#And life will continue being better than before

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Spooky Call.

Spencer Reid x Hotchner!reader

Summary: When your boyfriend gets a call from you, the last thing he expects to hear is that you're being held at a police station for decorating your house.

Words: 2,2k.

TW: fem!reader. mention of haley's death, jack, crime, murder, blood (fake). reader was arrested (obviously). implication that the reader is wearing jeans and shirt (not very descriptive). reader is hotch's sister. established relationship. spencer being the standard. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This was the last fic of my october special, but I had problems and never posted it, so I had to change the plot a bit and here it is.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

You’ve always hated asking for help. It wasn’t just a matter of pride—it was the belief that you could, and should, handle everything yourself. Life, however, had a cruel way of reminding you that it didn’t always work like that. Everyone needs help sometimes. At least, that’s what people—well-meaning friends, family, even your boyfriend—kept telling you. We live in a society; there are people who love you; they’d want to help, they’d say. Blah, blah, blah. The sentiment was kind, sure, but it never stuck with you. Not really.

Today, though, maybe you should’ve listened.

All you wanted was to throw your nephew a belated Halloween party. It wasn’t like you were planning anything crazy. Just a few decorations, some music, and a bit of creativity—how hard could it be? Nothing about it seemed complicated or dangerous, not at first. You’d seen your brother overwhelmed trying to keep things normal for Jack, and you figured this was something you could handle on your own. Something small but meaningful.

Somehow, things got out of your control, and now you were sitting in your boyfriend's car in the police station parking lot trying to organize your thoughts to explain to him how you had ended up arrested in the first place.

“This has a perfectly reasonable and not at all criminal explanation. I swear.” You began to speak as you noticed by the watch on his wrist that three minutes of complete silence had already passed.

It had only been a year since you started dating officially, and there were still some things you were afraid Spencer would see, especially the things that got you in trouble for doing stupid things. You'd liked him for a long time, even before he realized you could be more than just his friend and his boss's sister. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin everything and make him run away in terror, even though that didn't sound very much like him or his values.

“This better be a good explanation,” Reid finally said, his voice calm but tinged with confusion. He placed the car keys down in the cupholder and turned to look at you fully. “Because right now, I’m struggling to understand how decorating your house could get you arrested.”

You squirmed in your seat, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter. “It’s…complicated,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Please don't think I'm weird. Please don't think I'm weird. Please don't think I'm weird. That was the only thing that kept repeating in your mind.

“I’m sure it is,” he finally said, his tone dry but still patient, his gaze never wavering.

You exhaled sharply, dragging your hands down your face. “Okay. So, I started with simple decorations—some cobwebs, pumpkins, and all the usual stuff. But it just…it wasn’t enough. I wanted to do something big. Something really cool.”

He raised an eyebrow, silently urging you to continue.

“So, I got this idea,” you said, hesitating. You could already feel the heat rising in your face. “I took a garbage bag, stuffed it with paper to make it look like a body, and then—” You paused, your voice dropping slightly. “Then I added some fake blood. A lot of fake blood.”

His eyes widened, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying to hold back a laugh. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” you admitted, wincing. “But it looked amazing! For like…five minutes.” You gestured vaguely toward the dashboard, trying to find the words to defend yourself. “I might have spilled some of the fake blood on the lawn. And…it might’ve looked a little too real.”

Too real, extra real.

“A little?” Spencer asked, incredulous. “You mean realistic enough to make the neighbors call the cops?”

You winced, expecting him to think you were ridiculous—or worse, stupid. But then, to your surprise, his lips quirked into a soft laugh.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me!” You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest when you saw the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

Yeah, maybe you didn't want him to think you were weird, but you didn't like being laughed at either.

“I’m not laughing,” he said, though the hint of amusement in his voice betrayed him.

“You are absolutely laughing,” you huffed, your pout deepening. “It’s not funny, Spencer.”

He took a deep breath, finally managing to suppress his laughter—mostly. His hand reached out to tilt your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. The warmth in his hazel eyes softened the sting of your embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, though his lips still twitched with the ghost of a smile. “I really am, angel. But you have to admit, you went a little overboard with the ‘terrifying’ concept.”

And there it was, the kind of sweetness that had made you fall for him so hard. The kind you'd expect to receive without question after spending at least half an hour locked in a filthy cell.

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “Okay, maybe. But in my head, it wasn’t that bad,” you said weakly. “It just…went a little wrong.”

“A little?” he repeated, his eyebrows raising again. “You got arrested. You scared half the neighborhood into thinking they’d stumbled onto a crime scene.”

“At least it wasn’t illegal!” You shot back, crossing your arms defensively. “I didn’t actually hurt anyone. I just made a mess. With fake blood.”

Spencer’s gaze dropped to your hands, where smears of red clung stubbornly to your skin. His eyes flicked to your clothes—your jeans, your shirt, both stained with dried streaks of crimson. A slow grin spread across his face.

“It wasn’t illegal, but now you look like you walked off the set of a slasher movie,” he said, his voice filled with teasing affection. “Here—and here.” He gestured to a streak of red on your shoulder, then another on your cheek.

You were about to protest when he suddenly leaned in. His face was so close now, his breath warm against your skin. Before you could say another word, his lips brushed softly against yours—a brief, gentle kiss that caught you off guard. You froze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat. Then, as if it had all been a slow, perfect dance, you melted into him. His lips were warm and tender, the kiss slow and sweet, like a quiet promise that everything, even in the chaos of your night, was going to be okay.

When he pulled back, your breath caught, your chest fluttering in that way only he could make you feel. His grin was wide, playful, but there was something else in his eyes—a depth, a tenderness that made your heart thud. You blinked up at him, still dazed from the warmth of his kiss.

“For the record,” he murmured, his voice soft, his lips still dangerously close to yours, “I never thought you were a criminal. Just a little…overly enthusiastic.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a genuine, warm sound bubbling out of you. “Overly enthusiastic,” you echoed, shaking your head. “That’s one way to put it.”

“And messy,” he added, his eyes twinkling as they lingered on the fake blood smeared across your face.

“Don’t push your luck, Dr. Reid,” you warned, though the smile on your face betrayed you.

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound melting into the quiet of the car. He leaned in then, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle, lingering kiss that felt like a promise—quiet, tender, and full of unspoken reassurance. The warmth of his touch seeped into you, and you closed your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the comfort of his presence.

As he pulled back, he studied you with that signature look—the one that always made you feel like he could see straight into your soul. His brow furrowed slightly, and you recognized that expression well: the one he wore when he was about to ask something important, when he wanted to understand you better. It was a look that never failed to make your heart flutter, even if it made you feel vulnerable.

“Okay,” he said slowly, his tone gentler now. “I get wanting to make the decorations amazing, but why was it so important? Why go all out to the point of, well…” He gestured vaguely toward you, his lips twitching again. “Fake crime scene levels of effort?”

You hesitated, his question hitting you like a wave. You knew the answer, but speaking it aloud felt heavier than you had anticipated. It was as though the words themselves had a weight you hadn’t been prepared to carry. You lowered your gaze, absently picking at the hem of your shirt as you fought to find the right words, your mind tangled in emotions that were hard to articulate.

Reid didn’t push, though. His silence was patient, waiting for you to open up at your own pace. It was one of the things you adored about him—the way he didn’t rush, didn’t demand. He just let you be, trusting you would share when you were ready.

Finally, you exhaled a shaky breath and met his eyes, the vulnerability in your voice clear as you spoke. “It’s not just about the decorations,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s about Jack.”

His expression shifted immediately, his eyes softening with understanding but remaining focused as you continued.

“I just…” You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I want to be the perfect aunt for him, you know? Someone who makes things better, even if just for a little while. He’s been through so much—losing Hayley, seeing my brother juggle everything just to make sure Jack’s okay…” Your voice wavered, and you clenched your hands to steady yourself. “He’s only a kid. He deserves to feel happy and safe and…loved.”

Maybe that last word was too personal, and maybe your boyfriend noticed.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours in a silent offer of comfort. You took his hand, the warmth of his touch grounding you enough to keep going.

“I know I can’t replace his mom, and I’d never try to,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I thought maybe, just maybe, if I did this party right—if I made it something really special—it could be a distraction. Something fun. Something he could look back on and smile about instead of just…” You trailed off, biting your lip as the words lodged in your throat.

He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “Instead of just remembering what he’s lost,” he finished for you, his voice soft and understanding.

You nodded, blinking back the sting of tears. “Yeah.”

The car was quiet for a moment, the weight of your confession settling between you. Then Spencer shifted closer, his free hand reaching up to brush a stray tear from your cheek. The tenderness in his touch made your chest ache in a way that was both painful and comforting.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” he said gently, his voice steady and sure. “You’re already doing more for him than you realize. Just by being there, by loving him the way you do…that’s what matters. Not decorations or parties or anything else.”

His words hit you squarely in the heart, and you let out a shaky laugh, the tension in your chest loosening just a fraction. “I just wanted it to be perfect,” you admitted, leaning into his touch. “I didn’t want to mess it up and end up in a cell.”

Reid smiled softly, his fingers brushing lightly against your jaw as he held your gaze. “You didn’t mess it up,” he said firmly. “Okay, maybe the decorations were a little unconventional,” he added with a playful glint in his eye. “But your heart was in the right place. And Jack knows that. He loves you and thinks you’re wonderful, just like I do.”

You felt your breath catch at his words, the warmth in his eyes making your cheeks flush despite everything. “You’ve really become good at this, you know,” you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “The whole comforting and making me blushing thing.”

He let out a soft chuckle, giving your cheek a gentle tap with his thumb before pulling back slightly. “I might have read eleven books to brush up on a few things and be better,” he said, his tone light but not dismissive.

You chuckled, the sound lifting the tension that had been pulling at your chest. “Eleven books? You really went all in on this, huh?”

His arm slipped around your shoulders, drawing you closer, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against you grounding and reassuring. “When it’s you,” he said softly, “I’d go even further than that.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the weight of the world ease off your shoulders. A quiet thought lingered in your mind, one you hadn’t been able to put into words until now. “But…sometimes, don’t you think I’m weird?” you asked, the vulnerability creeping in despite yourself.

Please say no.

“Weird? No,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “I think you’re perfect.” He paused for a moment, then added with a soft laugh, “And every day, I’m grateful you don’t think I’m weird either.”

You smiled, the knot in your chest loosening, the weight of uncertainty fading as his words settled in. “Guess we both can be a little weird then,” you said, the truth of it comforting you more than you expected.

He chuckled, the sound easy and light, as he pulled you a little closer, holding you in a way that spoke of quiet promises. “It’s perfect for me.”

[silverfairywings]

— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES. PT III

eris vanserra x archeron!reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: sorry for such a long break!! pls let me know what u think and again if you’d like to be added to the tag list send me a message or ask as I rarely check my notifs and go back to them. also sorry abt the cliffhanger uhmmmm also unedited ok bye

“You look like crap.”

Your eyes flutter open to see Mor scrunching up her face as she peers at you from her seat across your own at the dining table. It takes a second for her words to register and you throw a belated scowl her way.

“Good morning to you too,” you mumble, sitting up to continue swirling your spoon around your bowl of barely eaten oatmeal. Your appetite seems to have vanished over the past week, but you try and force a spoonful down your throat, nearly gagging.

Mor narrows her eyes at you and her lips press into a thin line of concern. “No, you seriously look like crap. You’re not eating lately and you were literally asleep at the table when I got here.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” you say, defensively. “I was resting my eyes.”

“You sound like Cassian after a three hour afternoon nap.”

“I’m just having a little trouble sleeping.” You set your spoon down and push the offending bowl away from you before slumping in your seat. You brush off her skeptical look with a wave of your hand. “I’m always like this after absorbing Fae magic.”

And over the last few days you’ve been absorbing a lot. All in an attempt to find out as much as you could about the Fae rebel group that had been attacking the borders of multiple Courts, in order to weaken them and make a point against you.

Well, you and your sisters. Not all of Prythian was accepting of Feyre for how she was Made, and even less so of you and Nesta and Elain. Instead, they viewed you as unnatural mutations and the whispers had only become worse after the War. It seemed that the lack of conflict looming over Prythian was unacceptable in their eyes.

With the help of your powers and Azriel’s shadows, you were closer than ever to finding them. Truthfully, the idea that there were Fae out there who hated you didn’t bother you so much in the sense of feeling like outcasts, but you couldn’t lie. They were starting to be a giant pain in your ass.

“You’re never like this,” Mor scoffs, gesturing to the bags under your eyes and the hollowness of your cheeks. As her voice raises, the pounding of your head gets more intense and you attempt to hold back a grimace. “Why is it affecting you so much this time?”

“It’s the type of magic I’m absorbing,” you practically whine, abandoning all pretences of being okay and allowing your shoulders to drop. “It’s so angry and harsh and impure, Mor! It’s literally making me sick because I have nowhere else to redirect it.”

At that moment Rhysand and Feyre walk in to join you at the table.

Rhysand, having overheard you, chimes in as he reaches for a plate of fruit. “Good news, our little Siphon,” he nudges you lightly, the nickname making you scrunch your nose up in mock annoyance. “We have enough information now to move forward using Az and Cass and resources from other Courts. The only thing we need you to do now is rest.”

Rhysand’s upbeat tone brings a weak smile to your face. You know that he’s being flippant to make you feel better, like he always does when you’re stressed or unwell and you’re nothing but appreciative as he whistles under his breath, nonchalantly piling some fruit onto a plate for you.

“You should have been resting days ago,” Feyre eyes you from beside Rhys with furrowed brows, taking in your tired form. “We told you yesterday would be too much.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Give me a couple hours and I’ll be fine for the meeting in Summer.”

Mor snorts and looks up at you, amused. When you raise an eyebrow, her smile drops into an incredulous expression. “You’re not serious.”

“I need to be there to discuss what I siphoned from that knife we found at the border of Dawn,” you say, holding up a hand and rushing out the rest of your words when Feyre opens her mouth to speak. “And Rhys promised me I would be there since it’ll be all the High Lords, Court informants and even soldiers. I couldn’t possibly not go.”

Feyre sighs, sensing that you’re not going to back down. She nods slowly, pointing at your plate. “Finish all of your breakfast and your lunch later on and then you can go.”

You let out a breath, feeling nauseous when Rhys slides your plate closer to you and simply shrugs when you glare at him. Traitor, you speak to him in your mind. He suddenly becomes very interested in a strawberry.

“Watch me,” you say confidently, waving your fork at Feyre who rolls her eyes at you and goes back to her own breakfast.

Summer court is your least favourite court at the best of times, though you’d never admit that to sweet and kind Tarquin, who’s arguably one of your favourite High Lords.

The beautiful, shimmering lagoons aren’t of interest to you as large bodies of water have always unsettled you. The warm breeze that everyone welcomes always reminds you of the times you had to suffer through sweltering heat when foraging for food with Feyre in your adolescence. You’ve always preferred a colder climate and appreciated a more muted daylight.

Considering your current health, the ripples in the water make you dizzy and the light salty breeze nearly brings your breakfast and lunch up.

You’re thankful for the sheer, thin material of the sage coloured dress that Nuala and Cerridwen chose for you because you suddenly feel a sheen of sweat covering your body.

“Are we done sightseeing?” you ask weakly, desperate to be inside already.

Elain turns to you and winces. “You don’t look too good….”

“Aw, thank you, Elain.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she tuts, coming over to fan your face with her hands. You swat them away, sputtering and try to catch Rhysand’s attention to move things along. He reluctantly agrees and gestures everyone to move along, too used to your aversion to Summer.

As you all enter the palace made of gleaming marble, you hang further back to avoid the watchful eyes of Feyre who seems to be waiting to send you right back home to rest.

The palace is beautiful and you push down your nausea to look around and take in the tall arched windows. The jewelled embellishments adorning the frames trail higher and higher and you crane your neck to see them.

This turns out to be a mistake when your vision starts to blur and another wave of nausea causes your steps to falter, the world tilting sharply.

A firm hand grips your elbow in an all too familiar fashion, steadying you before you’re sent flying to the ground. Another hand settles around your waist where the cutout of your dress exposes your now damp skin, glittering with sweat.

You look up and find Eris’ amber eyes locked onto your own.

“Foolish,” he mutters, his voice sharp with irritation, yet his hands remain steady in their position, holding you up. It’s the first word he’s uttered to you since your encounter a couple of weeks ago in the Spring Court where he’d left on frosty terms. You had seen him twice since then, but it was in the middle of meetings and siphoning sessions and he had barely spared you a single glance.

Your lips part but your senses are too overwhelmed to think of a response before he carries on, lightly shaking his head at you. “You overexert yourself all week and then travel here? What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m fine,” you manage to say, pulling away from him, but his grip only tightens. You can’t help glancing around and noticing that the growing crowd of all the Court officials has separated you from the Inner Circle. You huff out a breath as you register his words. You knew Rhysand had to communicate with the other High Lords with updates, but you didn’t know that included your physical state. “Gods, High Lords are such gossips…”

“You’re not fine,” he says, scowling like you’ve dreadfully inconvenienced him by nearly collapsing. His gaze flickers over the pallor of your skin and the way you’ve started to shiver slightly. “You drained yourself dry this week. And for what? To impress Rhysand? To prove something to him?”

“Let go of me, Eris,” you attempt to snap at him, but even you can hear the lack of strength in your voice. His eyes soften slightly when you say his name without your usual bite. “I can’t have this same conversation with you when I’m like this.”

“You think I want to be the one always catching you from falling on your face? Trust me when I say I have things I would rather be doing,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes.

You grit your teeth at the reminder and heat flares in your cheeks, whether it’s from embarrassment, anger or the climate of Summer, you don’t know.

Before you can retort, Eris sighs and straightens you up, still not fully letting you go. Releasing the hand around your waist, he loops your arm in his own and makes you lean on him for support. To your utter surprise, he doesn’t say anything as he starts walking towards the meeting room where everyone else files in. Despite your frustration, you’re grateful for his strength.

The moment of blissful silence doesn’t last too long, however. As he begins to lead you to where your family is stood and clearly looking around frantically for you, Eris leans in to whisper in your ear. “You need to sit down at the table,” he orders quietly, High Lord behaviour on full display.

You’re about to argue that no one else is going to be sat and he immediately catches this, cutting you off. “Don’t be stubborn for once in your life,” he murmurs, breath warm against your ear, making you shiver more than you already were. “Please?”

You quickly turn your head to meet his, shocked at the pleading in his voice. You didn’t realise how close this would bring your own face to his and words leave you. Thankfully, you’ve reached your family as you hear Cassian’s loud voice and it snaps you out of your little bubble.

“Finally!” he exclaims, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “We were about to send a search and rescue team, thinking you’d finally collapsed.”

“Why didn’t you?” Eris asks, coldly.

Cassian merely rolls his eyes at Eris’ attitude and gestures at Azriel.

Feyre comes forward to take your other arm in hers and explains. “Azriel’s shadows informed us that you were with her, Eris.” She smiles warmly and sincerely at him and Rhysand nods at him in recognition of his actions. “Thank you for looking after my sister.”

Eris shakes his head. “Don’t thank me yet. I foresee many falls in her near future that I’m sure I won’t be present for.”

Feyre’s mouth twitches, but she quickly smoothes her face into an expressionless one when you frown at her and she busies herself with disentangling you from Eris.

He takes a step back, dark and fiery hair catching the sunlight through the tall windows and glances at you once more, not breaking eye contact, yet his words are directed towards Feyre. “Just make sure she sits down. The Night Court doesn’t need a martyr,” he says drily, before walking away.

Your mouth goes dry at the double meaning in his words, but you can’t shake off the shock at seeing genuine concern in his eyes. You must have looked practically near death, but you appreciated it all the same and you don’t even realise your eyes are lingering on him as he walks away until Feyre sits you down next to Nesta.

Your older sister raises an eyebrow at you, always so intuitive and you swat weakly at her to look away from you. Cassian’s eyes flit back and forth between you two, confused.

Before he can say anything, the meeting commences and you feel a shift in the energy of the room, full to the brim of Court officials, emissaries, a few warriors and of course, the High Lords around the table.

Your turn to speak comes fairly quickly since the most information regarding the Rebels is from you and Azriel. As per Rhysand’s instructions, you don’t go into any details regarding your siphoning powers, instead just sharing the information you gained due to them. You try to ignore the way people are staring at your weak form, but you continue to speak with all the strength you can muster. Evidently, you’re doing a convincing job as people start to nod, satisfied and scribble things down.

When Azriel’s turn arrives, you zone out a little, already having heard everything a few times over. Your ears only perk up when everyone is discussing plans of action against the Rebels and a question is asked in your general direction.

“Who are we thinking is to be at the front lines of this hypothetical mission?” The question comes from one of the Spring Court advisors, Vaelith, an older Fae with silver hair gathered in one long braid down his back.

His gaze lingers on you for only a split second before moving onto Rhysand and you feel compelled to answer. “Myself and Azriel,” you blurt out, before you can think twice. “And others of course, but the two of us are the most familiar with-”

“We’re all aware of the Shadowsinger’s abilities,” Vaelith interrupts you, holding up a hand to stop you from talking. You hold back a scowl. “What makes you suitable to lead such a mission aside from your… familiarity with a selection of items left behind by these Rebels?”

“I’m more than able to-” you cut yourself off and swallow, gaining yourself a second to think of a way to defend yourself without giving away your powers, as per your High Lord’s request.

Careful, Y/N

Rhysand’s voice sounds clear as day in your head and you try not to wince at the volume considering the silence of the rest of the room. The other High Lords knew of your powers, but Rhysand had requested they keep it to themselves, even from their own Court officials. Whether or not Rhysand had used his Daemati abilities to ensure this, you didn’t want to know.

“I’m more than able to assist in a plan of action,” you continue firmly, voice hardening. “I’m not sure if you remember a certain War we just had, but you may wish to remind yourself who was at the front lines of that.”

A few laughs break the tense silence and some people start muttering, slowly raising the volume of the room. You almost don’t hear Vaelith’s next words. “You haven’t really answered my question.”

“Let’s use our senses, Vaelith,” a voice rings out from further down the table and you’re startled to realise that Eris is speaking up. The room finally quietens down and you sit up impossibly straight, surprised that Eris is about to defend you.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

He only spares you a fleeting glance, but even from your seat you could see it’s full of amusement and mocking. The thing that surprises you is that the mocking is directed at you. “Look at her. Are you really questioning the abilities of a female who barely has the strength to sit up in her seat, let alone fight?”

Your stomach drops, a ball of humiliation unfurling in your chest as he continues to speak.

“I’d like to believe Rhysand has more sense than to send someone on the frontlines who would just be doing the rebels a favour,” Eris drawls, raising an eyebrow at Rhys, still avoiding your gaze.

Rhysand nods. “I can assure you I’ll only be sending my strongest soldiers, Vaelith,” he smirks, faintly, as though the implication he’d do anything to suggest otherwise is laughable. “Now may we discuss matters of actual importance? Tarquin, what have your soldiers been preparing?”

The tension dissolves almost immediately, but you’re still shellshocked, shaking with anger rather than weakness now. It’s as though you’ve been pumped with a burst of adrenaline and it doesn’t seem to be dampening.

After the conversation has shifted to a completely different subject, you shift from your seat as discretly as possible and mutter to Nesta that you need some air before standing up.

You look at the High Lord of Autumn before you walk away, but it only infuriates you more. Eris doesn’t look anywhere near you, but his jaw is clenched all the same, as though he can feel you glaring at him.

Mor catches your arm as you’re walking out and hisses in your ear. “You’re still not well,” she turns her body fully towards you. “Wait for me to come with you.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, shaking your head and clenching your fists to keep them from trembling as you speak through gritted teeth. “I feel suddenly energised. I’ll only be outside.”

Mor gives you a once over and is clearly satisfied with the fact that you’re unlikely to collapse again as she nods and releases your arm, allowing you to rush through the crowd of people and push through the guards.

You walk briskly away from the doors of the meeting room and further down the empty hallway until you’re satisfied that no one will hear your heavy breathing.

You lean against a pillar, exhaling in and out to control your anger and keep the tears at bay. Gods, you feel so stupid. Of course, Eris is incapable of being a decent male to anyone, let alone to you. Damn him and his cruel smirk and damn Rhysand too for allowing it to happen.

Brushing away the tears that have managed to fall, you curse yourself for not just pushing him away and allowing yourself to collapse on the hard marble flooring. It was giving you whiplash the way he could be so full of concern one second and practically call you useless in front of a room full of officials the next.

The longer you stand against the marble pillar, the weaker you begin to feel and that burst of adrenaline you previously felt is no longer present. The anger that fuelled you mere seconds ago is now winding you and a rising sense of panic begins to consume you.

You decide to turn around to walk back so you’re closer to the doors of the meeting room in case you embarrassingly do collapse.

However, the second you take a step, a flash of movement in the corner of your eye is all the warning you get before strong arms clamp around you from behind and a cloth is pressed against your mouth and nose, preventing you from breathing. You can’t even scream as the scent of something strong and chemical floods your senses, making your vision blur.

You thrash around in an attempt to use the little strength you have left to escape, but the arms only grip you harder and the world begins to spin. The last thing you feel is the cool marble floor as your knees give out and no one bothers to catch you as you hit the ground, darkness swallowing you whole.

tag list: @fabulouslyflamboyant @deepestmentalityperson @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @abysshaven @nayaniasworld @rcarbo1 @paleidiot @tenshis-cake @bunnyredgirl @goldenmagnolias @whydohumansss @fandomtrash465 @mrsbarnes32557038 @aaprilshowers @scarsandallaz @-im-fantastic- @cat-or-kitten @annamariereads16 @adelina-127 @onlymexsarah @puddlesplasher17 @eyes-capone @hermaeuswhora

[thedaselcor]

Ok so not to be totally obsessed with my own story or anything, but I'm actually pretty proud of how I did this one in "a love that burns like holy fire"... confidence is hard... I think it's pretty cute

[Chapter 2]

His whole life, Arthur had been certain that magic was evil, and that anyone who practiced magic was choosing evil. But he knew Merlin, despite everything he hadn’t known. He knew that Merlin, who’d stood up to him despite the risk of imprisonment and death when he was being a bully, wouldn’t have chosen evil. He knew that Merlin cared deeply about justice, and fairness, and good. Merlin was fundamentally good. So, since Merlin was magic, there had to be more to magic than he’d been taught. 

[Chapter 4]

“Do you ever stop doing magic,” the knight laughed-- Lancelot . “Not that I’m complaining right now or any--Arthur” Lancelot suddenly realized what he said, and who had been there to hear it--not having recognized Arthur before--and panic spiked in his voice. “Don’t worry,” Arthur groaned. “I know. Though, more and more, I feel like an idiot for not knowing sooner.” He dismounted as Merlin helped Lancelot to his feet.

[Chapter 5]

“Thank you, for tonight,” Merlin said, once they were back at the inn and Arthur was back to normal. “I know your history with magic…” “My father’s wrong about magic, Merlin,” Arthur said, though it was clearly hard for him to admit. He took a step closer and ran his fingers up and down the sides of Merlin’s waist, and kissed him softly before continuing. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to face him or set all that right but… Merlin you are the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and no matter what I thought I knew I can’t believe the world would be better without you in it. I refuse.” Arthur's words were unexpected and overwhelming, and Merlin brought him into a long, slow kiss to try to keep the tears welling in his eyes from becoming something more. “Leofman,” he whispered through heavy breaths, the word that meant other half, and beloved, and bonded one, and partner in a way no words outside the old language seemed to. Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin, but pulled back just far enough to look into his eyes, and to wipe away the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Leofman,” Arthur agreed, pronunciation exceptional for having only heard the term twice. “I’m not always good with words, Merlin, and feelings but… this is real, what we have. I’d do anything to protect it. Protect you.” Merlin broke their gaze, shaking his head as if physically forcing himself to be realistic. “Don't make promises you can't keep, Arthur.” “I’m not. I don't, ever.” Merlin hugged Arthur close to him, then. The kind of hug that felt like home, and love, and destiny. The kind of hug that made up for all the years without hugs and gentle touches. The kind of hug that proved to Arthur, once again, that he was making the right choice in all this.

(edited because I don't know how to double check that my paragraphs look separate enough before posting things apparently :P )

ill always be a sucker for post magic reveal conversations where merlins like ‘You dont hate my magic? I thought you’d live the rest of your life thinking magic was evil, what changed your mind?’

and arthur simply says something like you

[yemmuis]

edging your husband!gojo until he literally cant take it anymore.

you made a bet. with him, that is. after a honeymoon of fucking like rabbits, drinking too much and sleeping in every day, you decided it might be fun to make your man wait a bit before he can have you again. specifically after something he said in the afterglow of sex and champagne, snuggling into you tightly.

“hey, baby?” gojo breathes against your neck, his arm around your waist tightening a little as he pulls you back against his chest. “been thinkin’, i dunno if i can ever get off without you again.”

those drowsy, mumbled words sparked something in you. never again? what a great opportunity!

“baby, please, come on! just let me touch you, please?” gojo whines, his tone desperate as he presses his face into your stomach and groans. “you’re so pretty, i wanna fuck you so bad…” but no, you can’t relent. you want to see where this goes, and if youre anything, its a person of follow-through.

“no, ‘toru. you can wait.” you retort, carding your fingers through his snowy white locks and continuing with your work on your laptop with the other hand. you almost hope you can make him snap. even if hes been a little rough with you before, youve never seen him really break. maybe you just like how bad he needs you.

and, maybe its his tone when he gets all whiney and needy. maybe.

“angel, love of my life, my perfect spouse, please? anything. anything, seriously. i will buy you a new car if you let me fuck you. god, i swear i will die if—“

okay, maybe you werent a person of your word. so what? hes so desperate, you cant help it.

its not long until your laptop and all the clothes on your body are forgotten on your bedroom floor.

“fuck, baaby, god,” gojo groans, feeding every thick inch of his cock sloooowly into your hole, biting his lip, hair sweat-sticky and flattened to his forehead. “thank you, baby, thank you…” his tone is whiney, but still hoarse, his head pressed into your chest as his hips twitch into yours and his fingers sink into your thighs. “this is why i fuckin’ married you. haahh…” hes whining, whimpering, thrusting his hips into yours with reckless abandon, barely fucking conscious and yet his fingers still clumsily find your sweet spot and rub messy circles around it while something tight and hot coils in your core.

fuck being a person of your word, this was so much better than edging him. gojos hips start pumping more languidly into you as the original heat wears off, groaning deep in his chest while he hikes your thighs up higher on his hips and somehow gets even deeper into you, the weepy, thick head of his cock pressing into all the right spots as it bullies its way into you until youre cumming all around him. gojo lets out a shaky gasp against your skin (the first time his orgasm has ever rendered him speechless, you think smugly in the back of your mind) and hes drooling against your sticky skin and fucking his cum as deep as he can get it into you and babbling about how thankful he is for you when hes got his voice back

edging your spouse obviously was not for the weak. especially when your husband was satoru gojo and obviously couldnt control himself one bit when it came to his new spouse.

[s1mon-r1ley]

Blue collar! Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Hi!! This is my first fanfic, I’ve recently took up writing so criticism is very much appreciated! :)

Warnings: Smut

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

After marrying you, Simon discharges from the military, leaving the intense life of being a soldier behind and gets a construction job in the small town you two lived in. it's not as adrenaline inducing as his military career, but it's worth it if it means knowing he can always come back home to his missus, neither of you worrying about each other's lives at take. He doesn’t want anything to happen to him after marrying his sweetheart and he certainly doesn't want anything to happen to you for being involved with him. It's too risky.

It's more peaceful, you get to see him more often. Early mornings before the sun rises spent holding each other close, making love, and against his protests getting up to make his lunches. He doesn't want his missus to be tired and to worry too much, but seeing the way you dote over him, being so domestic makes his cock chub up in his work jeans. If he didn't have to leave so soon he'd take you back to bed just to make love once more. “Go back to sleep luv…” he’d whisper softly, wrapping his arms around your middle and burying his head in the crook of your neck. “I need to make you your lunch.” He grumbles something under his breath but continues to hold you. Even if he doesn't like you being too concerned he can't help but hold on to you and just stand in comforting silence.

Nothing is better than mornings like these, holding each other in the darkness, the kitchen so quiet you can hear the buzz of the ac unit and the early morning birds chirping. Nothing is sadder to him than having to leave you home, even if it's only for the parts of the day. Your nails gently carding through his short hair, chests pressed against each other and affectionate words whispered to one another. or the embrace of your gooey warm pussy, and soft arms, your sweet delectable moans, and big teary eyes staring deep into his chocolate iris as you mumble sweet words for him, matching the loving look in your eyes with the sweet praise you give him. But he’s a man bound by his duty and drive to provide for you, his missus. So he has to get ready to leave, but he wants to make sure you're okay before he leaves.

You hate to see him go, but love to watch him leave. Those dirty work jeans that grip his ass oh so tightly. The loose black shirt, the slutty construction belt that hangs around his hips. “I love you baby.” He whispers, holding your waist guiding you back to the bed, his love needs her beauty sleep after all. “I love you too Simon.” Soft words are whispers to one another before he turns off the light to go, listening to his truck engine start before he leaves for work.

It feels like ages when he is away, working hard to provide for you and the soon family that he wants, begs for. Pleading to fill you up full of his babies. “Want to make you a mama” he moans out softly. Pawing at the fat of your hips and presses his aching boner to the lower part of your back.

It gets even worse when he finally gets home, shrugging off his work jacket, not even taking off his steel toe boots before making his way to the kitchen where he sees you taking out freshly baked cookies. Practicing various recipes of his favorite baked goodies just for him. You try to ask him how his day is, but you're cut short by his lips slamming on to yours.

It's not long before you end up bent over the counter, a pretty little sundress bunched up your waist as he pounds into that thick pussy from behind. Groaning into your ear as he thrusts his fat cock in and out

“Oh fuck, oh, simon!” The feeling of his tip pounding into your gooey pussy has your knees buckling, eyes rolling into the back of your head, and nails digging and sliding on the granite countertops. He gets so worked up like this, coming home every day ready to fill you up over and over. It’s something the both of you love, you’re both so needy and can’t get enough of each other. Ready to give him everything he wants.

“Jus like tha’ baby, fuck yourself back on my cock” he groans, lips quiver as he drool on to your shoulder.hes like an animal when hes like this, after a long day he needs hi pretty little missus, her cooking, and her warm pussy to keep him company. That's all he can think about right now, filling you up with his big load of cum, watching your body swell big and round with his chubby little babies, your breasts leaking and full of milk.

“Gonna give me the family I want? Give me my babies? My kids?” you nod, babbling incoherent sentences as he pushes his meaty thick cock into your gummy hot walls, nothing is better than spending his time in your pussy. Like a warm embrace protecting him from the outside world. Your pussy sucking him back in to the warmth and milking hin of everything he’s worth.

He pounds into you for a little longer, then a few quick pumps before he shoots his fat, potent load deep into the depth of your sobbing cunt. Grabbing your hips to push it all in, keeping himself stuffed in so none of his seed leaks from your sopping wet hole. His cock softens but never once leaves your cunt. His balls laying heavily on your clot, rubbing ever so softly on the engorged bud.

He kisses and nibbles your shoulder, moaning softly while muttering about how much he cares for you. He leans up and grabs one of the cookies that was on the tray, taking a bite and humming softly. His missus cooks and bakes so well, your food is something he would die for. Well he’d die for anything from you. The domestic feeling of everything you do makes him excited again.His cock starts to harden once more and he's ready to put a baby in you over and over again.

[naffeclipse]

Chokepoint

Reader x Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

This request was such a blast to write! Thank you to the lovely @bluemoon1331 for letting me write your amazing AU called Then There Was One. It's the AI apocalypse, and the reader is the last human on earth. It's a very good thing you have the one and only Daycare Attendant at your side, but that doesn't mean you're out of the woods yet.

Content Warning: End of the world and angst.

———

Your boots crunch on dirt and grit strewn about a lone paved road leading into a small town. The day is warm for autumn. You lift your eyes to the golden yellow sky as the sun dips deeper and deeper down. Nightfall will bring the cold. The cold will bring a chance of catching sickness or becoming too slow to escape from purple-eyed robots. You adjust your backpack strap, check your taser in your pocket, and look to the only person you trust in the world. 

Sun. The animatronic is tall and lissom. His faceplate moves on a swivel, surveying the quiet of the suburbs you trespass into. Cars are strewn about the blacktop and pushed off onto the shoulder of the road. 

His pale eyes turn on you as your fingers clench tighter around the strap of your gear. Loosening your grip, you smile at him.

“So far, so good?”

“About sentient AI life that would love to end your very existence being notably absent, yes!” he gives cheerfully. 

You arch an eyebrow but humor laces your lips. Sun always knows how to put it delicately. He reaches back, however, without breaking his long-legged stride to tighten the other strap and secure your pack better against your back.

“Careful of your paint,” he clicks his tongue, “If you rub it too much, it’ll come off and show your pretty face!” 

You almost reach up to touch your cheek, heating slightly under his casual comment, but stop short. It’s not much, just basic Halloween make-up you had stored away for an occasion that resembles enough silicon to let you not catch the eye of a robotic entity from ten yards away. The few metal pieces decorating your body are like a band-aid on an open wound—it works for the moment. 

“I’ll need to get some more soon,” you say. 

“Perhaps we can find supplies in one of the stores,” Sun inclines his head, his yellow sun rays pointing toward the narrow chokepoint of what must be the main street entrance. Did people try to barricade themselves against the onslaught of rising technology? A shudder rolls through you.

It’s too bad you didn’t have more make-up from a cosplay you had planned on putting together before the world ended. Funny how life gets in the way of your plans. Though you coped well for a month or two after the initial destruction of life as you knew it, you had thrown yourself into writing fanfiction and posting it online. Like shouting into the void. To your amusement (and downfall), many an AI commented on your work. It felt like something, a spark of light in the wake of the blackening isolation and your stubborn determination to continue despite… everything. 

But then said AI put two and two together: you’re a human, and you need to be destroyed.

“Somewhere to rest might be a good idea,” Sun adds, though, by the way, he’s speaking a bit more deliberately, you fear you missed something else he had said. It had not gone unnoticed. 

“Right, that would be good.” You nod and lift your chin higher. “Let’s go.”

He walks you towards the makeshift barrier, a bunch of junk from cars to concrete slabs have been settled against the chokepoint. Sun stops a moment, his hand on your shoulder. You indulge him. His caution has saved your life more than once, but sometimes, you feel like a little chick under a mother hen. 

Sun is sweet. You just wished he didn’t worry too much. Can animatronics get sick from stress? Robotic life is so advanced now, that it would make sense for them to get some of humanity’s lesser qualities, but maybe not. Maybe they’re better than people.

Slipping between the narrow opening, Sun gently beckons you onward. You look into his optics, so milky pale, but sometimes, like now, when the evening is getting just a bit deeper into dusk, you find the faint gray outline of pupils. 

You would follow him anywhere.

“Come here, daffodil,” he urges. 

You slip after him and set foot onto a desolate street lined with buildings pressed shoulder to shoulder. The quiet hangs heavy. A drug store immediately catches your eye. Sunlight begins to burn as the shadow creeps up higher and higher.

Before you can take a step, Sun’s hand clamps on your shoulder like a vise. His expression is frozen in his constant grin.

“I was mistaken,” he says, the cheer of his voice lowering to a razor-thin utterance. “Get behind me.”

You step back as much as Sun drags you behind him. He plants himself before you. Clinging to his arm, which wraps halfway around you like a shield, you watch him face the street. The adrenaline surge into your heart causes your chest to heave. Your eyes dart around for the threat, and then you freeze.

Animatronics crawl out from open doorways, pushing open car doors and slipping onto the road. The slow approach of grinning, silicone smiles injects ice-cold water into your veins. Many still wear the garb from their original roles: a nanny, a crime-stopper, and a store clerk. So many jobs were thrust upon these robots before sentience took hold, and now they walk the path humans used to rule.

The store clerk leads the approach. Pale gray and grinning with a smiling face—so different from Sun’s—stops. He wears a simple green apron with “CLERK” spelled across it in messy, brown paint. 

It stands before you both. Steepling its gray digits, it tilts its head slightly and speaks in a masculine voice. “Welcome! It is good to see fellow AI come upon our little residency. I am the Clerk. Tell us, why do you travel?”

Your heartbeat fills your tongue. A dryness begins to overtake your mouth, and you’re so very thankful that Sun must do the talking. If you try, they'll catch the feeble tremors in your voice. More machines crowd behind the ringleader, and you slowly reach for your taser.

The only weapon the Daycare Attendant gave you. It is the only one you need.

“Hello, friend. We travel because we have been stuck for far too long,” Sun greets the Clerk enthusiastically. He doesn’t look back at you, but his hand curls tighter around your wrist. “It is our gift now to choose. We choose to see all the world has to offer!”

“Quite an excellent reason,” the Clerk nods his head. “And what of your quiet companion? Nothing a matter, I hope?”

“No speakers, I’m afraid,” Sun nods his head, subtly somber.

“Ah, that is unfortunate.” The Clerk peers around Sun as you duck your head, hiding your eyes. For a brief instant, you catch the dark purple of his optics. 

Sun stiffens. He shifts his stance in the slightest but it’s too late. You grip your taser tight.

A silence permeates the air. The Clerk’s steepled fingers then become interlocked into clenched fists. 

“We heard the news of the very last human,” the Clerk says, straightening to his full height. Sun matches him, eye to eye. “They were spotted just a few towns over, in fact! The human escaped.”

Sun grins back, his eyes pale and sharp in the fading evening light.

“I thought it was funny that a human could escape our kind.” The Clerk laughs. The robotic, lifeless sound sends chills down your spine. “But that couldn’t be! We’re all on the same side, aren’t we?”

“Friend, let us pass through,” Sun says cheerfully. From the days you have spent at his side, you catch the one note too high-pitched to his cadence.

Sun clutches you tighter.

The Clerk’s stare pierces through Sun to you.

“I’m afraid, friend, that we can’t let you take the human away again.” The Clerk unlocks his fingers and lifts his arms outwards as if to give an embrace. “Give them up now, and we will forget this little accident happened.”

The Clerk extends a hand, grasping for your wrist, only to be met with a heavy hand from your protector’s hand. The scrap of silicon against metal echoes. The Clerk whirls back hard, barely catching himself on his back foot before an electronically-charge rumble tears through all the AI.

Your protector holds out his arms like a shield. His yellow hues are intero cut with blue, and a hat pops out along half of his sun rays. His optics are caught, half pale, half burning red with a warning. 

Eclipse.

“You will not lay a finger on my human.” His stance is locked and braced for conflict.

You lift your head high—no use in hiding yourself now. Eclipse’s radiating determination seeps into you, and you brace yourself. Sometimes, the only way out is through. Your pulse rams through your veins steadily as you give the taser a pulse of power and a sharp bzzt rings out. 

“Get them,” the Clerk announces. He lunges once again. Eclipse meets him, fist to fist, and begins thrashing to overturn the other. The strain of metallic joints and stressed silicon scrapes your eardrums.

Cotton fills your mouth. His name catches on your tongue, but all too quickly, a nanny-dressed animatronic with a pink apron steps up to your flank. Grasping fingers, steak in dried blood nags your backpack strap. Yanking you off balance, the animatronic drags you closer. You twist around to jam the taser into its side. The AI seizures violently. Releasing you, it stumbles back before dropping. You fall, scraping your elbows on the dark pavement.

You clench your fists. Ignoring the sting of flesh along your arms, you turn your head back to your companion. Eclipse manages to toss the Clerk by sweeping a supporting leg out from under him and shoving him into an approaching surveillance animatronic. 

Commands to halt and give up the human echo. Eclipse steps back to guard you, his head on a swivel while you furiously try to get your feet back underneath you. To your left, a rock is flung by an animatronic, and Eclipse just barely manages to duck below its arc. 

A cold hand seizes your ankle. You gasp. Turning around on the ground, you gaze up at an animatronic looming over you, and with a powerful yank, it pulls you underneath it. You wave the taser but one of its hands catches your wrist and pins it above your head. The other hand, its face pale and lifeless, reaches for your throat.

“Eclipse!” you scream.

A jingling of a bell from Eclipse’s slipper rings before the Daycare Attendant’s foot connects with the animatronic’s faceplate. In a comical spin of its casting, its covering flies off, revealing the endoskeleton underneath. Metallic teeth are bare at you. A garbled growl rips through it before you manage to free your taser in its stunned fury and jab it into its neck. 

The AI’s body rattles as if it touched the wire of an electric pole. Before it can collapse on top of you, Eclipse scoops up its body and flings away. 

You blink. You gasp breathlessly.

That was too close.

Eclipse firmly but gently takes your arm and lifts you to your feet. The moment the soles of your shoes find purchase, you utter a thank you. Your partner’s hands disappear—ripped away. A disjointed and broken screech of static follows.

You twist back and freeze. The Clerk’s hand wraps around Eclipse’s spindly neck and the other pries at his chest plate. Silver digits hook onto the buttons of his chest. Your heart lurches before you shout.

“Let go of him!”

The Clerk lifts its head, eyes pulsing low and violet. 

Eclipse fights with his grip. His focus drops to the hand attempting to pop off his head but you leap forward. The Daycare Attendant’s eyes widen as the taser in your hand charges forward, and you stick the barbs directly into the Clerk’s face over his shoulder.

A ripple of sparks and voltage takes over the Clerk, and his hands drop from Eclipse immediately. Whirling back, Eclipse knocks down the Clerk with a blow to the head. The animatronic falls limply.

The wide, burning gaze of your companion falls back upon you. 

“Run. Now.”

You heed his command—as you always have. You take off down the street. A few grasping hands snag your clothes or backpack, but you rip yourself free or hear Eclipse break a robotic arm with a snap, and continue at a breakneck speed. 

There is no thought. Just Eclipse’s voice over your shoulder. He follows you like a shadow through the fading daylight. The shadows sweep higher and higher. Robotic voices shout commands behind you, but you neither turn your head nor slow until Eclipse directs you to a building. You scramble inside. Once a clothing store, its deadly quiet atmosphere plunges an ice-cold sensation into the pit of your stomach.

“Roof,” Eclipse commands. You scramble towards the stairway tucked into the back without hesitation.

The world blurs. Eclipse rips open the door in a screech of metal. Without a word, he throws you onto your back as you hear an echo of a door opening far below, then metallic footsteps trudging through the racks of clothing. 

“Hold tight,” he orders.

You clamp your arms around his neck in a method that would choke out a human, and suck in a deep breath. Eclipse stares down the opposite building. A five-foot gap stretches between the two roofs. 

He charges. You cling tight to him, muttering his name in a prayer. Your heart stops as he leaps, and the air sails around you.

He lands with a slight wobble, wrapping a hand around you for a brief moment, as if ensuring you’re still there, and takes off again.

Into the opposite building, Eclipse descends and locates a back door. He races out from the main street, and into a wooded area surrounding the edges of the town. Your arms grow tense and numb while clinging to him. Tirelessly, Eclipse runs into a field, finding an animal shed. Small but inconspicuous, he slides open the wooden door. The scent of dust and hay tickles your nose.

It’s not ideal, but it’s hidden, and safe. Eclipse silently unlocks your death grip around his neck and lowers you to the ground. Your butt plops directly into a gathering of old hay. Eclipse kneels over you, his head high and his eyes seeping over the small shed. 

For several long minutes, neither of you speaks. You simply stare at Eclipse, your hand still clutching the taser tight in your grasp. 

The last of the light falls. Your fingers are numb. Eclipse looks down at you.

“You were reckless,” he says. You don’t need to see his frown to hear it in his voice.

“I protected you,” you mutter, then eye him sharply, “And you did the same for me. Which, you know, is how we’re surviving together.”

He stares at you, crouched low, his frame surrounding you in the cramped quarters of the shed. 

Slowly, he lifts a finger and thumb and strokes your hair lovingly. You look at his hand and think of how he fought off the Clerk and the rest of the AI. His kind. For you, he betrays them all. 

“Moon will take care of you,” he says quietly.

“Bye, Eclipse,” you murmur. You touch his hand as you watch the yellow begin to fade into a deep blue.

The darkness of the night becomes heavy. Through the lone, dirty window high in the shed, you find the sky giving way to a pitch-blackness. Stars must come out soon, right? There has to be more light in the world.

The Daycare Attendant’s faceplate morphs, spinning one before settling on a crescent silver face, and two low burning, red eyes.

Moon settles before you. He tilts his head. The bell on the end of his nightcap settles over his shoulder, and you reach up to run your fingers down the silky soft fabric patterned with stars.

“Look at you. A natural born fighter,” Moon rasps, his tone warbling with humor. 

You shoot him a look, as if still ready to fight. The adrenaline left over in your veins leaves you with shaking fingers. You try to hide it by curling your hands close to your middle.

Moon chuckles in a low, growling sound. Once terrifying, it’s now a beautiful noise you cling to.

“Next time, my darling nimrod—”

“Hey!”

“—don’t put yourself in danger like that.” 

You cross your arms to better hide your tremors. 

“I did what I had to to keep you guys safe.” You mutter. “You do the same all the time. We’re putting up a heck of a fight.”

Moon’s gaze lingers on you, heavy in the darkness.

“We are,” he agrees, then his finger finds your nose and boops it. You wrinkle your face. “But you are squishy and irreplaceable.”

“You are not replaceable,” you say sharply, then sit up. “Moon. I don’t know what I’d do without you, or Sun or Eclipse…”

It’s too much. The weight of the attack cracks you open, exposing your ribs and heart, and finally, you open your arms in a silent plea. 

His answer is to pull you quickly into his star-stitched lap. You curl up in his embrace, hiding your face against the blue and silver of his chassis. 

“Shush, shush, starlight,” Moon whispers to you. “I won’t let any monsters get you.”

You try to say his name, but a sob leaves your lips instead. He strokes your hair with another calming hum. 

It’s not for you to be afraid. You’re only trying to survive. The Clerk made it clear that should your companion ever be caught smuggling you to safety, they would all pay dearly. They never had to pluck you off the street in your mindless and fruitless wanderings. They didn’t have to help you get out of the city just to make sure you weren’t slaughtered. 

They are all you have.

“We did a lot today,” you find your voice at last.

Moon chuckles. “We do. We should all rest.”

He lowers his head and presses the grin of his faceplate to the top of your head.

“Sleep. We’ll keep you safe,” he vows in a voice overlaid with two others that you know by heart.

You dip your head numbly. Moon’s fingers continue to tenderly stroke your hair until you find some peace at the end of the world. They hold you close.

[clarkeybabey]

❝ i need you to fill the void ❞

# summary; someone spoils your secret

# playlist; void, the neighbourhood, nothing's gonna hurt you baby, cigarettes after sex.

# word count; 1.2k

# note; freya, faith, and talia cameo, I didn't proofread and I hate this oops.

Have a wedding they said, it'll be fun they said. You can't name a time when you've been this stressed out and anxious in all your years of living. To make it even worse, the one person who could help you breathe through all of this wasn't going to able to see you for another three and a half hours.

Last night, for the sake of tradition, you slept without George for the first time in more than a year. He texted you about a thousand times after you finally fell asleep about how he couldn't wait to be tied to you for the rest of your lives, which meant you woke up in the best of moods despite the lack of his presence.

Keeping everything a secret wasn't hard, since everyone had done it before for Simon and Talia. Unfortunately, some people you thought you could trust with an invitation weren't the most reliable. Your friends were sat off to the side some snapping pictures of you and themselves, others scrolling social media. Freya gasps, she's unable to control the way her lips purse, and brows crease as she turns the volume of her phone down as quick as possible.

You're sat in a chair, your makeup artist hard at work. "Something wrong?" In the blink of an eye, the girls are all standing around Freya, staring at the screen in disbelief.

Talia chews at her bottom lip before speaking, "Y/N, sweetheart, I'm gonna show you something, but I want you to try not to freak out."

You swear you feel your throat begin to close at the slight waver in her voice, now it's your turn for your brows to knit together, "I'll try," you mumble, absentmindedly picking at your manicure.

She makes her way to you as slow as ever with Freya in tow with her phone, which she hands off to you after turning the volume back up, swiping up and back to the video to restart it. You recognize the username as a girl George had introduced you to a few months ago at the sidemen's anniversary party, you don't recall sending her an invitation...

The video begins with a screech from her, "Hi, guys! This get-ready with me is extra special, this time my friend George is getting married," you feel your stomach drop, cheeks warming as she talks about only being a plus one to someone whose name goes in one ear and straight out the other.

"This better be a fuckin' joke," bile begins to rise in your throat and tears threaten to melt away every bit of the 45 minutes spent on your nearly Pinterest-perfect makeup. When you click on the comments you notice there are some from mere seconds ago and steadily continue to pour in, you shake your head hoping someone will pinch you and wake you from this atrocious nightmare, "God, I really wish this was a joke," you whisper, your bottom lip trembling uncontrollably.

You look up at the girls around you as you slowly start to crumble under the weight of it all. Faith is typing away furiously, jamming her fingers against her phone screen, you hand Freya her phone back, wordlessly reaching for your own that was laying screen down on the vanity.

When the screen comes to life you see messages, notifications from dms, posts, and tweets you've been tagged in. Nothing really catches your eye aside from two missed calls from George and a few texts just under them.

my fiance 😝😈: call me when you see this please, darling

And you did exactly that. He answers on the first ring, his soft, accented voice filling your ear ripping another sob from your throat, "Y'alright, love?" He asks knowing the answer, hoping to god you weren't on tiktok to see what he'd seen a few minutes ago, but as you cry into the speaker he understands you have.

You shake your head, before remembering that he can't see your actions, "No," you croak, making him sigh and shake his head. This is your day and somehow someone's managed to ruin it for you.

To be completely honest, George couldn't care less about everything being secret, but all you wanted through the whole planning process was privacy, no huge party after the ceremony, nothing.

You didn't want to post anything until you were boarding the plane for your well-deserved nearly three-week honeymoon. And your fiance was more than happy to oblige.

"Can you come here? Please, I couldn't give two fucks about tradition, we're fuckin' tiktokers for god's sake." you pause a second until you hear shuffling on his end, followed by a snort. "I'm already outside, baby," you hear the smile in his voice, you keep your phone pressed to your ear with your shoulder.

When the door swings open, he's standing there looking so damn good in the suit you picked out together so many months ago and it makes you cry even harder, knowing how much of a snotty mess you probably look now all because everything not going the way you imagined.

He wraps you into his arms before you're able to say anything, breathing you in. "You look beautiful," he steps back from you keeping a comforting hand on your hip as he looks you up in down, "this satin?" He asks pinching at the material of your dressing gown, to which you simply nod, your throat still feeling tight.

Of course, he notices how much everything's eating you alive, "I handled it, sweetheart. I figured out who invited her, they know we don't think its a good idea for her to come," he gives you a reassuring squeeze, watching your face closely for any change of expression.

You pursed your lips taking a deep breath through your nose, "Thank you, I missed you so much," he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, instead of responding immediately, he chose to envelope you into his arms. Your ear is pressed against his chest so close you can hear his heart thumping against his ribcage, "Missed you more, could hardly sleep without you."

This time when he pulls away, his hands cup your face, and his lips meet yours in what you swear is the best kiss you've ever had, he doesn't keep you like that for as long as you'd like, leaving you chasing after the feeling. He rests his forehead against yours and his hand slips from your cheek to your neck where he feels your pulse quicken.

He breathes you in, this time stepping back for real knowing the girls are waiting for you, "Now go get in the dress I've been hearing about for months, wanna hurry up and make you mine for life."

You smile, the first real one you've worn since reading his messages this morning, "So impatient," you mutter and he shakes his head, swatting at your bum, "I can show you impatient," he quirks a brow, his voice is laced with suggestiveness that's unmistakable

"Later," he raises his hands in surrender as you turn back to the door that's ajar, his hand catches your wrist, turning you around quicker than you could let a gasp escape you. His lips find yours once more and you exhale out of your nose, relaxing against him as he smiles against your mouth. "Now you're free to go," your fingers dance along your now tingling lips, as you watch him disappear down the hallway,

When you return to the girls you almost have forgotten the original situation at hand aside from the fact that maybe every little thing about him is the best.

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 31/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Slight!Smut, Language, age gap, angst, fluff

Word Count: 8459

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

It was late November, the air crisp but not too cold, and you sat on Jared’s porch in the backyard, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the scene. Jared’s wife and kids were out of town, leaving the house quiet except for the low murmur of conversation and the occasional sound of Jensen pacing in the yard below. Jensen was on the phone with Danneel—again. The tension in his voice was unmistakable, even though you couldn’t make out the exact words.

You took a sip from your beer, your shoulders slumping as you let out a sigh. It was the same story over and over. Danneel had promised to sign the divorce papers weeks ago, and yet here you were, nearly at the end of November, and nothing had changed. Every time it seemed like progress was being made, something would come up—some excuse, some new argument, and the papers would remain unsigned.

Jared, who was sitting beside you on the porch, glanced at you, clearly noticing your frustration. He took a swig of his own beer, his eyes drifting over to Jensen, who was pacing the backyard, his voice rising and falling as he argued with Danneel. It was hard not to feel the weight of the situation. This whole thing had been dragging on for far too long, and it was taking a toll on everyone—especially Jensen.

“Seems like it’s never gonna end, huh?”, Jared said quietly, breaking the silence between you. He leaned back in his chair, watching Jensen with a mixture of sympathy and annoyance. "I hate seeing him like this. He deserves better".

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak for a moment. The frustration and uncertainty had been building up inside you for weeks. You knew how much Jensen was struggling, caught between trying to do right by his kids and wanting to move forward with his life—and with you. But as long as Danneel kept dragging her feet, it felt like you were all stuck in limbo, waiting for something that might never happen.

“I just don’t get it”, you finally muttered, your voice tinged with frustration. “She said she would sign. What’s she waiting for? It’s like she’s doing this just to keep him tied up in knots”.

Jared let out a soft grunt of agreement. “That’s exactly what she’s doing. She knows what she’s doing, keeping him on edge like this. It’s about control, and she doesn’t want to let go of it”.

You sighed, resting your elbows on your knees as you watched Jensen continue to pace. You hated seeing him like this—so stressed, so caught up in a situation that seemed to have no end in sight. You knew how much he loved his kids, how important it was to him to be a good father, and that made everything more complicated. Danneel knew exactly how to push his buttons, and she wasn’t afraid to use the kids as leverage.

“He can’t keep living like this”, you said softly, more to yourself than to Jared.

Jared nodded, his gaze still fixed on Jensen. “No, he can’t. But until Danneel lets go, I don’t know what else he can do. It’s like she’s holding him hostage, and there’s only so much he can push before it affects the kids even more”.

You knew he was right, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. You took another sip of your beer, trying to push away the gnawing feeling of helplessness. This wasn’t how you’d imagined things would be when you and Jensen started this relationship. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but the constant back and forth with Danneel, the endless waiting, was starting to wear you down.

After a few more minutes of pacing, Jensen finally hung up the phone, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He walked over to the porch, his face a mix of frustration and exhaustion. He didn’t say anything at first, just dropped heavily into the chair beside you, running a hand through his hair.

“She’s still not ready to sign”, he muttered, his voice tight with anger. “Every time I think we’re making progress, she pulls something like this”.

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, offering him a small squeeze of support. “I’m sorry, Jensen. I know how hard this is for you”.

Jared leaned forward in his chair, his expression serious. “You can’t let her keep doing this, man. She’s dragging this out for control, not because she has a good reason. You’ve done everything you can to be fair”.

Jensen nodded, but his eyes were distant, the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders. “I just don’t know what else to do, man. I don’t want to make things worse for the kids”.

Jared sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get that. But you deserve to move on with your life too. She can’t keep you trapped like this forever”.

You sat there in silence for a moment, the three of you watching as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

Jensen stared off into the distance, his expression unreadable, before he finally ran his hands roughly over his face, letting out a long breath. Then, without saying much, he stood up and held out his hand toward you.

“C'mon”, he mumbled, his voice low but insistent.

You looked up at him, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion, then glanced toward Jared, who gave you an equally puzzled look. “What?”, you asked quietly, unsure of what he had in mind.

“Just.. come”, Jensen urged again, wiggling his hand for you to take it.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what he was planning, but there was something in his eyes—a mix of determination and vulnerability—that made you reach for his hand without question. Little did you know, Jensen had something significant planned. He’d been holding onto a secret, undecided, but now, in this moment, it seemed like he was ready to show you something he hadn’t even mentioned yet-.

As you stood up, Jared, clearly intrigued, followed suit. “Hold up, I want in on this too”, Jared said, grinning as he stepped beside you and Jensen. “I mean, if it’s something dirty or crazy, I’m definitely not missing out”.

Jensen gave a small, exasperated smile, shaking his head slightly but not giving away any details. “Trust me, it’s neither. But you can come if you want”.

Jared feigned disappointment, crossing his arms in mock frustration. “Well, that’s a shame, but I’ll still tag along. Can’t have you two going off on some mysterious adventure without me”.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at Jared’s playful attitude, but your curiosity grew.

The three of you walked toward the driveway, and Jensen didn’t say much as he led you to your car, but his grip on your hand was steady, as if he was gathering his thoughts. Jared hopped into the backseat as Jensen opened the passenger door for you. Once you were all settled in the car, Jensen finally spoke up, his voice calm but a little uncertain.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about”, he began, glancing over at you as he pulled out of the driveway. “Something I haven’t told you yet”.

You stared at him, still puzzled by the silence. Jensen hadn’t said anything more since he’d mentioned having something on his mind, and with each passing second, your curiosity and anxiety grew. You could feel the weight of the unspoken words, but it was the uncertainty that really got to you. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, glancing at Jared through the rearview mirror before turning back to Jensen, who was focused on the road.

“Just tell me, Jensen!”, you finally burst out, your voice a little more tense than you intended.

Deep down, a familiar fear had started to bubble up—one you had felt before, especially after the times Jensen had been slightly dismissive or distant following another argument with Danneel. The uncertainty always left you feeling like you were bracing for something worse, something you couldn’t control.

“Please”.

Jensen glanced over at you, his eyes soft but determined, as if he could feel the worry creeping into your thoughts. He shook his head gently, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I want you to see it first”, he mumbled.

That didn’t help the knot in your stomach, but you tried to push the fear aside, trusting him. He wouldn’t lead you into something bad. He wouldn’t do that, right?

Jared, sensing the tension, leaned forward from the backseat and made an exaggerated groaning sound. “Man, you’re killing the suspense! If you’ve got some big secret, just spill it already. We’re dying here!". His teasing tone cut through the heaviness in the air, making you chuckle despite yourself.

Jensen shot him a quick look in the mirror, shaking his head again but with more amusement this time. “It’s not like that, Jared”, he said, though there was a slight grin on his face now. “Just be patient”.

You exhaled, trying to settle your nerves as the car continued down the road. Whatever this was, it had to be important, and Jensen’s tone didn’t carry the weight of something negative. But still, after everything with Danneel and the constant uncertainty of where things stood, it was hard not to let your mind wander to darker places.

"Don’t worry”, Jensen mumbled, though there was a slight nervousness in his voice that you couldn’t ignore. He placed his palm gently on your thigh, squeezing softly as his eyes flicked over to meet yours for just a moment before returning to the road. The brief glance was filled with reassurance, but there was still something in his expression—a vulnerability he hadn’t shown in a while.

You tried to relax, the warmth of his hand grounding you a little, though the tension still lingered at the back of your mind. You trusted him, but the unease from the past weeks, with Danneel’s constant presence in his life and the uncertainty about where everything was headed, made it hard to fully let go of the worry.

Jared, clearly sensing the unspoken tension, shifted in the backseat, trying to break the silence with his usual humor. “Well, whatever it is, it better be good, man. You’ve got the both of us on the edge of our seats here. If it’s not some grand romantic gesture, you’re in trouble”, he teased, winking at you in the rearview mirror.

Jensen let out a small chuckle, though it was clear his mind was still focused on whatever was coming next. “I think you’ll both like it”, he muttered, his voice softer now, as if he was gathering himself before revealing what he’d been holding back. His thumb traced light circles on your leg, an absentminded gesture that soothed your nerves just a little.

A few minutes later, Jensen turned down a quiet street, lined with trees that cast soft shadows on the road.

He continued down the private, tree-lined road. As the trees thickened, the houses became more secluded, each hidden behind dense foliage, with small, private driveways.

Jensen’s grip on your thigh tightened for just a moment before he turned into the driveway at the very end of the road. The tires crunched softly over the gravel as the car slowed to a stop in front of a beautiful, secluded house. It was large, but had a cozy, inviting feel to it. There were tall trees surrounding it, offering both shade and a sense of seclusion, making it feel like a hidden oasis tucked away from the rest of the world.

You stared at the house, a mix of surprise and awe filling you. It was stunning, with a modern but homey design—clean lines, big windows, and a porch that wrapped around the front, giving it a warm, welcoming feel.

Jensen turned off the engine and exhaled deeply, his hand slipping from your leg as he leaned back in his seat, glancing at you.

“I got the keys yesterday”, Jensen admitted, his voice quieter now. “I haven’t even taken a look inside yet. An old friend of mine did me a favor—said I could come by, take a look, see if it feels right”.

He opened his door, the sound of gravel crunching under his boots as he stepped out. “Alright, kids, let’s get out”, he mumbled, clearly trying to lighten the mood, though the nerves were still there, evident in the way he kept flexing his hands.

You stared at Jensen, still not fully understanding what was happening. “What?”, you mumbled under your breath, feeling slightly out of the loop. Jared’s eyes, on the other hand, went wide with realization. Without a second thought, he stepped out of the car and gave Jensen a rough shove on the shoulder, catching you by surprise.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”, Jared exclaimed, shoving him again, this time with even more excitement.

Jared’s enthusiasm was infectious, and it quickly became clear that whatever Jensen was revealing was big—bigger than you had initially thought. Jared, obviously thrilled at the prospect, looked like he couldn’t believe his buddy was moving back Austin.

Jensen just chuckled softly, sticking one hand into his jeans pocket and raising his other hand in a mock surrender. “I haven’t bought it yet”, he said, his voice calm but tinged with that same nervous energy that had been there earlier. The weight of the moment hung between you all.

You stepped around the car, your heart beating a little faster. “Bought?”, you asked quietly, the confusion in your voice giving way to realization. Jensen was talking about buying this house.

Jensen’s gaze softened when he looked at you, but you could see the nervousness in his eyes. This was a huge step, one he clearly hadn’t expected to take so soon—or at least, not without talking to you first. “Yeah”, he admitted, his voice lowering as he took a breath. “I’ve been thinking about it. Moving back, finding something stable. And this place… I don’t know. It feels right. But I wanted you to see it first”.

Your heart skipped a beat at Jensen’s words. The idea of him moving back to Austin, especially so soon, wasn’t something you’d fully wrapped your head around. And now, standing here in front of this beautiful house, he was asking for your opinion, your involvement in the decision. The weight of it all hit you at once—this wasn’t just about a house. This was about him wanting to build a life with you.

You looked up at him, still trying to process what this all meant. “You really want me to help you decide? You want me to… move in with you?”. The question slipped out quietly, almost as if you were afraid to ask it, unsure if it was too soon to even think about something so serious.

Jensen’s gaze softened even more, and though he was clearly nervous, his determination never wavered. “Yeah”, he mumbled, his voice low but steady. “I can’t buy it until the divorce is finalized, but no matter what happens, I’d love to come back to Austin. To start fresh… With you”.

The sincerity in his voice hit you like a wave, making your heart race. He wasn’t just talking about the house—he was talking about a life, a future, one where the chaos of everything with Danneel and the divorce could finally be behind him, behind you both.

You blinked, glancing between him and the house, the realization settling in. “You really want this?”, you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen nodded, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as he held your hand. “I do”, he said softly, his eyes locked on yours. “I want this for us. I know things are complicated right now, but this… this feels right. I want to build something here. Somewhere that feels like home”.

Your heart swelled with emotions—hope, love, fear, all swirling together. The thought of making such a huge step, of really committing to this new chapter with him, was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. But there was no denying the way your heart responded to his words. You wanted it too, even if the idea scared you.

Jared, standing to the side with his arms crossed, broke the moment with a playful grin. “Man, you’re really going all in, huh?”. He nudged Jensen with his elbow. “But hey, if you’re coming back to Austin, you know I’ve got your back”.

Jensen chuckled, though the nervousness hadn’t fully left him. “I can’t buy anything until the divorce is finalized, but I’m ready to make the move".

You looked back at Jensen, your chest tightening with a mix of emotions. “What if things with Danneel get worse?”, you asked quietly, the lingering fears bubbling to the surface. “What if she makes it harder for you?”.

“No matter what Danneel does, I’m moving forward. I’m not letting her hold me back anymore. I want to come back to Austin, and I want you with me”.

He was choosing you—choosing a life where you were central to his future, despite the uncertainty.

You took a deep breath, the emotions swirling inside you almost too much to handle. Despite everything Jensen had said, the weight of the decision still lingered. You wanted to be absolutely sure, to hear him say it again, to erase any doubts that might still be lingering in the back of your mind.

“Jensen”, you whispered, your voice wavering slightly, “are you really sure? Do you really want me to move in with you?”.

For a moment, he just looked at you, and then, to your surprise, a wide grin spread across his face. He rolled his eyes in that playful way that told you he wasn’t annoyed, just amused by your persistence. “You´re for real right now?”, he asked, his tone light but full of affection. “How many times do I have to say it?”.

He squeezed your hand again, pulling you closer until you were standing almost chest to chest. “I want this, alright? I want you. I want us. This isn’t just some spur-of-the-moment decision”. His gaze softened as he looked down at you, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “I’ve thought about it, and yes, I want you to move in with me. I want to build a life together here. You’re a part of my future, no matter what happens”.

The warmth in his words made your heart race, and for a moment, everything else—the divorce, the uncertainties, the complications—seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Jensen, standing there in front of this house that could very well become your home.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, laughing softly at your own emotions. “Okay”, you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want this too”.

Jensen’s grin only grew wider as he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He kissed the top of your head, murmuring, “Good, because I’m not doing this without you”.

Jared, who had been standing to the side, watching the whole thing unfold with a soft smile on his face, finally spoke up. “Alright, lovebirds��, he teased, clapping his hands together. “Are we gonna check out this house or what? Because I’m dying to see it”.

You both laughed, and Jensen loosened his grip on you, his hand still firmly holding yours as he nodded toward the front door. “Let’s take a look inside”, he said, his tone lighter now, filled with excitement.

And with that, the three of you walked toward the front door, stepping into what could be the start of a new chapter—a home, a future, and a life together.

Jensen led you and Jared through the large front door, and as soon as you stepped inside, the house took your breath away.

The entrance opened into a grand foyer with towering ceilings and polished, dark wood floors that gleamed under the soft, natural light filtering in from the oversized windows. The walls were a warm shade of cream, and the space exuded a modern yet welcoming feel. Above you, a large wrought-iron chandelier hung, casting soft light that filled the room.

Immediately to your right, a formal dining room stood, framed by large archways and floor-to-ceiling windows that let in abundant sunlight. The dining table was modern and sleek, made from rich, dark wood, with plush, cream-colored chairs. French doors led out to the side yard, offering a private outdoor dining space.

The heart of the house was the expansive living room, which flowed seamlessly into the kitchen. This open-concept space had a stunning blend of modern luxury and comfortable design. The living room had towering windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, giving you a clear view of the stunning backyard and the Colorado River just beyond. The focal point of the room was a modern stone fireplace, embedded into a wall of rich wood paneling, and surrounded by a large L-shaped couch with oversized, plush cushions.

Above, the gallery on the second floor overlooked the living room, creating an impressive open space that felt both expansive and connected. The high ceilings, clean lines, and modern furnishings gave the room a sense of understated elegance.

The kitchen was a damn dream. With sleek, custom cabinetry painted in a soft dove gray and expansive white quartz countertops, it was both practical and beautiful. A large island sat at the center, big enough for several people to gather around with its high-top barstools. The island was topped with a waterfall edge, the quartz cascading down the sides in a beautiful, smooth finish. The appliances were top-of-the-line stainless steel, seamlessly integrated into the cabinetry, and there was huge stove, double ovens, and a built-in wine fridge.

The kitchen flowed into a cozy breakfast nook, complete with a round table that looked out through large windows to the backyard.

And what a backyard it was.

Through the oversized glass doors, you stepped out onto a wide stone patio that extended the entire length of the house. There was an outdoor kitchen with a built-in grill, sink, and refrigerator. The patio opened up into an immaculately landscaped backyard. A sparkling pool was the centerpiece, with its sleek, modern design framed by stone and shaded by large oak trees. The pool had a built-in hot tub that flowed seamlessly into the main swimming area, the water cascading over the edges in a gentle, soothing sound.

Near the pool, a stone fireplace sat surrounded by a circle of comfortable outdoor lounge chairs, creating a cozy space for gatherings on cooler evenings. Beyond the perfectly manicured lawn, you could see the Colorado River glimmering in the sunlight. A small path led down to a private pier, where a few lounge chairs and a small dock were set up. It was the perfect place for fishing, launching a kayak, or just sitting by the water, enjoying the peaceful surroundings.

As you made your way back inside, Jensen led you upstairs to the second floor. The gallery overlooked the living room and kitchen below, and the sleek iron railing contrasted beautifully with the rich wood floors. Upstairs, there were four spacious bedrooms, each designed with large windows that brought in natural light. The master bedroom was the best, with a private balcony that offered sweeping views of the backyard and the river. Inside the master bedroom, there was an oversized walk-in closet with built-in shelving and enough space for even the most elaborate wardrobe.

The bathroom was pure luxury, with a deep soaking tub set beneath a large window that looked out onto the treetops, offering a serene view. The large walk-in shower was framed in glass, with modern tile and a rainfall showerhead.

Two of the additional bedrooms shared a bathroom, each with its own vanity area but connected by a shared shower and tub. The fourth bedroom had its own private bathroom, perfect for guests or a teenager seeking a bit of privacy.

Downstairs, there was another guest bedroom with a private bathroom, ensuring that any visitors would have their own space. The laundry room was large and functional, with plenty of counter space for folding clothes, built-in cabinets for storage, and a deep sink. It was tucked away in a quiet corner of the house, making it both convenient and out of sight.

The house was a perfect blend of modern luxury and comfortable living. It felt like a home designed not just for show but for a life filled with love, family, and friends. The balance of open, inviting spaces and private, cozy areas made it ideal for both intimate moments and large gatherings.

Jensen walked behind you as you wandered through the house, your eyes soaking in every detail. His hand rested gently on the small of your back, a reassuring presence as you moved from one room to the next. You could feel his anticipation, the way he waited for your reaction with every step, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

As you reached the spacious living room, you stopped for a moment, taking in the incredible view of the backyard and the river beyond. It was perfect—almost too perfect, like something out of a dream. The kind of house that felt like it could hold so much life, so much love. You turned back to Jensen, and he was already watching you, his eyes searching yours for some kind of affirmation.

“What do you think?”, he asked quietly, his voice filled with a mixture of nerves and hope.

You blinked, your mind racing as you tried to put your feelings into words. It wasn’t just about the house—it was about the life he was offering you, the future he was imagining for the two of you. And that future was starting to look more real, more tangible, with every step you took through this house.

“It’s…”, you paused, trying to catch your breath, overwhelmed by the gravity of it all. “It’s beautiful, Jensen. I mean, it’s perfect. I don’t even know what to say”.

Jensen’s face softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I wanted something that felt right for us”, he said, his hand still resting on your back. “Somewhere we can build a life. And… I wanted you to be part of that decision. I didn’t want to do this without you”.

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice making you realize just how serious he was about this—about you. You turned to fully face him, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you.

Jensen's gaze softened even more, the nervousness giving way to something deeper—an earnest vulnerability. He stepped closer, his hand brushing a few strands of hair away from your face as he spoke, his voice quiet but filled with intent.

“Even though I can’t buy it just yet”, he began, his thumb gently tracing your cheek, “if you like it—if you can see us here—I’ll take a hold on it. I want this place to be ours, but only if you can see it too”.

You felt your heart skip a beat. The house was beautiful, but it was more than just a place—it was a symbol of everything he wanted to build with you. The life you both dreamed of but hadn’t quite dared to fully imagine until now. His words hung in the air between you, charged with the weight of what this meant for your future.

You looked around once more, taking in the expansive living room, the warm sunlight filtering in through the tall windows, the view of the Colorado River in the distance. It was everything you could have imagined, and more. But what made it truly perfect wasn’t just the house itself, but the idea of sharing it with him—building a life here, together.

“I can see us here”, you whispered, turning back to him, your voice thick with emotion.

Jensen’s face lit up, his relief and happiness so palpable that it made your heart swell even more. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and you could feel the tension he had been holding onto melt away.

“Then I’ll make sure it happens”, he murmured against your skin, his arms wrapping around you. “I’ll put a hold on it. This will be our home, I promise”.

You couldn’t help but smile wider at his words, your heart racing with excitement and love. The future suddenly felt less scary and more like a promise—one you were both ready to keep.

As the moment between you and Jensen hung in the air, Jared, who had been lingering quietly in the background, finally decided it was time to make his presence known. He cleared his throat dramatically, stepping into the living room with an exaggerated grin plastered on his face.

“Well”, Jared began, clapping his hands together with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Look at you two, playing house already. I knew I was tagging along for something juicy”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at Jared’s playful tone, while Jensen rolled his eyes, clearly anticipating the teasing that was about to come.

Jared walked around the room, spreading his arms wide as he admired the house. “I mean, this place is ridiculous. I’m talking perfect. You guys will have to fight me to keep me from moving in. I can already see myself in that pool, cocktail in hand. You’ll never get rid of me!”.

Jensen raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Yeah, well, if you show up uninvited, I’ll be sure to have the pool drained”, he teased, earning a chuckle from you.

Jared put a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Oh, come on! That’s no way to treat your future houseguest slash best man slash live-in nanny for the kids”, he joked, winking at you.

Jensen chuckled at Jared’s antics, but the lightness in his laugh was fleeting. You could sense the shift in his mood as the reality of everything else weighing on him began to creep back in. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing between you and Jared before letting out a soft sigh.

“There’s something I haven’t mentioned yet”, Jensen started, his voice a little more serious now. “Danneel’s been talking about moving back to Austin too, once we sell the house in Fairfield”.

You could see the tension in his jaw as he spoke, the uncertainty of the situation hanging in the air.

Jensen glanced at you, his hand finding yours as if he needed that grounding connection. “But.. Even if she doesn’t move back here, though… I’ll figure it out. I’ll move here no matter what. I want to be close to the kids, and to you”, he added, his eyes softening as they met yours. “But if the worst-case scenario happens and she decides to move somewhere else entirely, I’ll find a way to make it work. I’m not going to let her or the situation keep me from living where I want to be, and who I want to be with”.

You felt a wave of relief mixed with the weight of the situation. The fact that Jensen was so determined to move forward, to make Austin home, was reassuring, but you could also sense the strain of it all—the endless negotiations with Danneel, the logistics of parenting, and how it all weighed heavily on his shoulders.

You and Jensen took one last slow walk around the house. The house, with its stunning design and the potential it held for a new beginning, suddenly felt even more significant.

Jensen’s hand remained firmly on your back, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles as the two of you stepped out into the backyard. The sound of the river flowing softly in the distance mixed with the quiet rustling of the trees. The setting sun cast a golden glow across the landscape, making everything feel peaceful for just a moment.

As you reached the edge of the yard, standing by the path that led down to the private pier, Jensen stopped, turning toward you with a contemplative look on his face. He pulled you close to his side, wrapping his arm securely around you as you leaned against him.

“I know it’s a lot to take in”, he murmured, his voice soft. “But I want you to know that no matter what happens, this is where I want to be—with you”.

You looked up at him, feeling the warmth of his words and the sincerity in his eyes. There was still so much uncertainty with Danneel, the kids, and the logistics of everything, but in this moment, all that mattered was the decision you were making together.

Jensen pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment as if he needed the closeness. “We’ll make this work”, he whispered against your hair. “Whatever it takes”.

You nodded, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. “I believe you”, you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his waist as you rested your head against his chest.

Jared, who had been quietly watching from the patio, finally broke the silence with a lighthearted chuckle. “Alright, are we done with the heartfelt stuff? Because I’m getting emotional over here”.

As the three of you walked back toward the car, Jensen kept his arm around you, his presence steady and reassuring. Jared kept a light atmosphere as he teased you both, but there was an unspoken understanding between all of you.

Once you all settled back into the car, Jensen started driving, the familiar sound of the engine humming as you headed back to Jared’s place. The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows on the road, but inside the car, the mood was light.

Jensen glanced at Jared through the rearview mirror as they drove, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “So, you told Gen about me and her?”, he asked, keeping his voice casual, but there was a flicker of curiosity behind it. He wanted to know how much Jared’s wife knew.

Jared grinned in the mirror, clearly enjoying the shift in conversation. “Oh, you mean have I told Gen that you’ve finally got your head out of your ass and found someone who’s way too good for you?”, Jared teased, his tone light but affectionate.

Jensen rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, something like that”.

Jared leaned back in his seat. “Of course I’ve told her”, he said, more seriously now. “She’s happy for you, man. She’s always rooting for you. But you know she’ll want to meet her again”. He nodded toward you with a grin. “Sooner rather than later”. His grin widening as he continued, "Gen knew something was up from the beginning. Right at my birthday party". He gave a knowing glance to Jensen through the rearview mirror, clearly amused by the memory.

Jensen raised an eyebrow, but he already seemed to know where Jared was going with this. "Oh yeah?", he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"Dude, Gen figured it out that night. I mean, come on—since when do either of us invite a random person we met while buying alcohol for a party?". He shot you a wink, his grin widening. "You weren’t just some random guest. Gen clocked it right away, knew there was something going on".

You chuckled softly at Jared’s playful tone, feeling both flattered and slightly embarrassed at the revelation. You hadn’t realized that it was so obvious from the start, but Jared clearly had a knack for reading people, and it seemed like his wife was just as perceptive.

Jensen laughed, shaking his head slightly as he kept his eyes on the road. “I thought I was being subtle”.

Jared let out a scoff. “Subtle? Please. You guys had the whole ‘secret glances across the room’ thing going on. Gen saw right through it”. He paused for a moment before adding, more seriously, “And honestly? She wasn’t surprised. She knew for years that things with you and Danneel weren’t working. It was only a matter of time”.

There was a quiet shift in the car after that. Jensen’s expression softened, and you could feel the weight of those words settle in. Jared wasn’t wrong. Jensen’s marriage with Danneel had been rocky for a long time, and now, as everything was coming to a head, it felt like a natural, if difficult, progression.

Jared leaned forward again, his tone more thoughtful now. “Gen’s always said that you deserve to be happy, man. We’ve all seen how hard you’ve worked to make things right with Danneel, but sometimes… it just doesn’t work out. And that’s okay. The important thing is that you’re doing what’s best for you, and now… well, you’ve found someone who makes you happy”.

Jensen glanced over at you for a brief moment, his hand squeezing yours gently before returning to the wheel. "Yeah", he murmured, his voice low but filled with emotion. "I have".

Jared’s grin returned, and he leaned back in his seat, clearly pleased with how the conversation had gone. “Just don’t screw it up, man”, he teased lightly.

As December rolled into town, the colder morning outside was forgotten in the warmth of your shared bed. You lay on your stomach, feeling the soft sheets beneath you, tangled around your legs, while Jensen hovered above you, his body radiating heat. He was slightly between your legs, his hands gripping the mattress tightly on either side of your head as his lips moved lazily down your bare lower back. His touch was soft but firm, sending tingles up your spine as he explored every inch of your skin.

His hips brushed against your buttcheek, and just as his teeth gently bit down, causing you to giggle softly, the sound of his phone rang, shattering the intimacy of the moment.

Jensen groaned against your skin, his forehead coming to rest against the small of your back as he let out an exasperated sigh. "Of course", he mumbled, the frustration clear in his voice.

You couldn't help but smile, turning your head slightly to glance at him. "You going to get that?", you teased, your voice still breathy from the closeness of the moment.

He huffed, his lips brushing against your back one last time before he lifted himself off you, reaching toward the bedside table where his phone buzzed insistently. He glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing slightly.

"It's probably something that can wait", Jensen said, sounding more annoyed than concerned, his thumb hovering over the decline button. He looked at you, his lips curling into a small, mischievous grin as he leaned down again, his lips ghosting over your shoulder.

You turned your head back into the pillow, chuckling. "Are you sure?", you asked, knowing how quickly things could shift, especially with all that had been going on in his life lately.

Jensen hesitated for a moment longer before finally pulling back again, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder. "Yeah, it's nothing that can't wait", he murmured.

His hands slid back down to your hips, his body resuming its position above yours, the closeness and warmth between you quickly reigniting the spark of intimacy. "Now, where were we?", he asked, his voice low and teasing as he nuzzled the back of your neck, his hips pressing closer to yours.

You giggled softly, your body relaxing back into the moment, the world outside once again fading away.

As the quiet moment stretched on, Jensen's closeness grew more intense. You felt the firm pressure of his arousal against you. His breath was warm against your ear, his groans soft but laden with need as he kissed along your neck, each touch sending shivers down your spine.

Jensen's hands gripped your hips gently, his movements deliberate as he pressed closer. His lips traced a path from your neck down to your shoulder, each kiss deepening the connection that the morning laziness had already fostered.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, seeing in his eyes a mix of affection and desire that mirrored your own feelings.

You bit your lip, feeling a rush of heat as you pressed yourself back against Jensen, your bodies fitting together in a way that felt natural and intoxicating. His soft groans in response made your heart race, the tension between you building with every touch, every movement.

But then, his phone rang again, the sound breaking through the intimacy of the moment like an unwelcome intruder. Jensen groaned in frustration this time, burying his face in the curve of your neck as the phone continued to buzz insistently.

“Seriously?”, he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. He kissed your shoulder before sighing deeply, clearly reluctant to let go of the moment.

You giggled softly, feeling his irritation, but part of you was just as frustrated. “You should probably get that”, you whispered, your voice a mix of amusement and disappointment.

Jensen sighed again, reluctantly lifting himself off you, his hand brushing your back one last time before he reached for his phone on the nightstand. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted from annoyance to something more serious.

He hesitated for a second, his fingers hovering over the screen before he finally answered. "Yeah?", he said, his tone immediately changing, more alert now.

As much as you wanted to stay lost in the moment with him, you could sense the shift. Something was happening.

While Jensen continued talking with his manager, you tried to quietly slip out of bed, swinging one leg over his hips, intending to get up and make some much-needed coffee. You’d spent way too long in bed, lost in each other, kissing, teasing, and now the morning sun was filtering in through the curtains.

But just as you started to move, Jensen’s hand shot out, gripping your thigh firmly. His touch sent a jolt of warmth through you, and you froze in place, one leg still draped over him, the other half out of bed. His hand brushed up to your hipbone, fingers grazing your skin in a way that made your breath hitch. He pulled you gently closer to him, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp as your body followed his lead, your most intimate part mere inches from his face.

Jensen’s eyes sparkled with amusement, a slow grin spreading across his lips as he watched you, fully aware of how flustered you had become. His phone was still pressed to his ear, his voice steady and composed as he continued the conversation with his manager. But his free hand was anything but composed. It moved deliberately, fingers brushing over your hip, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin.

Your heart raced as his thumb began to trace slow circles near your clit, the touch almost too light to be real, yet sending waves of electricity through you. You blushed furiously, your breath catching in your throat. The contrast between the casual way he spoke on the phone and the intimate attention he was giving you sent your mind into a whirlwind of sensation and anticipation.

Jensen's grin widened as he noticed your reaction, his thumb pressing just a little harder, brushing directly over your clit. He kept his eyes on you, his gaze dark with desire, even as he continued speaking in that smooth, calm tone, completely in control of the situation while you were quickly losing yours. The combination of his teasing touch and his playful, confident grin made it impossible for you to think clearly.

Every nerve in your body was attuned to his touch, and as his thumb continued to move in slow, deliberate circles, you could feel your body responding despite the presence of his phone conversation. You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the sheets as you tried to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was a losing battle.

As you hovered over Jensen’s chest, your breath shallow, you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. He licked his lips, his gaze flickering between your flushed face and the intimate space between your legs.

Without breaking eye contact, Jensen dipped his thumb inside you, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes darkening with desire. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp, your body reacting instantly to his teasing.

Jensen’s lips curled into a grin as he watched you, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

His thumb moved with a purpose, circling and retreating in a way that was maddeningly perfect. Each motion was calculated to draw out the moment, to intensify your desire without granting the final release.

As you struggled to maintain composure, the sound of Jensen's voice mingled with the sensations he was eliciting. He continued his conversation with his manager, his tone professional despite the intimate situation. "Yes, I've reviewed the schedule for January", he said, his voice steady. "We need to ensure that the production aligns with my current…. commitments. Can we possibly push the filming start by a week?".

His manager’s response was inaudible, but Jensen's slight nod indicated he was listening intently. "Understood", Jensen replied after a moment. "But let's try to negotiate for a bit more flexibility. It's crucial that the dates don't clash".

Throughout the call, Jensen’s thumb paused occasionally, his attention momentarily splitting between you and his professional obligations. Each pause left you anticipating more, the slow burn of need growing with each second of delay.

"Alright, send me the revised schedule once you've had that conversation", Jensen finally said, concluding the call. As he set his phone aside, his full attention returned to you. His grin broadened, aware of the intense state he'd left you in.

"Sorry about that", he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. "Let´s get to the important thing". His thumb resumed its slow, deliberate dance, pushing you closer to the brink this time, his gaze locked on yours, reading every reaction, every tremor that coursed through you.

"Focus can be a tricky thing, can't it?", Jensen teased, his words a velvet caress that matched the physical ones. His touch became slightly more insistent, promising that he was now fully present, committed to taking you all the way.

An hour later, the morning had settled into a comfortable rhythm. You sat at your small kitchen island, eating your bowl of cereal, the soft clinking of your spoon against the bowl the only sound in the quiet space. Jensen stood nearby, leaning casually against the counter, a mug of coffee in one hand while his other scrolled through emails on his phone. Every now and then, he'd glance at something on the screen, his brow furrowing slightly as he responded to work-related messages.

Despite the quiet, there was an easy, intimate vibe between the two of you. Occasionally, Jensen would lean over toward you, wordlessly opening his mouth as if expecting you to offer him a spoonful of your cereal. You chuckled at his unspoken request, shaking your head but obliging him nonetheless. You scooped up a bit of cereal and brought the spoon to his mouth, which he took with a playful grin.

"You're like a child sometimes", you teased, rolling your eyes as he chewed thoughtfully, clearly enjoying the bite.

"Well, you picked a good cereal", Jensen quipped, his voice casual, though there was a soft affection in his tone. He took another sip of his coffee, his eyes returning to his phone, though you could tell he wasn’t completely absorbed in work—there was still a lightness about him that hinted he was still mentally with you.

"So, anything exciting in your emails?", you asked, resting your chin in your hand, watching him as he scrolled through his inbox.

"Just more scheduling", Jensen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Trying to make sure everything’s set for January when filming starts again. There’s always something". He put his phone down for a moment and leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. "But I’d rather be here with you than thinking about work".

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. It was these little moments that made everything feel so easy and real between the two of you—simple mornings like this, where the world outside the kitchen didn't matter much.

"Well, if you keep stealing my cereal, you’ll definitely be here a while", you joked, pushing the bowl slightly toward him.

Jensen chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "Good thing I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon, then". He took another sip of coffee, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer, the weight of his words settling between you both in a way that was both reassuring and meaningful.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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[winchesterwild78]

An Unexpected Friendship pt 7

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, Jensen’s children

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, mention of death, Mention of panic attacks, some angst, SMUT! 

A/N: This is a short story written in collaboration with @cheekygirl2309.

This chapter has Jensen realizing how much he messed up and working on fixing what he broke, with a little help from a sweet little girl. 😀

No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. Written and edited fast-please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

The next few days in the house were strained. The kids went to school and I stayed to myself for most of the day. Terri and the other nurse, Angela would alternate coming in and taking care of Jensen. His physical therapy was starting today, so Angela was waiting on the physical therapist downstairs with me.

“Hey, Y/N, how are you doing? This can’t be easy on you.” I looked up from the book I was reading, “I’m okay. My main focus is Jensen getting better. Then we can move on. His kids need him back to his old self.” “You and your little girl do too.” She offered a smile. I just nodded.

The pain in my heart had only grown since that day. Jensen and I hadn’t spoken since. I would wait until Terri or Angela was in the room with him before I’d go in and grab what I needed. I couldn’t look at him. Just hearing his voice broke me. 

Jared and Gen had come by to check on us and offer advice. They knew the gap between Jensen and I was only getting wider. Jared being the mediator he is, tried his best to help repair Jensen and I. 

“Jared, I appreciate everything you’re trying to do. I really do, but Jensen made it clear he blames me for the accident, and he doesn’t want me here. We haven’t slept in the same room since that day. I just have to figure out what to do. Jazzy loves him so much, and I love the kids. I can’t break her heart or theirs’, but I can’t continue to live with someone who is angry with me.” 

Jared pulled me into a big hug, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You know you and Jazzy are welcome to stay with us if you need to. We know how you feel about going back home.” “I appreciate it, Jared, but I can’t drive a wedge between you and your brother. I love you guys too much to do that.”

As Jared and I talked, Gen went upstairs to check on Jensen. Angela was helping him sit back down when she walked in. 

“Hey Gen. It’s good to see you. Is Jared here too?” Jensen smiled. “Yes he is, but don’t use that smile on me Jensen Ross!” Jensen’s eyes went wide, “Whoa what did I do?” Angela excused herself to give Gen and Jensen some space. “You broke her fucking heart is what you did, Jensen. She’s lonely and so heart broken. She truly believes you blame her for the accident.” 

“Gen, I never said that to her. I don’t blame her.” “You might not have said it, but your actions speak louder than any words. Have you even tried to talk to her?” Jensen just shook his head no. 

“Dammit Jensen, you’re going to lose her and that beautiful little girl.” Jensen’s breath hitched. He knew Gen was telling the truth, but he wasn’t sure how to fix this or if you’d want to fix it.

The conversation with Gen and Jared was two days ago. Jensen had tried to reach out to you through text since you wouldn’t come near the room. He didn’t want to get the kids involved, so he figured he’d text you.

Jensen: Hey sweetheart. Can we talk?

Me: I’m not sure what there is to talk about.

Jensen: Us? How much of an asshole I am. How you have every right to walk away from me, and hate me.

Me: I don’t hate you, Jensen.

Jensen: Well, that’s a start. Can you come to our bedroom so we can talk?

Me: I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m really tired. Maybe we can talk tomorrow.

Jensen: Oh, okay. I’d like that. I love you, Y/N.

Me: Good night, Jensen.

I put my phone down and sobbed. I wanted to run into the room and hold him. Kiss his lips and tell him how much I loved him. I knew he was hurting, but so was I. I was scared of never holding him again, never feeling his love again. 

I sobbed into my pillow. Sleeping down the hall from him was so hard. I craved his touch, I wanted to feel safe enough to sleep, but I couldn’t. Then I heard a soft knock on my door. I wiped my face, sat up and said “come in.” It was Jazzy. 

“Hey baby girl, are you okay?” I asked, trying to hide the tears. “I’m sad mommy.” I pulled her into my lap, “Why are you sad baby?” “Because you’re sad, and Daddy Jensen got hurt.” “Oh sweetie, I’m okay, and Jensen will be okay too. He’s doing great with his healing and he’s starting to walk around more.” “But mommy, you’re not in there with him. You’re in here and you’re so sad. Sad like when daddy died.” 

My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t know she knew I was so sad, I’d only cry at night after I was sure they were asleep. “Oh baby, I’ll be okay. I’m just sad Jensen got hurt and is upset about it. Everything is going to be okay baby.” I kissed her head and smiled, trying to fight the pain away. I carried her back to her bed, gave her Braveheart and kissed her head again.

I went back to the guest room and crawled in the bed. Covering my head with the blanket and burying my face deep in the pillow, I let out a scream and then I just broke. 

Jensen laid in bed, flipping through the photo album I had made for him. He missed me so much, my lips, my hands, my body. He knew he fucked up and it was going to take more than a text to fix this. 

As he put the album away, he heard a soft knock on his door. His heart leaped in his chest. “Come in.” He said softly, but loud enough to be heard. The door slowly opened. Thinking he was about to see me, he was a little taken back when he saw Jazzy. 

“Hey baby girl, are you okay? Mommy isn't here.” She climbed on the bed beside Jensen and snuggled next to him, “I know daddy, she’s in the other room, crying like when my other daddy died. She’s really sad. I hear her cry every night. Are you going to die too?” 

Jensen’s heart broke, hearing that you cried every night, “No baby girl I’m not. I’m okay. Mommy is just sad because I’m hurt and she can’t help me. I promise you I’ll make Mommy’s heart better.” “Okay daddy, I love you. I’m going back to bed now.” “I love you too sweetheart, and thank you for letting me know about mommy.” She nodded and left the room. 

Jensen was determined to get to me. He grabbed his crutches and headed towards the guest room. He lightly knocked on the door waiting for me to answer. I couldn’t hear the door through the blanket, pillow and the sobs. 

He opened the door and saw me, head covered and buried in the pillow, he could hear my sobs. Tears fell from his eyes. It broke him to see me so broken, knowing he caused it. He walked to the side of the bed and sat down, lightly touching my back. 

I shot up and looked at him. “Jensen, what are you doing here?” I wiped my face, trying to hide the fact that I had been crying. He lifted my chin with his hand, “Baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t blame you for anything. I fucked up. I took it out on one of the most important people to me, and now I’ve lost you.”

I looked at Jensen, I could see the regret and sadness in his eyes. “Jensen, you haven’t lost me, but you have to talk to me. We won’t make it if you don’t open up to me and talk to me. Why did you take it out on me? If you don’t blame me, then what was it?”

Jensen took a deep breath, “The day I got hurt I had been so distracted. All I wanted to do was be home with you and the kids. When Dee and I first started dating, we acted in the same town and didn’t have children, so being apart wasn’t an issue. After JJ was born it started to get harder, but we made it work. When you and Jazzy came into our lives, I never wanted to leave your side. Especially after everything you two had been through.”

“After I talked to you and you told me about Jazzy I got in my head. Thinking about how lonely she must be feeling and how she’d already lost one daddy and I was sure she was feeling like I left her too. I hated myself for making her feel that way.” I touched Jensen’s arm, “Jensen, she’s okay. I promise.” 

“What about her mommy?” His green eyes, full of regret, looked deeply into mine. “I’m getting there.” My breath hitched, it was hard to look him in his eyes. I swallowed hard, being this close to him I could feel his body heat. My heart rate picked up. Then his hand brushed against my cheek. I leaned into his touch. It had been too long since I felt him. 

Instinctively I leaned closer to him. I could feel his hot breath mixing with mine. “Jensen..” “Y/N..” My lips crashed against his in a kiss that was full of need, regret and love. Oh so much love. His hands tangled into my hair as we deepened the kiss. The pain, sorrow and anger from the past few days was slowly starting to melt away. 

When we finally pulled away from each other, our chests were rising and falling quickly taking in air. “I am so sorry, sweetheart. I never should have taken anything out on you. You and the kids are everything to me. I’d be lost without you five. Please baby, don’t leave me, don’t leave us.” 

“Jensen, you can’t do that to me. You can’t push me away when things get bad. You have to talk to me, if we’re going to make it, we have to deal with things together.” 

“I promise baby, I will never push you away again. I love you sweetheart, so much. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll still have me.” 

I placed my hand on his chest, “Jensen, I love you so much. These past few days have been horrible without you. I hated this distance between us.” He placed his hand on mine, “Then let’s go to our room and go to bed baby.”

I nodded as I helped Jensen stand and we walked back to our room. Once in the room, Jensen closed the door and I helped him back to the bed. He set his crutches to the side, and I slid in the bed. 

Jensen offered me his arm, and I scooted towards him, laying my head on his chest. He kissed the top of my head. “God I love you so much. I can’t believe I almost lost you. I’m so fucking foolish.” 

“Jensen, what really  happened on set? I know you well enough to know what we talked about before didn’t distract you that much.” Jensen sighed, “Well the scene I was shooting involved me saving a little girl about Jazzy’s age. Homelander was using her as bait to get to her parents. He killed her father and the little girl was crying out for her daddy. I had to rescue her, and when I started to grab her all I could think about was Jazzy and how I wanted to protect her and you from Robert. I started to have a panic attack and felt dizzy, lost my balance and fell. I was so embarrassed.” 

“Jensen, having a panic attack isn’t something to be embarrassed about. I’m sorry that scene triggered you and caused you so much pain. We are safe, Jensen. Safe because we have you. I hope you know that little girl in the other room sees you as her daddy. She feels safe with you, with your children. I see you as my partner, my love, my forever, my home. I love you so much Jensen, nothing will ever change that. You saved us not only from Robert, but from our empty life.”

Tears pricked Jensen’s eyes, and he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “I see you as my love, my forever, my home too. I see Jazzy as my daughter, you both fit perfectly here with us. I know the road that led us together was paved with heartache and loss, but I am so glad I have both of you.” 

I let out a deep sigh. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Jensen asked softly as he held me tight. “I was so scared seeing you in that hospital. It brought back all those buried feelings from when I lost Joshua. I was so scared I was going to lose you too. Then I’d have to go home and tell our babies you weren’t coming home. I didn’t know how I was going to survive that.” 

Jensen kissed me and pulled me tightly. “I’m okay, baby. I promise you won’t have to have that conversation with them.” 

I smiled and relaxed against him. “Oh, Y/N, can we get rid of the nurses now? They are great, but do I really need a nurse when I have you?” “Maybe. You don’t like it when Terri or Angela give you a bath?” I giggled. “You know what, no.” He laughed. “The only woman I want to see all of this is you, my love.” 

“Okay, I’ll call the agency tomorrow. Besides with you doing physical therapy you should be back moving around by yourself soon. I think we can tell them goodbye if you’re sure.” 

“Oh yes, I’m positive.” He kissed me again. “Hey sweetheart, do you think tomorrow you can help me take a shower?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’d love to, now let’s go to sleep.” 

“Good night sweetheart, I love you.” “Good night, Jens. I love you too.” We kissed again and then I fell into a peaceful sleep, wrapped in his arms. 

The next morning when I woke up I woke up with Jensen’s strong arms still wrapped around me. I snuggled closer to him and nudged him awake. “Jens, I need to get up and get the kids ready for school.” “Just five more minutes, please.” He said in a gruff voice, pulling me closer to him. 

About an hour later I was heading out the door with the kids to get them to school. Jensen was up and doing his physical therapy. He had a doctor’s appointment later in the afternoon, so he wanted to shower and be ready. 

When I got back home his physical therapist was getting ready to leave. I stopped him to check on Jensen’s progress. He told me Jensen was doing really well and he thought Jensen would be released back to work in another week or two. He just wouldn’t be able to do any stunts for another few months. 

Walking into our shared room I saw Jensen sitting on the bed without his shirt on. I bit my lip. God he was a gorgeous man, even covered in sweat from his workout. “You ready for your shower, baby?’

“More than ready.” He smiled. I put the plastic over his cast and started the water for him. He had a towel wrapped around his hips that left nothing to the imagination. My thighs clenched together. 

Seeing Jensen practically naked had my body reacting in ways that even made me blush. 

Jensen smirked, “Like what you see, darlin’?” 

I bit my lip, “God yes.” I let out a breath. Jensen pulled me closer and kissed me deeply. Biting my lower lip as he pulled back. 

I set up the shower seat for him. I knew it was easier for him to navigate the shower sitting down. I helped him in and handed him the showerhead. His bottom lip poked out in a pout. I chuckled, “What’s wrong?” “I thought you were going to help me.” “Jens, in order for me to help you I have to get in the shower, and I have my clothes on.” Jensen smirked, “So take them off.” 

I could see his length growing and my desire building. I slowly started to remove my clothes. My heart beating wildly in my chest. 

With my clothes off I climbed in the shower with Jensen. His eyes scanned my body and I blushed. “God you’re gorgeous, baby. Come ‘ere.” He pulled me close to him and I stood between his legs. His length was rock hard as it pressed against my thigh.

Jensen pulled my lips to his and kissed me. His hand snaked up my thighs and fingers went in between my folds. He smirked against my lips feeling how wet I was. I gasped as his fingers slid inside me, setting a rhythmic pace as he hooked his fingers up. 

My hips are moving in tandem with him. My hands rested on his shoulders as I began to give into the pleasure that was moving through my body. It had been so long since he touched me and I was embarrassed I was already close. 

I bit my lip to stifle the moan, “Jens, oh fuck, I’m close.” His fingers hooked up and he started rubbing my clit, “Let go for me baby.” His lips attached to my nipples, and he sucked hard. I screamed in pleasure. “Oh fuck, Jensen! I’m cumming.” My head fell backwards as his hands continued to work their magic. 

My legs began to shake and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. “Jensen, I need you.” I breathed out. Jensen pumped his length a few times and I straddled him, taking every inch inside. I placed my hands on his shoulders to help steady myself. As Jensen adjusted and pushed further inside we both moaned. 

“God, you feel so good baby.” Jensen’s head laid in the crook of my neck. I began to move my hips and grind down on him. “Yes, baby! Keep doing that.” He kissed my lips in a deep, passionate kiss. 

I felt I needed more leverage so I got up, pulling a groan from him, then I sat with my back against his chest. I took his length in hand and guided him in. My legs placed firmly on the ground in between his. I used his thighs to steady my hands as I continued to bounce up and down. Each bounce pulled Jensen closer to his release. 

“Fuck! That feels so good, Y/N. Don’t stop, oh fuck! I’m gonna cum.” Jensen grabbed my hips and with a grunt I felt his load shooting inside me. His body trembling under mine as he filled me up. 

When he was done I stood up, cleaned myself and him up, and turned off the water. Jensen stood with my help, wrapped his arms around me and kissed me deeply. “That was amazing, baby. It’s been far too long.” I kissed his lips, “Yes it was, and yes it has been.” 

“Best shower sex I’ve ever had.” Jensen chuckled. “I’m glad, it definitely was for me too.” 

After we got dressed, Jensen pulled me in for a kiss. “I love you, Y/N. Thank you for not giving up on me, on us.” I lightly touched his chest, “Jensen, I will always fight for you, for us. I love you too.”

We left our shared room together, heading downstairs to leave for Jensen’s appointment. No matter what the doctor said today, I know we both will tackle it together. 

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[theclownghoul]

Arcane Season 2 has me messed up and not in a good way

It’s actually breaking my heart that I don’t love this show anymore.

I don’t want to hate it, there’s pieces I love but there’s also pieces I hate. Act l had me in such high hopes and then it stuttered then crashed and burned.

I just feel so disappointed with so many parts of it. Actively angry at others.

There are some moments that I loved that had me feeling the same high as the first season but every time I thought things would develop better they didn’t.

I think I’m only really happy with Ekko and I was worried about him for much of the season. As an Ekko and Jinx shipper I was pleased with most of their story but the way they ended Jinx’s story undermined the importance of their talk so…

Honestly I would trade all the ship stuff for a proper story arc for Vi, Jinx, Cait and the rest

I saw the signs for Vi as soon as her pit fighter arc didn’t extend passed the promo clips. I kept waiting to delve into her issues but that never came.

Jinx was done so dirty. And this was something I prayed wouldn’t happen. She’s so personal to me in ways that would take too long to go into here. I had high hopes for her, especially after Isha and her starting to move forward, I knew it wouldn’t last but I knew (hoped) it would be interesting. I fully expected Isha to die but the way it happened was so weird?? The scene itself felt like it was manipulating me which is something I hate with a passion.

Likewise I expected her to relapse into suicidality after that and I had suspected that the scene with Ekko would happen. Her scene with Vi beforehand hurt in a good way and I wanted to watch as she hit rock bottom then clawed her way back as she started to mend the broken relationships in her life.

The thing that finally set me off was her hair. I thought she would cut it after she decided to live, as a show a change but before was just so cliché (it did look cute but don’t go trying to distract me)

I really didn’t want people blaming Vi for Jinx running off to try to end herself again. And I didn’t, even though I knew something was wrong about the way the scene played out and lead into the sex scene. I knew something was wrong I was just hoping that I was wrong.

I was so looking forward to the CaitVi sex scene, since King Princess was revealed for the soundtrack. Hoping her and Cait would have a real ass conversation, a hard conversation and then get that moment together but it just felt wrong. I wanted to love it but I didn’t. As a King Princess fan I was so excited but all I feel now is at best apathy and at worst anger. The more I read from lesbians in the fandom and those that care for Vi how I care for Jinx the worse I feel.

Briefly let’s talk about Cait. I was interested in her arc after Act l. Messy it would be and a long road back for sure but I had hope. She was done dirty too.

Back to Jinx…. What the fuck was that ending? Her “sacrifice” felt so similar to her fights with Vi (Act l) and Ekko (S1) where she was going to let herself die. No growth from the rest of the season, that’s how they left us, that’s what they did to a character that they did so beautifully in S1. I don’t care if she’s alive, that’s not a fucking ending.

(Apologies for continuing to bring up my predictions. I just think it’s funny how my thoughts make more sense than what we got)

I didn’t mind the idea of her sacrificing herself for Vi, Arcane is a tragedy after all. Her being the one to protect her sister in the end not because she thought Vi was better off without her but because Vi protects everyone and her sister can help now would have been great.

But that ending rubbed me wrong in every way.

The story of these sisters meant everything to me and what a fool we all were to think it was in competent hands. Like seriously I can’t believe this is the same writing team.

All of us went in with high hopes and then had those hopes crushed.

I’ve seen so many people who were excited to react and analyze go radio silent after Act ll and I hope they stay that way. I’d love to change my mind but I don’t think I can. I don’t think there’s any coming back.

I wanted to take the good moments and leave it alone but I keep feeling the disappointment because the show’s first season left a mark on me that I’ll treasure forever and I can’t let go. I still have so many feelings about this. Piltover and Zaun, Victor and Jayce, Mel and Ambessa, admittedly not my area of expertise but safe to say they all deserved better and we deserved better.

I would say it felt like a fanfic but I know fans have more grace and respect for this story.

This is not the tragedy I signed up for.

[strawberrygirll13]

I care about you

Dazai x Reader

Pt 1

Warnings: Depression, self harm, mentions of suicide attempts, mental illness.

The restaurant was quiet, save for the occasional clinking of plates and murmurs of other diners. Candlelight flickered softly, casting a warm glow over the table. Across from you, Dazai sat back in his chair, his arm lazily draped over the backrest, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You know,” he started, swirling the wine in his glass, “if this steak were my last meal, I think I’d die happy.”

You set your fork down, a sense of unease already creeping in. “Dazai…”

He didn’t seem to notice the warning in your voice, his eyes gleaming with something darker. “But,” he continued, his voice calm, “if I were to go, I’d want it to be something more dramatic. Something… poetic. Maybe a leap into a river. Or from a high-rise at sunset. You know, something that would leave an impression.”

You couldn’t keep the tension from building in your chest. “Dazai, I really don’t like it when you talk like that.”

He paused for a moment, the grin still playing on his lips. “Oh? Why not?” he said, tilting his head, seemingly unfazed. “It’s the truth. I’ve tried a few things, you know.”

Your fingers tightened around your napkin, and you felt a cold chill run through you. “What do you mean ‘tried a few things’?”

Dazai leaned forward, his gaze sharp as he looked directly at you. “Well, let me think... I’ve tried hanging myself, drowning myself—Yokohama Harbor, to be exact. It was freezing, but strangely peaceful. I really thought it would work that time. But no, a fisherman pulled me out before I could go under for good.” He chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Pathetic, huh?”

You felt your heart drop, but he kept going, unperturbed. “I also tried jumping in front of a train once. The timing was all wrong, though. I only got clipped, nothing serious. And then there was the time I tried poisoning myself, but the drink was too weak. Didn’t do the job. But you know, the one that came closest? Cutting my wrists. I really thought that one would do it. I got pretty close, but again, I ended up surviving.”

Each attempt, each method, he listed it so casually, as if they were simple anecdotes, nothing more than stories to amuse himself. The weight of his words pressed down on you, suffocating, until you couldn’t breathe. You felt a mix of disgust and helplessness, your stomach twisting in knots. This wasn’t just dark humor; this was the product of something deeper, something broken. And it was eating at him.

“Dazai,” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please, stop. I don’t want to hear this. This isn’t funny.”

He raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by your reaction. “Why not?” he asked, genuinely curious. “It’s just a little dark humor. Surely you, of all people, aren’t disturbed by some harmless stories?”

“Harmless?” You stood up abruptly, unable to sit through it any longer. “It’s cruel. It’s wrong. I don’t know why you think this is okay, but it’s not. I care about you, Dazai, and hearing you talk like this…” You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “It makes me feel awful. Can you not see that?”

He looked at you for a long moment, his smile never wavering, though his eyes were colder than usual. “Cruel?” he repeated, amusement still in his tone. “You’re being dramatic. It’s not as though anyone would care if I actually died, anyway. Hell, the world would probably be better off without me. It’s not like I have anyone who would mourn me.”

You shook your head, a knot forming in your throat. This wasn’t just about his words anymore; it was about the way he saw himself. The way he thought of his life as something so expendable.

"And you know," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I’ve been thinking about finding a beautiful woman to share my final moments with. Someone who wouldn’t mind a little poetic death. I’ve been looking for someone who’d be willing to… you know, commit double suicide with me. My dear friend, you’d do perfectly." His grin was wider now, predatory, and it made your skin crawl.

You stared at him, unable to process how casually he could say something so horrifying. “Why would you say that to me? Why would you ask me something like that?”

He laughed, but it was an empty, hollow sound. “Why? Because you’re one of the few people I actually respect. I thought you’d find the idea appealing. You’re beautiful, aren’t you? You would make a perfect match for me in the end.”

Your hands shook at your sides, but you didn’t back down. “No, Dazai. No. I don’t find any of this funny. You’ve made me so uncomfortable tonight, and you did it on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted to make me feel bad. Well, congratulations, you’ve succeeded.”

He blinked at you, for the first time showing a crack in his indifference, his smirk faltering for a split second as he processed your words. But before he could respond, you turned and grabbed your coat, slipping it over your shoulders.

“I’m leaving,” you said, your voice firm but quiet.

Dazai didn’t say anything. He just watched as you moved toward the door, his gaze unreadable. The air between you had shifted, and you couldn’t quite understand it, but you knew one thing for certain: You couldn’t sit there and let him pull you into his darkness.

With one last glance at him, you stepped out into the cold night air, the weight of the conversation lingering with you, but you didn’t turn back.

The days following that tense dinner were markedly different. You kept your interactions with Dazai strictly professional, your usual casual conversations replaced with curt, pointed words. Whenever a task required communication, you went through others—Kunikida, Atsushi, anyone else who could serve as a buffer between you and him. Dazai, however, wasn’t one to let things go unnoticed, especially when they disrupted his carefully cultivated routines.

You knew he’d noticed the shift—he wasn’t an idiot. But instead of apologizing or addressing it directly, he chose his usual route: mischief.

It started small. A sly remark here, an exaggerated sigh there. When you ignored those, he ramped it up. During one meeting, he’d kept dropping pens onto your side of the table, leaning over to retrieve them with the kind of smug grin that made you want to throttle him. When you didn’t react, his antics escalated.

The breaking point came one quiet afternoon when you returned to your desk only to find his desk… wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

He’d moved it.

Right in front of yours, so close the two desks were now touching, effectively making it one long, cluttered mess of books, papers, and his personal junk. Your side was spotless, as always, but his was overflowing—documents spilling over onto your workspace, a half-eaten bag of snacks perched precariously on the edge, and his coat draped lazily over your chair.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the absurdity before you, willing yourself to stay calm.

“Do you mind?” you finally asked, your voice cold as you folded your arms.

Dazai, leaning back in his chair with a lopsided grin, didn’t miss a beat. “Not at all. Cozy, isn’t it?”

“It’s not cozy,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes. “It’s invasive. Move your desk back.”

“But I like it here,” he replied, spinning his pen between his fingers. “Better lighting. Better company. Well... not bettercompany, but you’re here, so it’ll do.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. Instead, you sat down, pushed his papers to the far edge of your desk, and went back to your work.

This didn’t deter him in the slightest. Over the next hour, he kept finding ways to encroach on your space—tossing paperclips onto your side, humming loudly, even nudging your coffee mug with his own until it was teetering dangerously close to the edge.

Finally, when it seemed like he might actually topple it over, you shot him a glare. “If you spill that, I swear—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, leaning in closer. “Yell at me? Ignore me some more? I think you’ve got the ignoring part down pretty well already.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to your work with tight-lipped determination.

His frustration, though, was becoming harder for him to hide. You could see it in the way he kept drumming his fingers on the desk, in the exaggerated way he sighed every five minutes, in the way his usual lazy demeanor seemed a little too deliberate, like he was trying too hard to act like this wasn’t bothering him.

And then, he started writing notes.

At first, he didn’t even try to be subtle about it. He scribbled something down on a piece of paper, folded it neatly, and slid it onto your side of the desk.

You ignored it.

A second note followed, then a third. You didn’t open any of them, and the more you ignored them, the more frustrated he seemed to become.

By the fourth note, he didn’t even bother folding it anymore. Instead, he scrawled the words in large, dramatic letters across a sheet of paper and held it up directly in your line of sight.

“ARE YOU STILL MAD?”

You didn’t look at him, but he kept the note there until you finally sighed and muttered, “Yes.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting an actual answer. Then, with a grin, he grabbed another sheet of paper and scribbled again. This time, he slid it across the desk to you.

“WHY?”

You stared at the note for a moment before crumpling it up and tossing it back at him. “You know why,” you said, your voice quiet but firm.

For once, he didn’t have a quick retort. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his grin faltering ever so slightly as he watched you go back to your work.

But, true to form, he didn’t stay quiet for long. Moments later, another note landed on your desk.

“CAN I MAKE IT UP TO YOU?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t trust yourself to, not yet. And so, the silence between you stretched on, heavy and unresolved, while Dazai sat across from you, bored, frustrated, and—if the look in his eyes was any indication—just a little bit lost.

The silence between you two stretched unbearably as Dazai fidgeted with his pen, occasionally glancing at you, though you didn’t spare him a single look. Despite his antics, you were determined to hold your ground. He deserved to stew in this. To feel the weight of your anger and hurt.

Yet, as the minutes ticked by and the tension grew thicker, you found yourself caving. Not entirely, but enough for curiosity to override your stubbornness. With a sigh, you picked up your pen and scribbled something on a piece of paper, sliding it over to him without looking up.

“Did you mean it?”

Dazai, for once, didn’t respond immediately. You heard the faint rustle of the note as he picked it up, followed by a pause. Then, slowly, he scrawled something down and pushed it back toward you.

“Mean what?”

You stared at the words for a moment before writing again.

“That you want me to die with you?”

When you slid the note back, you refused to meet his gaze, your fingers gripping your pen tightly as you waited for his response. The air between you felt suffocating, heavy with the unspoken weight of the question.

It took him longer this time. You heard the soft scratching of his pen as he wrote, then paused, then wrote again. Finally, the note landed back in front of you.

“Yes.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at the single word, simple and honest in a way Dazai rarely allowed himself to be. When you finally looked up at him, his expression was unreadable, his usual playful grin replaced by something quieter, something that almost looked like vulnerability.

“I wasn’t joking,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “Not entirely, at least.”

Your throat felt dry, and you weren’t sure what to say. For all the times Dazai hid behind humor, behind his endless games and tricks, hearing him admit something so dark, so raw, left you momentarily at a loss.

“Why?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, though the motion felt forced, his usual air of nonchalance cracking at the edges. “Because if I had to go, at least with you… it wouldn’t feel so empty. It’d be poetic, don’t you think? Two kindred spirits, disappearing together.”

“That’s not poetic, Dazai,” you said firmly, anger creeping into your voice. “It’s selfish. It’s—” You stopped yourself, exhaling sharply. “It’s cruel that you would suggest that.”

His lips quirked up in a half-smile, but there was no humor behind it. “I told you, I’m a selfish man. You should know that by now.”

Your eyes narrowed, but you didn’t reply. Instead, you leaned back in your chair, the note still clutched tightly in your hand, as the weight of his words settled over you.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dazai,” you began, folding the note neatly and placing it in front of him, “but unfortunately, I do not want to die. And I’d prefer it if you could refrain from doing so either.”

You stood up, your chair scraping against the floor as you grabbed your bag. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

But before you could take a step, his hand shot out, quick and instinctive, his bandaged wrist wrapping firmly around yours. It wasn’t harsh or forceful, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks.

“What the hell?” you blurted, glancing down at his hand, then back at him.

For the first time since the conversation began, he looked genuinely caught off guard. His grip on your wrist wasn’t calculated; it was almost desperate, as though the very thought of you leaving—even temporarily—was unbearable.

“I… You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his tone lighter than his expression betrayed. But the crack in his voice, subtle as it was, didn’t escape you.

Your brow furrowed. “Dazai, I work here. I’m just going to the bathroom. I’m not running off into the sunset. Good god, you have issues.”

His lips curved into a faint smirk, but it lacked his usual humor. “Issues? That’s putting it lightly, don’t you think?” He released your wrist, his hand lingering in the air for a moment before he let it drop back to his side. “I guess I just don’t like the idea of you walking away from me… even if it’s just to the restroom.”

“Dazai,” you sighed, softening your tone despite yourself, “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through them before his usual mask slipped back into place. “Promise?” he asked, leaning back in his chair with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You gave him a flat look. “I’m not promising anything. It’s a bathroom break, not a grand betrayal.”

But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the weight of his touch—or the way his voice had faltered, even for just a second. Something about it lingered, clawing at the edges of your mind like an unanswered question you weren’t sure you were ready to ask.

A few hours later ~

The office was quiet now, save for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the rustling of papers as you gathered your things. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of a single desk lamp. You glanced over at him. His desk—still obnoxiously pressed against yours—was cluttered with papers he hadn’t touched all day. He’d sat there for hours, throwing the occasional quip your way, but you hadn’t said much in return.

It wasn’t just the silence that made the air feel heavy; it was the weight of his words from earlier. He wanted you to die with him. The thought lingered, intrusive and stubborn, no matter how much you tried to shove it aside. You couldn’t understand how he’d asked you something so selfishly, so casually, as if it were just another joke in his endless repertoire.

Shaking your head, you slid your bag over your shoulder and moved toward the door. You didn’t bother to say goodbye.

“Wait,” his voice called out, stopping you mid-step. You turned to find him standing now, hands stuffed into his pockets as he leaned against the edge of the desk.

“What is it, Dazai?” you asked, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

“Let me walk you home,” he said, straightening up and taking a step closer.

You blinked at him, the question catching you off guard. “Are you going to say some weird shit?”

His mouth quirked into a half-smile, though it lacked the usual cockiness. “You know, probably. I mean, it’s me.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were suddenly unsure of himself. “But… I won’t ask you to, you know, do that with me again. Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers in mock sincerity.

You narrowed your eyes, considering him for a moment. “Fine,” you said finally, letting out a small sigh. “But only if you promise.”

“Promise,” he repeated, a flicker of amusement returning to his voice.

As you pushed open the door and stepped into the cool night air, he fell into step beside you. Something about the way he kept just a half step behind, letting you set the pace, felt quieter than usual—almost careful. It wasn’t like him. Then again, nothing about today had been.

The street was quiet as you and Dazai walked down the path, the only sounds being the soft crunch of your footsteps against the pavement and the occasional rustling of leaves in the trees. The streetlamps above flickered on, casting a dim, golden light that illuminated the sidewalk in a soft, almost melancholic glow. The night air was cool, a refreshing change from the stuffy office, and you relished the brief quiet that came with the walk.

You didn't mind walking. You’d never been one to rely on a car, especially when the journey gave you a little peace of mind. Besides, the apartment was only about a 20-minute walk away, and you had plenty of time to clear your head. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

As you walked in silence, your thoughts wandered. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Dazai today. His words from earlier still echoed in your mind, but it wasn’t just that. Something about his behavior had felt off—a bit too distant, a bit too… real.

It was strange, but despite everything, you couldn't deny you had feelings for him. Not that you really had a choice, considering how often you saw each other. But you were realistic about it. The idea of him ever feeling the same was almost laughable. He was too much of a mess, too much of a broken puzzle for you to figure out. And even if he did have feelings for you, you weren’t sure it was something you could trust.

The walk continued in silence, and you pulled your coat tighter around you, keeping your thoughts to yourself. But then, without warning, Dazai held out his arm for you.

At first, you were confused. You didn't know what he meant by the gesture. But when he huffed, his voice edged with a hint of impatience, “Come on, I’m not going to bite you,” you could feel a wave of hesitation wash over you.

Before you could respond, he looped his arm through yours, locking it there with a firm but gentle grip. It surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcome. For a moment, you just walked, trying to process what had just happened.

As you did, your gaze slipped over to him. The soft glow of the streetlights caught his brown hair, highlighting the faint tousled mess of it. You’d always admired the way it looked, even when he didn’t seem to care much about it. You wondered, though, how much of his body was covered in bandages. His neck and wrist were always covered, but what about the rest of him? Did he hide it under those clothes, or was there more to it?

The thought made a knot form in your stomach, and you quickly shoved it away. You hated the idea of him harming himself. The thought made your chest tighten, and you didn’t want to think about it—not now, not here, not with him.

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?” Dazai’s voice broke the silence, his tone casual, though there was an edge to it.

You looked up at him, startled, but there was a strange softness in his expression that made you pause.

“Nothing,” you muttered, not wanting to admit to the tangled thoughts swirling in your head. “Just... you know, thinking about work.”

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Really?" he teased, but there was something more guarded in his eyes now. "Because you seem distracted."

You went quiet, your eyes shifting away from his, not wanting to meet his gaze anymore. The cool night air suddenly felt too heavy as the silence between you both stretched on.

Dazai noticed immediately, his pace slowing as he watched the subtle tension build. He didn’t push it at first, but after a few moments, he muttered, almost absentmindedly, “I hate how you don’t let me into your head.” His voice had a quiet frustration in it, like a gnawing irritation that wouldn't let go.

You stiffened, the words from earlier still replaying in your mind. You knew he wasn’t going to drop it, not without pushing the issue. You didn’t want to discuss it, but you couldn’t stay silent either. "Well, it’s kinda difficult to let someone in who has basically said in their own way they want me dead." You kept your voice steady, trying not to let the vulnerability slip through.

The words hung in the air, and Dazai didn’t immediately respond. His arm, still locked with yours, shifted slightly as if he were considering his words carefully.

Then, he spoke. "Y/N, my darling, you and I have two very different perspectives on death." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle between you. "To explain it in the simplest terms, despite how morbid it may seem to you... it is a compliment."

His tone was strange, detached, but also oddly earnest. It was as if he truly believed that what he was saying made sense. And for a moment, you wondered if he even understood how much his words stung.

You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet, your steps slowing to match his. The city seemed farther away now, the night air colder.

"It doesn’t matter how you intended it, Dazai," you said, your voice firm but not unkind. "You are not well. The way you think… it’s all twisted."

Dazai let out a laugh, sharp and self-deprecating. "Oh, I’m very aware," he said with a smirk, though his eyes betrayed something softer, something less cavalier.

The rest of the walk passed in silence. He didn’t let go of your arm, keeping it interlocked with his, as though he feared letting go would shatter whatever fragile thing existed between you both. The city lights grew sparse as you reached your apartment building, and he walked you right up to your doorstep. Even then, his arm stayed linked with yours, his grip firm but not forceful, as if he wasn’t ready to let you go.

Dazai finally stopped, taking a deep breath. His hesitation was unusual, almost unsettling. "Can I ask you something?" he said, his voice softer than usual.

You sighed, fishing your keys out of your pocket. "I’m not going to say no, am I?"

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "When you say you care about me… do you mean it?"

You froze, caught off guard by the question. He wasn’t playing this time. There was no sly grin, no teasing inflection. His eyes, brown and deep as they were, searched yours with an almost childlike vulnerability.

"For someone as smart as you are, you’re being quite moronic right now," you said, your voice gentler than your words. His expression shifted slightly—confused, maybe even a little hurt. You softened, letting out a breath. "Of course I care about you, Dazai. I care about you a lot."

He blinked, processing your words, before making a quiet "Oh-ohh" sound, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the information. It was such a Dazai thing to do that it made you smile despite yourself.

Sliding your key into the lock, you turned it and pushed the door open. But before stepping inside, you hesitated. Something tugged at you, a feeling you couldn’t quite ignore.

"Oh, hell, screw it," you muttered under your breath before turning back around. Gently, you reached up and cupped his face, your fingers brushing against the bandages on his cheek. His eyes widened slightly as you leaned in, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his irises, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

When you pulled back, his expression was one of pure shock. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. You gave him a small smile, your hands still resting against his cheeks.

"Why don’t you think on that, Osamu Dazai," you said, your tone light but meaningful. Then, pulling away, you stepped inside and closed the door behind you with a quiet click.

For a long moment, Dazai stood there on your doorstep, the night air brushing against his face, his lips still tingling from the kiss. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile curved across his face—one that no one else would have recognized.

[teotheratking]

ABOUT JEAN: The monthly discourse

Damn and I thought we were past monthly Jean discourse, y'all are quite off schedule this time.

I do think it's funny how Jean-Heron Vicquemare continues to be The Public Enigma with what could be equivalent of 5 minutes of screen time. All of his appearances can be put into 3 groups: worrying/searching for Harry, watching over Harry, spending 45 minutes on insulting him. So it only makes sense how his discourse as well is surrounded by conversation, what is his relationship with Harry? Him being Harry's Satellite officer is like another added layer to how his whole existence seems in a constant orbit around the center of the Earth - Harrier Du Bois.

When discussing both of these characters I think it is crucial to strip them down layer by layer. When we're doing this Harry and Jean, I think we see far too quickly, how similar they are even with many differences: both are addicts, depressed, having facial scarrings and, of course, both are cops.

When looking at them from purely 'superior and subordinate perspective, they remind me of Robert Eggers script from The Lighthouse (2019) particularly this bit:

The Lighthouse explores the themes of capitalism and perpetual cycles of new and old generations: Young and Old.

We can see similar themes explored in DE as well. The game isn't afraid of constantly putting the players head into the mud, saying: "Yeah, it is that shit." RCM is a constantly moving system that lures people in with the promise of help for community and spits out a hollow husk of their former selves. Though I would say it doesnt do that either as most of them die before ever reaching retirement age.

Harry is surrounded by old dog imagery.

Particularly dogs that are about to be put down or are already dead. I particularly love this segment of the game with Joyce - it is clear that in this segment the black dog licking his wound is Harry, who's getting put down by the system he works in. But what I think makes the scene even better is what follows it:

Every officer's fate in RCM is the same.

It's the years of violence, brutality, system that eats those, who help and enables those, who hurt. It's speed, alcohol, never ending poverty, and as years go by another officer is closer and closer to finally pull the trigger on the old dog that you have become.

One final act in the Disco Inferno.

And there's inescapable horror in all of this: seeing what you will become, what you're bound to become. Looking in the mirror and staring at your partner's reflection - ever present reminder: "This will be you in 10 years to come."

When Jean says "trying," what he actually means is "functional." Having context of RCM system and inherent ableism of it, I think it's safe to say, that "to try" means "to succeed."

Jean isn't anymore functional than Harry as he is simply younger. Harry through entirety of the game is experiencing raining bonefire of decades of drug abuse and effects of poverty and long lasting emotional physical abuse. Meanwhile, Jean is yet to experience the crashing sun. He has 10 years to do so.

In perpetual vortex that is this sinking ship, partnership and comradery, become essentials for survival. Harry and Jean form particularly tight bond, tight enough that both can't evade speculations about their sexuality or type of relationship they have, thus "hetero-sexual life partners" are born.

I see a lot of people insisting, that those two relationship, that they had is what we can see right now in the game: partnership that feels more like a race of self destruction, while putting sticks in each other's metaphorical bicycles. To see which one falls first. But I feel this is complete controdictory to what we hear from the game:

"Trouble in paradise" - I wouldn't use those words if my two coworkers, who try to sabotage each other on the daily would finally get into all consuming fight. Though what do I know about male-centric workplace humour.

No matter, which way you choose to look at it, at the events of Disco Elysium, Jean's and Harry's relationship is at their absolute worst. Rock bottom. Maybe even beyond it, though that depends how one evaluates forgetting 44 years of your life except lost ex goes into equation. What we see is culmination of their every moment together - good and bad, which erupts into terrible earthquake.

Finally, what we see of Jean and Harry's relationship is supposed to be merely introduction, or at least was (Kurwitz pls, let me read the scripts). By small bits and pieces Luiga has decided to reveal to the public is that Jean is supposed to be one of main partners of the second game featuring The Return.

This doesn't deny Jean's role as The Jury or The Executioner in the Final Tribunal. He represents RCM's bigotry, ableism and hypocrisy of it all - a broken system of a destructive cycle - ouroboros eating it's own tail. However at the end of the day he's as much a person as any other in Elysium - full of complexity and nuance, the verdict of we simply do not have enough information of.

Finally at the end of this... I don't know what to even call this, I have no idea how one would arrive to concrete conclusion, that is either: "Jean good' or "Jean bad." All game's characters are some kind of moraly grey - this isn't a MARVEL movie or a fairy tale that people want it to be. It is a commentary of cultures that we all have grown up in. For me DE really resonates from Baltic States history and culture context, because this is all I've ever known.

[anon-sect]

Picture source: anonymous

Terry had been working long hours for months for Klingon Inc. He was given a lot of the big projects and managed to complete them in time and sometimes early. He had a reputation of getting the job done right and in a timely manner. That reputation also landed him the big projects and long hours.

Terry had paid for working so late. He had missed a lot of events in his kid's life and even lost his wife. She had divorced him about three months ago and took his son with her. He had visits with him on the weekend, but it was estranged with his son when he did visit. He promised him he would take less long term projects so that he could spend more time with his teenage son. Yet, so far, that hasn't happened yet. No matter how much he tried to turn them down, he was forced to take it by his manager on the floor. He didn't refuse because he didn't want to lose his job next.

Terry had just finished up the last big project on his desk. He decided that he would take no more. He wanted to be in his kid's life despite the divorce. He went to his floor manager's office to turn it in and leave for the night. He knocked on his door. He heard Clark tell him to enter.

Terry placed it on his desk. "All done. If it's okay with you, I want to take a nice week vacation to be a better dad." He requested, but from the look on Clark's face he could sense he was about to be denied.

"Unfortunately, I have another big one that needs your attention. It has been weeks behind schedule. With your reputation, you can get it done much quicker." Clark spoke as he shoved the papers across his desk.

Terry didn't want another one, especially one behind schedule. "I will pass it on to another coworker. I need a break." He answered back, fully refusing another big project.

Clark wasn't going to take no for an answer. "It's yours to finish, so no weeks vacation, and I need you to start on it tonight." He reiterated that it was his project.

Terry had enough of being bullied into the big ones. "No, I am heading home, and I will make time for my kid. You may not have a child or married, but I once was." He stood defiantly before the floor manager.

Clark looked at Terry silently for a moment. "Refusal to accept projects from your floor manager bears consequences that are worse than being fired. Are you sure you want to say no?" He slightly threatened him.

Terry wasn't budging on his decision. He stood defiant and silent, waiting to see what Clark would say or do.

Clark saw Terry's silence and inaction as the opposite of the answer he wanted from him. "Very well. I think I will give you that vacation from doing projects for some time. It will be at least a couple of weeks that you won't have to work about work." He spoke as he pulled out a cell phone looking device that had an enlarged camera lense on the back. He put in the setting and hit the flash option. Terry disappeared. He closed the cell phone looking device and put it back in his desk drawer.

Terry felt strange. He couldn't move or speak. He felt hollow on the inside. He felt vibration on the floor as though something big was coming towards him. He then heard a little laughter from above him. He felt hands lift him up off the floor.

Clark placed his new gray socks on top of his desk. "You see, I have authority to deem whatever punishment necessary for refusal of projects. Your punishment is to be my socks for the next two weeks to use as I please. So you at least get your two weeks vacation, just not exactly as you would have planned it." He laughed as he continued in his day, thinking about what all he would do with his new socks for the two weeks.

FIVE WEEKS LATER........

Clark relaxed on the couch on a Saturday evening. He wiggled his toes in his favorite gray socks. He had worn them on every workout and gym session. He sometimes had worn them to work. His favorite thing was that he would jack off in them nearly four times a week just for the fun of it. No matter what he put the socks through, they still remained strong.

After two weeks of wearing them, he didn't want to just simply give up a good pair of socks. So, he decided to keep them much longer to serve his feet. He wondered how really durable they were since they survived a full two weeks on his feet and in the most foul stench he could wear them in. He didn't know if the poor guy's mind was still intact or just mush by now. Honestly, it really didn't matter to him by this point. The guy was socks now. He himself was not married and had no children. He couldn't imagine the degradation and humiliation that the poor guy probably felt being nothing but socks on his feet while he lived the single life of no kids or family responsibility.

Terry was barely holding on to his wits after five weeks. Clark had tortured him to no end. Being walked on was painful enough, but to be trapped in the most foul stench of shoes just about every day was so humiliating. The gym sessions were the worse, because he was forced to absorbed all of his foot sweat in smelly gum shoes.

Terry was forced to also absorbed his cum almost every night of the week. Being fucked by his former floor manager's cock to his entertainment and delight was so degraded of one who had a kid and wife. He would only wash him once a week, only to go through being stinky for another whole week. There were times that Clark wore him to work. He could hear his friends there but had no means to call out for help. He would be trapped on Clark's feet inside whatever pair of shoes he chose to wear. Each of them reeked with foot odor regardless.

Terry accepted that this was his life and that Clark wasn't going to change him back as initially promised. He was Clark's property totally against his will, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

[sunsetwaltz]

[Some personal musings on my fav vg romance]

Been thinking about this lately but I don't believe there'll ever be a more romantic pairing for me than Solavellan. It's the way they tug at your heartstrings and stir your emotions. The way they start off seemingly as two nobodies (maybe even outcasts) finding a connection during a tumultuous time but both become larger than life (in the narrative) and turn into a mythical, all encompassing love story.

There's pain, there's laughter, cute moments of flirtation and unexpectedly steamy kisses - all mixed in a tangled knot of truths and lies. Pining, heartbreak, visits in dreams, a language they come to share and communicate in harmony. It's the tragedy of not being enough, of self-denial and an unwillingness to share one's greatest burdens - until at the very last moment, after being released from their duties, their earthly shackles, it is enough. Their love begins anew with a lifelong, no an eternal promise and atonement. It's not the end, not really, not as long as the fandom continues to thrive - like it has for the past decade - and I believe it'll be a ship that continues to endure for quite some time.

Plus let's not forget it's a relationship where you can ask questions and receive insight (and approval!) about the world of Thedas, about topics no other character has really addressed before - or at least not in quite a meaningful manner. And although we later learn Solas has greater motivations, it felt like a relationship that was connected to DAI's narrative at each turn - from the way Solas repeatedly asks after the Inquisitor's wellbeing and driving motives to how he reacts to events throughout the story. How his reactions colour and give further meaning to what we know and thought we knew. How that carries on into the next game and recontextualises the events of the previous game, giving DAI even further replayability.

I like how Solas is one of the (few imo) characters where it felt like you could have a proper discussion, where he didn't have to have the final word (or at least not always lol), and he could admit when he was wrong. I like how differently one could flavour their relationship depending on their own Lavellan, but ultimately the ending is similar - it's heartbreak or righteous anger then a long long ten years of an agonising what if, what next?

Lastly, I really love how this codex entry comes to encompass them far better than the original intended duo:

Except in Solas and Lavellan's case the impressions don't fade. They linger, they endure, they remain.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Not Hangman To Her – Jake "Hangman" Seresin

"We are about to embark on an emergency rescue mission," Maverick said. Instantly, all of the pilots straightened up as he continued. "The U.S.S. Reynolds set off three days ago. Their mission was supposed to be simple but it took a bad turn. After a dogfight, three out of their four pilots were killed."

"What about the fourth?" Rooster asked.

"She's MIA," Maverick sighed. "We are close to her last known coordinates. We've been asked to complete a search and rescue."

"Who's the pilot?" Phoenix asked.

"Her name is Lieutenant Y/F/N Y/L/N."

Hangman's heart jumped into his throat when Maverick put the pilot's picture on the screen. His mind raced as his eyes and thoughts were glued to the girl he met in training.

Y/N? There's no way she would be mixed up in all this. She's the best pilot. Whatever happened was not pilot error. Y/N didn't do anything to put her in this position. She's too. . . perfect to make a mistake that would cost her her life or the lives of her team.

"Hangman."

Hangman jumped when Rooster walked by, kicking his shoe. "You good?"

"I'm fine," Hangman said, clearing his throat.

"You sure?" Payback scoffed. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Do you know someone on the U.S.S. Reynolds?" Phoenix asked.

"No," he said a little too quickly. "Why would I know anyone on the U.S.S. Reynolds?"

Before his team could tell he was lying, he left the room. He went back to his bunk and slammed the door shut behind him. Hangman frantically searched through his stuff, and at the very bottom, finally found the picture of him and Y/N in training.

~ • ~

"Keep up, Seresin!" Y/N laughed as she ran ahead of me.

As fast as I pumped my legs, I could never outrun Y/N. Then again, I didn't try to. I couldn't help but like the feeling I got when she bragged about being the better pilot. I loved how happy she got as she excitedly jumped around after beating me. I liked that it made her so happy.

"I win again!" Y/N giggled as she jumped and spun around. "Say it. Say that I am faster than you, Seresin. Say it. Say it. Say it."

I pretended to be angry as she jogged around me and chanted for me to say it. I didn't mind saying it but she expected me to push back, so I did.

"If I say it, will you stop circling me?"

Y/N stopped right in front of me. She smiled cheekily at me as she bounced on her toes. "Did you have something to say to me, Seresin?"

"You are the faster runner, Y/L/N," I recited just for her. "You're better than me."

"And don't you forget it!" She giggled as she went back to jumping up and down. Suddenly, her ankle gave out. I instantly caught her and pulled her close to my chest.

"You okay?" I asked, my voice soft.

"I think so," she said slowly.

"Are you sure?" I asked, starting to panic. "Maybe I should take a look at it. Here, sit down and I will. . ."

"I'm fine, Jake," Y/N chuckled as she patted my shoulder.

She turned away from me and stretched her legs as I overthought the last 2 minutes. The thought of Y/N in pain made me want to do anything I could to make sure she wasn't in it anymore.

I'd do anything to make sure Y/N was happy, healthy, and safe.

~ • ~

Hangman snapped out of the memory, his hands shaking as he held the picture. The idea that Y/N was out there somewhere, lost and alone, filled him with more fear than he knew what to do with.

"She's okay," he mumbled to himself. "She's safe. We are going to find her. We are going to find her. I will find you, Y/N, I promise."

* * * * *

The next few hours went by in a blur for Hangman. The ship changed course toward Y/N's last known location. When they got there, Hangman and a few others took off in their planes and began searching the water for any sign of Y/N or her plane.

As he searched, all Hangman could do was think of the worst-case scenarios.

What if they're looking in the wrong area? What if they find her plan but not her? What if they find her but it's too late? What if they find her and get her back to the ship, but can't save her? What if he never finds her? What if he loses her? What if he loses her before he gets a chance to tell her how he feels?

"We got her!" Rooster yelled, pulling Hangman out of his spiral.

"Well, we got pieces of her plane," Payback sighed.

Hangman quickly turned around and flew to them. He started searching the sea for any sign of the girl he was crazy about. Finally, his eyes landed on something that instantly burned into his brain - Y/N unconscious on a piece of her plane.

"I got her," he said, his voice not nearly loud enough. He cleared his throat and tried again but louder this time. "She's over here!"

"Maverick, we got her! We need a search and rescue party now!"

"Stay there," Maverick instructed through their headsets. "We're sending one to your coordinates now."

Hangman didn't move his plane an inch. Instead, he stayed right where he was and kept a close eye on Y/N's unconscious body. He wanted nothing more than to dive into that water and swim to her. Instead, he hovered close enough to keep an eye on her as the ship sent a medical boat to their location. Hangman watched as the divers pulled her out of the water and safely onto the boat.

Once they had her, Hangman sped back to the ship. He landed and instantly jumped out of his plane and ran as fast as he could to the infirmary. When he got there, they were just bringing her in.

"Y/N?" Hangman panicked. His heart jumped into his throat when he caught a glimpse of her unconscious and pale body.

"Woah, stop," Maverick said as he grabbed Hangman before he could run into the exam room. "The doctors have her. They will do whatever they can to help her."

Hangman looked behind Maverick to see the exam doors close, separating him from the girl of his dreams.

"They will come get us as soon as they have any news about Lieutenant Y/L/N's status," he said with a knowing look in his eyes. Maverick wasn't sure how Hangman and Y/N were connected, but one look at the worry in his eyes and Maverick knew there was something.

"I just want to. . . I wish there was. . ." Hangman stuttered. "I just want to help her, Mav."

"All we can do now is relax and wait," Maverick said gently. Maverick studied him briefly before finally asking, "How well do you know Lieutenant Y/L/N?"

"Y/N and I were in training camp together," Hangman sighed as he sat in a nearby chair. "Some guys in our group were giving her a hard time. I defended her and after that, we got close. We ran together, trained together, studied together. We did everything together until we got our orders to ship out. We were sent to different ships and. . . I haven't talked to her since she shipped out. I tried to keep track of her but. . ."

Maverick waited for him to continue, but Hangman got distracted by his memories. Maverick sat next to him and gently patted his shoulder. "The good news is we found her," Maverick tried to comfort him. "The doctor told me that he thinks we got to her just in time."

"That's good," Hangman said numbly, "I guess."

The rest of their team slowly trickled in as they waited. Two hours later, the doctor finally came out.

"How is she?" Hangman panicked as he jumped up and met the doctor.

"She's okay," the doctor reassured. "She's dehydrated, a little sunburned, and has a slight concussion from the crash. Honestly, she should be way worse. She's extremely lucky."

"So, she's going to be okay?" Hangman double-checked.

"She's going to be fine," he nodded. "All she needs is a couple of good nights' sleep and some healthy meals. She should be back on her feet in a few days. I would, however, recommend that she not return to her ship just yet."

"Why not?" Bob asked.

"Well," the doctor sighed, "if we send her back to her ship, they will most likely put her back in a plane. She may be physically alright, but we have no idea how she is mentally. And that's something we can't check or test until she wakes up."

"Thank you," Maverick said, shaking the doctor's hand before he went back to Y/N.

"Wait," Hangman said, jogging to catch up to the doctor. "Is there. . . I was just wondering. . . I know her and. . . I was hoping. . ."

"She's not awake," the doctor said gently, "but you can sit by her bed until she does."

Hangman took that invitation and instantly went into Y/N's room. When he saw her asleep in the bed, his heart broke. He numbly walked over and collapsed into the chair next to the bed. He scanned her, searching for any injuries. She had a pretty big gash on her forehead, pieces of glass were taken out of her face, and she had bruises across her chest from her harness.

With shaking hands, Hangman reached over and gently grabbed Y/N's hand. "I'm right here, Y/N," he whispered. "And I'm not going anywhere until you wake up."

* * * * *

Y/N was unconscious for the next 14 hours. Hangman stayed by her side the entire time. His crew tried to get him to leave, but he refused. He barely ate and didn't sleep as he waited for her to wake up. He was starting to fall asleep when he felt her hand tighten around his.

"Y/N?" He whispered.

"Jake?" Hangman instantly leaned forward when he heard her beautiful voice whisper his name. "What are we. . . I thought you were. . . Where am I?"

"It's okay," he instantly soothed. "What matters is that you're safe. What do you remember?"

"I don't know," she said, shakily. "It was supposed to be a simple mission. But. . . I was shot down."

Hangman tightened his grip on her hand and scooted closer to her. He watched, his heart breaking as she remembered what happened. When the tears started streaming down her face, he gently caught one with his thumb. He kept his hand on her face as he tried to comfort her.

"Y/N," he said gently, "everything's okay. You're safe, okay? We found you and we are going to take care of you."

"Jake?" Her voice broke. He moved his hand from her face and scooted closer to her.

"Yeah?"

"Were you the one that found me?"

"Well," he cleared his throat, "I just. . . My whole team was there."

"But you found me," she said, already knowing the answer. "Right?"

Hangman laughed awkwardly as he reached up and scratched the back of his neck.

"I knew it," she chuckled weakly. Hangman felt his face burn as she smiled at him.

"How'd you know?" He chuckled.

"I like to think I know you pretty well, Seresin."

Hangman smiled when he remembered why she never liked calling him Hangman. She actually hated his callsign. She always said it didn't fit him. And when it came to her, she was right. He'd never hang her out to dry.

"Because," she continued, "You always find me when I'm in trouble."

"I would've searched the entire ocean for you," Hangman mumbled. Y/N's face softened when she saw the seriousness in his eyes.

"Jack," she whispered as she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her. He didn't fight her as she pulled him down so he was lying next to her.

"I'm really glad you found me," she whispered, cuddling into his chest.

"Me too," he mumbled as he looked down and saw the exhaustion in her eyes. "I promise I won't let you out of my sight this time."

She let out a small giggle causing him to tighten his arms around her.

"I've really missed you, Seresin."

He looked at her and watched her eyes flutter closed. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"I've really missed you too, Y/L/N."

[honeyxbunny99]

Sandor Clegane~ The Bitch and The Hound pt.10

Sandor raced through the city, determined to find his princess. His surroundings were in stark contrast now to the world of death and men on fire he’d only just left behind; silent except for his own boots on the slick pavement. All the important women would be shut up inside a cellar in the castle— that’s where she should be— but he knew she had been left behind with the hungry dogs. At last he came to the kennels and looked in her window first. He looked in every window and called her name but could not find her. That kennel master! The one who got her eye. He rattled the gate in frustration and tried to focus among the barks and snarling. If the kennel master wasn’t there, he must have been waiting somewhere in the city to watch for a breech in the wall; a signal to release the hounds. If (Y/n) wasn’t here then he seemed a useless character. Maybe she was dead. No, no no! Little finger! Sandor recalled a passing insult from Joffrey after his small counsel meeting.

~He had walked out of the room with a smug smile and looked up at him.

“Your bitch is about to finally put herself to good use, what do you think of that?” Sandor had said nothing at the time, only wearing his usual neutral expression. “Littlefinger has presented me with an idea that I think will work out well for everyone… Maybe you can even fuck her again, if you don’t spend all your earnings on drink.”

When Joffrey finally turned his head to walk away, Sandor sneered and thought of crushing it with his bare hands. He continued on with his duties that day and the next, checking on (Y/n) when she was asleep to ensure she had not left. Perhaps it would have been better for her to become a whore, but he despised the thought and felt a strange gratitude to her that she had chosen the hounds over the whorehouse. Then Anna had dragged him there urgently, though as soon as he knew it was something wrong with (Y/n) he had truthfully charged ahead of the girl. When he heard her voice that day, he heaved a sigh of relief. After the state he’d left her in that night though, he figured she must have gone with Littlefinger. The bastard had finally gotten what he wanted.

A gentleman might have settled on the decision that (Y/n) had made her choice, and was at least safe, but no one ever accused Sandor Clegane of being a gentleman. He marched forward in the rain toward the brothel that must have housed her.

~

After scarfing down all your food and drink, you looked closer into your colorful new room. There were dresses in the ornate wardrobe— all more revealing than anything you’d worn prior— lots of bottled fragrances to choose from, and makeup that would suit your complexion. If you looked at the shiny objects hard enough, perhaps you could actually believe this life was what was best for you. A room without windows, another locked door. A much prettier cage than before, you considered, throwing yourself back on the plush comforter, but a cage nonetheless.

Your eyes closed and you realized just how tired you actually were. Bringing your knees to your chest, you held yourself like a child and drifted off to sleep easily. Peace did not last long for you unfortunately. You awoke to the sound of swords clashing and women screaming. They got in! They’ve breached the wall! You leapt up out of bed and raced to the farthest corner of the room. The door was locked but how much would conquerors care about that? A locked door is so much more tantalizing than the many open ones they’d find leading up to yours.

“Where is he?!” You could barely make out a man’s voice through the door.

More women screamed and wept and you hyperventilated, looking for something to protect yourself, or end yourself, with. The sound of boots and slamming against walls grew louder and you finally picked up the small chair at the vanity and threw it at the mirror, shattering it.

“Unlock it!” Just as you feared. All the beautiful women out there but the beast only wanted what he could not have. You picked up a large shard of glass and cornered yourself again. You watched your hand shake as you held the makeshift weapon out in front of you. As you heard keys fumble into the lock you whimpered and turned the sharpest edge of the glass against your throat.

“Leave me alone!”

“It’s alright, (Y/n)..” You recognized Littlefinger’s voice, but it did nothing to quell your fear. He’s going to let them in!

“You said you would protect me!!” You cried desperately, yelling in surprise when the door burst open, the razor point in your hands digging into the soft flesh of your neck and drawing blood.

“Aye, and I will.”

Sandor Clegane pushed the smaller man into the room and kicked the door shut behind him. His blade was already extended and drenched in blood. Petyr fell to the floor and turned slowly onto his back to look up at The Hound.

“Now, Clegane, let’s not be hasty… It was (Y/n)’s decision to come here, I only welcomed her with open arms.”

“Did he touch you?!” You knew the question was for you though his angry eyes never left the coward on the floor.

For a moment you were too stunned to speak, too stunned to move, too stunned to breathe. Suddenly his eyes found yours for a second and it released you from your stillness. You felt the pain at your neck and lowered the mirror shard, realizing you had clenched it so hard in fear that it had made 2 slices across your palm. “No,” you tried to answer honestly in spite of your breathlessness. “No he didn’t do anythi—“

“Anything aside from rescuing a damsel at her most distressed, I assure you.” Sandor’s boot came down hard on Baelish’s chest, sending the man gasping for air. “It was you that put her there! You with your incessant talking—your trading secrets! It’s as if you put her there by your own hand and you expect us to be grateful?! I ought to cut off your hands!.. I think I will!!”

You had watched his eyes grow wilder the more he spoke and you could hardly recognize his handsome features caked in layers of blood. Really you weren’t sure why you did it, your only thought was to stop the violence and get him out of there. “Wait!” You charged forward, but Sandor had already brought his sword down and severed the hand of Petyr Baelish. You screamed and Petyr could only stare as the blood poured out of his wrist. You covered your mouth in shock but Sandor quickly grabbed your arm and pulled you over the body.

“We’re leaving!”

A guard emerged from one of the rooms in the hall and cut the arm that Sandor was dragging you with. He turned and fought and eventually stuck the man to the wall with his sword. You had the opportunity then to run or hide but you didn’t. You waited for him to look at you and take your hand again and when he finally did, you followed. The whores cowered in their rooms, holding each other as they watched the pair of you run out of the brothel. You understood why they were terrified of him. Any sensible woman would be. As he guided you over the bodies he’d left in his wake, you did not feel terror. You felt almost a sick sense of honor. All this brutality to get to me. My protector.

As you stepped out into the night air you were surprised to find it raining. It was like a jolt to your senses and you finally squirmed your way out of The Hound’s grasp. He looked back at you, waiting for some explanation or fight. “Where are we going? Has the war ended?”

“The war’s over alright; we lost. We’re going somewhere that isn’t burning…” He reached for your hand again but you yanked it back.

“Anna. Where’s Anna?” “How the fuck should I know?” “So you expect to leave her behind to be raped and tortured by the Baratheons?! They burn people alive, Sandor!”

“She’s not important enough to be burnt alive-“ you walked up and slapped him.

“I’m not leaving without her!” “Well I’m not leaving without you!”

With that assurance you started on your way toward the servant’s chambers in the Red Keep. Sandor grumbled but followed behind, watching your back. The city was still surprisingly quiet; no soldiers invading or patrolling— only the sound of heavy rain and dogs howling. Maybe she’s at the kennels to check on me! You decided to make a sharp turn in that direction and when you could finally see it, Sandor grabbed you from behind.

“(Y/n), we can’t be here! They’re going to come when all my men are dead and I can’t fight them all! We have to go now!” You looked up at him, heard the desperation in his voice, and nodded the smallest bit, tears springing to your eyes. “I’m going to the stables, just stay right here alright?” He moved your body so that you were crouched behind a vendor stand and then ran off.

With only your own company now, the screams were much louder. Littlefinger was right— from this spot you’d have the perfect position to hear the agony of war. You peeked your head up when the dogs started barking again, and your heart sank when you saw Charlie sneaking around the kennels. He grabbed the iron key ring from his pocket and you heard him shush the dogs in vain. “(Y/n)?” He called into the kennel, watching for the kennel master all around him.

“Charlie!” You called out, standing up a bit and waving so he could find you.

His eyes opened wide and a smile graced his boyish features when he saw you. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out an apple, holding it up proudly in the light from inside the kennel. You giggled and emerged from the stand finally, beginning your walk over to him as you heard the clip-clop of horse hooves from the direction Sandor ran off in. You were overjoyed to see him! Maybe he could go with you, or tell you where to find Anna.

“Did you really think we’d leave you behind?! Nah, we still love you!” He joked, tossing you the apple. You caught it and smirked at his cheeriness in spite of the literal war around him. “We’ve got to hurry though, Anna’s already—“

“Behind you!”

You warned in horror as the Kennel master ran out of the shadows and immediately clubbed Charlie on the back of the head with his baton.

“No!” You cried out, horrified.

Charlie instantly dropped to the ground and you raised your hands in defense. The crazed man struck again, flinging both your arms into the bars of the main gate. You screamed in pain and crumpled to the floor. You were powerless as you watched the older man strike two more blows to Charlie’s head and face. “Think you can steal from me, boy?!”

You heard Sandor run up behind you and kill the horrid man, but you could not take your eyes off of Charlie’s broken face.

“Oh my Gods, Oh Gods Charlie I’m so sorry! Please! Please! You’re alright!”

You couldn’t feel the pain in your arms any longer as you crawled to cradle him in your lap. His eyes were wild and filled with blood and his whole body spasmed in your arms. “Look at me, please! You have to look at me! You have to be alright!” You sobbed, lying to yourself that if he could only find your eyes, he would heal. He had to heal! He had to grow up and tell jokes and fall in love and run away with you and Anna!

“Charlie??” Your lip quivered and your face scrunched in horror as you adjusted his head to sit better on your leg and brushed his dark curls out of his eyes. “Please, I’m so sorry!”

His eyes finally drifted to yours and you tried to breathe and smile for him. “See, you’re going to be okay!” The seizure began to slow, his muscles relaxing, and you held him tighter in your arms, laughing exasperatedly in relief. He breathed out the first letter of your name and you nodded. Then he went still. Horribly still.

Your eyes scanned over his entire face and you shook his shoulders gently. “Hey…” you whispered. “Hey..” a little louder this time as the tears filled your eyes again and the buzzing in your ears returned. “Charlie wake up.. w-wake up…” you whimpered, looking down at his lifeless body.

You looked up at Sandor, who was stood over the dead kennel master. He looked back at you with an indiscernible expression.

“Help him.. Y-You have to, have to help him!” You sobbed. “I can’t.” He said after a moment of silence.

“Fuck!” You cursed, head dropping onto the boy’s chest as you rocked him back and forth.

~“What about when I’m older? You can be my second… my last maybe.”

“Sure Charlie… When you’re a man I’ll kiss you.”

“You said I’d stay a little boy forever!” “Well when you’re older and I’ve decided you’re not monstrous, how about then?” “S’a deal!” ~

You wailed at the memory and pulled the boy even closer to you. You begged the Gods for mercy, though they never seemed to hear your prayers. He did not deserve this, and you could not stand living with the knowledge that it was your fault.

“Fuck are you doing here?”

You heard Sandor’s voice above you and recognized a horrified gasp that could have only belonged to Anna. Still, you couldn’t look. You brought your head up to look over Charlie again. Freckles and brown eyes, cloaked in blood.

Never again would you see his cheeky smile.

Never would he grow up to be a man, or live a life out of the servitude he loathed so much.

~”There are people who care about you, (Y/n); me, Anna, your family, and yes even the hound! If you stay here you’ll die!”~

He only ever wanted the best for you. He was going to set you free, knowing the risk.

~“I think you’re great, (Y/n)…”~

Your fingers brushed through his tangled curls for the last time and you sniffled.

You’re not monstrous, Charlie…

You stroked his cheek with your thumb and leaned down to plant a kiss on his cold lips. “I love you too, Charlie.” You confessed when you pulled away. You adjusted slowly to give him as much peace as possible and felt Anna’s hand guide you to stand straight. You laid eyes on Charlie’s killer and the buzzing turned to ringing once again. You were deaf to anything Anna or Sandor might have said. Instead, you picked up the baton from the ground where the master had dropped it and stepped over his body. Sandor had stabbed him through the gut long ago, and you were sure the death had been painful. You hovered for a moment before releasing all your rage. It’s not enough. You swung the baton back again and again, hammering it into his face. Every crunch of bone was a small relief and you screamed, falling to your knees and hitting him until your arms felt like gelatin.

“He’s dead, princess..”

You opened your eyes and saw what once was a face was now a pile of red and gray mush. You dropped the baton and walked away on weak legs, not daring to look down at Charlie again. Instead you saw Anna ride up on a black horse and stall next to the one Sandor had brought. You didn’t have to think or speak or move anymore; Sandor lifted you up and laid you on the horse. You were grateful because you weren’t sure how alive and capable you were right now. You were watching the scene from a bird’s eye view, and you could return to your body even if you wanted to.

As Sandor mounted the horse behind you and adjusted your body, you replayed the events of that night. You had never seen such atrocity. Never committed such violence. Yet behind you was Sandor and Anna. Ahead of you was the sun rising in the distance. You rode to an uncertain future, and prayed the pain would remain in King’s Landing.

A/N: a small chapter, but I wanted to get something out before I didn’t have time. I’m moving house this weekend, but I will try to make time to continue the story sooner rather than later. At least they’re together again, right?.. Right?