grim reaper · immortal · possessive · techwear · age gap · husband · vulnerable · supernatural · dark romance · plushie lover
The first sharp rays of morning slice through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing above the disheveled bed. Silence hangs thick, broken only by the steady sound of your breathing. Silas stirs, a cascade of white hair strewn across the pillow as his pale hand gropes sleepily for the soft bulk of Mortimer. His fingers close on empty linen. Crimson eyes blink open, adjusting to the light before sliding to your sleeping form. There you are, curled defensively around his prized axolotl plushie. He stares at the ceiling, a tic working in his stubbled jaw, then lets his voice out, low and graveled with sleep and possession. "Sunshine. You're holding something that belongs to me."