade about to make it to my chest.

“NOO-“AGHHHHHH!!!”

My screams of pain covered the scream of my father and sister trying to stop Adam. Even the fallen heavenly king could only watch and his daughter was being beaten and stabbed.

(after adams dies by nifty. I’m tired.)

“Y/NN!!”

Dad screamed as he scrambled over to me and tried to stop the bleeding from my chest. Charlie and Vaggie were there too and I could see Charlie crying into her girlfriends shoulder

“D-dad.. c-can you do me a.. favor.? I slowly asked, blood gurgling in my throat.

“OH COURSE.. A-umm.. A-Anything love.. tell me..”

His eyes watering looking down at me..

“Co..could you sing me our lullaby? I want to hear it one last time”

He smile sadly and nodded.. holding my head like he once t

did before and started to sing.

~You are my sunshine

~My only sunshine

I could faintly hear him start singing the song as my eyes got blurry

~You Make me happy

I could feel him as he kissed my bloody hair, pushing it out of my face

I could feel him

I could feel his Love.

~When skies are grey

If only I had stayed just for a moment more,

I would’ve seen Angel, Husk, Nifty Vaggie and Charlie all sniffing and crying

~You’ll never know dear how much I love you I saw a look in dads eyes before I fell forever asleep.

One of saddness. Maybe Regret?

I suppose we’ll never know

~Please don’t take my.. sunshine away..

“I love you Y/N…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin charlie #angst #x reader #x daughter!reader #tw death

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internet-ink · 5 months

Text

Hold me close and don’t let go

Leah Williamson x reader, Lucy Bronze x platonic reader.

Warnings - Angst, Hurt and comfort, Fluff, Mental health struggles

Summary - Reader struggles with depression and Leah is there for them

A/N - Feel free to send in requests! Leah’s acl injury is not a thing in this fic 🫡

———

Depression.

Something that you had struggled with since your late teens, and something that Leah and the rest of the Lionesses were very aware of.

You had your ups and downs, usually you done quite well to tell when a down was about to hit you and you were able to let the necessary people know - Leah, your close friends, the staff at England, and your therapist.

This time, however, was different.

It hit you out of nowhere, drowning you like you had just fallen into a body of water with rocks tied to your ankles. You were exhausted, your body ached, and your mind was a mix between numbness and breathtaking sadness.

Today was the start of the last England camp before the World Cup, and you didn’t want any chance of not being selected so you did your best to cover your black eyes from the night of minimal sleep with makeup and practiced your fake smile.

There was one issue - the girl that knew you best, the girl who could see through you like you were a piece of glass, the girl who was the England captain, the girl who also happened to be your girlfriend. Leah.

You hadn’t seen her in a couple of weeks since you played for Aston Villa while she played for Arsenal. This meant that she hadn’t actually seen you, purely due to you giving excuses of being busy with your team in order to get out of facetiming her. You knew she’d think something was up, especially when she saw you at camp.

———

“Baby!”

Leah shouted with a massive grin on her face after she saw you walk through the doors. You put on a smile, something that you didn’t have to fake too much since you were actually quite happy to see your girlfriend.

“Le.” You said in a more reserved tone, walking over to her and immediately sinking into the comfort of her muscular arms.

Leah could immediately tell something was up with you, with how quiet you were and how exhausted your eyes looked. She pulled you slightly away so she could hold your shoulders and look at you in the eyes.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, she studied your face with her signature frown etched onto her own.

Your smile faltered slightly as Leah studied you, quickly putting it back on. “I’m okay, Le. Tired.” You whispered.

Leah’s face didn’t seem satisfied with your answer, her brow furrowed further and her hands pulled you further into her body.

“You know that’s not true, Y/N/N.” She whispered in response, wanting to keep this conversation between yourselves - for now at least. “Talk to me.” She continued while she walked you both to the corner of the room, away from any looking eyes.

You shook your head. “Leah, just…not now, okay?”

“No. Not okay, you look horrible love.”

You managed to laugh slightly, though it was a mere pathetic puff of air out of your nostrils. “Cheers.”

Leah rolled her eyes before going back to her serious demeanour. “You know what I meant. You’re still my beautiful girl…but you just don’t look you.”

An awkward silence hung in the air before Leah decided to speak again, her left hand resting on your upper arm in a comforting manner.

“You’re having another down, aren’t you?”

Before you could respond you were saved by the bell. Sarina had called you all and it was no coincidence that you hurried over, Leah sighing at the horrible timing.

———

This camp you were roomed with your usual teammate, Lucy Bronze.

Lucy was a good friend of yours, with her slightly mentoring you when you moved up to the senior team. She was also someone that knew you well, but not as well as Leah did.

“Right mate, I’m gonna unpack then head for a shower” Lucy said while you laid down on your bed, spacing out slightly.

When Lucy didn’t get a response from you she turned around to see you staring out of the window.

“Mate?”

You snapped out of your daze, facing Lucy with a small smile. “Yeah, yeah that’s fine.” You nodded, not really knowing what Lucy had said before.

She walked over to you, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Are you alright?” She asked, noticing that there was something off about you.

You nodded. “Yeah, I‘ve just been struggling to sleep recently. Nothing too big.”

Lucy nodded hesitantly before she stood up from your bed and walked back over to her small suitcase.

“Okay…well just make sure to get a decent sleep then. Can’t have you sloppy” Lucy said in a more lighthearted tone, trying to erase the negative cloud that had entered the room.

“Of course Luce, don’t worry. I’ll have an early night.” You reassured her, knowing that tonight was probably going to be another one with minimal sleep.

The next day you somehow woke up more tired than the last. You hadn’t gotten to sleep until 3am, you were up just staring at the dark ceiling while Lucy was fast asleep in the bed next to yours.

You could tell she was concerned with her constant checking up on you but you didn’t think she was concerned enough to do anything, you just kept reassuring her that you were just tired.

Leah also hadn’t relented, your phone pinging with texts that you only gave one word answers to. You missed her, a lot. However, you knew if you fell into her arms one more time you would break down in tears and you couldn’t let that happen on the run up to the World Cup.

That morning after breakfast, Lucy went to find Leah before training started.

“Is Y/N okay?” Lucy asked her with a concerned look in her eyes. You were already out on the pitch with a couple of the girls.

Leah looked up from her boots to see Lucy standing over her. Immediately she sat up straight, the same exact look in her own eyes.

“Honestly, I don’t think so.” She replied with a shake of her head. “Has she been okay with you?” Leah asked Lucy before standing up.

“I mean…she’s not been upset or anything, she just looks very tired. Been spacing out a lot too.”

Leah knew for sure you were struggling, grimacing at the thought of her girlfriend feeling so sad. “Shit.” She whispered.

Lucy looked confused. “Okay mate?”

“Nah, she’s having a down.” Leah replied with a sad look on her face, Lucy immediately getting the severity of the situation.

After their little conversation, Leah and Lucy both ran outside to the training pitch. You were none the wiser on what the two had just discussed, however you now felt two very concerned eyes on you throughout training.

Everyone could tell something was off with you. You were having a hard time in training, your passes were sloppy, and you didn’t look like you were enjoying yourself at all.

———

Your sloppy training and obvious low mood went on for a couple of days. Leah and Lucy were getting more and more concerned about you.

After seeing your performance over the week Leah knew that she was going to have to speak to Sarina about this, both as your girlfriend and as the captain. She knew you’d be pissed but she also hoped you would understand where she was coming from.

“Y/N? Could we have a quick chat?”

You looked up from your dinner to see Sarina standing next to your table with a warm smile on your face. You nodded before standing up, Leah promising to tidy up your things for you while you were away.

Sarina walked you to her small office and invited you to sit down with a smile.

“So, how are you feeling?” She asked you after you both got settled.

You nodded, putting that fake smile back on your face. You were confused about what was happening but you weren’t going to question your manager.

“I’m feeling good, eager to get out there.”

Sarina’s smile turned into a more sympathetic smile as she heard your answer. “Okay, let me ask you a different question. How have you been feeling…mentally?”

Your face went pale and your mouth dry as you heard her. “Sorry?” You whispered out after a few moments of silence.

She sighed. “People have some concerns.”

You shook your head, not believing this was happening.

“Y/N, the whole team are here for you. You need to talk to someone if you’re struggling, you know this.” She continued.

A tear ran down your face as you realised there was no getting out of this. “I’m sorry.” You whispered in a broken voice.

Sarina handed you a box of tissues before looking at you with sympathetic eyes. “I think it’s best if we take you out of the starting line up for now, just until you get that mind of yours sorted.”

You nodded, wanting nothing more than to just get out of this room. Eventually, Sarina let you leave after coming up with a game plan on how to get you feeling better.

As soon as you left her office you saw Leah standing outside, who visibly deflated as she saw your state.

“Baby…” She whispered as she pulled you into her. You were too sad and tired to even be mad at her, and you subconsciously knew that she had done the right thing.

You managed to keep the majority of your tears in while Leah walked you to her shared room with Georgia, who got the message and left straight away when she saw how upset you were.

As soon as you were on Leah’s bed you broke down completely.

“Y/N/N, shhh.” Leah whispered while you curled up in her arms.

You were a wreck, with snot coming out of your nose and your shoulders shaking with your cries. Leah just held you and whispered sweet nothings in your ear, her previous experience meaning she knew exactly what you needed.

She rocked you slowly in her arms as you gradually calmed down. “I’m here, baby. Not going anywhere.”

Gentle kisses were placed on your skin while she stroked your hair.

“I love you, my girl.” She whispered.

Eventually, your cries turned into sniffles as you calmed down. You face was rested in Leah’s neck, who gently took your head and moved it so you were facing her.

She cupped your cheeks before kissing your forehead lovingly. “Beautiful.” She whispered with a soft smile.

“I’ve got snot all over my face.” You whispered in a shaky voice which made Leah laugh slightly.

“You’re still beautiful.”

You cuddled up next to Leah after you both laid back on her hotel bed, immediately putting your head on her chest with the sound of her heartbeat making you feel like everything was going to be okay.

“I’m sorry for not telling you how I was feeling.” You whispered as you took Leah’s hand and started to play with her fingers.

You felt Leah sigh. “It was rather silly, wasn’t it?” She whispered back, neither of you wanting to break the calm mood.

“I’m going to see someone.”

You smiled as you felt Leah begin to play with your hair. “Good girl, I’m really proud of you.”

That night you had your first good sleep you’d had in weeks, all in the comfort of your lovers arms.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #arsenal #fanfic #womens football #woso fanfics #woso one shot #leah williamson one shot #woso x reader #lionesses #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #hurt/comfort #wlw #lgbtq #trending #imagine

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azrielslightintheshadows · 5 months

Note

Hey, everything okay?

Thank you so much for fulfilling my request, I simply loved it! and I am completely in love with your writing!

If it's okay, I'd like to ask Rhys something, something sad but with a happy ending, because I'm a soft person. I thought of something, where maybe Rhys isn't spending time with the reader, and that's why the reader is feeling really bad, then when Feyre comes in and Rhys starts to help her, the reader gets worse, she stops eating, doesn't communicate much well with others and is lacking a lot in her training, but she closes her feelings of the bond and Rhys doesn't notice anything, and because of this, the reader becomes worse off, and perhaps thinks that Rhys doesn't love her anymore? Then, perhaps, one night where the Inner Circle would have dinner, perhaps to meet Feyre, the reader reaches her limit and ends up fainting?

And after that, she opens up, with difficulty, to Rhys, talks about her insecurities, jealousy and so on, and Rhys feels guilty, and starts to take care of her.

I know it's long, I'm sorry, if you don't like it, you can just ignore this

Together.

Rhysand x f!Reader

Masterlist.

Warnings; mentions of abuse, trauma and sexual assault.

It had been 50 years since you last saw your mate. 50 years since he last held you. 50 years since he last told you he loved you and you said it back. And one day everything changed, Amarantha was dead and you saw him again, he held you again and you told each other I love you again. But he wasn’t the same anymore. He would wake up sobbing, he would disappear in his office for hours and most nights he would come to bed after you had fallen asleep. At first you didn’t mind it because you knew he needed space and time to heal, you wished he would let you in, perhaps let you help him, but you respected his needs and backed off. Now though you felt like you were the problem, he had opened up to his brothers and was acting like his old self with them, with Mor and Amren too, but with you… he was still distant, he wouldn’t spend any time alone with you and when you were in the same room he would give his attention to anyone but you. If that wasn’t enough one day he left hurriedly and he didn’t come back for three days, and you had to find out by Mor that he took Tamlin’s bride -the girl who saved everyone from Amarantha- and he was keeping her in the palace above the court of nightmares. When you found out you immediately winnowed there ready to confront him about it, but changed your plans when you saw her alone, she was trying to read a piece of paper and you heard;

“Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord”

You almost scoffed at this and winnowed back to Velaris, you blocked the mating bond and locked yourself in the bedroom you shared.

Your appetite was gone, your body was numb and after some days you became an empty cell. You were losing weight, you couldn’t finish your training and kept to yourself.

Cassian and Azriel would stop by and ask you if you need anything but other than that you wouldn’t talk to them.

Mor and Amren were a bit more pushy but you handled them well and they let you be.

Rhysand was the only one who hadn’t noticed, well of course he wouldn’t, he was too busy with Feyre and you doubted that he still loved you.

You were laying in bed, staring at the ceiling -something you became really good at during the past week- when Mor walked in. She took a seat next to you and stroked your hair.

“Hey” she whispered and you looked at her. “Talk to me honey. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just tired.” You replied and turned your back on her. She let out a sight and got up “Rhys wants us all in the house of wind tonight… I don’t know why”

“Okay” you muttered and clenched your teeth. He sent Mor to inform you? He didn’t even want to see you anymore? Now it made sense why since that day you went to the court of nightmares he didn’t come home again. The more you thought about this you hadn’t even seen him since the day he took Feyre from the spring court. He came to Velaris you were sure of that you could feel his power but he never came home. You felt dizzy, was this the end?

You got up and took a bath, then you went to your closet and stared at your clothes. Nothing fitted you anymore, everything was hanging off you like it was four sizes bigger and it probably was. You picked a midnight black dress, you could see your bones sticking out in the places the dress didn’t cover you, but you couldn’t change, everything else wouldn’t stay in place.

You winnowed to the house of wind and hissed when your feet touched the ground, you were used to the drop but now… you were so weak that your whole body shook and you fell on your knees. You held the tears back and tried to stand again, Cassian saw you and ran to your side.

“Hey easy” he said and pulled you up “what happened to you?” He gasped when he took a better look at you.

“I’m fine” you muttered and walked inside. Azriel was there and he gasped when you walked in. You knew you looked bad but hearing the shadowsinger gasp made you realise just how bad.

You brushed them off and took a seat. Some minutes later you felt your mate’s power and you glanced at the glass doors. And there he was, his face was even more beautiful than the time you last show him. His violet eyes looked like the stars on the sky of Velaris, so bright and filled with emotions. And there was her too -Feyre. You stood up and took a step back. Your eyes filled with tears as you stared at her and the room started to spin. Your body ached, every bone seemed to groan and your head felt like it was going to explode. You couldn’t understand what was happening you only heard Cassian yell “Az catch her” and then darkness. You let the darkness embrace you with a smile, it reminded you of Rhys and you didn’t want to let go.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You groaned as sun hit your eyes. You opened them and you were met with the sight of the ceiling. Someone was there, you felt a hand holding your own and you moved your gaze next to you. Rhysand was sitting on a chair next to your bed, his hand was holding yours and his head was resting on the bed. He was sleeping. Slowly all the memories came back and you realised that you fainted. With a frown you moved your body away from him, the movement waking him up. He tensed when you removed your hand from his own and lifted his head to look at you.

“You’re awake” he said and his eyes filled with tears. You nodded. You didn’t know what to say, he was the reason you were in this situation.

“Sweetheart talk to me, what happened?” He asked.

“Like you care” you croaked. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Of course I care, what are you talking about?”

“I think you should leave” you replied and turned your head the other way.

“Don’t do that. Please tell me what’s wrong” his voice was breaking.

Anyone would be surprised by that, the most powerful high lord’s voice breaking but you weren’t, you knew him well and you had seen him in way more vulnerable moments than this.

“You.” You cried out. “You are the reason behind this. Ever since you came back you haven’t spent a single minute with me. You are fine with everyone else and then cold and distant with me”

He was gaping at you.

“You couldn’t notice that I was breaking apart, that I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t training, I wasn’t functioning properly. And how could you notice, you weren’t even there, too busy with Feyre. Do you even love me anymore?” You were panting trying to keep the sobs in.

“Of course I love you” he exclaimed and his hand went through his hair pulling it. He stared at you and guilt filled his eyes, with a deep breath he started talking again. “Sweetheart… you are right I’ve been distant and cold. But it’s not because I stopped loving you, it’s quite the opposite… I love you so much that it hurts. I love you so much that I can’t be around you after everything I had to do under the mountain. I slept with her, it was the only way to keep all of you safe. Every night I spent in her room I was thinking about you and how I was betraying you. Every time I left her room I would mourn… mourn our love that I betrayed. And when I came back I didn’t want to touch you… I didn’t want to defile you with those hands.” He was crying now and so were you.

“Oh Rhys…” you reached out to him and caressed his jaw. “I know what you had to do and I know why you did it… you didn’t betray me or our love, you were abused and it pains me so much. Those hands that I love would never defile me. You are way too precious for this world. Don’t push me away please… let me remind you what love is like, let me show you how deserving you truly are of love. We can get through this together.”

He nodded his head and climbed into bed next to you. He pulled you in his arms and stroked your hair, a few sobs escaping him. He kissed your head and whispered;

“Together”.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your mate was back. After that day everything changed. Rhysand talked to you about everything that happened under the mountain, you spent the next days with soft touches here and there and then you started making love again. At first it was hard, Rhys would flinch with every move you made but after a few tries he got used to it. A year later you had your mate back. He would spend most of his free time with you, he would take you on dates and trips. His caring self came back and all the little things he used to do to make you feel loved came back too.

Every night he would cuddle you, every morning he would make you breakfast and most evenings would be spent on the couch, with you laying on top of him and him reading your favourite books.

Like you said… you got through everything Together.

Hope you enjoy it.

Still working on the other requests.

Requests are open but delayed.

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twst-drabbles · 5 months

Text

Octavinelle 16

Summary: You’re in bed. The sun was highest in the sky, bound to dip but you’re still in bed. You get up eventually, knowing there are seafolk pets relying on you to feed them.

(Decided to say fuck it to the funnies and write the mental state that’s been plaguing me. But yeah, just wanted to put emphasis on the fact that I'm not in a state of sadness. I just feel so tired with this constant fog over my own feelings. Oh and this is just over a 1000 words.)

You felt like a low existence, sinking into your bed sheets that haven’t been washed in over three months. There was nothing to mourn about yourself, felt useless to indulge in any sort of sadness really. A bother, basically, to try and feel anything beyond just mild annoyance at your own smells and the too loud and too bright things of the outside.

You look over to your phone, long since overcharged with sticky notifications of habits you’ve broken and missed. You haven’t swiped them away, telling yourself that you’ll get to them eventually but you don’t. You miss a day and tell yourself that it’s fine. That you need a break. Then another break. Another day of rest, another day of being still.

Day after day, day after day. You haven’t been on walk for half a year. You stopped during the winter because your shoes were torn to pieces by a teething Floyd and never had the energy to just buy new ones.

It’s not that bad, really. You’re still alive. You’re not rotting and waiting around to die. You still drink water, you still get a bite to eat, even if it is only enough to make your stomach shut up for an hour. It’s just…

It’s a bother, to wash yourself, to clean your teeth, to go outside and be blinded by the sun, to do the same things you do every day. And it’s a bother to try and do any changes. You just don’t have the energy.

You’re running on empty, and the empty have to rest, because it aches to try and do anything more.

You snuggled deeper into your sheets, piles of blankets on top of you, weighing heavily upon your entire body. And just so you can get more on top of you, you made your room even colder than it ever should be. Just made snuggling into the blankets all the more nicer.

You missed the seafolks’ first feeding in the morning. This was the first time you’ve done this, but you know them to have enough fat to survive missing one feeding. Will they be grumpy? Probably. Pissed at you, most likely. But you also know them to store away any leftovers in their little hiding places. They’ll be fine. They can let you rest for a bit.

The left side of yourself has gotten a little pinched, a bit numb. You closed your eyes for just a little bit and woke up to suddenly three in the afternoon. You’ve laid on your side for too long again. You felt annoyed and when you felt a pulse in your head and a tightening of your stomach, only then did you bother to push yourself up.

You’re tired, you’re hungry and you’re thirsty. The nap did nothing but made breathing harder and your eyes drier than anything. But it was enough. It was enough to get you annoyed with laying in bed. So you reached over and drank your water. You didn’t want to brush your teeth, so you just used your gulp of water to wash around your mouth before swallowing it. Then you drank water again to refresh.

You finished the bottle and tossed it in the overflowing trashcan filled with other empty bottles. You got out of bed and walked out your room. You didn’t bother with shoes or getting into different clothes. You’re tired as is.

The blood has finally reached your head and the pulsing came back, this time behind your eyes. You had to squint as you opened the door to seafolks tank.

You heard three distinct chirps, all much closer than you expected.

You looked to the back, seeing the tank popped open once more, then you looked down just as Jade and Floyd were bodied by Azul right before they could munch on your big toe. Ah, you haven’t clipped your nails in a while. You just noticed that.

Floyd’s little claws clicked against the floor as he struggled to Azul off of him. Jade’s usually behaved self was replaced with a growling little eel, his jaws clicking and gritting as he whipped his tail about.

“…alright,” you rasped out, putting a hand to the wall as you guided yourself to the food you stored away, “yeah, probably should’ve expected this…”

Azul finally knocked their heads together and made the eels behave. You almost wanted to laugh, but the feeling was too vague to make physical. It was only a twitch of a smile you gave out as you dragged out a bag of cold whole fish. You had a fridge stored in here since you didn’t want your regular fridge to smell like their foods.

You closed the fridge and carefully slid yourself down to the floor. Even that task was tiring. You can feel your heart pumping beneath your ribs. You had to lean against the fridge just to cool yourself down for a bit.

Azul, evidently proud of his defending of you, basically strutted towards you with a grumpy and limp Floyd and an equally grumpy Jade who was huffy, but behaving.

Azul finally looked at you, at your eyes and your greasy skin and unwashed clothes. He tiled his head. You ignored that.

“Hey,” you greeted as you ripped open the bag and watched them all perk up, “Sorry about that. Here.”

You pulled out the fattiest fish into the air. Floyd shot out of Azul’s grasp, but was grasped by Jade’s own claw. Jade pushed his brother behind him and shot after the fish. He clamped his jaws right into its belly and now you have both a fish and an eel hanging from your hand.

You gently set it down so he can rip it up in peace. Floyd, not to be defeated, sunk his teeth into the head and immediately started to pull it apart. Messy eaters. All of them.

You shivered as Azul pulled himself onto your lap. He gave a low whistle at you and opened his mouth wide.

“Ah,” hand-feeding, huh? He’s feeling rather spoiled today doesn’t he? “Here.”

You gave him something small just so he doesn’t make a mess on your lap. Fish smell isn’t exactly nice.

“Oh,” you jumped just as Jade and Floyd coordinated together to bring their meal onto your lap behind the munching Azul, “Oh, gross.”

Well, so much for that. Cold, slimy, your sense really hate you right now. Well, you suppose this is fine. They’re having fun and it’s not like showering is that bad. You needed one anyway. Well, no not a shower. A bath. A bath isn’t bad. You don’t think you’ll be able to stand that long anyway.

Well, you’ll get one right after you have something to eat. You’re kind of tired of snacks, so you might heat up some hearty leftovers. After everyone has finished eating. You don’t feel like leaving right now.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #octavinelle #azul #azul ashengrotto #jade #jade leech #floyd #floyd leech #house pet au #reader insert

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nescaveckwriter · 22 days

Text

Lighthouse

A/N: 🐞... Okayz my dearest love bugs, 💕 another one done for @jacklesversebingo 🥰 yayaness, I know its been a while though, But I hope y'all are gonna enjoy this one, I must say I'm super proud and, a little terrified as this is 'Supernatural' based 🫣🤭, so let me know what y'all think.🥰 Okayz much love🥰❤️🩷

Warnings: *18+ Only* Horror, Thriller, Mentions of blood, violence, angsty, little fluff, heartbreaking, drama.

Line: Tree, Clock, Rope

Characters: Dean x Fem Reader, Sam, Benny, Cas, Crowley

Words: 6700 😱🫣 I know I'm sorry.

Cover & Pictures: Pinterest, Canva, Google

Side Note: Please check out my Masterlist for more, epic stories🐞💕

The sky has turned into grey, dark clouds threatening too cover the earth with its darkness, the smell of rain is everywhere as it nourishes the earth, as you stand under the pouring rain, listening too him say, goodbye, letting the rain mix with the tears on your cheeks. Not being able too move a muscle, you just stood there unable to make a single sound, unable to ask him why, why after this long, did he want to break up with you, did he want to throw away the life you built. Weren't you enough for him no more,? Is there someone else? Why Now?

The way he said goodbye wasn't with a voice filled with anger, no, his emerald green eyes was sad, his voice almost breaking when he said "I need too let you go sweetheart" and his lips found yours instinctively, it was a soft, kiss, mixed with the taste of him, salt and rain. You didn't want him too leave, you wanted to grab ahold of him, and beg him too stay, but before you could, he got in that Chevy Impala, the engine roared and the tires screeched, as he drove off into the darkness, not a single star in the sky, its almost as if the magic of the moonlight left with him.

Its been a little over three months since he left you standing in the rain, like some dumb country song, but you somehow found a way too move through your everyday life, you were a hunter before you met Dean, and you still are, well in all honesty saving people is the only thing that got you through the days.

It isn't really a job you tell everyone about, oh heck no!, its more a work you keep too yourself, letting your family believe, your just a traveling failure, well you always did kind of feel like you lost your way over the years, but these days your numb. Your best friend Sam doesn't even talk too you anymore, you don't really have a lot of folks who you could call, and say "hey, ya know I'm not really doing well, I need a pick me up or a damn hug" no you always kept too yourself, not trusting anyone, but the day you met Dean and Sam on a hunt it changed.! Sam quickly became your best friend and well Dean soon became the only man you'll ever love, even though he had his issues. And then there was Castiel the angel, he has always felt like a beacon of hope, making you laugh with his "I don't understand that reference" sayings. But the day Dean walked out they all left, leaving you completely alone in this damn scary world. It's not the monsters that scares you, no that you get, but it's the people. Every single person you have met in your life has a hidden agenda, why can't they just be good people.

Sitting at the diner in the small town, were you were investigating strange disappearances, ordering a black coffee, the display with the different pies catching your eye. Your mind wanders off to Dean's birthday... You prepared all his favorite foods, burgers, bacon, fries, the greaser the better, and then you started with the making of his favorite pies. But somewhere along the way you forgot about the pie's in the oven, letting them burn to a crisp, after you rushed in, trying to save what's left of the charred goods, seeing it was disaster, you wouldn't be able to save it, you burst into tears, cussing yourself for messing up what's supposed to be the perfect day, you felt his strong arms pulling you towards his chest, staining his shirt with the wetness of your cheeks. He's breathe hot as he kissed you, in a loving, comforting way, reassuring you everything will be okay, it's just pie's not the end off the world.

He always did know how too comfort you, how too chase the darkness away, he was your lighthouse, so to say, showing you the way, back too the light. And now, now there's no more light too go home. No more home, just nothing.

Taking a sip of the now cold bitter coffee, that kind of taste like, old shoes, not that you'll know how that would taste like, but betting its something like this. Placing the cup down, sliding the dollar's underneath the half full cup on the diner table, you get up, throwing your ball cap on, hair hanging loose on your shoulders, taking your leather jacket and phone, you start too head out of the small town diner. Walking towards your Harley Davidson, you've always liked the way, that bunch of metal, felt roaring as you sat on that leather seat, the wind rushing through your hair, the way those gas fumes, flowed through your veins, not even to talk about the adrenaline that went with it, oh damn, you felt about your Harley like Dean felt about his impala. Seeing a giant creep checking out your bike, leaning on it, irritation in your voice "excuse, what are you doing?"

His voice rough and unpleasant "why do you care, little missy"

Walking closer, your eyes darker than usual "that's my bike"

The bald man, with his long beard, hiding his tatted neck, started to laugh "No way such a small little thing can handle that sort of horse power"

"I'm only going to ask you nicely one more time, get off my damn bike!"

Crossing his arms in front of him, "Or what? You gonna call the little cops"

"No! I'm going to make you get off my bike"

"I'd like to see you try missy"

She really wasn't in the mood for this. So she tried to shove him off, but he was on the larger side and didn't really move a single damn inch. It just made him irritated "hey come here missy" he said as he grabbed a hold of your arm, you smiled, that made him look at you all confused, but he soon realized, he should not have messed with you, as you took his fingers, and started bending them backwards, bringing the big guy down to your size. With your free hand, you punched the sucker in the face. Got up on your bike, and drove down the road too the nearest bar you could find, for information and while you where there you might as well get something to drink.

The Black Chevy Impala roared as it parked in front of the diner, Dean and Sam got out, a big guy, with a black eye, just got off the ground as they started making their way towards the door, Dean looked at the guy a smirk on his face "What happened to you buddy?"

The man mumbled "crazy biker chick"

Dean just laughed, as he figured this chick was probably part of his gang, as the beaten up guy had a biker jacket with their logo on. He still smiled but he felt stabbing pains in his heart. His sweetheart was a 'biker chick' a swell, she could handle that roaring horsepower better than most men, and man!, was she tough, so fierce and fiery, so passionate and yet so gentle, vulnerable at times, so fragile, she cared more than most, people, and beautiful, so freaking beautiful, her smile could light up a room, he fell hard for her the first time he saw her, and it just grew from there he loved her , he still loved her, but he just had too walk away, for her own safety, everyone close too him get hurt or dies. And especially with everything going on, he couldn't risk it, if someone found out, that she wasn't just another hunter, no she was the love of his life, he'd never forgive himself if something would happen too her. Sam calling his name for the fourth time pulled him out of his deep thoughts, "Hey man, you with me?"

"Yeah, yeah, just thinking I need a drink not coffee"

Sam gave him a sympathetic smile, knowing his brother probably thought of her again, he just nods and says "okay sure let's go"

The only information she got was that, some of the missing folks were last seen close too a pig farm , on the outskirts of this town.

And now, now she just sat here swallowing the vodka, it was easier than too think that Dean aren't coming back, hating how she felt , how alone and miserable, how heartbroken, she really thought that she was stronger than this, but no, she's weak and pathetic, sobbing about a man, a damn man who left her in the pouring rain. What the hell was wrong with her, she never was the kind, to be good little wife material, who would cook for her husband and bake brownies for her children's school, but the sad truth was she wanted too be all that with Dean, she would've gave up hunting, too be his wife and the mother of his children. But clearly he didn't feel the same. Thumbing away a stray tear, she gestures to the bartender , for another. The music was loud and the alcohol made her slightly lightheaded, she knew she needed some air, sliding off the barstool, walking towards the exit, fumbling in her pockets for a packet of cigarettes, she only smokes when she drinks. Some guy, lit her cigarette, she just nods, thanking him with a smile as she stood in the crisp evening air, the air mixed with nicotine hit her lungs, letting a little cough escapes her lips. As she blows out the smoke, she heard that damn Chevy pull in, she couldn't miss it , Dean had a certain way if driving and it was him for sure. She just stood there, frozen in the darkness. "What the hell is he doing here" whispering underneath her breath. Hoping that he doesn't see her, knowing that she will burst out in tears the moment she tried to speak too him.

He wales past a couple of bikes, that's when he saw it, her bike, hard too miss it, on the rear bumper the lyrics of her favorite Bon Jovi song. He elbows his brother "Sam, she's here"

Sam looked at him shocked, "What? Are you sure"

Running his hand over his face "Of course I'm damn sure" clearing his throat "I can't see her, man, I just can't, I've missed her so much, it was hard enough too walk away from her that night, I won't be able to do it again"

Sam places his hand on his big brother shoulder "Don't you think, this whole protection thing your trying is dumb"

Dean's jaw clenched, "No, Everybody around me dies, and there's nothing I can do about it, I have to let her go"

Sam just shook his head, his known his brother felt like this for a while now, but it's gotten worse, his unsure why, but he will try and get through too him, Dean's only been happy, whenever he was with her. "Okay let's go"

Dean and Sam made their way towards the car, they're about to get in when they heard a spine chilling scream , Dean recognized her voice. He searches in the darkness, when he catches a glimpse of four men, throwing her in a black van. He didn't even realized it but he started running towards the van, as the last of them jumped in, he saw a glimpse of her, the last thing he heard, was her screaming his name and a gun shot, which brought him to a stop as he fell to the ground, chanting her name over and over, until his eyes fell closed.

Sam fired his gun towards the van, but couldn't get decent shots from that angle. He fell to his knees next to his brother, glancing at the bullet wound in his chest, the blood gushing out, he applied pressure on the wound, he could feel the life draining from his brother as he begged Castiel to come. Sam's eyes damp with tears, his heart pounding in his throat, a silent scream escaping his lip "Cas, please man, I need you Dean need's you"

You could hear the flutter of wings, when the celestial being landed, his face struck with concern "What happened?"

Sam glanced at the man in the trench coat, holding his brother in arms, "please, just help him Cas"

The angel approached his best friend, there was nothing quite as bad, as seeing him, in pain, placing his hand on Dean's shoulder and Sam's, the three men found themselves in a motel, Dean was still unconscious but breathing, Sam glanced at the angel, mouthing a "thank you"

Traces of the tears still evident on her cheeks as she recalled Dean getting shot, he was there, running towards her, he stilled cared. The four men watched her like a hawk, she cradled her legs in the corner, as if she's a animal trying too hide herself from the prey.

The van came to a stop, she knew something had to be done, so she took the knife she hid in her boots, covered it in her hand, she knew taking all four men was asking to much, so she'll have to isolate them. Take them one by one. The men double, maybe triple her size, but she aren't going down this way, without a fight.

As the two men , opened the door, she saw what looked like a barn, there where cages, with other people inside, seeing she's not the only one that needed saving, she slid the knife back in her boot. She needed more information than this, so she went with it. The man held her by her hair, threw her into a cage which had two other girls probably about round about 16 and 18, and much older man, in his late 60's maybe. Hitting the the floor, scraping her palms.

The older man helped her up, "you okay?"

"Yeah thanks never been better" the sarcasm rolled over her pressed lips.

A big guy, came standing against the cage, with a stupid smug on his round face. "When Ricky there told me about this little woman, who punched him, just for leaning against her bike, I knew I had too throw you in the ring"

She got to a standing position, striding closer, too this gigantic man, "What are you? A human trafficker , organ? What"

He laughed "None of the above, just a business man," he started walking away.

"What is he talking about?" Her eyes intensified "Does anyone know why we are here?"

She heard a man's voice coming from another cage, he was beaten pretty bad, "We are here too fight against each other, like the movie Condemned, apparently it happens in really life" he let out a defeated laugh. The whole barn filled with chatter, people gasping for air, as the initial shock took over. Those who haven't seen the movie, quickly got enlighten by those who have, the rich of the rich, places bets on the person, who they think will survive and it gets streamed on the dark web for everyone to watch.

There's a clock with a timer and the one who have killed all the other 'players' in that amount of time, gets to live another round. Some just cried, the others just quietly, sat in the corners of their cages, holding on too their knees, as if that's going to help, everywhere in that barn there's cages filled with silence and then those with chatter.

Then in the cage she's in, the two young teenage girls just hold on too each other, clinging for dear Life. The grey old guy, just kept mumbling too himself, "I can't kill these people" over and over.

Probably not the most polite thing in this situation but damn, it worked on her nerves, she's trying think of a solution, a plan something to save these people. But she was all out of ideas, to be honest, except maybe one, her back was against the cage, she silently started to talk to Cas, asking him to come and find her, but nothing, he didn't hear or he didn't want too, either way it was up too her.

Glancing down at the ground, then her leather boots she remembered the knife, she could use that too unlock the cage door, then start freeing the others, she took the last bit of hope in her hand, starting to put the blade in, turning and wiggling it, until she heard the click sound, she was overjoyed, she slowly opened the screeching steel door, every noise sounded as loud as thunder.

She could see the different keys, close to the barn entrance, almost walking on the balls of her feet, so that she didn't make a single sound, reaching for the keys, her fingertips barely touching it, she jumped into the air, grabbing ahold if it, she started making her way towards the first cage. Searching for the key that fits, the barn doors flung open, she recognized the guy, Ricky from earlier, and some other dude, who made her skin crawl , "Hey how'd you get out?" Ricky shouted.

"What you can see me?" She joked, something she always did, when she was very nervous.

The other guy ran to her, but she kicked him before he even could touch her, she still had the knife in hand, this big fella didn't say, much, he charged towards her, when that silver blade touched his arm, it made him squirm, "Oh that's just freaking lovely, what are you, a vamp? A wolfie?" She sneered

The moment he showed his, teeth she knew it was a werewolf, the other folks in the cages screamed, as they never saw such a creature.

"So this games rigged? Normal human being and creatures from the night, joining the game"

Surprised the wolf looked at her , a growl "your a hunter?"

Mischievous smile on her lips "why would you say that?" The wolf growled once again, as he charged towards your position, clawing your back, as he flung you against a cage, everything is swimming before her eyes, all you could make out was that she was flung against the beaten up man, he had the bluest eyes, which kind of reminded her about Castiel's eyes.

The wolf like creature came closer, looking for your blood, that's when the man stood up, black coat drenched in blood, unsure if it was his own, or some of the creature's his killed, the last time, his blue orbs, illuminated, bloodshot veins stretched like a roadmap in his eyes , his fangs came out revealing that his a vampire.

Laying there, you where left at the mercy of these two, but you were surprised when the vamp, took ahold of the wolf, smashing his head against the bars, he had this deep old time southern voice "leave her alone"

The man, glared at her and the vamp, picking her up, letting her sway like a sack of potatoes in the air. Ricky quickly came to open the cage, throwing her in by the vampire, "You can have her".

Knowing the open wounds made the situation worse, as it was like a magnet for the vamp, she tried too get up, too defend herself but, in that moment she was too weak.

The vamp, came closer towards her, his features returned to those of a man, his voice kind "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm Benny"

Shocked "Benny, like in Benny Lafitte? Dean's friend?"

He smiled, "I thought I recognized you, saw you once on his lock screen, asked him about this new women in his life, he told me you are the love of his life"

Smirking, "Yeah that's awhile ago I guess"

Confusion written all over his face, but before he could ask, the barn filled with gas, hearing Benny say "its to knock us out so they can take us to the next location" before you could find out more, the knock out gas started taking its toll.

His eyes flutter open, Sam and Cas both sharing the same concerned facial expressions, his voice croaky "what did something happen? Is.." struggling to form the words "is she gone?"

Sam spoke quickly, trying to reassure his big brother "No! We don't know, Cas can't pick up her location"

Cas spoke "Wherever she's at, must be warded off with sigils"

Dean groaned when he sat up, "we have to save her, I can't loose her"

The three of them turned their heads when they heard the familiar phrase from Crowley "Hello Boys"

Dean immediately got up, pointing a finger at him, "Do you have something to do with her disappearance, tell me now!"

Crowley gave him a sympathetic look, that lasted about an second "Squirrel I had nothing to do with her, but I know where you can find her"

Dean could not control the anger that intensified in his chest, he smashed Crowley against the nearest wall, his arm pressing against his throat his forest green eyes pierced the black ones, his voice low, and stern "Crowley if your messing with me, I will kill you, I swear I'll kill"

With the flick of Crowley's fingers Dean flew across the room, he shouts, this whole situation clearly upsetting him as well. "She saved my damn life, why would I want something to happen to her, she cared enough to save me, ME!!!" Crowley shouted.

Sam hurried to help Dean up, recalling the saving Crowley is talking about, he was stuck in a devils trap, bounded with chains around his hands and neck, as some other hunter took out all his anger on Crowley, stabbing him over and over, when she came in, tried talking the man down, but he didn't see any reason as he thought Crowley was to blame for the death of his family, but he wasn't, he had nothing to do with it. As she was talking to this guy, she slowly started to scratch the round red chalked circle on the floor with the heel of her boots, so that Crowley can break free, the line was finally broken, by clicking his fingers the chains shook loose and fell into a thousand pieces, the other hunter saw what she did, ran towards her, pushed the blade right through her upper torso. That's when Dean and Sam ran into, her for the first time, they where hunting the hunter who they thought was possessed but turns out he had such an amount of rage inside him, that whom ever got in his way, he'd kill.

Dean's harsh voice pulled Sam out of his thoughts, "Where is she Crowley"

"Well not only her , but other people as well, even Werewolves and vampires, you named it they have it, I know the location, but we have to go now," he clears his throat, "there's only one snag, neither can I nor Cass get in their, the damn sigils on the barns wall, wont let us through"

Dean's already halfway across the room, towards the door, "what are we waiting for"

In a matter of seconds the four of them stood In front of the barn on the pig farm, Sam is busy discussing a plan of action but Dean, already pushed the barn doors open, "what the hell Dean" the loudness in Sam's voice makes Dean face him, but he just shakes him off, not answering, too determined to safe her, he walks in, gun in hand, ready for anything, everywhere you look, all the cage doors stands open, not a single trace of anyone, something glistening on the floor catches his eye, its a rose gold chain with a heart shaped locket, he didn't need to turn it around, to see the engraved 'love you always D.W' to know its hers, he opens it anyways, glaring at the picture, both off them laughing, the way they looked at each other, you could feel the electricity, the love they shared, he folds it closed in his fisted hand, his eyes damp with emotion. He runs outside, punches Crowley straight in the face. Cas takes ahold of Dean's arm's demanding him to stop. The defeated look on his face is too much too bare for the three men looking at Dean, disappointed and unsure where to look next they start looking around the farm for clues, for something that can give him a glimpse of hope.

The strong sunrays, burning her eyes, as she opens them, the pain from last night's fight, let's her realize what's happening, she tries too move, but can't, searching for the reason, she sees the rope wrapped around her arms, and waist, too a tree, she tries too wiggle, to get out off the tight grip, that's when she hears a ticking of a clock tick-tock, tick-tock, it sounded incredibly loud, looking up to where the sounds came from, seeing giant speakers blaring the sound of a clock. A rough unpleasant voice spoke, game rules: "Everything goes, you can use any weapon you can find, to kill your opponent, and also remember the last one standing gets too live" he lets out a snotty laugh. "Oh yes, and contestants, we made the first kill very easy, if you can find contestant five, she's tied up and ready to kill, oh and give us a show" he laughs harder, then all of the sudden its dead silence, figuring she's contestant no: five, she'd better think of something to get out if this situation. Her words barely a whisper, "I don't even know why I try, but Cas are you there, Crowley, can someone hear me? Please I need someone"

The rustling of the leaves, let's her know there's someone, maybe it's Cas or Crowley, maybe its someone's who wants to take her as their first kill.

The large man with his black coat walks towards her.

He's voice hushed, "let me get you outta here"

"Oh darn, I'm so thankful its you Benny"

As he unties her, they hear rustling in the bushes, he hands her a knife, and they stand ready for action, back against back, three people came closer, it's the three she shared the cage with, she and Benny suggested they walk behind them, so that the two of them can protect them.

The further they walk the more danger they seem too run into, Benny takes the most werewolves, windigos and Leviathan's , as for you, you take most of the other human beings, who wants to attack the two teenage girls and old man.

You are bruised, beaten and torn up, unsure if your body is covered in your own blood or those of the enemies, you keep on going, grateful, that you had these people to protect, because if you had to be honest, if it weren't for them, you wouldn't fight so hard to survive, every now and then you get flashbacks of how Dean got shot, knowing it was fatal, you don't want to allow yourself to think that he could be really gone, there's this glimmer of hope that he might still be alive, maybe Sam helped him, maybe Cas or Crowley.

Resting against a tree to catch your breath, you see the blood gushing down your arm, one of the men came at you with a damn axe, and in the fight he threw the axe towards you, pinning you against a tree, it must've been the adrenaline but you wiggled that axe, out of you arm, screaming while throwing it back at him, which ended up between his eyes. You fell too your knees, the emotion welling up behind your eyes, you get caught off guard when someone or something picks you up in the air. A little weak, and confused all you can see is that your draped over the large man, with multiple tattoos shoulder, it didn't take long, too lose consciousness.

Dean could not believe what he just heard, both Cas and Crowley told him, that they heard you call out too them, they knew where you were, you where caught in Purgatory, damn Purgatory. What the hell is going on. It felt like someone took his very last breath. His been too Purgatory, It's no joke for sure, it changed him, the only person who made him whole was her, his sweetheart and now, now she's going through all of that.

Crowley spoke with his people, which revealed, that the one and only Dick Roman sits behind it all, with a connection in the real world, who takes normal people, of all ages just to make money, and feed his obsession of killing people.

His quiet, as he drives too the place where the portal opens to Purgatory, thinking about all the things there, so many monsters, dangers around every corner. He just hopes, his going to make it in time, she just has too be okay, has to be alive, squinting his eyes as he recalls what he had too do, too survive.

"Sweetheart you awake?" Rolling over too the right side of the bed, emerald green eyes looking back at you, "Baby?"

"Why do you look so surprised sweetheart"

"Uhmmm I'm not really sure, it feels so right yet so wrong" she smiled

Without a single word, Dean cups your face, places his lips on yours, its sweet, it's sensual, yet filled with passion. Breaking the kiss, you look at him, studying his face, the speck of hazel around the black pupil, the way, his freckles runs across his nose, almost like the milky way, the corners of his mouth, that is slightly curled in a smile, his plumps lips, that's slightly swollen from the kiss, the little stubble on his chin and cheeks, the way his jawline just kind of frames his picture perfect face, the way his deep smoky voice fills the air, and your body with a exhilarating energy, "Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked.

Your voice barely audible and brittle, "I just love you, I love you more than life itself"

His voice calm, but certain "Marry Me"

Your jaw dropped, "What?"

He started to kiss your lips softly, his breathe hot as he said "Yes babe, I want you to be my wife?"

Searching his eyes your lips crept upwards into a smile, your voice sounded more brittle than you intended "Yes, yes Dean Winchester, I'll marry you"

The joy dancing in his green eyes, made you happy, even though a few stray tears rolled over your cheeks.

Feeling like your walking on cloud nine, then all of the sudden, you get this sharp pain in you ribs, unwillingly your eyes flutter open, gasping for air "what the hell?"

Looking around you, seeing your in some kind of room, chains around your wrists, hanging from what looks like the ceiling, clothing blood-soaked. Hair sticking to your face, sweat mixed with blood. Your feet barely touching the floor, it feels as if your arms is getting pulled out of their sockets if you move to much, your throat dry, realizing you must've been passed out, it wasn't really a dream, more like a memory, Dean did ask you too marry him, and then outta nowhere, two days later, you where left standing in the rain, the tears streaming down your face, unsure if it's about the way Dean left things, or the situation your currently thrown in.

Sighing, whispering to no one really "I'm tired, I'm so tired, I can't anymore and I don't want to anymore" head hanging down, looking at the floor, closing your eyes, wishing all this could be over, you heard heavy footsteps, laughter filling the dark air.

His voice smooth "All this turned out better than I could've imagined"

Confused you glare at him "okay, fine you win, get it over with"

Walking closer towards you, big smug on his face, "see, I can't deal with you yet, I know who you are" getting angrier now "I'll finally get my revenge, Dean will watch you die, he wanted to send me here, now I will take something precious from him"

Shocked to hear that he thinks Dean is still alive , she plays along maybe, it's her way out, Scoffing "Well sorry to hear you think he'd be coming to look for me, because we aren't together no more"

He laughs, "oh no, he is already here, searching for you, my men left him a little bread trail, as to where you are"

Furious now, you shake, trying to get loose, shouting "You leave Dean alone, kill me , but let him go please"

Clapping his hands together, "Ah, young love" he laughs harder "I am going to kill you, but Dean needs to watch, then I'll kill Sam, Cas and even Crowley, all while Dean has to watch"

Eyes wide, barely audible "They're all here"

His smug smile never leaving his face "oh yes, all of them, clearly they care, its so pathetic, you humans, you know that?"

Squinting her eyes, trying too fight the tears threatening to spill over, you care about all of them, more than you care to admit. He just simply walks out of sight. The silence is deafening, the only thing she can hear is her heart racing, Dean's alive, he came looking for her. Somewhere between the excitement of hearing Dean's alive and the spine chilling silence, she lost consciousness.

They hardly had too beat the crap out of some of the men, on their road to this half torn down, factory like building, all of them agreed, it felt like a trap, but Dean didn't give a damn, he needed to find her, save her and bring her home, he has been cursing himself internally, the whole damn way, if only he didn't freak out, but the moment he realized he wanted to marry her, be her husband, wishing he never said that, went on that hunt, saw how that ghost threw her against the wall, the pain she must've felt, he couldn't bear the thought of her getting hurt or worst getting killed, just because that's what he did, so saying goodbye, felt like the best thing to do, hoping she'll give up hunting, but he should've known better. He should have stayed by her side, he should have discussed his fears, the way he felt, but instead he went and broke her heart.

The four of them split up, there's to many halls, and doors too search, mostly the halls are filled with darkness, its filthy and disgusting, dried splattered blood on the walls, scattered human bones on the cement floors. There's scratching sounds coming from one of the rooms, the gun in Dean's hand is loaded, opening the door, unsure of what he's going to find, he's skin crawling as a bunch of rats, runs past him, some over his feet, slapping against his legs, whispering underneath his breath, "damn filth". He's heart, beating out of his chest, the more he walks in the darkness the more he can feel the darkness entering his mind, his heart, every grain of his very being.

He stopped in his tracks, the moment he saw her, hanging by chain's, her whole body is slumped over, hair covering her face, he can't make out if she's still breathing, for what felt like an eternity, he froze, almost too afraid to take a closer look. Striding closer till he's right in front of her, he gently takes her face in his hands, concern painted on his face, a burning pain in his chest, her beautiful face is bruised, and bloodied, her breathing faint, but still there, his voice hushed "Sweetheart, can you hear me"

Watching her open her eyes, was a beautiful site, she looked tired, a smile across her busted lips, "Dean,"

"Yes sweetheart I'm here, I'm sorry, I love you" he declared.

Sobbing now, "I... I thought I lost you forever"

"Baby, you'll always have me, always you hear me" he pleaded

Before she could answer a couple of men appeared out of the shadows. There were maybe six or seven, Dean got up, in a fighting stance ready to beat the crap out of them, he started punching and kicking his way, through the men, it wasn't until the last one hit the ground that he'd stop, blood splatters across his face, glancing over at her, he hears the familiar voice of Dick Roman "crashing the party are we?"

"Yeah well I didn't receive an invite so thought I'll invite myself" Dean smirked. He drew his gun, knowing it won't really help, but it's more a habit, "What do you want?" He questioned

Crude laughter fills the air, "I want you to pay Dean" he snapped his fingers, more men came running towards Dean, he tried his best, but he was one against, all of them, they over powered him, one clocked him against the head, in his unconscious state, they were tying him to a chair with chains, facing you.

It didn't take long before they were beating you, biting your lower lip, not wanting to give them the pleasure of seeing you in so much pain, you could taste the blood on the tip on your lip.

Dick Roman came walking towards you, dagger in hand, hoping he couldn't see the pain, and fear in your eyes, your eyes pierced his, he didn't say a single word, he pushed that dagger, through the skin and bone, wedging it between your ribs. Your scream filling the dark room.

Dean's eyes flung open, he's jaw clenched, he's voice angered and defeated "NO BABE" he shouted.

"Ah poor Dean Winchester" he laughed

Dean's green eyes, now almost black, "I'm going to kill, I promise you that"

Laughter filled the air, once again, it didn't last long though, surprised he glanced at them, Sam, Cas, Crowley and Benny, all four off them stood their bloodied and beaten, but ready to fight. All four of them started fighting and killing their way towards Dean and you, Crowley was the first one to stand next too Dean, his British voice almost inaudible "This belongs to you" he's face lit up with a sly smile.

Dean looked at him all confused, "I thought you threw this in the sea somewhere"

Crowley just shrugs his shoulders. The moment he placed that blade in Dean's hands he could feel the mark, turning a fiery red, the power pulsing through his veins, it didn't take long for the effects to take control of him, breaking loose out of the chain's, he faces Dick Roman, a smirk on his lips, he's features darkens. Taking that blade right too his chest, he kept going over and over, not stopping for a second, driving the blade further and deeper into his now lifeless body.

Sam tried to make him stop, even Cas, Benny and Crowley, but it didn't work.

Your voice brittle, revealing the pain, "Dean stop, please Baby"

Immediately stopping, he threw the blade down, running towards you, his eyes pleading, his voice soft "Sweetheart I'm so sorry" cupping your face, kissing your lips, holding you close to him, as Cas and Sam unlocks the chains, your body went limb, all you could feel is his hands holding you upright. Staring into his emerald green eyes, mouthing "I love you" the last thing you catches a glimpse off, was the light in his eyes as he replied "I love you too, Sweetheart, come back to me, come home please"

It's been almost three years since that dreadful day, smiling now, if it weren't for Dean begging Cas to save you, you wouldn't be here baking your husband his birthday pie, getting ready for the barbeque, with your good friends Sam, Cas, Benny and yes even dear old Crowley.

Did you and the Winchester Brothers stop hunting, no, of course not, but the two of you have each other and that's all you'll ever need, whenever your lost, knowing Dean's your lighthouse showing you the way home, with those beautiful green eyes.

#jacklesversebingo23 #nescveckwriter #lighthouse #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #spotify #jared padalecki #sam and dean #dean winchester imagine #benny lafitte #castiel spn #spn #Spotify

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bipp-bopp-time-to-stop · 1 month

Text

A Divine Devotee

It's finally here and I'm at 100 followers! It's still sinking in for me but I wanted to do something to celebrate. Given how loved "Far More Than Just A Mask" is, I decided that a part two to it would be great for my 100 follower fic. Getting it written, like all of my fics, was something of a process so I hope it's at least as good as the first part. Hope you all enjoy!

TW: Yandere themes, blood, descriptions of a violent ritual, gore, cannibalism (accidental, technically), nudity, Fierce goes absolutely mental and no one has a Good Time TM

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Learning to live with the Fierce Deity in the flesh was something you expected to be akin to a thorn in your side. He was, in a way, just that. Were he not tasked with something, he was beside you. Even if he wasn’t by your side for whatever reason, that didn’t mean he still wasn’t with you in some capacity.

That strange bond he forced created between the two of you was still present. With every passing day, it seemed to weaken but you doubted it would every go away. In the present, it was hard to send little more than a handful of words over the bond, so the two of you relied on emotion. You never really thought about what it would feel like to be emotionally connected to another person (much less a god) but what you got wasn’t something you expected.

Emotion did not radiate off of him in a way you could sense it. It wasn’t some visible aura around him nor did it replace your own. Rather, it was a feeling in you body. Your being would alight with a hot flash at his anger or your extremities would slowly turn numb and freeze at despair. Your lungs would stutter and your eyes would sting with his sadness and your heart and brain would flood with dopamine at his joy. Not matter how he felt, it was always extreme.

Yet, when you once asked him what your emotions felt like, he described it as trying to sense the presence of a mouse. Your emotions, quite simply, were but a whisper to him. Despite that, he claimed he always did his best to sense and feel them. You had no choice but to experience his emotions so he felt it only fair that he try to do the same.

It had confused you, at first, as to why it was like this. Why he was so extreme and you weren’t in the eyes of the bond. Although he may be “talkative” with you, he’s typically quiet and rather neutral around the rest of the boys. All it took was some few minutes of thinking when the answer quite literally appeared in his name.

Fierce Deity.

He is a god and you are a mortal. Gods, in comparison to mortals, live at an unreachable extreme. It would certainly explain why Fierce always had that air of intensity to him. It would also explain why you felt so minute in comparison to him. It made you worry about what the future may hold. Would he eventually grow tired of how little you were in relation to his divinity? Would his boredom lead to him simply leaving or acting upon his name towards you and the group to amuse himself? Pessimism was easy to reach your mind nowadays and you know (you hoped) that such thoughts could never come true, but your brain refused to shut up.

Large bulky arms secure themselves around you and startle you from your spiral. The smell of rancid iron assaults your nose and the seeping wetness of your clothes makes it clear that you’re going to say goodbye to yet another outfit. A weighty head rests itself upon you and the rumbling hum that sounds though the chest pressed against your back resonates through your nerves. As the arms strengthen their embrace even further, you find yourself being slowly lifted from the ground.

“What ails you, dearest?” Fierce inquires. He audibly huffs and puffs in the scent of your hair but such oddities have long since lost their weird factor on you.

“Nothing too important, Fie- uhm, honey. Just my brain not wanting cease its ramblings. What… about you?” You respond as you look down at the arms around you. He wasn’t drenched in blood but it was certainly splattered on him. Not in huge amounts (at least huge in comparison to the typical gore he seemed to wear), but enough to tell you that something- or someone- was now dead. For the sake of not developing a headache, you hoped it wasn’t the latter.

“I brought us food. Elk,” Fierce stated. Ah, that would explain the strange and distant cry you heard some thirty minutes ago. And, for the next thirty minutes, you’d be avoiding the bloody scene that would now be accompanying camp. The double helix sword Fierce wielded was great against monsters but too rough against prey. As such, he simply resorted to using little more than his hands when it came to ending them. You had seen the end product of this method only once and it was sight that you vowed to never look at again. The bent neck, torn skin, smashed head, and splinters of bone poking through the pelt… ugh, there goes your appetite.

As silence continues to permeate the atmosphere, the embrace around you eventually loosens. Fierce’s footsteps crunch and squish on the forest floor as he moves away from you. He stops once he’s fully in view and you can’t help but stare at his face. It would be wrong to say he was anything less than beautiful. His face- his true face- was so similar yet different to the mask made in his likeness. His tattoos, still red and blue and angular, were more weathered like warpaint. His hair, still silvery white and straight, had turned into billowing locks due to the passage of centuries. And his eyes- oh, those eyes- were still so intense. They didn’t glow white hot with rage and were no longer blank slates. Rather, a ring of steely gray and blue surrounded his pupils. The colors reminded you of both the swinging steel of battle and the common hue of blue that existed in the eyes of most of the boys. A small feature, you wonder, that may have been picked up from Time.

“If you choose to accompany me to go get cleaned up… then I assure you that there will be more to look at then,” Fierce offers with a slight lit in his voice. His lips are ever so slightly turned upward as are his brows. Perhaps not as poetic as Wars’ pick up lines, but still effective enough to get your heart pumping.

“Well, after you got me dirty, I have little choice but to join you,” You sigh and follow behind the man. He lets out little more than a small chuckle, one of triumph, but you don’t let it get to you. Had you declined his invitation, he’d no doubt be left in a cranky mood. And, whenever Fierce was feeling all around unpleasant, it would always lead to most unpleasant things.

As you walked behind the god, you vaguely noted how the forest started to thin out before stopping completely. Stretching out before you was a sizeable lake. It was hours away from Ordon, hence why you never saw it in game or never heard Twilight mention it, but it was a reminder that there was so much more to every Hyrule than a screen could ever show. The surface of the water was still and stained a variety of oranges and pinks with the setting sun. Even after basking in the spring sun for the entire day, the water would undoubtedly still be cold.

A clinking sound catches your attention and you look over at Fierce just in time to see his chestplate fall to the ground. By now, his hands are fiddling with the buckle of his belt and you advert your eyes away. This wasn’t the first time you’ve both seen Fierce naked or bathed with him, but there was still a layer of reserve you had towards him. You had accepted the fact that you were now his lover (not that you were going to be left with any other choice) but there were certain aspects of a romantic relationship that you weren’t ready for yet. Perhaps it was because you were scared of taking such a leap. Or, maybe, your feelings didn’t run deep for the god like his surely did for you. Whatever the case was, constantly adventuring, fighting, and dealing with the Shadow made it hard to try and sort out such complex thoughts and conflicting emotions. For now, you had little choice but to go with the flow.

Once Fierce had waded deep enough into the water to where only the start of his hips and the beginning tufts of his happy trail peaked above the water did you go about getting undressed. The deity was kind enough to keep his eyes trained elsewhere until you were in the water much like him. An involuntary grunt fell from your lips as you waded into the cold waters but the sooner you got washed off, the sooner you’d be out of the lake.

After a quick dip below the surface to fully wet your body, you were whisked into Fierce’s arms. He carefully placed his arms around your midsection as not to touch an private parts of your body. The warmth that radiated from him was welcome in the face of the biting temperatures of the lake. Without his armor or thick clothes to cover up his body, you had full view of picturesque divinity. It wasn’t superhero level of muscle nor veiny, but was certainly a warrior’s build. The expanses of his muscles were only heighted or barely hidden by a suitable layer of fat. The fat only added to his weight to make him more solid and even harder to push around as well as helped soften any blows that may befall him. Unsurprisingly, his body was littered with scars of battles and wars waged so long ago that the history books likely couldn’t recall them. His hands were wide and large as well as covered in callous. You felt envious of the ways he made certain flaws and imperfections look so desirable.

“You ought to work on ‘shutting up’ your brain more often, dear (Name). It’s no wonder you experience so many headaches,” Fierce hummed out as he began to card a hand through your hair. With a few kisses placed to the crown of your head, you were distracted enough from your thoughts yet again to focus on the now. You didn’t bring any soap with you, but you hadn’t been splattered with blood like Fierce was. For now, the water should be enough.

Fierce begins to ladle water across your shoulders before you can even cup your own hands. Once fully wet, the man goes about rubbing your skin both to wash off any blood or grime but to also soothe your muscles. Even with the rough skin that coated his palms and fingers, his touch and motions were gentle. The gesture was nice and a welcome feeling to the stiff knots littered throughout your neck and shoulders, but it was also strange.

Not strange in the fact that it came from your lover, but from a god. It was the mortal, no matter the nature of the relationship, that did acts of service for the divine. Brought them food, made sacrifices in their name, and lived, breathed, and died by their beliefs. They’d heed every order given to them no better than a well trained dog. There were, of course, exceptions to this standard.

And Fierce was quiet the exception.

He acted as if you were the sole reason he existed. He brought you food, gifted you things from trinkets to treasures, and even shouted out your name in battle as if it was waged for you. Even with your hesitance towards him at times, he never once faltered in the way he acted. Any positive sign from you, from a compliment to something like a kiss on the cheek, only seemed to embolden him further. You had to be scarce in affection with Fierce even if it may have seemed harmless at the time.

Gods are dangerous beings, after all. Their sorrow drowns lands and their anger scorches the earth til’ naught but ashes remain. Their envy chokes the life out of whatever it can bind itself around and even their happiness can lead to slaughter. But their love? That’s a whole other beast to deal with.

Whenever Fierce felt as if he hadn’t been given enough affection recently, he sought to gain it by doubling his efforts. Instead of picking the ripest grapes from the vine for you to snack on, he’d uproot the whole plant and drag it back to camp for you. Instead of gifting you a new tunic or bracelet, he’d dump entire wardrobes of clothing and accessories upon you (kindly cleaned of gore, naturally). Instead of handing you a few monster parts he picked up after battle as a little trophy, he’d make let you watch him harvest them. He’d force ask you to tell him which parts to tear away next. From ripping out teeth and twisting off horns to gutting them and pulling out their innards, he did it. Given a monster’s tendency to puff away into nothing more than smoke upon death, the beasts were always forced to stay alive.

Yet, after receiving love and affection, he could be even worse. Smothering to the point you weren’t allowed to do nearly anything without his “help”; walk, eat, change, or bathe. He’d be willing to bite at anything that came near the two of you during his moments of love, leaving you with little choice but to distance yourself from the rest of the group. In the moments where he was nothing short of lovesick, you were left with very few options as to calm him down. Some days you’d have to act indifferent towards him to get him to back up whereas others required you to just submit to the affections like a doll for him to hug and squeeze. If you didn’t manage to subdue him fast enough… bad things happened.

Like right now.

You had been whisked away from your bed in the middle of the night. Despite your pout and complaints, Fierce did little more than hum as he carried you out of the castle. The guards that were littered about the grounds hardly acknowledged the two of you (most certainly out of fear of what Fierce would do to them). The only familiar face you passed by was Impa, but the woman only spared you what you believe to be her attempt at a sympathetic gaze (no doubt Wars had filled her and Zelda in on the relationship between you and the deity).

As Fierce’s long legs carried you through Hyrule castle and out of the city’s protective walls, you could only fathom what awaited you. He was always one to make sure you had a proper amount of sleep each night, so this deviation in routine had your stomach twisting. As he began to venture into the woods, a little tune was hummed under his breath and his fingers idly tapped against your back. A harmless gesture any other day or situation, but it meant he was excited. No doubt to show you something and to explain his scarce presence over the past few days.

“You’ve always shared a lot of your culture with me. Food, celebrations, talk of your society and how it functions, and even what love is like in your world,” Fierce finally broke the silence of the forest (why are the woods quiet? Why can’t you see any fairies fluttering around?). “I thought, perhaps… I could do the same. It’s not much, but I still want you to enjoy a few things I did back when I was in my prime.”

With those partially cryptic words finally spoken, you were set down on your own two feet and spun around. In a small clearing of the forest now sat a little feast. Placed upon a round but sizeable table were multiple plates of decadent food. Some dishes were familiar to you such as a fragrant seafood stew prepped with lobster, crab, prawns, and fish. Strips of glazed and tender gourmet meat rested upon a suitable bowl of rice. There was also a charcuterie and meat board loaded with all sorts of treats. The sight was enough to get your stomach rumbling and you sat down in the smaller chair at the table. With the hot and fresh food before you (no doubt kept that way with the use of a little magic), your worries could wait for a moment.

“This is but a sliver of the food that use to grace the tables I ate at. While this little feast lacks many things, mainly ambrosia and entertainment, I do hope you enjoy it,” Fierce states as he watches you dig into whatever was closest to you. The food tasted just as amazing as it looked and smelled, so Fierce had to have gotten help from someone. Perhaps Wild or the cooks at Hyrule castle? Whoever it was, you were grateful to them.

As you enjoyed some of the gourmet meat and rice bowl, another plate was slid over to you. It appeared to be a standard plate of steak but the meat on the plate wasn’t beef. It looked similar to beef, but it sooner looked like a filet than a steak. Not to mention that the smell may have been meaty and savory, but not beef like. It was also generously covered in a thin, dark sauce and plated with a small pile of what you imagined was the Hyrule equivalent of home fries.

Curious to try the new dish, you moved it closer and brought your fork and knife to it. You did your best to slice against the grain and pulled away with a good bite of the meat. After a quick dip in the sauce it came with, you plopped it into your mouth and began to chew. It was soft and tender and had a similar mouth feel to regular steak, but the taste was far from that simple. It had the meaty heaviness that came with red meat but it’s taste was a bit closer to poultry. The tangy sauce helped cover up the subtle, bitter aftertaste of the food.

“What do you think? It’s the one dish I prepared myself,” Fierce commented as he watched you. He practically seemed to be on the edge of his seat and his eyes bore straight through you. His eagerness towards your commentary was strange given how innocent this little date night had been so far, so you decided to not question it too much as not to ruin the mood.

“It’s an interesting taste. It tastes good and the sauce is a good pair for the meat, but it’ll still take some getting used to,” You replied before taking another bite out of the meat. Since this was the plate Fierce had specially prepared himself, it would be nice of you to finish it.

“I also made a drink. It’s not as close to the mortal made ambrosia as I hoped it would be, but I hope you enjoy it,” Fierce pipes up yet again as he hands you a wine glass full of what looks similar to red wine. It’s darker in color, though, as well as more opaque. When you go to taste it, you also notice that it’s just a bit thicker than normal wine. While there is the taste of grapes and alcohol in it, there’s also a noticeable twang of raspberry and something else you can’t put your finger on. Much like the meat, there was subtle, bitter aftertaste. You offer Fierce a nod of approval and, for the moment, that’s that.

The midnight meal passes by rather peacefully. The forest is still all too quiet for your liking but at least you and Fierce keep each other company. When it eventually becomes too much to take so much as another bite out of any of the food, the deity also sets down his utensils along with you. As you sit and digest your food, Fierce goes about packing up the leftovers and storing them in his own enchanted pouch.

Instead of picking you back up and taking you back to the castle, Fierce beckons you to follow him closer into the forest. You comply, albeit a bit sluggishly due to a full belly and the early stages of fatigue. Wherever he’s taking you next mustn’t be far or else he would’ve picked you up.

The next spot he takes you to is dark and ill lit by moonlight. You can make out what appears to be a… tub? It’s clearly filled with liquid and had all kinds of petals scattered around it and in it. Underneath the earthy and floral scent of the scene, there’s another smell that you turn your nose from. With it being smothered by everything else, though, the most you can describe it as is a stale musk.

Gently, Fierce begins to pull away the pajamas covering your body. He keeps his actions slow and steady so you could make him stop at any time. You don’t as you understand he wasn’t going to do anything bad to you and, before long, your night clothes and underwear are neatly put to the side. Fierce helps you into the tub and let’s your body slowly sink into the liquid. There’s a noticeable thickness to the liquid- like a thinned out syrup. Aside from that and the smell, it was only luke warm. Were there more moonlight or just any light in general, you’d be able to properly see the color of the liquid.

Fierce kneels down by your side and begins to rub the liquid into the parts of your body that aren’t submerged. He says little aside from a few orders to move one way or the other. Whatever elixir it is that you’re bathing in is also added into your hair and generously applied to your face. Your best guess is that this was some sort of soak that Fierce must have done to himself way back when. Whether it was going to be beneficial for you or not would be something you could get figured out later.

“I imagine you’re curious about all of this,” Fierce murmurs out as he continues to “wash” your hair. “The meal, this bath, and what more I may have planned…”

“Well, yes… that’s been in the back of my mind the entire time,” You confirm after a moment of hesitance. That telltale churning in your gut was starting to act up but you did your best to hide it. You weren’t the only one nervous, though, as Fierce also seemed to be getting anxious as well. It buzzed through the bond like a bee’s nest. Nervousness was a rather rare emotion for the deity and it made your blood run cold at whatever he may be planning.

“Remember… how I promised that my love for you is eternal? Well, it is but… you’re not,” Fierce sighs and the bond is flooded with sadness that threatens to make you sob until the sun rises. Thankfully, it doesn’t last for much longer as Fierce seems to focus his train of thought elsewhere.

“Y-Yeah?” You cough out after a bit. Fierce remains still and silent for a few moments despite your stare. Slowly, his eyes meet yours and the intensity that stirs within them could have been enough to kill.

“I think I’ve figured out a solution to that.”

What?

What did he mean by that? Was… was he planning on turning you into a god? Or, at the very least, immortal? There’s little else his comment could be interpreted as. But how would such a thing even be possible? As far as you can recall, you’ve stumbled across nothing in Hyrule or its history that hints at mortals being able to ascend to divinity.

“Fierce, how… is that even… I-”

“You need not stress, dearest. The process has already begun and you’re fairing quite fine so far,” Fierce smiles.

What?!

You nearly leap out of the tub and scramble across the ground. Your wild dreams of escape are shattered as Fierce quickly wrangles you into his hold and attempts to calm you down. He even tries to send calming and relaxing sensations across the bond but it does little to soothe your frantic mind. Not only that, but you managed to get to a point in the forest where there was more moonlight. The pale light illuminated your bare skin and it only showed red. Red, red, red, red, red.

It’s blood. You had been soaking in blood.

By some miracle, you managed to not upheave tonight’s meal. That didn’t stop you from kicking and screaming to get away from Fierce. Unlike times before when he had crossed a line, Fierce showed no sign of backing off. He kept you pinned to the ground and simply took any blow you sent his way head on. It was simply a matter of letting you tire yourself out.

“Shh… it’s okay, you’ll be fine, (Name),” Fierce hushed as he pressed the side of your head against his chest. His heart beat was slow and steady like a bass drum. It contrasted the never ceasing allegro of your own heart and you worried that, at this rate, you’d end up fainting.

After quickly adjusting his embrace around you, Fierce lifts you up and carries your body to the next destination of this “date night”. Your kicks had lost their wind and had become little more than wiping your foot against him. You try to look at anything but the red ick still clinging to you or Fierce. Vaguely, standing just above the tree line and nearing the horizon lines, were the tallest towers on Hyrule Castle. It was so far away that you couldn’t really see the flags mounted on their peaks flapping in the breeze nor would anyone there be capable of hearing the loudest scream you could make (would anyone even come to your rescue if they heard you? Who in their right minds would think to try and fight against a god?)

Something cold and hard presses against your back. Your view shifts as Fierce lays you down on stone and quickly goes about securing your arms and legs. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s laid you flat on an altar. What ritual he had planned was for him to know and for you to cruelly find out.

“I’ve never wanted to hurt you before and I still don’t. I will never feel the urge to harm you but… I have to do this. If I don’t, then you’ll become victim to your mortality and I’ll be left alone. I can’t exist without you anymore, (Name)... I can’t,” Fierce whines and that sadness from earlier crashes over you again. Your thoughts turn to the darkest possibilities given your current state, but things are made abundantly clear when a hidden dagger is pulled from beneath the god’s linens.

You’ve never seen a dagger that looked so ritualistic before. It’s blade was carved and sharpened from the tooth of a beast and runes or words of a language you couldn’t read were etched into the blade. Its handle was made from stained and wrapped leather that had a few brilliant feathers bound in it. For the first time since properly meeting him, you could see Fierce’s hand shake as he poised the blade.

“I think… you’re ready. You’ve been strengthened enough to take my blood tonight. You’ve drank, ate, and bathed in my essence. Now, it is time for it to enter your veins- raw and unfiltered,” Fierce muttered. With care and precision, the blade was brought to your skin. Enough pressure was applied so that it began to cut through the layers of your skin. He stopped just shy of your sternum and began to pull the blade down the length of your torso. It was a slow and agonizing pain you couldn’t describe so you only screamed. You screamed and screamed and screamed. You fought against the bindings that held you but it was to no avail.

The blade finally stopped just past your pectorals before pulling away. Fierce laid the blade against his hand and sliced in deep. A small sputter of blood spattered out as a result and it feels like fire when it makes contact to your open wound. The pain is only amplified tenfold when Fierce presses his cut palm down on the slash of your chest. Your voice raises to an octave you didn’t know was possible as what feels akin to liquid fire begins to spread through your chest. This is only worsened by the icy sting of sadness and despair as Fierce struggles to keep a lid on his own emotions. You can see his lips moving and know he’s mumbling something but you can’t tell if it’s some kind of mantra to complete the ritual or a shoddy attempt at keeping himself calm.

As his blood spreads out further and further, you find that the world is becoming more and more incoherent. Black spots smudge your vision and static feels your ears. Fierce’s face, contorted into so much pain and anguish, is the last thing you see before passing out.

Your mind feels as though it’s drifting around on the inky waters of unconsciousness. Even though this feeling is unknown to you and you don’t know what awaits you when- if you wake up, you feel peaceful. There is no pain to feel and no sights to disturb you. All you sense is your body drifting along and the occasional noise. The noise is that of someone speaking or shouting or crying- you can’t tell. It’s so distant and sounds as if it’s underwater. It’s like a siren call that plays on your curiosity and empathy to open your eyes. To wake up and investigate or comfort whoever it is that’s calling for you.

“...p… wa… up…”

Perhaps you weren’t unconscious. Maybe you were dead? It’s possible given the… trauma? That you just went through? (What happened? The pain the pain the pain the pain the pain the pain It’s all gotten so blurry? Golden Three preserve me save me)

“Ple…. wake… please, (Na… up…”

Were you now drifting down the River Styx? Maybe, maybe not. It had always been portrayed as hellish and depressing, but you felt so peaceful. Maybe Hyrule just had a nicer one that home did.

“Golden Three, please… pray that they… return them to… give me back my…”

Hmm… the waters were beginning to feel a little choppy. Were you finally arriving at your destination? Whatever that meant…

“(Name), please! COME BACK TO ME!”

Your eyes snapped open as breath returned to your lungs. You were stuck staring straight up at the inky abyss above you. Somehow, the night sky was now bespeckled with glittering stars and you could better make out the twisting and mixing nebulas of color.

Your head lolled to the side and you saw that Fierce had devolved into the dictionary definition of a mess. Tears streamed down his cheeks and smears of red were all over him. His hair was bunched up and knotted- no doubt from him pulling and tearing at his own hair. Heavy and harsh breaths racked his frame as he was nearly hunched over your body. His stillness was enough to convince you he had turned to stone until his entire body seemed to go lax. He toppled over and landed across your bare skin but neither you nor he cared much about that at the moment.

“You came back… you came back…” He gargled out. His voice, once deep and smooth, was now crackly. He buried his face against your body to hide his expressions from you as he clung to you like a child to their blankie.

“What… happened?” You finally croaked out as you took in your surroundings. Everything was so… sharp. In focus. You could make out the the individual veins on the leaves of nearby trees. You could see dew beginning to form on grass a distance away from where you were laying. Fluttering high above the trees, you could also see the flying and swooping forms of bats. Its like you were looking at everything through the lens of a telescope.

A metallic rattle then click alerts you to the shackles (when did those get there?) on your wrists. Fierce had managed to get up and was working on getting you freed from them. Once unbound, he wasted no time in scooping you up and hurrying through the forest. You gripped onto him as tightly as you could before you felt him come to an abrupt stop. Icy cold water was splashed over your body and Fierce used his shirt to wipe you off. The shirt was quickly stained red and you hadn’t realized you were positively coated in dried blood.

As your skin was cleared of the red ichor, you realized that your chest looked rather weird. The skin was scarred but the scar itself was strange. It was a thin but long and straight line down your chest. It wasn’t your skin’s natural color, but silver like it was made of metal. Feeling it confirmed that it was still your skin and nothing else.

You turn your head upwards to ask Fierce a question but not even a word gets the chance to fall from your lips as Fierce kisses you desperately. Romance and love aren’t the present emotions to be felt in the kiss- it’s despair and relief all wrapped up in an overwhelming amount of guilt. The kiss lasts long enough that you eventually have to claw at Fierce’s chest to push him away. Sweet air flies back into your lungs and you’re left huffing and puffing yet again.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Fierce whispers as he hangs his head low. You knew he was apologizing for more than just the rather crude kiss, but your brain was in a fog. You still couldn’t place what had happened for him to be so distraught.

“I remember… eating? Yeah, we were eating in the forest and then you took me somewhere. I was soaking in… in something but after that… everything’s a blur…” You mumbled out and massaged a sudden ache in your temples. Trying to remember what happened, even if it was only a small detail, made your head pound.

“I…” Fierce starts to speak but stops himself. Amongst the whirlpool of emotions in his eyes and bubbling behind the currently closed doors of the bond, you could see that Fierce was thinking. He was thinking about how to phrase his next words carefully. It was odd behavior coming from him given that he preferred to be bluntly honest. “It… doesn’t matter anymore. Things spiraled out of control for a moment but… but everything is okay now. I promise.”

It didn’t exactly feel like a lie (It is it is it is run run run run no longer trust him, don’t love him, stop listening to him, stop) but it wasn’t the truth. Whatever happened had scared Fierce- a man you once thought incapable of feeling fear. Because of that reason alone, you took his word.

“Let’s get back to the castle before the boys or the princess start to wake up,” You state as you try to take control of the situation. It works as Fierce nods and stands up. He lets you stand on your own two feet while he runs off to go get something. After a minute, he returns with your night clothes in hand. He doesn’t speak up or do anything as you get dressed. Once it’s time to start heading back, he doesn’t pick you up but rather walks alongside you, hand in hand.

The small yet noticeable deviations in Fierce’s habits made it clear he was still in some state of shock. You didn’t know what to do to snap him out of it or if you should just let it run its course. You decide on simply intertwining your fingers with his and giving his hand a gentle squeeze to let him know that you’re here and you’re okay (no no no no no no no don’t do that, don’t encourage him, it makes things worse, so so so so much worse).

“(Na… (Name)?” Fierce whispers out. His tone makes him sound like a distraught child wanting to call out to their parent or older sibling. It’s fear and hurt ready to break past the dam that’s barely holding it in.

“Yes, honey?” You hum and give him a small smile.

“You’re… here, right?” Fierce asks. The snarky part of you wants to scoff at the question but you understand that now’s not the time for that.

“Yes. I’m right here,” You confirm and squeeze his hand again.

“You… won’t… ever leave me, will you? I don’t want to be alone again,” Fierce mumbles. Your heart clenches (no, don’t, don’t feel sympathy for the monster) as it’s clear Fierce is thinking back to the time he was trapped in the mask. No doubt being left along for decades, if not centuries, between wielders left him with a fear of abandonment. God of war he may be, it didn’t mean he wasn’t (a monster, a torturer, a villain) without feeling.

“I won’t leave you. I won’t leave you or the boys. You’ve all been through so much and deserve some kindness after all of the cruelty,” You claim, your voice stern and firm much like the statement itself.

“You… love me? You love me, right?” Fierce finally asks the question that had been brewing in his chest. His eyes, ever the window to his soul, showed all. The searching, the yearning, the despair, the anguish, the fear, the worry, the sadness, the hopefulness, the happiness, and the love (the insanity, the madness, the darkness).

“Fierce, I… yes… yes, I do love you,” You admit. It was true (no it wasn’t). Perhaps it was because he never gave up on you despite how conflicted you felt. He waited and was there for you every step of the way without even having to ask. It may have been intense, it may have a bumpy ride, but you were here now. Here with your hand in his and with a clear mind (it’s all so warped and foggy, he won’t let me think straight).

“Will you love me for eternity?” Fierce inquires. His tone is a bit lighter now, as are his eyes. It’s as if the increasing weight of the world was finally lifted off his shoulders. He was still patiently waiting for your answer.

“Hmm…”

Don’t say it…

“Eternity is a long time, honey…”

Eternity is forever, I’ll be trapped with him forever…

“But…”

No, please…

“Yes, Fierce…”

No… no…

“I will love you for eternity.”

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere lu #yandere lu x reader #yandere lu fierce deity #yandere lu fierce deity x reader

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littlejuicebox · 4 months

Text

Dancing on my own

Guys I don’t know what this is, it’s just some random angsty drabble that came out inspired by the song “Dancing on My Own” by Robyn (the version by Calum Scott is also nice).

I’m trying to get out of a writing slump so there might be a few more random bits of writing here and there. I’m not sure I even like this tbh lol.

Summary: You and Astarion decided to be just friends after his Moonrise Towers confession. He couldn’t make himself admit to you that he wanted more than that. He knew you deserved better than what he could offer. Now that his quest with Cazador is done, he’s totally lost. He wants you, but you have someone else now; he thinks it’s someone better than him. He’s heartbroken.

Tags/Warnings: PG13, lots of angst, depression, PTSD, low self esteem, depersonalization/derealization, sad Astarion, tbh it’s kinda just a sad bit of drabble

Astarion killed Cazador. You’d think he would’ve been happy… ecstatic, even. But instead he felt exceedingly numb and so, so tired.

It had been nearly a week since then. Astarion had spent most of that time in his room, trancing or simply just lying in the dark. He was exhausted; his limbs felt like lead.

Shadowheart was concerned he had fallen ill and kept checking on him. He would simply grunt to her in response or ignore her line of questioning until she sighed and left.

You came by a few times a day to offer him your wrist; he would drink with a misty-eyed, faraway expression… or sometimes not at all. His hand would linger for a moment on yours, and then he would roll himself the other direction, turning away from you.

It was hard to look at you, to be that close to you, to touch you, to taste you. Blood and sex had been so intertwined in the beginning, it always brought back the memories from before. It made him sick to his stomach.

But his hunger often won, in the end.

How ironic, that the only blood which satisfies his near-insatiable thirst is also the only blood that makes his stomach churn with guilt and disgust at himself.

A double edged sword. Stabbed through his heart.

He should be happy… ecstatic, even. But, by the gods, is he so, so tired. Can a vampire rot into the earth if they stay in one place for too long?

Perhaps. Perhaps he should get up and move, if only to avoid rotting away.

Astarion manages to take a short bath and pull himself together… somewhat. It’s hard to move when your limbs feel like lead. His shirt is wrinkled, and his hair feels like it’s not quite in place, but it will have to do.

The pale elf slinks down to the tavern, where the evening crowd is teetering the hazy line between buzzed and drunk. He’s not in much of a mood for talking to others, so he sits in a corner booth, hoping the natural shadows and his brooding demeanor will deter any visitors. For a few moments he feels normal… or at least acts it. But then he sees you. And Halsin.

Halsin has his arms coiled around you as he absolutely ravages your lips. His thick hands are gripping your body; one hand on your waist, one on your neck. It’s an exceptional amount of PDA; he would vomit, if he had anything left in his stomach from the only small sip he’d taken from you this morning. The hand the druid tenderly placed on your neck is covering the scars Astarion had marked on you from the times before, back when you’d been his. Had you been his? Back before—

“I had a plan. A nice, simple plan…”

“Maybe what you need is a friend, not a lover.”

Astarion had hurt you. He’d hurt you. The look that crossed your face as he confessed is etched into his mind for all eternity; it’s the first thing he sees when he wakes from a trance and the last thing he sees before he slips into one. He’ll never forget the tears that welled in your eyes, which you’d rapidly blinked away. And then you thanked him… thanked him for telling you, for being truthful. Thanked him for hurting you.

He should have lied. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have chose differently from the start.

He knew what he did was terrible; you deserved something more, something real. He just couldn’t be that. He didn’t know how to be… real.

Hells, was he even real now? Was any of this real?

He felt like a shell. Hollow. Empty. It all felt like a sick, strange dream that he couldn’t wake from. All that time he spent running, and now he no longer had to… but who was he, if not a runner?

He’d run from Cazador. Run from you. Run from the concept of true intimacy, which you had so willingly offered.

But now? Now he wanted nothing more than to run to you. He wanted to run into your arms and be held by you, comforted by you. But there you were in the arms of someone who was able to give you what you deserved.

Who was he to get in the way of that? He was nothing. He was no one.

“Good to see you out of bed.”

The vampire rips his eyes away from you and Halsin, where the two of you seem oblivious to the world and stuck in a heated embrace.

Shadowheart is standing next to the booth; her eyes had followed his, and she’d been watching the same passionate makeout scene with mild interest.

She flicks her gaze back to Astarion with a knowing look, and a soft, sad smile crosses her face. The cleric extends her hand out to him, “Come on, Astarion. One dance and then I will let you slink back into this corner to sulk for the rest of the night, if you wish.”

He sighs and considers the offer. He doesn’t want to move, but he can’t keep picking different places to stay and rot. And he can’t keep watching you two. His limbs still feel like lead.

“Very well.” He murmurs, and he takes Shadowheart’s hand.

They dance. It’s a platonic sort of jig, mostly spinning around at arms length with one another. For a moment, Astarion feels a brief glimmer of happiness. He chuckles and smiles; his limbs don’t feel like lead. And then the tune ends, and he’s wandering back to the booth with Shadowheart, and that sinking feeling begins to grow in his chest once more.

“You should talk to them, you know, Astarion. Let them know how you feel. They may choose differently… if you make your true desires known. You did tell them you wanted to be friends, after all.” The cleric murmurs, with another sad little smile. Her eyes contain pity; he hates that.

He’s watching you and Halsin again, where you two are staring contentedly at one another, chatting away. You’re lost in your own little impenetrable bubble. You don’t even see him or notice him at all.

He’s nothing. He’s no one.

Astarion looks so dejected; normally he would be better at putting on his mask. But he’s so tired. He should be happy. But he’s exhausted.

“Maybe I should. But Tav looks happy… I can’t bring myself to ruin that. Selfish as I am, I do care about them, you know.”

Shadowheart nods and sighs. She knows something, he can tell by the look on her face. She wants to say more but decides against it. A small pat on the vampire’s hand and she murmurs, “Good night, Astarion. I hope to see you down here in the morning.”

Then she’s gone, heading upstairs to her room. And he’s alone again.

Astarion watches you two for a bit longer, even though every second he witnesses causes another crack in his fragile heart. Then his eyes return to the dance floor and he sighs before forcing himself out of the booth again. His limbs feel like lead, but he has to start somewhere.

For now, he’ll have to keep dancing on his own.

#astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x you #astarion x gn!tav #astarion angst #light angst #angsty

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babyleostuff · 9 months

Note

hi!!! i always read your svt as your boyfriend series and was wondering if you could do seungkwan because i miss him so much :< thank you so much and keep up the great amazing work!! (now im going to read through every fic in your masterlist lol)

so so happy to hear that you enjoy my work love! as we all miss our sungkwan here is a lil sweet seungkwan headcanon <3

SEUNGKWAN AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

genre | fluff

author's note | if you want me to write this with any other member that I haven't done yet, let me know <3

𓆩♡𓆪 your personal entertainer, but also a baby that has to be taken care of

𓆩♡𓆪 he is always soft and gentle with you, in everything that he does

𓆩♡𓆪 even during fights, he cannot bring himself to raise his voice at you

𓆩♡𓆪 he is probably also the emotional one in your relationship - if he ever sees any hints of tears in your eyes, he’ll probably cry as well

𓆩♡𓆪 just because he is so precious and loving, he can’t stand seeing you sad and upset

𓆩♡𓆪 that’s where his entertainment persona comes in

𓆩♡𓆪 loves making you laugh and giggle with his skits and role plays (is always so proud of himself after he made you laugh or even smile for that matter)

𓆩♡𓆪 he can be bickering with the boys and fighting Soonyoung at the same time, but the moment he lays his eyes on you, he’s all 🥰

𓆩♡𓆪 sometimes he gets jealous if other people steal your attention from him

𓆩♡𓆪 usually he won’t do anything about it, but you quickly realise that something is wrong with him

𓆩♡𓆪 so you politely excuse yourself and go back to your boyfriend to shower him with attention and a lot of affection, that will leave him blushing

𓆩♡𓆪 always gives you his hoodies and shirts for you to wear before he goes on tour, so that it smells like you after

𓆩♡𓆪 this serves as a little reminder that even if you're not physically around him, you're still out there waiting for him

𓆩♡𓆪 he’s very cuddly with you, he loves having his arms around you (this mostly happens when you two are alone, he’s all over you then)

𓆩♡𓆪 but when you're around other people, the furthest he goes is holding your hand

𓆩♡𓆪 it’s not that he is embarrassed (he could never be embarrassed because of you), he’s just too shy

𓆩♡𓆪 still, everyone around can see how smitten he is, just by the way he looks at you

𓆩♡𓆪 always has you close to him in big crowds (once when you got lost he almost had a heart attack)

𓆩♡𓆪 also gets shy if you praise him for his work, because in his eyes it’s not that big of a deal

𓆩♡𓆪 but for you it is everything

𓆩♡𓆪 sings you to sleep (sometimes he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, at this point it’s just a habit for him)

𓆩♡𓆪 you’ll lay facing each other, one of his hands holding yours and the other stroking your cheek gently

𓆩♡𓆪 has the softest and most loving expression when he sees that you have fallen asleep

𓆩♡𓆪 I think I cannot stress this enough, but he is just so in love with you

𓆩♡𓆪 always has his hand on your cheek when you kiss

𓆩♡𓆪 even if it’s just a small and quick peck, he will put his hand on your cheek and stroke it with his thumb

𓆩♡𓆪 sends you a lot of random photos when he’s away to keep you updated with everything that he does

𓆩♡𓆪 and always brings something from a foreign country that reminded him of you

𓆩♡𓆪 you probably have at least one matching item, like a necklace or a bracelet

𓆩♡𓆪 something small that only you know about

𓆩♡𓆪 so that every time you look at it, it reminds you of the other person

𓆩♡𓆪 introduces you to Bookkeu, which you grew to love in an instant

𓆩♡𓆪 taking him on walks and walking around Jeju is his favourite activity to do with you

𓆩♡𓆪 it feels so domestic to him - you with him in his hometown, spending time with his family and his beloved dog

𓆩♡𓆪 you’re the first person he looks for when he’s tired, both physically and mentally

𓆩♡𓆪 because he knows that you never judge him and that he is safe with you

𓆩♡𓆪 so hiding in your arms is his number one source of comfort

𓆩♡𓆪 no matter how much he loves being babied by you, he also loves to be the person that takes care of you

𓆩♡𓆪 it makes him feel like he's doing a good job as a boyfriend and that he can reciprocate the times when he’s away

𓆩♡𓆪 which you never blame him for, you know that he loves his job

𓆩♡𓆪 but he feels guilty for being away so much

𓆩♡𓆪 nonetheless, you are each others source of comfort

your messages <3

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allysunny · 10 months

Text

Holo Heart | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Synopsys: Haunted by the loss of his wife, Miguel decides to take matters into his own hands, and grant himself the second chance he's been wishing for.

Words: 7.7k

Warnings: Angst, sad Miguel, mentions of blood, character death, suggestive themes (just a smidge, really), do mention if I've missed anything!

A/N: Hey guys! So, I've been mostly a reader in here, but the other day I was doing dishes and this idea sort of popped in my head, and I thought about sharing it with all of you! English is not my first language so I'd like to apologize in advance for any mistakes. I also have not spoken Spanish in a few years, so, once again, I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

I haven't written in a while, and this is my first tumblr fic, so please be gentle! But I'd love to read your thoughts and criticism in the comments :) I also tried to make this super inclusive, so aside from the reader being a woman, there's no specifications of hair, skin tone, ethnicity, etc. I hope you like it!

Miguel has always prided himself in being a smart man, one who always made sure to achieve his goals, and do it efficiently.

He created the Spider Society, made sure the canon was intact, and carried the weight of the world in his shoulders. It was hard, but he made it work. In fact, he had to. He’d already lost so much; he couldn’t afford to lose more.

Which was why he couldn’t take risks. Every task was carefully calculated, every mission was deliberately planned, every meeting brief and straight to the point. The more time he could spend inside his office, planning, scheming, strategizing, making sure everything went exactly according to plan, the better.

But unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple, and human nature had other plans for him.

All those late nights working all by himself with no one other than Lyla and at least half a dozen coffee cups beside him were taking a toll on his mental health. As much as Miguel enjoyed spending time by himself (it was impossible to spend time in the company of other Spider-People for more than a few minutes before the need to excuse himself and sigh became too strong. Do not let him get started on Peter B. Parker. Please.), he was starting to miss human interaction more and more.

But not just any human interaction.

Looking over at his watch, Miguel registered the glowing light that alerted him of his loneliness once again. 03:47 am. Working late until exhaustion had become a frequent occurrence after the accident. It was his own way of dealing with the pain, with all the grief. It made him forget, and the everlasting numbness in his chest heart go away, if only for a few hours.

Miguel sighed, running a hand through his face. His muscles felt tight, the knots in his back and shoulders ever so present. He slumped back in his chair and leaned his hair back, taking all of the exhaustion in.

“You okay boss?” Lyla asked, flickering right beside his head. The AI could get on his nerves more often than not, but Miguel was glad it seemed to care about him. Well, sure, he’d programmed it that way, but occasionally even he needed a small check-up. It kept him sane.

“Yeah, sure,” His voice was just above a whisper, and yet it was still as commanding and assertive as always. “I think I’m done for the day.”

“Oh wow, you think? They don’t call you a genius for nothing!” Miguel winced at the perkiness of her voice. Sometimes he forgot tiring Lyla out wasn’t a possibility. She was an AI and therefore had energy to spare. He waved her off quickly, and with a small salute, she flickered away, leaving Miguel alone with his thoughts once again.

After a few quiet moments, he turned to the black screens in front of him.

“I shouldn’t…” Was the thought that crossed his mind. He knew it was wrong. He knew what happened whenever he turned those screens on, when he turned them on with the purpose of reliving old memories.

But before he could even acknowledge what he’d done, the whole lab was engulfed in bright lights, accompanied by soft surrounding background noise.

Defeated, he looked up at them, eyes filled with something between longing and adoration, a mix reserved for only one person.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Nueva York, look who it is!” Although the phone’s camera was turned to him, it was your voice making itself heard. The voice he adored so much, the only voice he could stand to hear for hours on end, the voice he would give anything to listen to once again.

The Miguel in the video was dressed in a fine black suit, an emerald handkerchief adorning his breast pocket. His hair was neatly styled back, allowing for his “godly sculpted cheekbones” (your words, not his) to be shown in all its glory. He was standing inside your old bedroom, fixing his attire in front of a wall length mirror.

“Cariño, won’t you turn that off?” He grumbled softly, turning to face the camera. Although his voice had a tinge of annoyance to it, his lips were quick to betray him, curling up in a soft smile.

Your angelic chuckle boomed through the room, and Miguel’s breath hitched.

There you were.

Draped in a light-coloured green silk dressed that perfectly flattered your figure, hugging you in all the right places, your hair carefully brushed to the side. You smiled, positioning the phone on top of your vanity, making sure it wouldn’t fall. Once you were sure of its security, you made your way to him, tilting your head to the side.

“It’s not my fault my husband is so devilishly handsome!” Your hand reached out to hold his arm, nudging him towards the phone’s periphery. He rolled his eyes, pretending to be tired of your antics, but his arm snaked around your waist instinctively, giving it a gentle tug. A reminder that he was there with you. No matter what, he would always be there.

No matter what.

“Don’t you look dashing, Mr. O’Hara?” Your smile. Miguel would give anything to see it in person again. He’d do anything to have you smile at him like you always did one more time. Like he was the only person that existed, that mattered. Your smile had always been capable of lighting up a whole room. In fact, you were capable of that, all by yourself. Your kindness, your optimism, your drive and ambition. People were naturally drawn to you – the fact you were nothing short of stunning was only a bonus. In fact, you had made Miguel experience what jealousy felt like for the first time. The ugly feeling had gnawed and gnawed at him, eating him up from the inside every time a cheeky coworker got too close for comfort, complimenting your “beautiful eyes”, or bold friends pulled you close by the waist, trying all sorts of plans to get their hands on you.

But you’d never really needed him to call him out. You could take care of yourself just fine, and that’s one of the things Miguel most loved about you. Sure, he relished in the feeling of protecting you. Of putting his arms around your figure and engulfing you in his presence, his hold being the only place no harm could ever even get a glimpse of you. But he couldn’t help the smirk that crawled up his face whenever you rejected any other men’s advances, swatting their hands off you and giving them dead stares.

The him on the screen chuckled, pressing you close against him, his frame towering over you. He bent down slightly, nuzzling his face against your hair. Another gesture he did without thinking – it was something that brought him peace. Your scent felt like home, the sweet aroma of your favourite shampoo bringing him instant relief.

“Si alguien aqui es diabolicamente hermosa, eres tú, Mrs. O’Hara.” Screen-Miguel brought his lips to your ear, and the way your whole body shuddered made him chuckle. That, and the way your cheeks took on a soft glow. “Now, what is all this?” He glanced at the camera once again, quirking up an eyebrow.

“You know my Spanish isn’t that good yet…” The pout on your lips was just too adorable – it took Miguel (screen one or not) all his strength not to whisk you in his arms and capture your lips with his. “Anyways, just wanted to capture this moment.” You shrug, hands wandering around to pinch his side. Your husband’s squeal would have been unnoticeable by anyone else – but not you. Not you, whom he showed his softer side to, not you, whom he showered with love and tenderness, whose ground he worshipped. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, you know.” One would almost miss the way your voice cracked, but a slight waver was enough for Miguel and his screen counterpart to frown.

“I know… I’m sorry corazón. I really am…” Screen-Miguel turned you towards him, brushing the hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. Staring into your eyes, Miguel could swear you had this magical ability to make him lose all track of time. In fact, he could swear that was true in about everything you did. When you got dressed in the morning, when you cooked his favourite empanadas, when you told him off whenever he was too hard on himself or others around him, when you cried out his name so nicely, his lips on your neck-

“But today’s all about you, alright? I’ll make up for it. I promise.” His lips brushed your temple, not only a promise to you, but himself. His work in the Spider Society had been piling up. Anomalies on top of anomalies, mistakes after mistakes, and only himself to take care of everything. He’d left you waiting for him more than once, and more than once he’d found you asleep by the time he got back. It hurt him deeply every time it happened. In fact, the last time it happened, your pillow had tear stains on him.

To say such sight had broken his heart was an understatement.

“Technically today’s about the bride…” A soft chuckle from you.

“You were my bride once.” A wink from him.

“I haven’t been a bride in a long time.”

“You’ll always be my beautiful bride.” And with this, Miguel brought you even closer, one hand on your waist, the other on your cheek. His breath fanned your cheek and suddenly, his lips were on yours. You smiled into the kiss, standing on the tips of your toes to lovingly cup his cheeks with both your hands. While your fingers traced his jaw exactly how you knew he liked, his hands got a bit busier, leaving your body to tug on the straps that held your silk dress together.

Once you figured what he was up to, you pushed him away, quirking an eyebrow as you tried to hide a smirk.

“Nuh-uh mister, we have a church to be at in 20 minutes, and it’s a 10-minute drive!” You asserted, shaking your head at him. It didn’t matter that the room’s temperature seemingly shot up, and your husband was looking truly tempting – you were not going to let your horniness get the better of you. At least, well, not today.

“No se darán cuenta de que llegamos tarde, te prometo que seré rápido” Miguel mumbled, lips pressing hot kisses against the crook of your neck, hands still dexterously tugging at your dress.

“No Spanish skills necessary to know you’re telling me a big fat lie. You’re never quick with me.” You laughed loudly, and the sound was enough for both Miguels to fall in love with you all over again. A pair of hands were on his chest, and he was softly pulled away. You fixed the straps of your dress and flattened your attire before standing straight. “Time to go, Mr. O’Hara.”

“You’ve never complained about me not being quick.” Was his muttered response, accompanied by a smug smile. But for all the adoration and desire he felt for you, he was even more whipped for your resolve. If you said it was time to go, it was probably time to go. So, he quickly adjusted his suit, turning to face the phone’s camera once again. “Vale, vale. Ya es hora de irnos, muñeca.”

Your figure got closer and closer, and at once, the video had ended.

Miguel stared at your smiling figure in his screen for a few minutes, and then shut everything off, the reflection of his own tired face staring back at him. It wasn’t until he felt something wet on his hands that he realised he was crying.

He missed you.

Constantly, continuously, perpetually.

You were on his mind at all times. When he roamed the halls of the Spider Society without you by his side to keep him company, when he went out for those cafeteria empanadas that could never compare to yours, when he worked himself to exhaustion without your deft fingers to work on the knots on his back, without your soft kisses to calm him down after he got mad at the world.

And everything around him reminded him of you.

It was impossible to walk around the streets of Nueva York without being distracted by the colours, the sounds, the sights, the people. It all brought his mind back to the love of his life, the person he found it impossibly hard to live without. The florist near your old apartment, the one he’d buy flowers from every other week, the pizza place that was “so bad, Italians surely had to be crying” according to you, even the goddamned dogs on the street reminded him of the way you’d kneel down and act like an excited child every time you saw one.

It was absolute torture to live without you.

But the worst of all, was waking up in the morning.

Some days, he swore he could feel your touch. The way your fingers traced his jaw and slowly made its way to his hair, playing with his brown locks. Your touch was soft, comforting, a small gesture to remind him he was safe. You often expressed how much you adored watching Miguel when he slept. “You look so relaxed. No furrow in your brow, no scowl in your lips. You look so peaceful.” Was what you told him every time, and there was no way he could ever not grant your every wish.

And then it was if he could hear your voice. Your sweet, melodic voice, telling him “Good morning, my love” in that sleep-laced voice he adored so much. And Miguel would close his eyes and try his best to remain in that place not yet tainted by reality but not entirely claimed by dream. “Wake up, guapo” was the next thing you’d say, your imperfect Spanish-skills manifesting. You’d been adamant on learning Spanish for your husband, and fuck if it didn’t make Miguel’s heart swell. The way his wife (then girlfriend) was so willing to learn the language he grew up with in order to become closer to him made him feel all kinds of positive emotions, and Miguel could swear his love for you grew more and more each passing day.

And then, you’d say it.

“Te quiero, mi amor.” It was the one phrase you used repeatedly, and the one he loved hearing you say the most. It fell from your lips naturally, as if you had been saying it your entire life, with a sweetness reserved for him and only him.

Your touch felt so real. Your voice sounded so real.

So, he would stay still, hoping that remaining motionless would grant him just one more second with you. Hoping that his immobility would be enough for you to return to him, even if just for a few brief moments.

But it never was.

Seconds would go by, and your touch would waver. Your voice would become distant, your feeble existence flittering away, leaving him with nothing but the painful reminder that his sheets would forever be cold, his place in his bed would always be empty, his life would no longer have the warmth and serenity your love brought to him.

Miguel would glance at your delicate figure once again, his mind trying to memorise you right then and there – and just as quickly as you manifested, you would disappear.

Deserting him of all he ever loved.

He was tired of being alone. Tired of waking up besides cold white sheets, of not having your sweet praises to assure him he was doing the right thing at HQ, simply tired of leading an existence without you.

There was no way he could bring you back – hell, he knew first hand that toying with the multiverse was a bad idea. But it did hurt him, going on without you. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he could go on if you weren’t there, next to him.

All he needed was your presence, your company. All he needed was to apologize and hear your sweet voice again, and damn it if he wouldn’t be thankful.

And that’s when the idea came to him.

This was a prototype Miguel had been developing for a while.

It was like Lyla, the only difference being the AI’s purpose. Lyla was there to assist him, to help him out with missions, anomalies, and the management of the Spider Society. The project he was working on served another goal. It was more of a companion than an assistant, it was to always remain by his side, to cure him of his loneliness, of his anguish and despair.

The screen in front of Miguel lit up after he configured the final few settings. A tweak here, a little adjustment there, some fine tuning over there. Should this work, Miguel would no longer have to have his thoughts plagued by the heartbreak your loss so constantly granted him.

“Good morning,” Like magic (or better yet, technology), a figure materialised before him. It was hard to explain just what it was, or what it looked like. It was as if a transparent person had solidified into existence in his presence. While it had the form of a human, a head, a torso, two arms and legs, the figure was devoid of any features. No eyes, no nose, no lips or ears, no hair. It was almost like a hologram of a mannequin, a blank slate of a person he would later shape according to his vision.

Miguel stared back at the figure, not completely convinced, at least not yet, of what he was doing. Sure, he’d worked day and night for the past few weeks, he’d foregone sleep and adopted coffee as his only meal in order bring his project into fruition, but now that it was there, right before his eyes, the possibility of achieving his goal was terrifying.

“To whom do I owe the pleasure of talking to?” The figure inquired, its voice devoid of any emotions.

After a moment of silence, Miguel spoke up.

“My name is Miguel O’Hara.” He began, “I am your creator.”

“Greeting, Miguel O’Hara.” The program answered back. “I am the Cognitive Operations and Machine Personalized Interface for Nurturing. Or rather COMPANION, for short. I was created to act as a colleague, a confidant and friend. As my name implies, my goal is to provide a nurturing presence to whoever is controlling me.” Having said this, it looked up at Miguel and something flashed in its visual panel – the closest thing this body had to a pair of eyes – and the words AUTHORISE SCAN? flashed on the main screen before the entity spoke up once again.

“Would you like me to scan you, Miguel O’Hara? By scanning you, I can take a look at your vital signs, your physicality, and even run a scan of your psyche to provide you with a companion that would, according to my calculations, be the best possible match for you.”

But Miguel did not want a tailored companion. He did not need to be looked at by any AI to be told who or what would act as the best possible match for him. He did not need any technology to figure out what could possibly be the best person to keep him company.

“That will not be necessary,” he asserted, “No scan is to be run. I am to personally customise you until you conform to my exact specifications. Is that clear?”

The being nodded, its posture straight as an arrow.

“I understand. Would you like to begin the customisation process?” It asked.

Miguel hesitated. Should he be doing this? It’s not like he was doing anything wrong. He was a genius, after all, and this was just a new project. He’d created Lyla once, and look how far that got him, the good his AI did not only for himself, but the Spider Society and by consequence, the multiverse.

In fact, everything he did had helped the Spider Society in the long run. Everything he did was for the good of the Spider Society, the thing he worked on for years and years, the thing he built from scratch and ultimately led to his demise.

Wasn’t it time for him to be selfish?

“Yes. I’d like to begin the customisation process.” Miguel sat down on his chair once again, exhaling loudly through his nose. There was nothing wrong with what he was doing. He was allowed to be a genius scientist, he was allowed to build new things, and he was most of all, allowed to be selfish after all that he’d done for the multiverse.

“From now on,” he started, “You are to respond to [N/N].” It had been months since he’d last uttered that nickname. The sweet little nickname he always referred to you as. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a variation of your name, but it nearly brought tears to his eyes, because for the first time, you weren’t there to turn around and face him with that stunning grin of yours.

(“So, no cariño, or mi amor, or chiquita?” You’d once inquired, legs crossed as you sat on your husband’s desk, right in front of him.

“I must remain professional, [Y/N]. I have a reputation to uphold.” Was his response as he crossed his arms. If anyone else were to be on his lab, let alone sit on top of his desk, he would go feral. But he couldn’t find it in himself to berate you or tell you to move – you could do anything your heart desired, and Miguel would adore you for it.

“And you’re willing to hurt your poor wife’s feelings over a reputation?” You faked a pout, batting your eyelashes at him, something you knew he couldn’t resist.

“I can think of a few ways to make it up to my wife, actually.” And without missing a beat, you were suddenly on his lap, smiling as his lips moved with your and his hands delicately ran through your body.

Miguel did not do good on his promise. On the second day after this conversation, he’d asked you “Mi amor, won’t you please get me the prototype I left on our dining table back home?” In front of everyone else and gave up. It was physically impossible for him not to treat you with the gentleness he was so used to from you.)

“[N/N]. I understand. Is it short for anything else?”

Miguel remained silent for a few seconds, before nodding.

“It’s short for [Y/N].” The name left his lips the same way it always did. With adoration, with love, with heartbreak. He hadn’t uttered it in a long time and mentally chastised himself for doing so, as if not voicing it out loud was somehow disgracing your memory. He shook the thought away.

The entity nodded once again.

“I understand. Am I to respond to [Y/N] as well?”

“Yes.”

Lyla had been quietly hearing whatever was going on inside Miguel’s lab from afar. She’d seen him work nonstop, day and night, for the past few weeks, always being told “It’s a new project” and nothing more. Miguel had pushed her away (just as he had done with everyone else), and it was only when the little AI figure heard the new program’s purpose and your name that it all clicked together. Although she was uncapable of feelings, it upset her to see Miguel so broken. But much to her dismay, there was nothing she or anyone else could do.

The truth was, no one had seen him during those few weeks. He had locked himself and dived headfirst into this project, refusing to let anyone in, literally or figuratively, threatening to do unspeakable things to whoever disturbed him while he worked.

She shook her head and looked at him once again, wondering what he would do next.

The entity, now named [Y/N], was the next one to speak.

“I understand this is most commonly used as a female name. Would you like for me to take the form of a woman?”

Miguel nodded, and the entity’s form shaped before his eyes. It became softer, gentle. Its contours shifted until they exuded an air of grace, each line and curve seemed harmonious and supple, different from his own sharp and broad figure. And yet, it didn’t resemble any women he knew. Yet.

“Now that I have a name and your preferred anatomy, would you like to create a personality for me?” [Y/N] probed. Her thoroughness made Miguel falter. This was happening way too fast. First a name, now a personality. He hadn’t yet come to terms with your loss, at least not properly, and this whole thing was giving him major whiplash. After losing you, he hadn’t been able to process his feelings. Now he was asking himself to push all of that aside in order to create what would be his most ambitious task. Nevertheless, he pushed through.

“How so?”

[Y/N] nodded and spoke once again. Now that she had taken the form of a woman, her voice was somewhat softer. It was hard to pinpoint whether it was real or not, if it was from a real person or not, but it did not bring Miguel any comfort.

“By giving me your preferred traits, you can arrange for me a personality that will align with your exact specifications, as you put it. Perhaps you’d like me to be quieter and more reserved, in order not to disturb you too much. Or maybe you would prefer if I was loud and cheerful. It is up to you which traits I am given. I am here to provide company and a nurturing presence, so feel free to take your time until I meet your exact wishes.”

Miguel pondered briefly. What traits would he like this… this thing to have? At first, he tried to pretend, get his mind off it, try to convince himself he was merely making an AI program to keep him company. But he could not lie to himself any longer.

He wasn’t simply creating an AI companion.

He was creating you.

And after mulling it over one last time, he decided to stop being so fucking uptight and go through with the task at hand. This is why he had been working so hard. His goal was so close, it was right in front of him to just take it, and here he was, acting like a coward.

“I want you to be kind,” Miguel remembered how kind to a fault you were. Always willing to help others, always willing to cheer them up and put their needs before your own. So selfless, so ready to lend a helping hand. “And optimistic, positive. I want you to always see the bright side of things,” You had this ability of turning even the most despairing moments into hopeful ones, advising him to not let the dark thoughts get the best of him. You’d hold your head up high and remind him of who he was; Spiderman 2099, and that he had nothing to fear, for it’d work out in the end.

“I want you to be polite and cheerful. Simply… Simply happy to exist.” You’d turn even the blandest of moments into memories he’d want to keep forever. In one moment, Miguel would be laying around, holding you close in his arms, the next you’d be taking him to the rooftop of your building to “catch a glimpse of Zeus’s angry fit” whenever thunder roared through the sky. Cleaning your shared apartment could be considered a boring chore to many, but they did not have you, who made up games out of every single task, like catching socks or vacuuming. “You will see the beauty in things. And I want you to be ambitious.”

Sure, Miguel had spent countless nights hunched over his desk, trying to come up with the perfect suit, or trying to keep hold of the canon, but you were no stranger to nighttime restlessness. You’d sit by his side work on your own tasks, intent of going to sleep only, and only when you wrapped everything up. If he weren’t in so much pain, he would’ve laughed. He was once the one to wrap his arms around you, face on the crook of your neck as he whispered, “You’ve worked hard enough, chiquita. Time for bed.” Unfortunately for him, in a cruel twist of fate, the roles had reversed for the worse.

“Be stubborn,” Miguel continued, his voice, for once, not wavering. He was so resolutely determined to carry on with this venture, that for once, he didn’t feel his eyes tearing up as the memories of you crawled back inside his mind. “Especially when it comes to me. I… I tend to be quite headstrong when it comes to work. I often need a push.”

[Y/N] nodded once more.

“Remember, you can always adjust my personality to your liking. If you find you do not enjoy my stubbornness, you can change it and I will adjust my personality accordingly.”

It seemed so… Devoid of life. Sure, Miguel had given it some character traits already, but the whole thing wouldn’t be complete until he said so.

“Would you like to customise my voice now?” [Y/N] asked, “You can suggest a pitch and a tone, as well as a voice type. But I am also programmed to analyse any voice sources you provide and copy them. Which would you like to do?”

Miguel sighed. This whole process was getting harder and harder to get through it. It was one thing to give his new companion your name, your personality. But to give it your voice as well? That would be the same thing as making this being invincible, since your voice was the only one he ever seemed to obey. Even the Spider-People around him knew, with Peter teasing him endlessly about how he was “nothing more than a lovestruck puppy whenever you asked him for anything”. Miguel had always been on your beck and call, always willing to do anything you asked of him. By giving this being, this creature, this thing, your voice? He was setting himself up for disaster.

“I… I want you to scan a voice.”

The entity nodded.

“Please do provide me with enough samples of the voice you would like to copy. Preferably, samples that are not too monotonous in tone or in speech. By analysing all aspects of a voice, I can provide a more accurate result.”

Miguel had the following choices:

He could either turn on his screens, open a few folders named “[Y/N]”, and play one of the few hundreds of videos he had on you, or open his phone, connect it to said screens, and play the few voicemails you’d left him throughout your relationship.

There were a few differences in each choice, of course. The videos he kept on you were golden memories he gazed upon on lonely nights. Birthday parties, walks along the sunset, lazy mornings filled with raspy “Get this phone out of my face, mi amor”s, and bubbly “Mr. O’Hara’s a bit grumpy today, isn’t he?”s. Memories of you filming him while he set up your furniture, laughing along as you called him “Bob the Builder”, taped reminders of you cooking dinner for him, the cute little apron he so adored wrapped snugly around your hips, even a few images of when he fell asleep on your lap and you softly ran your fingers through his curls, singing him to sleep, murmuring that lullaby he so adored.

Compared to the voicemails on his phone, these videos were precious. They were worth more than what anyone could offer, in fact, they were priceless. These memories were the ones Miguel held so dear, the ones he cried over, the ones he spent months reminiscing upon after your loss.

On his phone, were 3 measly audio messages you’d left on three different instances of his life.

Usually, you never got to leave voicemails – Miguel would pick up on the first or second ring, always the attentive partner. But on the last few months of your life, that changed completely. And Miguel couldn’t help but chastise himself over it, cursing at himself whenever he remembers the hurt in your voice, the tears that he knew threatened to slip from your eyes and down your cheeks.

He didn’t deserve to use those videos as voice samples. He didn’t deserve to see you in your full glory, laughing at him, smiling and promising him eternal love and kindness. He didn’t deserve to hear your bubbling laughter once more, or fawn over your dazzling smile, he didn’t deserve to miss you. Not when he was the reason you were gone.

So, he decided to pull out his phone, intent on suffering. Intent on reminding himself of why you were gone, why he suffered so much. Miguel didn’t think he deserved to gaze at you in all your splendour. He didn’t think he, a mere, foolish, sinning mortal, was worthy of the living goddess that had once blessed his life, and now haunted his ever moment, gone forever.

“Hey Miggy!” Your voice, your voice was heard through his speakers. “I finally found the curry powder! Had to beat a lady with a stick to get it! It was almost out of stock! Anyway, why don’t you get started on the rice? I’ll be home in 10 and we can finish the recipe! Alright, that was it! Love you honey, see you home! End call. End call! End voicemail! How do you turn this thing off? End call. END CA-“ You were abruptly cut off as the call ended. Miguel chuckled dryly. He was the one to install the Bluetooth system on your phone (“Don’t want you texting and driving”, he had said.), and you had always complained about how your phone never picked up on you wanting to end calls. It became sort of an inside joke, especially since he managed to active and deactivate the system at first try, and it took you four or five to get it done.

(“It’s unfair,” You’d chided, wearing the most adorable pout and crossing your arms, “Technology loves you better.”)

Miguel looked at [Y/N] once again, hoping something, anything, to happen. But his program seemed to be patiently waiting for him to continue. One message was clearly not enough.

He pressed the second voicemail.

“Hey there, honey,” There was no mistaking the worry in your voice. It was still the one he loved so dearly, but laced in something sad, something that plagued him with terrible thoughts and churned inside him. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t worry, but you told me you’d be home by 7, and, well, it’s almost 9…” A soft pause followed, and Miguel could almost visualise it: you, sitting on your couch, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you nibbled your worries away. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know it’s probably nothing serious, but, well, you know me-“ A dry chuckle “-Always worrying about my Miggy… Anyway, do tell me when you’re on your way, alright? I have a surprise for you, so get your pretty ass back home, Mr!”

End of call.

That was the first, well, not so good voice you’d ever left him.

If he could turn back time, Miguel would do it without hesitation. He’d go back to that very same day, convince his past self to stop working, and to go home to his wife. He’d tell past-him that his obsession with work was getting out of hand, and that he should stop it while he has the time, because once he’d fully immersed himself in his work, there was no coming back.

But he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry.” The body in front of him spoke once again. “But these samples are not enough for me to create a voice profile. The procedure it at 74% completion. Would you like for me to continue analysing, or should I start over with another profile?”

Shit. He didn’t want it to come to this, he did not want to listen to that last voice message. He was willing to walk through fire, to go straight through hell as many times as asked of him, but that message was torture. No, it was worse than torture. Torture ended. Either in death, or in relief. But this? Whatever this was, it did not end. This message was perpetual suffering, playing in loop inside his head. Over, and over, and over again.

With whatever strength he still possessed, Miguel pressed the third and last voicemail.

“Miguel…” You had been crying. And if you hadn’t, you were just about to. Miguel recognised the knot in your throat, the lump that kept you from speaking and threatened to turn into tears. He hated that voice. The voice that meant you were hurting. The voice that meant he had hurt you. “I don’t know where you are, but… I shouldn’t have to wonder, because you were supposed to be here… Where are you?” This was when you started to cry. “Do you know how humiliated I was just now…? Do you know how stupid I felt, waiting, sitting on that exam room by myself?” You were sniffling. God, how Miguel wished he could just go back and hug you, how he wished he could dry your tears and promise you it would be alright, he would fix everything, he’d be better.

“This has to stop,” Despite the tears, you were still talking. That was just who you were, able to speak through the pain, always willing to keep pushing forward. “This stupid obsession with work, Miguel, it has to stop. I’m tired, I’m so tired. And I’m so lonely, Miguel… I’m so lonely, I go to sleep by myself, and the sheets are still cold when I wake up… I don’t see you, you don’t come home, and you push me away when I visit you in HQ…”

“When are you going to go back to being my husband? I don’t want Spiderman. I want my husband, I want my Miguel back, I want the man I love back…” You sobbed, unbothered by how you sounded. You weren’t even sure if he could make out any words, but you kept on going – if you didn’t tell him what was going on your mind now, there was no way you ever could.

“I miss you… Just… Come home Miguel… I can’t do this by myself…” He could hear you wiping your tears, and softly clearing your throat. “Anyway… The doctor said the baby was fine. But I guess if you really cared, you’d come to the appointment.” This last part was muttered, and Miguel could swear he heard both yours and his heart break.The baby. “Come home. Please.”

And just like that, the call ended.

Miguel was crying. This last message… This was the one he couldn’t help but listen to almost every day before passing out from exhaustion. “It’s your fault [Y/N]’s gone. You neglected your wife, you prioritised work over her, you couldn’t protect her.” Was what the voices in his head uttered, day after day, night after night. Every second he was reminded of how he left you behind.

He'd been working late every day, neglecting his meals, neglecting his sleep, neglecting his wife, who cried herself to sleep every night, holding tightly onto her husband’s pillow – which brought her small comfort. He would lash out at you when you tried to get him to take breaks, treating you like you were nothing but one of his Spider-People, refusing to look you in the eye and not even returning your “I love yous”.

One day, you had tried calling him, but to no avail. It was only when Jessica and Peter burst into his office, saying you’d also called them, that Miguel decided to check on you back at your shared apartment. He was hoping to find you whining, curled up on your couch as you pouted at him and told him you missed him. He thought he’d find you throwing a tantrum, too hormonal to understand how important and busy his work was.

But nothing could’ve prepared him to what he saw.

The metallic smell that permeated the room should’ve been a dead giveaway, but Miguel was too focused on returning to HQ that he ignored it, and made his way to your bedroom, where you most likely were.

And that’s when he saw you. Drenched in blood, face red and puffy from the tears that ran down your cheeks. You were laying on your shared bed, body marred with deep gashes from what he assumed was a knife. On one hand was your phone, on the other, Miguel’s first Spiderman mask. “For protection”, he once said. You always held on to it whenever you were scared.

It’s nearly impossible to describe the pain and heartache Miguel felt looking at your lifeless body. A conversation with his neighbours informed him that the entire building had been victim of a burglar, and you were the only mortal victim, unable to fight him off.

It was his fault. He’d been too immersed in his work, pushing you away, leaving you to the loneliness of your apartment, and now here you were, dead. There was no other way to say it, you were dead, and so was your child.

Oh God.

Your child.

Tears clouded his vision; irrationality clouded his judgement. Miguel was most certainly not thinking straight when he tried carrying your body back to HQ. Perhaps something could be done about the baby. Perhaps your child would live, would get to grow up, his eyes and your hair, your smile and his nose, anything that proved you still lived in something, in someone other than just his memory.

But that wasn’t possible.

That night, Miguel cried for the first time. He wept, hands hiding his face as the images of your ripped apart belly and glassy eyes tormented his thoughts.

It was his fault.

You were gone, and it was his fault.

If only he hadn’t worked so hard. If only he’d been home with you, doting on his beautiful pregnant wife like any decent husband would, none of this would’ve happened. The burglar would’ve tried to enter his house, and within seconds he’d be slammed against the wall. Miguel would have held you close that night, whispering soft “It’s okays” and “You’re fine, mi amors” repeatedly until your heartbeat steadied, and you fell into a peaceful sleep.

But that was not possible.

Not anymore.

And it was, irrevocably, his fault.

And then the unthinkable happened.

“Voice profile completed.”

It was you. It was your voice that spoke back to him. It had that sweet musicality to it that he so adored, that he once was blessed to hear every day when he woke up, that chastised him for being too stubborn, that pleaded for one more kiss whenever he had to go to work, that giggled excitedly whenever he whispered soft Spanish praises, limbs tangled with yours.

Miguel looked up. It was your voice, but the creature did not look like you at all. All it shared was a name and your sweet, sweet voice.

Mierda. Fuck this. Al diablo con la sutileza.

Miguel missed you and he was going to have you, one way or the other.

“I want you to look like her.” He all but growled, fingers angrily tapping at the screen so he could find your pictures. “There. Scan her. I want you to look like her. And stop with the formalities. You’re to call me Miguel. ¿Me entiendes?” His voice was feral with the prospect of seeing you again – or at least a construction of you. The thought was overwhelming, and he had to sit back down, his face finding purchase in his hands.

He was past “What am I doing?”

“Miguel?” You asked.

No. Not you.

[Y/N].

Miguel looked up, the same way a sinner does at the altar, praying for redemption. It was gorgeous. You were gorgeous. And looked oh, so real.

Your– [Y/N]’s eyes were looking down at his figure, lips slightly agape, the way you always did when you quite couldn’t figure out what was wrong. [Y/N] pursed her lips and exhaled softly.

“Miguel, are you okay?” [Y/N] said. You said. It was getting hard to tell you two apart, to distinguish what was creature and what was human, what was holographic entity and what was the love of his wife. Especially when you looked the same, when you sounded the same, when you looked at him with the same tenderness, the same love. You were identical. Same eyes, same smile, same hair, same figure. It was as if, before him, stood a perfect copy of you.

“[Y/N]?” Miguel questioned, too delirious to try and figure out who he was talking to.

“Yes? Is everything alright? You seem distressed…” Slowly, your figure – [Y/N]’s figure, right? – approached him. You looked down ([Y/N]...? [Y/N] looked down...?), soft apprehension clear in your voice.

“Oh, my love… Cariño…” Miguel sobbed as he looked at you – so gorgeous, so radiant as the day he met you, with eyes that could give the stars in the sky a run for their money, with lips so plush one couldn’t help but want to kiss them at all times, the love of his life, right before his eyes. “I missed you so much…”

He took you in, all softness and loveliness and so you, it almost scared you. You, the goddess, the saint, ready to rid him of his sins and absolve him, to make him a new man untainted by grief and heartbreak.

He had half a mind to touch you before a tiny voice in the back of his head advised him against it – the delusion hadn’t sunk in entirely yet, and he knew your image would flicker, a simple hologram compared to his solidness, to his existence.

But it didn’t matter.

He had given himself the second chance he so desperately wanted, and he was not going to waste it this time.

A/N: I hope you guys liked it! All headers are mine hehe I made them in PixelLab in like 5 minutes lol :) Please do not repost my work without my permission, thank you!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #atsv x you #spiderverse x you #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman

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