#does he ever stop believing the knife will come down

[alewritesfics]

Bridging realities

ℑ𝔛. 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤....𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔡𝔤𝔢

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count:2.6k

Warnings: unedited, slow burn, eventual smut/ spicy scenes, some angst or none at all but happy ending, playful banter

A/n: jajsjksksjsjsksks, y'all probably know what happens next after this.....

⏮️                ⏸️                  ⏭️

The morning air of London was crisp, the kind of coolness that lingered after a storm, as though the world had not yet decided whether to embrace the warmth of spring or remain in the chill of winter. The streets, bathed in soft morning light, looked different today.

Perhaps it was because you felt different.

You had not meant to wander so far from the drawing room, but after arriving with Penelope, you found yourself hesitating before following her inside. She had come to visit Eloise, and while you were more than welcome in the Bridgerton home, something inside you made you stop at the threshold.

It was strange being in the Bridgerton home as you were partly– most of the reason, about why they weren’t making arrangements for a wedding right now.

You ran a hand along the carved wooden railing of the terrace, inhaling deeply, willing yourself to steel your nerves. It was foolish, really. You had nothing to fear, nothing to be ashamed of. And yet, the weight of unspoken words lingered in the air, suffocating you.

“You ran.”

You exhaled sharply, already rolling your eyes before you even turned around. “Why does everyone keep saying that? I did not—” But the words died on your lips the moment you saw him.

Anthony Bridgerton stood a few steps away, his presence just as commanding as ever. His dark eyes were unreadable, his posture stiff—guarded. He was dressed impeccably as always, but there was something weary about him, something frayed at the edges. You swallowed, heart thudding in your chest.Neither of you spoke at first.

Then, finally, he broke the silence. “You left before I could say anything,” he said carefully, as though measuring each word before it left his lips.

Your fingers curled at your sides. “There was nothing left to say, my lord.”

His jaw tensed. “Do not call me that.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Would you prefer Viscount Bridgerton, then?”

Anthony sighed, running a hand down his face. “Must we do this?”

“Do what?”

“Pretend as though none of it happened?”

You hesitated.

“That is not what I am doing,” you said, softer this time.

“Then tell me,” Anthony took a step forward, searching your face, “why are you here?”

You swallowed. “Penelope—”

“Penelope?” he echoed, incredulous.

“She came to see Eloise,” you explained, standing your ground, “and I… I had no choice but to accompany her.”

Anthony scoffed. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Believe what you want,” you bit out. “It makes no difference to me.”

Silence stretched between you once more, heavy and suffocating. Then—

“You know I cannot pursue this,” Anthony said, his voice clipped.

Your breath caught. He did not have to clarify what this was. You looked away, schooling your features. “Of course you cannot.”

“It would cause a scandal.”

“Naturally.”

“The ton—”

“Would revel in it,” you finished, a bitter smile playing on your lips. Anthony stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“You were the reason I did not propose to Edwina,” he said, his words slow and deliberate. “It was your fault.” The accusation sliced through the air like a knife.

You felt your stomach drop. A sharp laugh escaped you—short and disbelieving. “My fault?”

Anthony did not waver. “You—” he exhaled harshly, shaking his head. “You distracted me. You made me question everything I had spent my entire life working towards.” You clenched your jaw, feeling something deep inside you crack.

“Do you think I wanted this?” you snapped, voice shaking. “Do you think I asked for any of this, Anthony?”

“You—”

“I was fine before you,” you cut him off, stepping forward. “I had a life, a future – well maybe not a well planned future but still!. And then you came along, and suddenly, I was drowning in feelings I never wanted in the first place.”

His nostrils flared. "And yet, you still let it happen.”

“You cannot blame me for your choices,” you hissed. “If you did not want me, you would have proposed to her regardless. But you didn’t.”

Anthony’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

“You think this is easy for me?” he demanded.

“I think you have always been a coward,” you shot back.

His entire body tensed. “And you,” he said, voice dangerously quiet, “have always been reckless.”

“You do things without thinking,” Anthony continued, each word like a dagger. “You do not consider the consequences. You never have.”

Something inside you snapped. “And you,” you spat, “are incapable of feeling anything at all.” The words were out before you could stop them. For a moment, Anthony just stared at you. Then, his expression turned to one of pure anger.

He took a step forward, towering over you. “You truly believe that?”

You did not back down. “I know it.”

Anthony’s jaw tightened. “Then you are a fool.”

“Then we both are.”

Silence. Your breath came in sharp, uneven gasps.

You could feel the weight of his stare, the heat of his fury. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. And then, without another word, you turned on your heel—

"You're running again!"

Anthony’s voice rang out across the terrace, sharp and desperate, freezing you in place just as you reached the steps leading back to the house.Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you willed yourself to keep walking. To not turn around.But you did.

You turned, eyes burning with fury, with frustration—with something else that you refused to name. "And what if I am?" you challenged.

Anthony strode towards you, his entire frame tense, the fire in his eyes matching the one inside you. "I’m starting to see a pattern," he said, voice tight with restraint. "Every single time things become difficult, you run."

Your eyes flashed. "And what of you, my lord? You push people away before they even have the chance to hurt you. That is not strength, Anthony. That is cowardice."

Anthony flinched as though you had struck him.For a moment, you thought he would lash out, that he would throw more cruel words your way just to wound you in return.But he didn’t.

Instead, he exhaled harshly, running a hand down his face before taking another step closer, reducing the already small distance between you.

"You think I do not feel?" he asked, voice low but charged with emotion. "That I do not feel everything when it comes to you?"

Your breath hitched.

"Do you know what it is like?" he continued, his tone almost accusatory, as though you had done something to him. "To see you in a crowded ballroom and only see you? To dance with another woman and only wish that it was you I was dancing with instead?"

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

"Do you know what it is like to wake up every morning and wish—pray—that I had the strength to be selfish? That I could throw away everything I have worked for, everything I have ever been, just to be with you?" Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Anthony took another step forward."Do you think I do not want to touch you?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "That every time I look at you, I do not ache to pull you close? That I do not dream of threading my fingers through this damn hair of yours and kissing you until you cannot breathe?"

Your breath came fast and uneven, your body burning under his words. He was too close now. Too close, too much. Anthony’s hand twitched at his side, as if resisting the urge to reach for you, to grab you, to claim you.

But he didn’t.Because if he touched you, if he gave in—he knew there would be no going back.

"You were never a mistake," he said, voice shaking. "You were never something I regretted."

"But I am afraid," he admitted. "I am afraid of what I become when I am with you. Afraid that you are the one thing I cannot control, the one thing that could ruin me."

You swallowed thickly, staring at him. "And yet," he continued, his voice softer now, gentler, "I am more afraid of what I am without you."

Silence.

The world felt unbearably still.

Anthony stood before you, stripped of all pretense, all composure. There was no Viscount Bridgerton here—no noble duty, no careful restraint.

Just a man. A man who had never wanted anything as much as he wanted you.

Your chest ached.Because this—this—was the Anthony Bridgerton no one else got to see.

And God help you, but you loved him.

"Say something," he pleaded, his voice raw.Your lips parted, but the words refused to come.

How could they, when every part of you—every fiber of your being—was caught in the tempest of Anthony Bridgerton?

He was too close, his breath mingling with yours, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim morning light. He was a storm waiting to break, and yet, for once, he was not running from it. He stood there, open, exposed, the weight of his confession hanging between you like something sacred.

You should walk away. You should. It would be the proper thing, the safe thing. It would be the logical choice, the rational choice—

But when had anything between you and Anthony Bridgerton ever been rational?

His gaze flickered down to your lips. And that was when you knew. It was inevitable.

Anthony had been fighting it for so long, had been clawing his way through the rules and expectations and all the things that told him no, no, no—but the moment he saw your lips part, the moment he saw the way you swayed ever so slightly toward him, he snapped.

His hand shot out, grasping the side of your face, fingers threading into your hair. A low, tortured sound escaped him, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for months, years—his entire life.

And then he kissed you.

It was not gentle. It was not careful. It was desperate.

His lips crashed against yours, hot and insistent, stealing the very air from your lungs. He kissed you like a man starved, like someone who had been denied this moment too many times, who had spent too long pretending he did not want it.

You gasped against his mouth, but he did not relent.

His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer, closer, as if he could not bear a single inch of space between you. Your fingers clutched at the lapels of his coat, anchoring yourself, your knees threatening to give out beneath you. The kiss deepened, and it was ruinous.

It was not the kiss of a man who intended to let go. It was the kiss of a man who knew he was already damned. And, you let yourself fall with him.

You melted against him, into him, as though you had been made to fit there all along. His hands roamed your back, pressing, grasping, like he needed to memorize you, like he feared you would disappear the moment he let go.

And for the first time in weeks—no, months—you let yourself forget. You forgot the whispers, the scrutiny, the unspoken thoughts that declared you unworthy of a man like him. But you were a hypocrite, saying you’re unworthy but wanted to snatch him away either way. You admit it. You’re selfish

He pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours, his chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven breaths. His hands remained on you, unwilling to let go.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, voice raw.

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest. You should. You should tell him to stop, should tell him this was a mistake, should remind him of the consequences. But you didn’t, instead, you lifted a hand to his cheek, fingers trembling as they traced the sharp edge of his jaw.

“You do not want me to say that,” you whispered.

A pained sound left him, and then he was kissing you again, softer this time, but just as hungry.

His voice was hoarse, desperate. His fingers dug into your waist, gripping you as though you were the only thing tethering him to this world. His forehead remained pressed against yours, his breath ragged and uneven, his entire body taut with restraint.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured again, though this time it was not a plea, but a warning. His lips hovered just above yours, his nose brushing against your cheek, his fingers curling ever so slightly into the fabric of your dress. “Because if you don’t… I will have you. And I won’t stop.”

You should have been afraid. Not of him, never of him—but of what this meant. Of what you were about to do. But you weren’t. Because this was inevitable.

The tension that had simmered for days, months even, was finally at its breaking point, and you wanted it to break. You wanted to shatter alongside him.

Your fingers curled around the lapels of his coat, tugging him closer, your breaths mingling in the space between you.

“Then don’t stop,” you whispered.

Anthony’s restraint snapped.

He growled, low and deep in his throat, before his lips crashed against yours, harder than before, more urgent, more needy. His hands slid down your waist, gripping your hips, pulling you against him in a way that made heat coil low in your belly.

You gasped into his mouth, and he took advantage of the sound, his tongue sweeping inside, tasting you, claiming you. It was dizzying, the way he kissed you—like he had been starving for you, like he had been deprived of this for far too long.

One of his hands tangled into your hair, tilting your head just the way he wanted, deepening the kiss until you were completely at his mercy. You moaned into his mouth, your fingers twisting in his coat, your body pressing against his, desperate for more.

“You have no idea,” he murmured between kisses, his lips trailing down the column of your throat, his voice rough and unsteady. “How long I have wanted this. How long I have ached for you.”

You whimpered as his teeth grazed your pulse point, your head falling back as his mouth continued its descent, lips and tongue and teeth mapping out every inch of exposed skin.

“Anthony—”

He groaned at the sound of his name on your lips, his hands tightening on your waist before he lifted you, backing you up against the terrace railing. His hips slotted between your legs, the movement making you gasp, making you feel the unmistakable proof of his desire pressing against your thigh.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured again, but this time, his voice was almost taunting, as if he already knew the answer.

Your fingers curled into his hair, tugging slightly, and he groaned, his hips pressing even closer, making you keen.

“Don’t you dare,” you whispered, breathless.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. “My reckless girl,” he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice thick with want. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

His hands slid lower, gathering the fabric of your dress, fingertips grazing bare skin. Every inch of you burned where he touched, where he kissed, where he pressed against you.

You were losing yourself, unraveling beneath him, and you didn’t care.

Because for the first time in a long, long time—

You weren’t running.

And neither was he.

A/n: with that being said, there'll be like one or two chapters left since I don't know what else to write anymore to make it more interesting 😭😭

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@syraxnyra

[bitchinbarzal]

Enough | L Draisaitl

It starts with a tension you can’t quite place. A weight in the air, thick and stifling, pressing against your chest every time Leon looks at you like he’s thinking something but doesn’t say it.

At first, you chalk it up to exhaustion. The Oilers have been on a grueling stretch of games, and you know how much it takes out of him, both physically and mentally. But then, it doesn’t stop. If anything, it gets worse.

He’s distant. He doesn’t reach for your hand like he usually does, doesn’t pull you into his side when you’re sitting on the couch together. The kisses he presses to your forehead in passing lack the warmth they used to hold, and he keeps looking at you like he’s trying to find an answer to a question you don’t even know has been asked.

You try to ignore it. Maybe it’s just stress, maybe it’s something else on his mind. But then, he says it.

And your world tilts.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore.” His voice is sharp, cutting through the thick air between you like a knife. “I get it now.”

You stare at him, confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Leon lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I finally see it. You’re here for the money, the name, the—whatever else comes with being with me.”

It takes a second for his words to sink in. When they do, you feel like you’ve been slapped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He’s pacing now, like he can’t even stand still. “Everyone’s been telling me, but I didn’t want to believe it. Thought I knew better. But they’re right, aren’t they? You’re using me.”

You take a step back, suddenly feeling like you don’t even recognize the man in front of you. The man who, up until now, you thought loved you. Trusted you.

Your voice is eerily calm when you speak. “Who the fuck has been in your ear, Leon?”

He scoffs. “Does it matter? It’s not like they’re wrong.”

You inhale sharply, pressing your lips together as you shake your head. “That’s the thing, though. They are wrong. And the fact that you’re even saying this to me right now—” You cut yourself off, because suddenly, there’s a lump in your throat, thick and heavy. “I can’t believe you actually think that about me.”

“I don’t—” He stops, exhaling sharply as his jaw tightens. “I don’t want to. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, look at my life. Look at your life. You—”

“Stop.” Your voice wavers, but you don’t back down. “Leon, if you really think I’m here because of your bank account or your name—if you think any of that has ever mattered to me—then you don’t know me at all.”

He swallows hard, his hands clenching at his sides, and for a second, he looks like he wants to take it back. Like he regrets it already. But it’s too late.

You shake your head, exhaling sharply. “You think I need your money? That I want your fame?” Your voice is rising now, the hurt morphing into anger. “I have my own damn career, Leon. I make my own money. I pay my own bills. I don’t need you to take care of me.”

His brows furrow, and there’s something desperate in his eyes now. “I didn’t mean it like—”

“No, you did.” Your voice is firm, unwavering now. “You meant it. Maybe you regret saying it now that you see how fucking cruel it was, but you meant it when you said it.”

Leon flinches. He looks like he wants to argue, to tell you you’re wrong, but he doesn’t. He just stares at you, the weight of his own words crashing down on him.

You cross your arms over your chest, trying to steady yourself, trying to ignore the way your hands are shaking. “I have never, never given you a reason to doubt me. To think I’m here for anything other than you. But you let them get in your head, and you believed them over me.”

Silence stretches between you. Heavy. Suffocating.

And then you say it—the thing that hurts more than anything else.

“If you really think so little of me, maybe I shouldn’t be here at all.”

Leon’s head snaps up, panic flashing across his face. “No—wait, I didn’t mean—”

You step back before he can reach for you. “Don’t. You don’t get to say that now.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s laced with finality. “You already did enough.”

Leon’s throat bobs as he swallows, his eyes clouded with regret, with something you can’t quite place. But you don’t wait for him to fix it. You just turn around and walk away.

And for the first time since you met him, he lets you.

He doesn’t call that night.

Or the next day.

You don’t expect him to, but you also don’t know what you’re supposed to do with the emptiness settling in your chest.

It takes him three days to show up at your door.

You don’t want to answer. You consider ignoring it altogether. But you know Leon well enough to know he won’t leave until you do.

So you open the door, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “What do you want?”

Leon looks like hell. His eyes are bloodshot, his jaw is tight, and there’s a desperation in the way he stares at you, like he knows he might have lost you already but needs to try anyway.

“I fucked up,” he says. No hesitation. No pretense. “I fucked up, and I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I need you to know—I didn’t mean it.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You keep saying that, but you still said it.”

Leon exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I was stupid. I let other people get in my head instead of trusting you—us. And I know I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself for that.”

Your throat tightens, but you stay quiet.

Leon takes a step closer, cautiously, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he moves too fast. “I don’t care about money. I don’t care about fame. I care about you. You are the only thing that matters to me, and I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if you let me.”

You inhale shakily, hating how much you want to believe him.

He notices. He always does.

“I love you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper now. “Not because of anything you have, or anything I have. Just you. Only you.”

For the first time in days, you let yourself look at him—really look at him. And you see it. The guilt. The love. The raw, unfiltered regret written all over his face.

You bite your lip, weighing your next words carefully. “You don’t get to do this again, Leon.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean it. You don’t get to doubt me like that. To doubt us. If we’re doing this, we do it together. No outside noise. Just you and me.”

Leon nods, not hesitating for even a second. “Just us.”

Silence lingers between you, softer this time. Not as heavy. Not as sharp.

You exhale, feeling yourself start to thaw, just a little. “I love you too, you idiot.”

The relief that floods his face nearly knocks you off your feet.

And when he finally pulls you into his arms, holding you like he never wants to let go—you let him.

[maxinemartinsdrill]

Ughhhhhh no because they called 14x20 Moriah after the mountain where the binding of Isaac takes place, but jack goes willingly to his knees and Isaac does not. In Moriah dean is Abraham and Chuck is chuck

but in 14x19 jack in the box 😬😬😬😬 SAM is Abraham,🤢 telling Isaac that there is a ram waiting for them on top of the mountain (after a short stint in the box) 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮 and dean is g-d

Andrew dabbbbbbbbbbbbb

[sonolynn]

Blood and Cheese

request: Aemond x ( Rhaenyra x Criston daughter ) niece were married and having a son. instead kill aegon son b&c kill Aemond son. How Rhaenyra daughter try to save her son from b&c and what people react after find out about Aemond son being kill. I need this fic so bad…

summary | Daemon took Rhaenyra's words literally. "A son for a son" he said. Who knew that it would be your son?

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Wife!Reader

tags | mentions of BLOOD, extreme grief, talk of child murdering, knifes, MORE BLOOD, infanticide, DEATH, extreme grief. mentions of murder

w.c | 3.8k

TW!!!!!!!!! | I personally have a very gruesome writing style when it comes to things like this, so if anything relating to infanticide or violence will trigger or bother you please don't read!!

____________________________________________

You loved your son. You named your son Baelon, after your mothers lost brother. Aemond knew how much you love Baelon, and he would be a fool if he said he did not love his son as well. 

Aemond tried to pride himself with being stoic and emotionally unavailable. But the minute they put his squirming son's body in his arms he felt his whole world resolve. The boy was the most beautiful thing to him, and he couldn’t believe that half of this being came from him. 

Ever since that night, Aemond became softer. When you weren’t breastfeeding, or when you got tired from taking care of the crying infant, Aemond would immediately offer to take the boy. When Bealon would cry in the middle of the night, Aemond would be up almost immediately, rushing to be at the babe's side. It took you almost forty minutes to convince him that it would be better if he slept with you and not in the nursery. 

And everything was fine until the night he killed Luke. 

Aemond would come back to the Keep late at night, still shaken from what he had involuntarily done. When he got back to his chambers, he saw his wife, his sweet, innocent wife holding his son. 

You had a smile on your face, Baelon coo’ing in your arms as he giggled and reached up to play with your braided, black hair. When you looked up, and noticed Aemond, your smile faltered. 

Aemond stared at you, and for a second his face was his normal and stoic, but the minute his son, his little Baelon, reached for him with a smile he broke down. 

That night he told you everything; He apologized profusely, and for the first time in all of Baelon’s four months of living, he refused to hold him. 

“I’ll only hurt him.” Is what Aemond told you. Your heart broke a little when you heard this, and you tried to reassure him but he wouldn’t have any of it. 

____________________________________________

“Aemond?” Aemond stopped, looking at you with a soft sigh.

“Darling, what have I told you about sleeping on the couch?” His voice was tired, full of weariness from having to deal with Aegon’s antics. You smiled softly as you sat up, holding out your hands out for him. He sighed as he sat down with you. He immediately cuddled against you, letting out a long, heavy breath as his head come into contact with your chest. 

This was how you two spent most of your time now. At night, Aemond would come to you and he would cuddle against you, yearning for that love and affection only you could seemingly give him. You two sat like this for a while, you stroking his head, and him stroking your stomach. 

“...I do regret that business with Luke, you know.” 

“I know.” 

There was more silence. It seemed that between you and Baelon, the only time Aemond’s mind was quiet now was when he was with you, in your embrace, being held by you. Not being treated as a monster, or a ruthless warrior, but rather just a man. Just your husband. 

In the distance, you heard the sound of your son’s wails. You sighed heavily, and you looked down at Aemond. 

“Perhaps he wishes for his father’s arms.” You spoke softly, watching as Aemond slowly sat up. 

“He does not.” He shook his head, leaning against the back of the couch. He avoided your gaze, knowing the somber look you were giving him. 

“Are you sure you do not wish to join me?” Aemond sat still, a look on his face that held some sort of thought before he shook his head softly. 

“I’ll see him first thing in the morning, my love.” You smiled at the thought, and you held his hand as you walked away. He watched you leave, a sad smile on his face. The wails from Baelon stopped moments later, and Aemond sighed heavily. 

Tomorrow, he thought, i’ll see him tomorrow. 

The worst part about this sentiment is that Aemond would see his son tomorrow. However, Baelon would be on a pyre. 

____________________________________________

The night started off peaceful. You sat in your rocking chair, rocking back and forth with Baelon in your arms. You smiled to yourself, holding the-now-sleeping babe in your arms. You hadn’t even registered the two men behind you. 

When one of them accidently knocked something over, you immediately jumped. 

“Aemond?” You whispered, quickly turning around. However, you were met with the face of two, unruly men you didn’t recognize. You saw the bag they held, along with the rat traps. “Who-Who are you?” You tried to stay strong, but you knew your voice gave away your fear. 

One of the men, the taller, bigger one looked you up and down. He turned to the other man and spoke softly. “Who is she?” 

“This…Is the one eyed prince’s wife.” Your breath hitched as the shorter man spoke. They both looked reasonably dirty, like rat catchers, but you knew something was wrong. 

“There are no rats in here.” The two men started to walk towards you, murmuring something about your husband underneath their breath. You had half a mind to turn and run, but they seemed to have the same idea. 

The shorter man came to you, and put a knife to your throat. You gasped, and clutched Baelon closer to you. The boy whined softly at the pressure. 

“Give us the boy, and we won’t hurt you.” The taller man spoke. You looked at him and held Baelon tighter.

“You have no business with my son-”

“Give us the boy!” The taller men yelled. You flinched, and at the sudden noise, Baelon started to cry. You looked between the men, and you felt tears in your eyes as the anxiety started to build up in your chest. 

“I-I have uhm..I have many valuable items. I have gold! I have lots of gold that I have no need for-” 

The taller man kicked the edge of Baelon’s crib and you held back a scream. The taller men started to speak to the shorter man, but the words they spoke didn’t process fully in your brain. All you saw was an open door. 

“AEM-” You started to scream your husband's name, but the man with the knife to your throat pushed the knife further and grabbed your hair roughly. You cried, and Baelon wailed in your arms. The taller man put his hand on Baelon’s head and tried to pry him from you grip. 

“NO!” You cried out, trying to pull him back, but it didn’t work. With a quick snap your boy was pried from you. The shorter man threw you back, causing you to hit your head against the chair you were previously rocking in. 

Your head was fuzzy, and all you heard was the wails of your son, painful wails that slowly died down. When you sat up, you saw the men putting the tiny head of your son in a bag. Your whole world stopped, and just as the men escaped down the hall, you screamed. 

Your chest ached, and your throat burned. You stare down at the body, slowly crawling to it as you shake your head and mutter small, inconsistent prayers to yourself. You reached out a hand, placing it on the body’s belly, rubbing it softly as if that would relieve some of the pain that was given to your innocent baby boy. 

You choked on your own tears, wishing for nothing more than your own death in that moment. Screams erupted from your throat; Horrid, painful screams followed by sobs. This pain, this all consuming immeasurable pain you wished on no one. The feeling of your own blood on your hands as you stared at the decapitated body was sickening, but you couldn’t look away. 

How could something so small hold so much blood? You thought to yourself, watching as the blood spilled from the clumsy cut. 

Alicent was the first to arrive, followed by Aemond soon after. Alicent stared at the scene in front of her, and while she resented you (seeing you as a constant reminder of Rhaenyra’s blatant lie to her), the pain she felt for you was disgusting. She backed out of the room slowly and placed a hand on her stomach to ground herself.

Aemond couldn’t step into the room. He just stared down at you, his son's body. The thought that this headless, infants body was his own son’s, his baby boy’s-

He couldn’t move. The pain for him was nothing short of paralyzing. But what broke him the most was you. 

You sobbed, violently sobbed as you placed your hands in your son's blood and tried to pull it back. As if that would fix everything. Aemond felt nauseous, seeing you so desperately cling to the idea that you could fix this. Once the realization started to settle that this was not helping, your body seemed to shut down. You laid down, holding your hands on your son's body as you sobbed. 

No words were exchanged, not knowing what to say. Aemond leaned against the door frame, mind numb as he slowly slid down the frame. He stared at nothing, his mind replaying all the times he held the boy, watched him smile.

____________________________________________

Aemond stood next to you the following day, watching as your baby boy's body was burned on a pillar. He was numb, his face pale and full of so much grief that it sobered anyone up. You were a mess. Tears and incoherent sobs escaped your throat, and you clung to Aemond. Aemond stayed still, gently holding you as if any small movement would cause the last shred of resolve to leave your body. 

As the fire burned, you buried your face into Aemond’s chest, refusing to watch. Aemond let you, holding your head softly. 

But Aemond stared. He watched as the wrapped body was consumed by the flames. He forced himself to watch as the flames consumed his son, his own retribution for not being there, for not helping you, for not holding his son one last time. 

As he watched the ashes of the pyre falter, Aemond made a promise to himself. 

He would kill Daemon Targaryen with his own hands.

____________________________________________

a/n: guys im sorry.

[meadowfics]

under my care

kang sae byeok x adoptivemother!f!reader x adoptedson!kang cheol

sae byeok made you promise her one thing

warnings: angst, death, violence, the use of y/n, comforting somewhat?

part one to this fic here

before the last game you'll play during the squid games, the glass bridge, your girlfriend made you promise her one thing.

when you first joined the games, you did not expect to see that your girlfriend had the same idea as you.

both of you realized that it might be a rare chance that the both of you will make it out alive...

"please promise me one thing if I do not make it home.."

sae hesitated.

"don't say that, you will make it out of here... we will make it out of here."

"don't be unrealistic."

"sae.."

you sighed.

"jus-- just promise me.."

sae sighed. there is tiredness in her eyes, sadness even.

you frowned, knowing that your girlfriend genuinely believes that she might not make it out of here.

"just promise me that if you make it out of here with the money, and not me.. that you will take care of cheol."

you grab sae byeok's hands, squeezing them softly as she leans her head onto your shoulder.

"I can't.. since you will be the one who will get out of here."

you believed.

"y/n, please. just get cheol out of the orphanage and take care of him for me. I know that might be a lot to ask, but I'd trust him with you than with anyone else."

"I promise I will take care of him, if you can't, sae."

sae was right...

it was the four of you. sang woo, sae byeok, gi hun, and you left.

you woke up to the loud mechanical noise, still in your sweaty fancy suit with your number on it.. number 299.

gi hun had sang woo tackled and pinned down not too far away from your bunk.

you jumped up at the sight, with sang woo with a knife as he looked at you with a homicidal look.

your eyes looked ahead at the guards with a casket.. a casket that was heading towards sae.

you screamed as you ran across the warehouse, your body near falling as you saw sae byeok.. lifeless, and cut down from sang woo's knife.

the guards picked up sae byeok, and your lungs nearly collapsed from the amount of screaming coming from you.

not sae, not the love of your life!

she was NOT supposed to be right about not leaving here.

"you FUCKER!" you screamed towards sang woo..

it was clear that sang woo was not going to go after you.. when gi hun ran over to stop you from approaching sang woo.

"you should've killed me and not her you fucking bastard! she was supposed to take care of cheol, not me!"

you cried, trembling as you watched sae leave inside of that casket.

gi hun and you got out of the games alive.

he spared your life.. choosing the split the 45.6 billion between the both of you instead of killing you.

you had 22.8 billion won (15million usd) in your accounts.. way more than enough to pay off your debts and live comfortably.

after you paid off your debt, your legs took you straight to the orphanage.

the orphanage that had cheol.

first meeting cheol, you looked at him as he flipped through the reading journal that he owned.

the boy was kind, and quiet, just like his sister.

your heart ached, and you fought with your entire strength to not cry about sae byeok in front of him.

he does not know of his sister's fate, and you do not know if you will tell him right now.

one thing sae gave you a few years ago was a pink beaded bracelet that she got back home in north korea..

"I had a friend smuggle this from china, I want you to have it, you will look beautiful with it."

sae byeok wore that bracelet everyday before she gave it to you.

so, when cheol looked down at your wrist and saw that same bracelet.. a light flickered inside of his eyes.

"you knew my sister?"

you swallowed, holding back your tears.

"yes, I did. she was one of my... good friends."

you somewhat lied, not knowing if sae ever told him about her sexuality.

"where is she?"

a tear left your eye, but you quickly wiped it with your jacket sleeve before cheol noticed.

"she went away for a little while. sae asked me to take care of you."

so you did.

moving out of your old apartment, you got a nice penthouse in the nice area of seoul.

you paid to send cheol to a nice school as well, wanting the best for him... like you wished sae had.

you got the boy the nicest items, and made sure that he was cared for.

little did cheol know, you cried every single night looking at a portrait of you and his older sister, together at a park just eight months before the games.

sae smiled in the picture, her arm wrapped around your shoulders as your head was buried into her neck.

the both of you had many problems then, but you'd take sae back over any financial stability.

over two years passed.

for just two days, you left and came back after visiting family outside of the city.

you trusted cheol to be alone for those two days, since the boy is trustworthy.

however, you dropped your bags at the sight of a sobbing cheol in the living room.

you ran over to him, crouching down to his level as you held him close.

"whats wrong, cheol?"

you didn't tell cheol, but you've been working hard to get the rest of his and sae's family out of north korea.

the brokers are trying their hardest to locate them..

sae did not ask you to do this if she passed, but you know that this is what she would have done if she survived instead of you.

"when were you going to tell me that sae byeok is dead?"

your heart nearly stopped..

"what do you mean?"

"I heard you on the phone with somebody before you left, you said that sae was no longer here.. where is she?"

cheol yelped.

you were on the phone with gi hun.. who asked if you were okay since sae left the earth a few years ago.. you still are not.

"cheol, I- I am not allowed to say anything.. I'm so sorry."

you could only say.. how were you supposed to tell sae's thirteen year old brother about her homicide due to winning games for money?

cheol resented you for a while, but once he turned sixteen.. it seemed like he accepted his sister's fate.

he figured out how close you and his sister were too, that you were in fact his sister's girlfriend (and not just her bestfriend) before her passing.

he always asked you how she treated you.

"she was the perfect person, cheol."

"I agree."

cheol was always grateful that you decided to take care of him.

the teenager always had high grades in school, and might enroll at a university once he graduates.

cheol's struggles with kids at school due to being north korean, however, he cherishes due to his family.

at this point, you were his family too.

"does sae know that you took me in?"

cheol asks.

"she does."

"do you regret it?"

cheol laughs, jokingly.

"never, I'm glad to have you in my life cheol. you're like the son or little brother that I never had."

you smiled lightly.

"do I remind you of sae?"

"you do, you have her humor and soft spoke voice."

you frown, missing sae byeok.

its 2029.. and you and gi hun were present at cheol's graduation.

well, it was you. until, gi hun surprised you with his presence.

"gi hun, you're alive?"

the last time you talked to him.. he ended up in the games again.

you were scared shitless. in fact, you almost left cheol to go find gi hun.

however, gi hun's friend.. hwang jun ho.. said that gi hun did not want you involved in this.

so, you stayed back knowing that cheol could not lose another person in his life. not again.

"I am. I just got back from america after watching my daughter's high school graduation."

"so what brought you here? you should be with your daughter.."

"well.. you aren't the only person that promised sae byeok something.."

your eyebrows flared at the older man.

"what do you mean?"

gi hun smiled lightly, looking ahead at the students wearing their graduation uniforms.

he can spot cheol, with a smile on his face as he talks to a friend sitting beside him.

"sae made me promise to make sure that you and cheol were always protected.. it was shortly after she made you promise to take care of the boy."

your mouth is hung slightly, you are not surprised as you should be.

of course sae would be looking out for you, even in her death.

"I miss her everyday, gi hun."

a tear escapes your eyes.

"its been eight years.. I don't know if I will ever get over her."

"she loved you so much, y/n."

gi hun comforted you.

"you are doing the biggest act of love possible, by raising her younger brother when she couldn't be here to do it. I am not someone who believes in religion or spiritual shit, but I bet she's here right now, watching him walk the stage with you."

a/n: I hope you loved this. I cried like a baby while writing most of this.. man bring back sae byeok :(

[pucksandpower]

Could’ve Had It All

Pierre Gasly x social media manager!Reader

Summary: Pierre Gasly has taken a lot from Esteban Ocon over the years … but losing you to him before Esteban ever even really had a chance to have you hurts the most

Based on this request (I wasn’t going to post this yet, but with the news that came out earlier some angst felt fitting)

Esteban makes his way down the narrow hallway of the Alpine motorhome, his heart pounding in his chest. This is it — he’s finally going to confess his feelings for you. He’s had a crush on you for years, ever since you started working with the team. Your sharp wit, radiant smile, and passion for the sport have captivated him from day one.

As he approaches your office door, he hears a strange noise coming from inside. It sounds like ... moaning? Esteban freezes, his brow furrowing in confusion. What’s going on in there? Against his better judgment, he reaches for the door handle and pushes the door open without knocking.

The sight that greets him makes his heart stop. There you are, pressed up against the wall, your fingers tangled in Pierre Gasly’s messy waves as he trails heated kisses down your neck.

Pierre, his teammate ... his rival ...

“What the hell?” Esteban blurts out before he can stop himself.

You and Pierre break apart instantly, faces flushed with embarrassment and ... something else. Desire? Esteban feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“Estie!” You exclaim, hastily smoothing down your rumpled clothing. “I ... we ...”

“You two are ...” Esteban can barely get the words out, his mouth suddenly dry.

Pierre straightens up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. There’s a defiant glint in his eyes as he slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Yeah, we are.”

Esteban’s world comes crashing down around him. All this time, he’d been harboring these feelings for you, dreaming of the day he might finally work up the courage to tell you how he felt. And now, to discover that you’re already taken ... and by his own teammate, no less.

“How long has this been going on?” He demands, his voice thick with emotion.

You bite your lip, unable to meet his gaze. “A few months.”

“A few months?” Esteban can’t believe what he’s hearing. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“It’s not like that, Esteban,” Pierre interjects, his tone stern. “We didn’t mean for this to happen, it just ... did.”

“Sure, mate. Whatever you say.” Esteban shakes his head in disbelief. He can’t bear to look at the two of you, so intimately entwined. It’s like a knife twisting in his heart.

“Estie, please ...” you begin, taking a step towards him. But he holds up a hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice strained. “Just ... don’t.”

With that, he turns on his heel and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He needs to get out of here, needs to clear his head before he does or says something he’ll regret.

As he stalks through the paddock, Esteban’s mind is a whirlwind of emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal ... they all swirl together in a toxic mix that threatens to overwhelm him. How could you do this to him? And with Pierre, of all people?

He finds himself wandering aimlessly, his feet carrying him to the Alpine garage without conscious thought. Maybe some mindless work will help take his mind off this mess, at least for a little while.

But as he approaches the garage, he hears a familiar voice calling out to him.

“Esteban! There you are.”

It’s Pierre, jogging to catch up with him. Esteban grits his teeth, steeling himself for the confrontation he knows is coming.

“What do you want?” He snaps, turning to face his teammate.

Pierre holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in. But you have to understand, what’s happening between me and Y/N ... it’s real, yeah? It’s not just some fling.”

“Oh, spare me the bullshit,” Esteban scoffs. “You’re sleeping with the social media manager, Pierre. How do you think that looks for the team?”

“It’s not just about sex,” Pierre insists, his brow furrowing. “I really care about her. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time.”

Esteban laughs bitterly. “Right, and I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Believe what you want,” Pierre retorts, his jaw tightening. “But don’t act like you’re some victim in all this. We both know how you feel about her.”

Esteban tenses, hating how transparent his feelings for you have apparently been. “That’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Doesn’t it?” Pierre challenges. “Face it, you’re jealous. You’ve had your eye on her for ages, and now that she’s with me, you can’t handle it.”

“You’re delusional,” Esteban spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

Pierre shakes his head, looking almost ... pitying? “Keep telling yourself that, mate. But the truth is, you had your chance with her. And you blew it.”

Those words hit Esteban like a physical blow. Because deep down, he knows Pierre is right. He had been too cowardly, too afraid of ruining your professional relationship to ever make a move.

And now, it’s too late.

“Just ... leave me alone, Pierre,” Esteban mutters, turning away. He can’t bear to look at his teammate’s smug face a second longer.

As he retreats into the garage, Esteban feels a profound sense of loss settle over him. He’s lost you, the woman he’s been pining after for years, to his own teammate and rival. How is he supposed to move on from that? How is he supposed to work alongside you and Pierre every day, knowing what he knows?

The rest of the race weekend passes by in a blur of forced smiles and awkward silences. Esteban does his best to avoid the two of you, throwing himself into his work as a distraction. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t escape the ache in his heart whenever he sees you both together.

Finally, as the chequered flag waves and the race comes to an end, Esteban allows himself a moment of respite. He sinks down onto a crate in the garage, burying his face in his hands as the weight of his heartbreak threatens to crush him.

“Estie?”

Your soft voice cuts through the chaos around him, and he tenses. Of course you would seek him out now, when he’s at his most vulnerable. He lifts his head, meeting your concerned gaze.

“What do you want?” He asks, his voice dull and lifeless.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I ... I just wanted to talk to you. About what happened.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Esteban shrugs, feigning indifference. “You’re with Pierre now. End of story.”

“It’s not that simple,” you protest, taking a step closer. “You’re one of my closest friends. I never wanted to hurt you.”

He laughs humorlessly. “Well, you did a bang-up job of that, didn’t you?”

You flinch at his harsh words, and Esteban immediately feels a pang of regret. This isn’t your fault, not really. You can’t help how you feel, just like he can’t.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “I never meant for any of this to happen. But ... Pierre makes me happy. In a way I haven’t felt in a long time.”

Esteban’s throat tightens at your words. Of course Pierre makes you happy. Stupidly handsome, charming Pierre with his easy smiles and effortless charisma. How could Esteban ever hope to compete with that?

“I’m glad he makes you happy,” Esteban manages to choke out, even as the words feel like shards of glass in his throat. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Your face softens, and you reach out to place a gentle hand on his arm. “You’ll find someone, Estie. Someone who makes you just as happy as Pierre makes me. I know it.”

Esteban wants to believe you, he really does. But in this moment, with his heart shattered into a million pieces, it’s hard to envision a future where he’s anything but hopelessly alone.

Still, he manages a weak smile for your sake. “Yeah, maybe someday.”

You return the smile, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “I should go find Pierre.”

The words are like a knife to Esteban’s battered heart, but he bites back the anguished retort that rises to his lips. This is your choice, your happiness. As much as it destroys him, he has to respect that.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

With one last lingering look, you turn and make your way across the garage, disappearing into the crowd. Esteban watches you go, mourning the future he had allowed himself to dream of — a future where you were his and his alone.

But that future is gone now before it ever had a chance to even take root. All that’s left is an aching emptiness where his heart used to be. Esteban closes his eyes, drawing in a shuddering breath as a single tear trails down his cheek.

It’s over. The woman he loves is lost to him forever. And for the first time in his life, Esteban has no idea how to move forward from here. All he can do is pick up the shattered pieces of his broken heart, and hope that one day, somehow, they’ll mend.

[two-white-butterflies]

she's got away

Description: You frame your husband for your murder. It looks like Homelander has finally found his match.

Pairing: homelander/supe!reader

Warning: infidelity, murder, downfall of homelander, implied domestic abuse, planned suicide.

A/N: inspired by amy dunne. also, because i know that homelander isn't just gonna marry some basic bitch, he wants that crazy 😭

Homelander has read all news articles about you, your ex-boyfriends couldn't stop talking about the beauty of being the recipient of your love, but that was the thing. It was beautiful when the full warmth of your love is focused on them, but once the spotlight shifts - it leaves them feeling empty, reeling because of the loss.

When he married you, he expected that spotlight to be on him 24/7. "I can't believe that you convinced them to cancel the deal," a giggle escapes your mouth and Homelander's jaw clenches. Seeing you draped all over Stan Edgar made him want to kill that man. "It isn't that difficult when you have the D.A's office on retainer," the man boasts in a low whisper, but Homelander can hear him.

He can hear every little conversation happening inside the building. He glances at you - what did you have that he didn't? Why does Stan Edgar trust you of all people?

"Well that ought to remind them," you mused, taking a sip of your fizzing champagne. "Of what?" Stan raises an eyebrow.

You look straight at Homelander's eyes. Aware that he was listening in to your conversation with the executive. "that Vought isn't a superhero company. It's a pharmaceutical company." The sweet smile does not leave your lips, his jaw clenches - eyes glaring.

How dare you!

Openly defying him in front of Stan Edgar. Besmirching everything that he built and fought tirelessly for, just to twist the knife. Homelander had half the mind to march in your direction, to grab you by the arm and fuck you in front of all the executives that you tried to kiss-ass to. He takes a deep breath.

He mumbles a few curses, none loud enough for anyone to hear.

His heart sinks to the bottom of his chest once he realizes the glaring truth, that your love was beginning to slip away. The spotlight that all your exes couldn't stop talking about was now moving to the next big thing, and no one leaves Homelander! No one leaves him!

"Cheers," he hears you offer a toast.

He sees a woman standing in the table in front of him, clad in a black Etro dress that she probably rented just to wear. She looks like you in some lights. Homelander smiles - a lazy yet charismatic smile.

He walks towards her.

"It must be boring for you, watching all these idiots drink wine." He opens his mouth to speak, and the woman's attention turns towards him. Oh, he was going to move his spotlight before you move yours.

You lazily walk towards your shared apartment with Homelander. It was never a great pleasure spending the night here, the decorations were too manly and corporate for you to ever feel at peace with the surroundings. Dark blue walls - endless fake pictures, and that constant smell of perfume makes your head hurt.

A sigh escapes your mouth as you sink deeper into the sheets. His bed was magnificent - almost like he slept all the time. You sent him a message an hour ago, but he hasn't responded yet. "Where the hell are you," you mumbled while opening your phone - quickly navigating towards the 'find my phone' app.

Uh, yes, you put a tracker on your husband without his consent.

The app loads rather quickly, and you zoom out of the map - to see John inside of a Hilton Hotel. "Son of a bitch," you cursed. You rise from the sheets, sitting down and leaning on the bed-frame. You dial Ashley's number, and she answers on the first ring. "Where is Homelander?" You ask before she could say hello.

"Um, uh, I-" she stumbles in her words.

"Don't lie to me, please." Your voice was surprisingly soft. If the phone call was recorded, you didn't want it to come biting your ass in the future. "I don't want to tell you," Ashley responds in a firm tone. "I won't tell him that I know. It's a promise." You vowed.

"He's going to kill me. I don't want to get in the middle of this." She begged, her voice sounded desperate. "Well, you are in the middle of this and if you don't tell me then I'll find a way to screw you over." You threatened, recorded call be damned, playing good cop was over.

"He's at the Hilton. He met with someone; please don't tell him that I told you!" She cried, a scoff escaping your mouth.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

yourname: This cape stands for everything that I believe in! It is also a reminder of how thankful I am to call this beautiful land my home. #FosteringTheFuture #Homelander

liked by 2,192,392 others

comments

homelandertruther: No supe has ever done as much damage to America than Starlight. Thank you homelander 🦅🇺🇸

MyEyesOpen: God bless this country

BootySheath99: Christians for Homelander >>>>

A fake smile ghosts your face as you feel his muscled arms wrap around your body. "Where were you?" You question. Not a nerve in his body showed signs of nervousness, which only made you think that he's been doing this for a long time. How it didn't eclipse your radar? You're not entirely sure. "I had a meeting with Madeline." He lies, pressing a kiss to your naked shoulder.

All men do is lie.

"At the Mandarin?" You raised an eyebrow, a sigh escapes his mouth. He presses another kiss to your naked shoulder, before pressing his face to the crook of your neck. "You don't have to be so damn possessive. It was just a meeting and Madeline is a prude." He talked down on the woman who was responsible for his success.

Your fingers danced across his clothed body, playing with the strands of his perfect blonde hair. This love story began because of a coffee shop, because he wanted to see the good in this world - and found it inside of you. He liked getting his ego stroked, you stoked his ego and then some. He liked watching old american films in his room projector, and you listened to him ramble about every little detail. He wanted a cool girl, and he got her.

Being a cool girl and being his wife is a mutually exclusive event. The occurrence of one supersedes the other and vice versa. You can't be 'cool girl' and also be his wife. It is humbling to become something that you once mocked. "I can't help it," you mumbled.

"No one is going to steal me from you," he promised. Oh, this was the first time that he addressed your feelings towards one another - and it looks like he's only doing it to not get caught. Who is his mistress? You wondered. Was she more beautiful than you? Did she have blonde hair or piercing blue eyes? Was she a southern belle, or perhaps a foreign woman who he has never seen before?

"What's happening to us? We're not happy anymore," you breathed out, watching as his features turned darker. His pupils dilated, his jaw clenched, and his grip on you tightened. This was another one of your mind games, one of the things that you'd do before pushing him off the edge. "We are happy." He insisted, because the truth is - there is no use being in a relationship with someone when you're not at your happiest. "We were happy." You corrected, pulling away.

"I know that you met with someone else," you whispered - almost in fear that someone else could hear. "I'm angry - disappointed, but I also love you. I want to be happy, again, with you." You confessed.

He kept staring at you, looking deep into your eyes, almost unable to decipher between the truth and your lies. "John," you refer to him by the name closest to his heart. His eyes soften, thrown back into the reality that you're nothing like him - there was not a bone inside of your body that schemed, or got jealous, or thought of bad things. You are good - the only good part of him.

"I'm sorry, baby." He apologized.

You press a kiss to his lips. Fuck you.

"Hello, you may all know me as Homelander's wife or Comet which is my superhero name. But my real name is Y/N Gillman. A few days ago the NYC District Attorney subpoena'ed me and I agreed to testify against my husband. He's done a lot of bad things. I'm not really sure if I'll be safe. If something happens to me, Homelander did it, my husband killed me."

The television screen fades to black, and his daunting reflection stares right back at him. A few hours ago you were reported missing, seemingly abducted in the middle of the day - and now this video is going viral. Homelander admits that it doesn't look good on him. "What the fuck is going on!" Madeline barged into the office, obviously as discombobulated as he was.

"I was hoping that you could tell me," a shrill air of madness hovers over his poignant figure. He wanted to kill the person in charge of posting this video, he wanted to know if you did this on your own accord - or if there was a gun pointed at your head. The thought of both sends him reeling into a cage of madness.

"I-I think that there's a reasonable explaination for this. She could be abducted by a terrorist group and forced to film this confession." Ashley came to your defense.

Homelander clenches his fist.

"If my wife was abducted under Vought's watch, then, I'm going to kill everyone, and I don't care how this plays out in social media." He threatened, glaring at Madeline - who he was sure had everything to do with this. Madeline takes a deep breath, regaining her composure - and an unnerving smile ghosts her lips. "We should all calm down, Vought is trying its best to track her down right now." She smiles.

"Make it fast!" Homelander raises his voice, throwing a vase in Madeline's direction.

Y/N GILLMAN'S DIARY ENTRY #30

Dear Diary,

My husband looks at me so sweetly, I can't help but think that he's the man of my dreams, the father of my future children, and the love of my life. Lately, I think that this man of mine is going to kill me.

He had sex with someone else. Mandarin Oriental. Find my Phone. It wasn't that hard to figure out. I confronted him last night, and the way that he promised me that he was going to change - almost had me believing that he would. My mother always said: men never change. My mother was right.

I opened his phone (don't ask me why I know his password) but I saw that woman's message. MISS U INSIDE ME. I fucking hate her.

Like any good wife, I confronted him about it (again) and he told me that it was nothing. I can't remember the other parts of our conversation, but it dragged on for so long that I almost thought that it would never end. He told me that he'd kill me. I think he's going to.

"Detective Harold Brink. I'm here to solve your wife's disappearance," the man shook Homelander's hand. The Detective had a certain rogue-ish charm to him, tanned skin with a light stubble. He had a head as big as his ego. Harold Brink seemed confident in his skills. Homelander is going to be the judge of that.

"Shouldn't you be out in the field doing exactly that? You wasted time coming here," Homelander gritted his teeth, staring at the man from his head down to his toes. "Nothing but protocol, Homelander. I don't want to point a finger but there was a video going viral, an accusation made by the person missing, if you may." Harold states.

He doesn't have to be a genius to understand that this incompetent detective was pointing a finger in his direction. "We also found her diary when we searched your apartment." The man lays the book on the table in front of him. He sees your beautiful handwriting, with loops and straight lines. Your handwriting always danced between the line of print and cursive. "I think this man of mine is going to kill me, a direct quote if you weren't able to read." Harold says smugly.

Homelander contemplates killing the man, but it would be obvious. His demographics were going down, he was already facing a media trial - Harold was his hail mary, whether he liked it or not.

"Hyperbole. You don't know my wife." Homelander insisted, seeing the glaring red lights in his periphery. The cameras were rolling, he needed to make a performance of the lifetime. "- and clearly you don't either. I have a video of her saying that if she were ever to go missing, then you'd be the one responsible for it. I also have a page from her diary alleging that you wanted to kill her." Harold says.

"I'm not at a deposition." Homelander glares.

"You will be, soon." Harold stands up, hearing footsteps from the outside. Most probably Homelander's lawyer. "I'll give the subpoena to your attorney," he informs.

Homelander stands up.

"Give me all the papers that you want, but my wife is out there. Instead of spending time trying to back me into a corner, maybe you should actually begin to do what the American taxpayers are paying you to do. Find my wife!" Homelander yells, and on cue the door opens. "How dare you talk to my client." His lawyer says.

Homelander sighs, this was going to be a long month.

homelander: My wife is missing. If you have seen her please report to the authorities. Keep us in your prayers ❤️🙏🏻

liked by 5,192,923 others shared by 2,192,023 others

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homelander: There has been an avalanche of fake news coming my direction. I want to make it clear that I would never do anything to hurt my wife. The video that has been going viral is a deepfake. 📍 pinned comment

cometfanbase: There's literally evidence of u cheating on her 😭

kuchie92: #WeStandWithHomelander #HereForHomelander

"What is this?" Homelander shoves the phone in Ashley's direction. "Your legal counsel and the PR firm decided that it would be wise to post something in light of..." Ashley does not finish her words. She keeps her distance from Homelander. "I'm surrounded by fucking idiots. What if someone looks into that video and finds out that it isn't a deepfake?" He questions.

These people at Vought keep underestimating the power of social media. "We already took care of that. We own all the deepfake detection software, and they all flag that video down. Plus, our influencers have been posting a lot of videos to sway public opinion." The woman continues speaking, after three shots of vodka - fear doesn't make itself evident.

Homelander sits down at the head of the table. "Updates about the case?" He wanted all the insider information. He also wanted to know if you were really abducted - or just faking it to punish him. "They think that she was abducted, there was blood on the floor, signs of struggle. Vought thinks that we're dealing with a larger force, people who have the resources to pull this off inside of Vought Tower." Ashley avoids his stare, placing a stack of files on the table.

If Homelander was to find out that she was the one who told you about the affair, then she was going to be food for the worms. "Cameras?" He takes a sharp breath. "All records have been wiped from the database. They're trying to recover it but it's a slippery slope." Ashley continues, shifting as she stands.

Should she really be the person to tell him about all of these? One wrong word and he's going to shoot a laser through her head. "Get out of my sight," Homelander leaned on his chair - Ashley scattered faster than pigeons do at the sight of danger.

Madeline warned him about his temper, told him that he wasn't allowed to kill anyone until they were able to find you. She really thinks that he has something to do with your abduction. For the first time, Homelander is innocent in this crime.

His heart beats a little faster at the thought of you being held in danger. Hopeless against your abductors because he wasn't there to protect you. He looks like a goddamn pussy. It is his duty as your husband to protect you, and he couldn't even make sure that the cameras in Vought Tower were working.

When he finds you - when he finds the person responsible for this. He is going to kill them. He's going to torture them gently until they beg for death, and he's never going to give them death. He's just going to make their existence a meaningless chore. Born to be tortured. Born to be reduced to nothing but limbs and organs.

The perfect radical justice.

He was just about to shoot his lasers through the window but Harold Brink walks through the sliding doors of the Seven meeting room. "Homelander, you're coming with me. You have the right to remain silent..." Harold's voice drowns out once he feels himself stand up, his hands wrapped around by cold steel handcuffs.

You will remain in police custody until the investigation is over.

The following day, his lawyer came marching. His pays the man $10,000,000 annually and Homelander can say that he is worth the money. His cell (if he could call it that) was luxurious, a double mattress bed and five star dining - it was almost a vacation. But his mind couldn't rest - all he could think about was you.

If you were safe, fucking with him, or actually dead in a ditch.

"You need to make a public statement." His lawyer made his message very clear. "The Seven has been doing work without you. Vought has been talking about suspending you, most of all, half of the public thinks that you killed your wife." The man updated.

"If I speak then everyone is going to think that I did it for public opinion." Homelander gritted his teeth. He could easily get out of this facility in a blink, but due to propriety he must stay. "If you don't speak then everyone is going to think that your shameless," his lawyer enunciated. "- if we allow that fact to sit then it will become the truth." He added, handing him a file.

Presumably, the script for his 'public' message. Homelander brought to his knees by a goddamn missing person's report. "My wife is still missing. I'm not seeing anyone do anything about that. They're all pretty determined to point the finger at me." Homelander scoffs.

The man in front of him adjusts his glasses. "Did you do it?" He questioned, aware that Vought made contingency plans - so that no one would be able to record Homelander during his 'jail' time. "No," Homelander said with all the strength in his chest.

His people, the Americans, were turning against him.

"It doesn't matter anyways. As long as there is no body, they can't make us do shit. Now, about that public announcement, I'll be back here tomorrow - and ease up on the whiskey." His lawyer stands up.

HOMELANDER'S INTERVIEW

Cameron Coleman: Did you kill your wife, Homelander?

Homelander: I did not kill my wife, I am not a murderer.

Cameron Coleman: But you hurt her. You were unfaithful to her.

Homelander: I was. I am not proud.

Cameron Coleman: How do you expect us to believe you, when we all know that you're a liar?

Homelander: I didn't come forward about that fact because I knew that it would make me look bad. I knew that no one would trust me if that fact ever came forth. A real man doesn't hurt his wife. A good superhero protects everyone, but I'm just a man. I don't care about my reputation anymore. I need my wife, because I know that I need to make it better. I was a bad husband to a wonderful wife, that is the truth, Cam.

Cameron Coleman: And you expect us to [cuts off]

Homelander: I met Y/N L/N ten years ago and I was enchanted by everything that she did. She made me believe that there was good in this world, as I was always exposed to all the bad sorts, all the bad crimes. My job as a superhero has desensitized me to violence, I thought that violence was normal. When she came into my world I realized that it wasn't, life could be and can be gentle and kind. I wanted her to love me so I pretended to be something that I was not.

Cameron Coleman: You talk like a man who believes that his wife is still alive. Is she?

Homelander: She is alive. Please stop talking like she isn't.

Cameron Coleman: Okay, what would you like to say to your wife?

Homelander: Y/N, I love you. You are the most special person in this world, and I have hurt myself over the things that I've done to you. Come home, please baby. I'll spend my whole life trying to make it up to you, trying to be the man that I promised to be. The man who makes you happy, the man who thinks and remembers everything that you love. I'm sorry for doing the easy things instead of doing the right things. Come back, please.

Homelander: I'll do everything that you want me to do. We'll build a house by the beach, I'll stop being Homelander. I'll give you kids and dogs and make you that surfboard that I always promised to buy.

[tear trickles down Homelander's eyes]

[screen fades to black]

A gasp escapes your mouth as you finished watching his interview. A sudden realization comes to you. This man has killed for you - this man is killing himself for you. He has stripped himself bare of everything that he holds dear (he only holds his reputation dear). The American consensus on his morality has waned significantly.

They all think of his name and spit on the ground. Once he realizes that no one loves him, he's going to burn the world. And isn't it your duty to keep Homelander down to earth?

This husband of yours has hurt you so much, but he also knows what kind of words to say to keep you drawn back to him. You were twin flames, both with large fires, just waiting to burn each other out. No one understood you like him (vice versa) and he is the only person who's able to match your craziness.

The wanton desire that he feels over destruction. The wanton desire that you feel over destroying him. We are born for each other, you thought. You made that man - filled his boring and touch-starved self with attention until he began forming his own ambitions. He's nothing without you, and Vought is nothing without you.

A few weeks ago, you really wanted to kill yourself.

You planned on slitting your throat down the river. Your dead body would wash up on the shores, and everyone will point their fingers at Homelander. His life was going to be ruined, his reputation, his demographics - he was going to be a FAIL in all demographics. But now, maybe you should get back to him.

Because he really loves you. He wants to make it up to you. He knows the words to say to rile you up, and he knows what words to say to make you forgive him. He was the Adam to your Eve.

Your creator and your ruin.

If love doesn't rile you up, make you change yourself, make you evil, then it isn't love in the first place. It's dependence.

This thing that you feel for Homelander. It's love.

... in its own twisted way.

[xhoneygirlxx]

Scream For Me

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: there's just something about your boyfriend in a Halloween mask.

warnings: fluff towards the end. smut. Minors DNI 18+ only!!! unprotected p in v. creampie. mask kink. talks about knife play. Eddie and Reader are both 20+. size, ethnicity, and skin color are not described. reader is described as having hair. pics are for aesthetic purposes only. grammar errors/shitty writing. not proofread! If I miss anything please let me know.

If you are an ageless/faceless blog DNI, you will be blocked.

a/n: Happy late Halloween love bugs!!!!!! it feels like forever since i've posted anything! this month has been nonstop for me as far as personal life goes so i haven't had time to really post anything. i know this isn't that long of a fic, it's more of a blurb tbh, but i really wanted to get something out for you guys. thank you all for being so patient and loving! i hope you all enjoy :)

"Fuck you're so dirty, baby." Eddie pants harshly, the words are slightly muffled underneath the mask.

He's right, you're downright filthy for getting off on him wearing the mask of a famous fictional character. It shouldn't be as arousing as it is, Ghostface leering over you, but the wetness that seeps out of you as Eddie continues to fuck you won't stop.

His thick cock continues to pound into you, hitting that spot you can never seem to reach on your own, making you moan loudly. The sound of skin slapping against each other, the squelch of your sopping heat, and the grunts of your boyfriend only turns you on further.

"Can't believe my girl gets turned on by a mask," He says breathlessly, "All those -Fuck-, all those times we watched that movie, must've been soaking every time, huh?"

You can't help but clench around him, just the idea of you secretly getting off without your boyfriend ever knowing really does something for you.

"Ah shit, you really like that? Liked imagining me fucking you just like this all those times?" Eddie grunts, snapping his hips even faster than before.

You begin to claw at his pale skin, leaving red scratches along the expanse of his back as he continues to abuse your g-spot so perfectly.

"Yes, fuck yes!" You scream as your eyes roll back in pleasure.

Eddie chuckles deeply, almost dark and twisted like he's enjoying watching you completely unravel underneath him.

"Bet you'd like it if I marked you up, yeah? Want me to carve my initials into you?" Snaking one of his hands between the two of you, he begins to draw tight circles on your abandoned clit, making your hole hole grip around him tighter.

"Please, Eds. I w-want that s'bad. Please give it to me." You're beyond babbling at this point. The line between reality and your impending orgasm are starting to blur, the thin string that holds you together ready to snap at any moment.

Going faster than before, Eddie picks up his pace not only for his sake but for yours as well. Even under the the protection of his mask you know he's going to break any moment just from the gasps and whines that falls from his mouth.

"Shit, you're so good. S'good for me, always so good f'me." It's panted in between thrusts, the slap of his balls off of your ass filling the silence between words.

"Gonna let me cum in this tight pussy, huh? Gonna -fuck- gonna let a masked killer breed this pretty cunt?"

"Please, wanna feel it drip out of me." It sounds airy and light despite the weight of your request.

It could've been the words that were spoken between the two of you, or maybe it was the visual in your minds, either way it sets the two of you off like fire works.

You release around him with a silent scream, the kind that has your head thrown back and your body arched into his chest. Eddie, on the other hand, moans loudly while tucking his masked head into the crook of your neck.

As the two of you come down from what has probably been your biggest orgasms, you relax into each other. His chest on yours, breathing slowed and synched up, and hearts banging against one another in a soothing rhythm.

Pulling away from you too quickly for your liking, Eddie pulls out of you causing you to hiss from the loss. Pulling off the mask, Eddie looks at where you were once connected, watching as his seed drips from your clenching hole.

"Fuck, that's hot." He rasps out.

You can't help but cover your face with your hands, embarrassment stinging at your cheeks at his raunchy words. Eddie seems to notice your flustered expression, a dopey smile spreading across his red and sweaty cheeks.

"Don't get all shy on me now, baby. You were just begging for this exact thing." It's teasing and playful when he says it but for some odd reason it makes your belly flip with excitement.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." You roll your eyes, even though you're no where near annoyed. "Thank you for doing this for me by the way, 'appreciate it."

The two of you stare at each other with love sick smiles for just a moment, then Eddie is quick to lean over and meet your lips with his own, something you've been wanting this whole time.

"No need to thank me, bub. You know me, willing to do anything and everything your little heart desires." Boping your nose with his ringed finger, he continues to look down at you like you've hung all the stars in the sky.

"Speaking of," He begins to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear nonchalantly, "Any other masks you're into that I should know about? Ya know like Michael Myers, Jason, I don't know the Phantom of the Opera?"

"Stooop it." You drag out, turning your face in order to hide your embarrassment.

"Okay, I quit. M'sorry." Eddie laughs, placing a loving kiss on the heated skin of your cheek.

Excepting the warm embrace, you hum into the feeling of his kiss, letting your heart light with love. The sweet moment is over way quicker than you'd like though, your boyfriend being too quick for your liking.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say it's the Myers mask."

Reaching for a pillow, you throw it right at Eddie's head with a loud thwap. The metal head falls on top of you with a muffled oof, followed by the loud boom of his laughter.

"You're not funny, Mr. Munson." You chastise him, the brown curls of his hair tickling the tip of your nose.

Lifting his face to look at you, his brown eyes are warm and sweet, and his smile is big and bright.

"Yeah? And I think you're beautiful." It's sincere falling from his pretty pink lips, sickeningly sweet. It's so sweet in fact you could get a cavity.

Wrinkling your nose, you try with all your might to stop the smile that begs to be shown. You're quick to lose the battle as your mouth curls upwards and your teeth begin to poke through, shining like the lights on a Christmas tree.

"Also, I love you." Eddie adds, the dimples on his cheeks deepening as his lips stretch more.

Again, you roll your eyes playfully before kissing the sweat soaked skin of his forehead.

"Yeah, well you stole my line, lover boy." You say with a playful kind of irritation. "I love you too."

Thank you all for reading! I'm sorry this was short and not so good. I hope you all enjoyed it. Happy Halloween <3

[crescenthistory]

You and I, We’ve Grown Comfortable Here

Pairing: Lee x Reader

Summary: Two outcasts with nowhere to go decides to go nowhere together. In each other they find shelter, acceptance, intrigue and a bond neither expected to go as deep as it does.

Words: 13.6k

Warnings: not proofread, basically five fics in one (a year of their relationship developing), assault, hints at sexual assault, implied attempted rape, death, murder, cannibalism (bones&all hello), make-out sessions, blood, implied smut(?), panic attacks, implied abusive parents, kicked out of home, living in a car, crying, angst, slow burn, cannibals in love, hurt/much comfort, happy ending, lee's truck being a character in and of itself

A/N: i am so unwell, i wrote this whole thing in the span of ONE day. this man makes me unwell. anyway, if i ever write any other fics or drabbles for lee, unless otherwise specified, presume it is based on this background because i am obsessed with these two.

***

When you saw the headlights, your heart caught in your throat just a little. It was late, too late to be out walking down a relatively abandoned countryroad, too late to even be awake. With only the stars for company, you were dragging your feet as you were walking in the hopes of hitting a camping site soon. You had heard good rumours of one not far away from the town you are putting in your rearview mirror. Metaphorically of course, with no driving liscense or car, all you had to get from one place to another were your shoes and your bravery.

It had been a couple of months since you left home. Whenever you had the opportunity to sleep, you could still hear the shouting and the slamming of doors when your father finally threw you out for good. The home in question had never felt safe for you anyway, you had never fit into the small town cookie cutter they tried to press you into, even when it drew blood.

After all that, you might be best off alone you concluded, and have stuck to that as you made your way through the US. There was nowhere in particular you wanted to go, you just did not want to be tied down anywhere. You wanted to see, explore and feel.

You had been dabbling in hitchhiking over the months, always sending a silent prayer to gods you did not believe in before getting into the strange cars. With a knife always in the pocket of your hoodie, you felt relatively secure that you could defend yourself if worse comes to worse. Yet you knew you can never truly know. You tried to keep your head on you still.

There had not been any cars on the road you were currently occupying for the past two hours. It had, for a glorious moment, felt like yours. Just you and the pavement and the night. So, when the headlights lit you up for behind, you grew a bit weary. Part of you wanted to jump in it, unsure of how long you had left until the campsite, tired to the bone, but you knew you shouldn’t at this hour.

But you were also so incredibly tired.

The rumble of the engine neared closer and the driver dimmed the headlights. On your left, the car drove into view, an old beat up truck, and it was slowing down to stop beside you. Leaning over the passenger seat, a young man peered out through the rolled down window, a messy head of freshly dyed hair shining like a beacon in the dark. He watched you with a face torn between curios and cautious.

“You good?” he called out, trying to be heard over the noise of his car.

You didn’t answer right away. Instinct told you to keep walking, to keep your head down and stay invisible like you’d been doing all night. But something about him made you stop.

You squinted through the light. “What do you think?”

He let out a breathy laugh, the kind that was more habit than humor. "Yeah, didn’t think so." His voice was rough, not unfriendly, but sharp around the edges. He glanced down the empty road and then back at you. "Need a ride or something?"

Every ride so far had been a risk, a quiet leap of faith, and it wasn’t like you had a good track record with trusting people. Your parents had made sure of that, kicking you out like it was nothing, like you were the problem for being too loud, too you.

Still, you couldn’t keep walking forever. And there was something intriguing about this boy, out here alone in the night, just like you.

“I guess that’s where we’re at tonight,” was your response, and he nodded immediately with a halfsmile.

“Fair enough. Where you headed?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“Same,” he said, and for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other across the empty road. Something about him felt different — like he wasn’t just another passerby. You weren’t scared. Maybe that should’ve worried you.

He threw the passenger side door open. “You coming, or what?”

"Depends," you said, raising an eyebrow. "You a serial killer or something?"

He smirked, but there was a hint of something darker in his eyes, something guarded. "Not tonight."

"Comforting," you deadpanned, but you found yourself stepping closer to the truck anyway.

He watched you climb in with a kind of steady calm, like he was waiting for you to make the call. There wasn’t an ounce of threat in him, no leering or weird comments, just quiet, detached curiosity.

The truck smelled faintly of gasoline and something else, something metallic that made the back of your throat tighten, but you ignored it. There was a quiet ease to him, though, like he wasn’t thinking of you as prey – like he wasn’t thinking of you at all, really. He just… was. And it felt like enough.

The silence stretched between you as the truck rumbled down the road. Finally, you turned to him, curiosity itching at your thoughts.

“So, you pick up girls off the side of the road often, or am I just lucky?”

He gave you a side glance, something like amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “Lucky’s a word for it.”

There was something raw in his eyes when he said it, a guarded edge you recognized. You didn’t push it. 

“I heard there is a campsite in the town over, I was thinking of maybe staying the night there,” you said, not wanting him to feel stuck with you in the car forever.

“The Meadows Site? Yeah, I was actually thinking of parking there for the night myself,” he said, giving you a curious glance before looking back to the road. “But it is a few more hours off.”

“Wow, I really am lucky you picked me up then.”

He snorted at that, a sound you somehow hadn’t expected to escape from him, but was amused to hear. You didn’t feel a need to chat further at the moment, and didn’t get the impression he did either. It was not uncomfortable though, the opposite actually. The atmosphere in his truck was comforting, to the point where you would almost fall asleep, though you really should not. Still, there was one thing left to ask.

“What’s your name, kind stranger?” you quipped, teasing tone evident in your voice. He smiled fully then, relaxing more into his seat.

“Lee. And yours, lucky girl?”

You told him your name and settled back into your seat yourself, watching the stars blur into the dark as the truck carried you further and further from everything you’d ever known.

***

It turned out you both had nowhere to go. No one waiting for you at the end of the line. No real reason for him to drive off without you the morning after your night spent in Meadows Site. He had borrowed you a blanket to lay on, thicker than the one you had been surviving on for a while now. After eating breakfast at a shop nearby that he showed you, clearly more familiar in the area than you, it just made sense to get back into the truck with him. That’s how you both rationalised it, as your eyes sparked with interest and entertainment whenever they met. Just made sense.

From that day, Lee’s truck became the closest you had had to a home in months. Maybe even years.

The miles between you and the world grew, but so did the distance between you and the versions of yourselves you left behind. You had nothing to offer each other apart from company, and nothing to lose from spending your days with one another. 

It became easy, almost too easy. Long stretches of road, music humming through the truck's radio, filling the space between the two of you. Conversations about nothing that meant everything — favorite songs, old memories that still hurt, silly stories from childhood, tragedies that were so massive it became intrinsically hilarious to you both, Stories you told in the dead of night when the world felt softer, more forgiving. 

Lee felt true in a way no other had. His company was comfortable, natural. A genuine friend that you could tease, maybe even flirt with a little when the mood struck. Nothing serious you would say. All in good fun, teenagers cruising through the Midwestern countryside.

It felt like forever, though it had only been a few weeks. The truck was a much better bed than the thin blanket you had relied on since you left the house you grew up in. You’d sleep in the backseat, sometimes curled up in the trunk with blankets piled up like a nest. On rare occasions, when exhaustion weighed you both down, you’d spring for a cheap motel, a temporary reprieve from the road.

The more you got to know Lee, the more that sense you had gotten about him on the night you met grew. Something was different about him, something you could taste on your tongue, a kind of unspoken understanding that simmered beneath the surface. You couldn’t explain it, not exactly, but there was something in Lee that reminded you of someone else. It wasn’t just the way he moved or the sharp look in his eyes – it was the way he held himself, the way he watched people, sizing them up like he knew more about them than they’d ever want to know.

You had known someone like that before.

Your uncle.

Your family never talked about him, not after he disappeared, but you remembered the day it happened like a movie in your mind. The last time you saw him. He had come to visit, just passing through, or so he said. You were young, but not young enough to forget the blood that stained his clothes, how his face was drawn, pale, like he was barely holding it together. How his teeth were off-white in a way you had never seen before. He had brushed it off when you asked him, saying he had gotten into a fight, nothing serious, but the way he smelled… it stuck with you.

The metallic tang of blood, the way it clung to him even after he cleaned up, how his eyes seemed wild and unfocused in the dim light of the kitchen. You could never explain it to someone without sounding insane. But yet somehow, you knew what he was. You knew.

Your parents didn’t say much about it then. They just watched him with wary eyes, their faces tight with something close to fear, though they never admitted it. When he left, they didn’t even look at that, and once he was gone they removed all photographs. They never mention him again, not even when you asked. It was like he had never existed. Like he had never even been part of the family.

You never met someone like him again, someone you could feel deep in your bones.

Until Lee. The Lee you looked at as he drove nonchalantly down roads, almost too relaxed to be sitting in a driver’s seat. He made all those pieces you had tucked away begin to slot together, forming a picture that put words to your instincts. The way your uncle had looked that night, the way your own body sometimes seemed to hum with something restless, it was all there, just waiting for you to acknowledge it.

You did not bring it up to him, it never seemed natural. And honestly, you didn’t feel the need to. For some reason, the idea of it all didn’t bother you. Lee was just Lee still, your road companion.

One night, you and Lee had parked the truck somewhere far off the main road, the stars stretched out like a tapestry above you. It was late, the kind of late where the world felt quieter, where the darkness seemed deeper, more honest. You were lying on a blanket in the bed of the truck, side by side, the silence between you comfortable but heavy, like something was waiting to be said.

The two of you had shared a lot already, more than you thought you had in you to share. He was still technically a strange man to you, it had not yet been a month. Still, you felt a bond with him you could not explain. His presence brought you peace in a world too large for you to grasp.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the way his fingers twitched restlessly by his side, like he was working through something in his head. Lee had been quieter than usual lately, more thoughtful, more distant. You didn’t push him – he was always like that, a little withdrawn when he was trying to sort through whatever was going on in his head. But tonight, it felt different. More pointed.

Finally, he broke the silence.

"Do you… know?"

The question caught you off guard. It was so vague, so quiet, that for a second, you weren’t sure if you had heard him right. You turned your head to look at him, but his eyes were still fixed on the stars above, his expression unreadable in the dim light. There was something in his tone, though. Cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you would answer. Like he was afraid to hear it.

You swallowed, your heart picking up speed. "Know what?"

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as he shifted slightly, still not looking at you. It seemed like he had hoped you would not ask. He was always careful, always measured with his words, but this time, you could tell he was holding something back. He exhaled slowly, and then, without turning his head, he said it again, this time more direct.

"About me. About what I am."

There was no uncertainty in you about what he was referring to. There it was, the thing you had been skirting around, the thing neither of you had spoken aloud. You knew, deep down, that this conversation had been coming for a while, with all the time you spent together, but now that it was here, the weight of it felt like a stone settling in your chest.

Your mind raced, memories of your uncle flashing through your thoughts, the blood on his hands, the way your parents had never spoken about him again. The way it all lingered in you like electricity. 

You nodded slowly, your voice quiet. "Yeah. I know."

Lee didn’t move, didn’t say anything for a moment, but you could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his body seemed to coil like a spring, ready to snap. His fingers drummed lightly against the truck bed, a habit he had when he was nervous, though he’d never admit it. 

You wondered how he knew to ask you, if he had seen it in your eyes. You guessed you could ask him. But this moment hung in the air between you with such fragility. It felt like something had shifted irreversibly between you, and you were not yet certain if it was a good thing or not.

When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, strained. "And you… don’t care? Or what? You don’t wanna leave?"

You turned to him fully, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at his face. The starlight cast shadows over his sharp features, but his eyes—his eyes were clear, burning with something raw, something vulnerable he never let anyone else see. They were straining to remain trained on the sky.

"I’m not scared of you, Lee," you said softly, your voice steady but firm. "Or of it. I know who you are. And I know you’re a good person."

Lee’s breath hitched, just for a moment, barely noticeable, but you caught it. His eyes finally flickered toward you, the walls he kept up so carefully starting to crack. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. He just stared at you, a thousand thoughts racing behind his eyes, none of them quite making it out.

He swallowed hard, his voice dropping even lower when he finally spoke. "You don’t even know what I’ve done."

"I don’t need to," you said, your gaze locked on his. "I know you. I’ve been with you this long, and I think I have known all along. And I’m still here."

He stared at you for a long moment, his brow furrowed like he couldn’t believe what you were saying, like he was waiting for you to change your mind. But when you didn’t, when you just kept looking at him like none of it scared you, like you weren’t about to run, something in him seemed to shift. The tension in his shoulders eased, just a little, and he let out a slow, shaky breath.

"Why are you not afraid?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You shook your head, almost wanting to laugh. “You’re just Lee to me.”

Lee looked away again, his eyes tracing the stars, but his mind was far from the night sky. The silence stretched between you once more, but this time, it wasn’t heavy with tension. It felt lighter. Like a weight had been lifted, even if he wasn’t ready to say it yet.

You settled back in beside him, arm grazing his. Comfortable. 

For the first time in a long while, Lee let himself relax. He was always aloof, physically all over the place, but his mind remained alert. Now, he let it fall onto the pillow your words provided. He realized then, though he didn’t say it out loud, that the tightness in his chest, the thing he had been fighting for weeks, it wasn’t just nothing. He didn’t want to think the word, let alone say it. It had crept in slowly, so quietly that he hadn’t noticed it until it was staring him in the face. 

Love didn’t feel safe to him. Love was complicated, messy. Dangerous, even. And yet, here you were, sitting beside him, telling him you weren’t afraid, telling him you knew who he was and that it didn’t matter. That you’d stay.

It was a feeling he didn’t know how to name. Not yet.

He turned back to you, his eyes softer now, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You’re really not gonna leave, huh?"

You laughed a little at how he shared it like a revelation, shaking your head. "Nope. You’re stuck with me."

Lee let out a breathy laugh, a sound that seemed to ease the last bit of tension between you. He looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time since he met you, he felt something close to hope. He didn’t say it, but in that moment, he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep you by his side.

"I could get used to that," he murmured, his voice quiet but sincere.

And as the two of you sat there, side by side under the stars, the unspoken understanding between you deepened, solidified. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t afraid. And for Lee, that was enough.

You fell asleep side by side, just you and the stars.

***

Nights passed like that, over weeks and months, with you and him slowly gravitating closer. 

Whether it be in the seats of the truck or the trunk, you always slept near each other. Originally you slept on either side of the trunk, or in each your seat, but as you spent most of your nights talking until either one of you passed out, it just felt natural to be close by.

Waking up with your limbs accidentally having gotten entangled, faces closer than you ever would be when conscious became a norm. The first time it happened, Lee woke first, but did not move until you woke, revelling in the touch of your body against his. Eyes studying your calm face, fully convinced this would be his only opportunity to be this close to you. When you came to, he pretended your movements woke him.

Neither of you spoke of it. There was no need to. Some things didn’t need words.

The more you got used to waking up entangled, the more intimate it became. You would find yourself laying on top of Lee’s chest, or his face would be tucked into the crook of your neck. Once this started happening, you both happened to begin to prefer sleeping in the trunk.

Despite your increasing comfort with each other, the nights were never completely peaceful. Sometimes you would wake up to find him gone, wandering somewhere. It was usually in the aftermath of a nightmare, but you also knew that he sometimes had other reasons for being gone.

You woke up in the middle of the night, the truck’s trunk feeling too empty, too cold. Instinctively, your hand reached over the space where Lee usually lay beside you, but all you felt was the crumpled fabric of his jacket. He wasn’t there. For a few seconds, you blinked in the darkness, groggy, your mind slow to catch up with the situation. The air felt wrong, too still, too quiet. That was when you noticed the faint sounds of movement just beyond the trees, down near the creek.

When possible, you two tried to park near a body of water, so you had the opportunity to wash up. You had also mentioned to Lee how relaxing you found lakes, and he started planning his routes around it after that.

You could hear heavy breathing and splashing by the water. Without thinking, you slipped out of the trunk, pulling on one of Lee’s hoodies he had discarded beside your blankets, and you quietly padded down toward the sounds. The moon hung low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the water, and that was when you saw him.

Lee was crouched near the edge of the creek, his shoulders tense, his hands dipped in the water. The pale light from the moon caught on his skin, but more than that, it illuminated the dark smudges smeared across his neck and arms. Blood.

He had not heard you yet, too focused on what he was doing – trying to scrub the blood away with frantic, almost desperate movements. He was shaking, his body too tense, like he was on the verge of unraveling. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, the material soaked in water and blood. His hair, usually a mess of carefully maintained chaos, stuck to his forehead in sweat-soaked strands.

For a moment, you didn’t move. You just watched him, heart aching at how broken he looked. It wasn’t like the Lee you were used to. This wasn’t the confident, quippy guy who could brush off anything with a smirk. No, this was the other side of him, the side he didn’t let you see. The one that carried all the weight of what he did, of who he was. The one that bled in more ways than just physically.

“Lee?” Your voice was soft, careful. You didn’t want to startle him, but you couldn’t just stand there, watching him like this.

He froze for a moment, his hands stilling in the water. He didn’t look up at you right away, just stared down at his own reflection rippling in the creek. “Go back to the truck,” he said, his voice rough, a little shaky. “I’m fine.”

But you could hear it. He wasn’t fine. Not even close.

A closer look at where he was sitting, you could see that he wasn’t fine physically either, his torn shirt revealing scratches across his upper body, bruises already forming along his arms in the moonlight. Whoever encountered your Lee tonight had put up a fight.

You ignored him, stepping closer, your bare feet sinking into the wet grass near the water’s edge. “You’re hurt.”

He let out a harsh breath, finally looking up at you. His face was pale, a little gaunt under the moonlight. His eyes, usually so sharp and full of something unreadable, were glassy. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, turning back to the water. “I’m just cleaning up.”

But you could see the way his hands trembled, how his movements were too rough, too quick, like he was trying to scrub the guilt away more than the blood. You stepped closer until you were beside him, crouching down at his level.

“Lee, look at me.”

He didn’t. His jaw tightened, and he kept scrubbing, the water turning pink as it mixed with the blood on his skin. 

"Lee," you said again, firmer this time, reaching out to gently touch his arm. 

He finally stopped, his hands hovering just above the surface of the water, but still wouldn’t look at you. “You weren’t supposed to see this,” he muttered, voice raw. “You weren’t supposed to—” He cut himself off, his shoulders hunching forward like he was folding into himself. “Shit.”

"What is wrong with me seeing this?" you asked quietly, your fingers tracing the outline of a bruise forming along his arm. "Why do you have to fix it yourself?"

He swallowed hard, still staring at the water. "Because you don’t need to deal with this. With me. You didn’t sign up for… any of this." His voice wavered at the edges, frustration mixing with exhaustion.

You shook your head, biting back the sting in your own chest. "You think I care about blood? About this? I knew what I was getting into, I told you so. If you’re hurt, I want to help."

He finally looked at you then, his expression flickering with something like disbelief. “You shouldn’t have to… see me like this. Like some… fuckin’ monster. No, no.”

“You’re not a monster,” you said firmly, and you didn’t waver. You tightened your grip on his forearm. You could see the bruises, the blood streaking down his neck in shapes that looked like somebody had scratched at him, put up a fight. You saw the way he clenched his jaw like he was holding everything in, trying not to crack open. You saw the way his eyes flickered with guilt, shame, like he couldn’t stand himself in that moment. The same boy that laughed with you in the car, who played jokes on strangers. Who usually tried to seem totally content with this lifestyle of his.

"Yes, I am," he whispered, his voice breaking. "You don’t… understand what it’s like. To have to do this, to –"

"I don’t have to understand everything," you cut him off, your hand sliding up to his neck, gently brushing through his damp hair. "But I know you. And I know you don’t have to do this alone. That is my choice, and I choose to be here for you."

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment like he was trying to pull himself together. But when he opened them again, you saw the vulnerability in them, the rawness that he tried so hard to keep hidden. He was struggling, fighting to keep himself together, to not fall apart in front of you.

You sat down beside him fully now, your knees brushing his, your hand still resting at the back of his neck. “Let me help.”

He hesitated, his pride fighting against the offer, but he was too tired to resist for long. Slowly, he nodded, his body slumping in defeat as he let you take over.

You helped him take of his torn t-shirt, leaving him bare to reflect the moonlight, and dipped it into the creek. The cold water soaking through the fabric as you carefully brought it back up to his skin, gently wiping away the dried blood from his face, his arms. He winced slightly when you dabbed at a few deeper cuts near his ribs, but he didn’t pull away.

"You don’t have to pretend with me," you said quietly, your eyes focused on cleaning him up. "You don’t have to be strong all the time."

Lee didn’t respond right away. He just watched you, his eyes following the way you moved, the way your touch was soft, careful. He let out a low breath, something like relief mixing with the exhaustion in his voice. “I hate that you’re seeing me like this.”

“Why?” You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Because you’re hurt? Or because you’re human?”

He laughed roughly at that, shaking his head slightly. “I haven’t felt human in a long time.”

You paused, your hand stilling for a moment before you continued cleaning the blood from his neck. “You feel human to me.”

He went quiet again, his eyes studying you, the way you didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away from the mess of him. For a long time, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the gentle ripple of the creek as you worked, the soft splash of water as you wrung out the bloody fabric.

“He-” Lee began but his voice broke. You were patient, continuing to tend to him as he seemed to wrestle with whether to continue the sentence. Eventually: “He was a bad guy. I always try to make sure they are.”

It broke your heart to hear the pleading undertone of what he was saying. What he was trying to convey to you.

You weren’t entirely sure what the best response was, but you settled on telling him you believed him.

When you were done, you leaned back slightly, your hands resting on your thighs as you looked him over. He still had some bruises that would take time to heal, but most of the blood was gone, his skin clean again under the moonlight. None of his scratches were in need of any serious medical intervention, but you made a mental note to stop by a pharmacy in the morning regardless.

“There,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Better.”

Lee stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. Then, without warning, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this.”

You closed your eyes, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “I want to.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move, just stayed there, eyes closed and his forehead resting against yours. His breath slowly steadying as he let himself lean on you, just for a little while.

“Thank you,” he murmured, so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

You smiled slightly, your hand moving to the back of his neck again, gently threading your fingers through his hair. “I told you. You’re not alone.”

“Not alone,” he mumbled and wiggled his forehead against yours briefly before pulling back and getting up.

He stretched a hand out to you, ready to pull you back with him to the truck.

***

A few states had ended up in your rearview mirror since you turned that creek pink and your hearts slightly softer. The atmosphere between you had shifted yet again, growing deeper and deeper each time. There was no acknowledgement of it, but there didn’t need to be. In the unspokeness, you could grow bolder. The touches, the glances, they took up more and more space in your increasingly small truck. You would yet again wake up in each other’s arms, and it no longer felt accidental.

It was the small things, too. The way his hand would brush yours when you walked side by side, or how he let his fingers linger a moment longer when you passed him something. The way your legs would press together in the truck when you shared the cramped front seat, neither of you moving away. Sometimes, when the truck was pulled off the road and you were both leaning against it, talking under the stars, his knee would bump against yours, and instead of pulling back, he let it stay there.

It felt like you were both waiting for something. The tension was not sharp, it was warm, almost inviting. You both knew what was next, but neither of you had made the move to cross that last, thin line.

You and Lee had spent the evening like you always did—driving, talking, letting the hours slip away into easy silences and the occasional laugh. Planning where to head to next. You had decided to drive to see the silliest places you could find, asking random strangers was the weirdest tourist attraction they have heard of is. On the list is Ben and Jerry’s Flavor Graveyard, the world largest ball of paint and a nuclear waste adventure trail. The night had come over you, and you ended up parked on the outskirts of a town, the lights from them illuminating you even in the dark. The two of you sat on the hood of the truck, your legs dangling off the edge, shoulders brushing.

He was quieter tonight. You could sense it in the way his gaze kept drifting over to you, then back to the stars. His hand rested on the metal beside you, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm, like he was thinking through something he had not decided on yet. But it wasn’t the usual restlessness that seemed to rule Lee’s entire existence. This was something different. Something quieter.

You nudged him gently with your shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet for a guy who never shuts up.”

He huffed a laugh, his head tilting toward you, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

You smiled, your eyes catching the faint light of the stars reflecting in his. It was moments like this that you felt the pull most strongly – the way his face softened when he wasn’t trying to keep his guard up, the way he let you see parts of him he didn’t show anyone else. There was something magnetic about Lee when he wasn’t hiding. It made you want to keep his doors open, to take them off their hinges.

His hand shifted, almost imperceptibly, his fingers brushing against yours on the deck of the trunk. It was barely a touch, just the faintest hint of skin against skin, but you felt it like a jolt, a reminder of how close you both were. You didn’t pull away, and neither did he. 

The silence stretched between you again, thick with something unspoken. It struck you how much serenity you felt in your soul in the silences with him, even when there was something brewing in it. You could feel him beside you, the warmth of him, the way his breath had slowed, his body still as if he was waiting for something.

Your fingers twitched, brushing against his again, and this time, you didn’t hesitate. You turned your hand over, palm up, an invitation as much as it was a question. Lee glanced down at your hand, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, like he had so many times before. But instead, his fingers curled slowly around yours, his grip gentle but sure, and your breath caught in your throat.

Neither of you spoke. The understanding that had hung between you for weeks was right there, all you had to do was lean into it.

“Lee,” you whispered, not even sure what you were asking. You liked having his name in your mouth. 

He turned his body towards you at his name, shifting closer, eyes locked on yours. You could see the hesitation there, the way his brow furrowed slightly, like he was still fighting something inside himself, still holding back.

But you weren’t. Not anymore.

You leaned in, closing the space between you before you could second-guess yourself, your lips brushing his softly, testing. Just once, enough to give him an out, enough to say I’m here, if you are.

For a moment, nothing happened. Lee stayed perfectly still against you, his breath caught, his fingers tightening around yours. Then, slowly, almost tentatively, he leaned in further, his lips pressing back against yours, soft and warm. Open mouthed, lovingly.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate like you might have imagined. It was careful, deliberate, like he was letting himself feel it for the first time, like he wanted to make sure it was real. His free hand came up, brushing lightly against your jaw, his fingers tracing the edge of your face, almost as if he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on.

You deepened the kiss further, savouring his touches, the feeling of his tongue against yours. Your hand glided up to his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. Slow but steady, the tension between you finally breaking in the gentlest way possible. It was like everything that had been building between you – every touch, every glance, every unspoken word – was spilling into that moment, into the way his lips moved against yours, into the way he held you like you were the only thing to hold.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. Lee’s eyes were still closed, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if grounding himself in the moment, his lips parted, trying to catch his breath.

You stayed like that for a while, it didn’t matter how long. Few things mattered, you had found. Lee did. 

When he finally opened his eyes, they were unguarded in a way you hadn’t seen before. He didn’t smile, but the look in his eyes said enough. He was here, with you, in whatever this was.

He whispered your name, a late response.

You hummed with a smile, your fingers still tangled in his shirt. No words were needed. There were none that could be said, not now, not yet. 

Lee chuckled softly, a sound that felt more like relief than anything else. He slid down from leaning against the truck, to laying on the deck, still not letting go of your hand. You followed suit, for the first time purposefully laying your body half on top of his, head resting on his chest. 

No more waiting.

There was a whole civilisation right before you, just out of reach, but for the first time in a long time, you weren’t thinking about the next destination. You were here, together, and that was all that mattered.

***

Once that barrier was breached, you and Lee found yourself stealing kisses of varying intensity more often than not. There was no label on the two of you, with your pasts you both were guarded from being the first to admit the intensity behind your actions. Yet, the need to be close was not dissipating as the days passed, if anything it only grew the more of a taste you got for each other.

One night, you found yourselves at a dive bar on the edge of some no-name town. The music thumped through the walls, too loud and too fast, but it matched the energy buzzing between you and Lee. The dim lights made everything look a little hazy, like the whole world was moving in slow motion. Lee leaned against the bar, his back to the crowd, his eyes fixed on you as you stood close to him, sipping on a cheap cider that barely tasted like anything. He hadn’t drank much tonight, which made the way he was looking at you feel even more intense.

There was something magnetic about him, the way he carried himself, the way his arm seemed to naturally find its way around your shoulders when in public, protective and possessive without being overbearing. You could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes, and you leaned into it, enjoying the comfort of his touch. 

It was late, and the air between you was only magnifying your need for him, his fingers barely touching yours on the bartop like he was daring you to pull him closer. He only moved them to order another round from the bartender, shooting you a wicked grin.

“Thoughts?” he asked you as he handed you your new drink.

“This place isn’t too bad. The guy at the bar isn’t either.” The smile you flashed him was teasing and he all but rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess we’re both alright.”

You were about to make some quip about his soft spot for dive bars when a figure caught your eye, and you tensed. A guy had sidled up to the bar a few feet away, his eyes fixed on you, too interested, too familiar. You glanced at Lee, but he was already clocking the guy, his body going still beside you, though his expression didn’t change.

The guy stumbled closer, his drink sloshing in his hand. “You two look like you’re having a good time,” he slurred, his gaze flicking between you and Lee with a smirk that made your skin crawl.

Lee’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away from the guy. His look could draw blood, but his voice stayed calm, almost flat. “We were.”

The guy either didn’t notice your discomfort and Lee’s adverse stance, or he just didn’t care. He leaned in a little closer, still grinning like this was all a joke. “Come on, man. Just trying to talk to her.”

You didn’t have time to respond before Lee shifted, his arm moving in one fluid motion to slide around your waist, pulling you against him in a way that felt natural, like he was drawing a line in the sand. “She’s not interested,” he said, voice low and steady, but you could feel the warning beneath the surface.

The guy blinked, clearly caught off guard by Lee’s calm intensity, and he let out a nervous laugh. “Hey, man, no need to get all protective. Just having fun.”

Lee kept staring him down, his grip on you tight, steadying you as much as he was putting space between you and the guy. “Well, you’re done,” he said, still in that same measured tone, like he wasn’t giving the guy a choice in the matter. “Go back to your drink.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, backing off with a muttered, “Alright, alright. Chill.” Slunking back into the crowd, he cast a few annoyed glances over his shoulder, but lacked the bravery to follow up on his annoyance.

Lee’s body was still taut with that lingering tension, eyes scanning the room again before he finally let out a breath. He didn’t pull away from you though, his hand resting on your hip as if he needed the contact to remind himself that you were alright.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, his voice softer now as he finally looked down at you, concern flickering behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you whispered, trying to take in what just happened and how swiftly Lee handled it. Never before have you gotten away from a situation with a creepy man so fast. 

“Are you?” you eventually asked, looking up to see his jaw still slightly clenched.

He nodded, his expression softening slightly as he glanced down to meet your eyes. "Yeah. Just don’t like guys like that."

You smiled a little, leaning into him, your hand resting lightly on his chest. "I noticed."

His lips quirked into a small grin, and it felt easy again, back to just the two of you, even in this crowded bar. "You ready to get out of here?" he asked, his voice low, his breath warm against your skin now that you stood so close.

“Think so.” You finished your drink and without another word, he took your hand, leading you out into the cool night air. 

The bar’s noise faded into the background as the two of you walked back to the truck, your fingers still intertwined with his. There was something about the way he was holding your hand that made your heart race. It was tighter than normal, his thumb brushing over your skin.

You stopped by the passenger side door and Lee immediatley closed the gap between you, pressing you gently against the side of the truck. His hands rested on your hips, it was as if he had realised he could place them there now. When his gaze met yours, his eyes flickered with something dangerous, something raw.

"You know," he murmured, his voice rough, "I will always protect you. In any situation.”

You almost didn’t know what to say. It was so simple, yet he poured so much emotion into those words, and you felt them entirely.

“I do know,” you whispered. “I have never felt safety like this before.” The last part felt like a confession more than an answer. 

Lee’s breath hitched and he laid his forehead against yours, leaning more of his body against yours, so you were flush between him and the metal of the car.

“I’ve been trying not to kiss you all night. You’ve made it difficult.” Lee looked into your eyes as he said it, searching your face for a reaction. His pupils were wide, gaze intense.

You felt a shiver run through you at his words, the heat between you burning brighter. "Then stop trying."

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His lips crashed into yours with a force that knocked the breath out of you, one hand sliding up to grip your face while the other remained held your hips tighter, closer. His kisses were always languid, open-mouthed and passionate. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair and pulling at it as you kissed him back with equal intensity, your body arching against his. His mouth was warm and demanding, and when he kissed you, it felt like everything else in the world fell away.

The kiss deepened quickly, his hands moving up under your shirt, the cool air mixing with the heat of his touch. His mouth trailed down to your jaw, your neck, each kiss igniting sparks along your skin. You gasped softly, tilting your head to give him better access, your fingers travelling to dig into the skin of his back

"God," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and breathless, like he could barely control himself.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, merging under the stars, the truck a silent witness to the way your bodies moved together, the way you couldn’t seem to get close enough. You lost track of time, lost track of everything except the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your skin. He was beginning to become your Lee.

***

Living with Lee changed you in many ways, but the most important was that for the first time in your life, you felt free. Whether it was the boy’s attitude or his attentiveness to you, or the roads that stretched for miles like ink on paper, you settled into your own body and existence. You owned yourself and your destiny in a way you didn’t think possible.

As you shared more of yourselves with each other, you realised just how repressed you had been, just how much of you had been shut off. In your newfound safety in Lee, you could open up.

Things long locked away were stirring within you. Some painful, some exciting. And some, you didn’t have the words to describe yet.

For the time being, you were on a quest to a museum of the history of cheese that an old lady at a café had been raving to you about. It was another state over, but this sweet woman insisted it was worth it, and as you were the ones who asked her about a recommendation, you felt it only right to trust her word.

On the way there, you were stopping in a typical shittown, the kind where nothing really happens but somehow everyone knows everyone else’s business. Craving excitement after a long day in the car with your feet in Lee’s lap, you asked him to go looking through town for something to do. There was a bonfire party that night, something thrown together by a group of locals, and you figured that would do.

 The fire crackled in the center of the gathering in the middle of the forest, the air heavy with smoke and alcohol. Lee’s arm was slung loosely around your shoulders as you walked through, scouting the place.

"You wanna stay long?" he asked, voice low in your ear.

You shook your head, leaning into him a little. "Nah. Let’s just see how it goes."

He nodded, but you could feel the tension in him, like he was always keeping one eye on the crowd. That protective streak ran deep in him, and you couldn’t help but wonder where it came from.

The two of you settled down on a log by the fire, chatting with some locals and getting your kick out of listening to them drawl away about town drama. A man had been circling where you were sat, both you and Lee noticed, but he never approached.

Needing to get some water from the truck, you squeezed Lee’s leg and told him you’d be right back.

He let his arm fall from around you to let you up, but looked at you with concern. “Don’t be long.” You just smiled. He watched you go, his eyes lingering on you longer than you realized.

You were walking back with water in hand, still on the outskirts of the bonfire and shielded from view when you saw the man coming up towards you. He looked the exact same as every man who had been a bother to you since you began life on your own and your stomach soured.

"Hey," the guy’s voice was a slurred mix of alcohol and bravado, his grin too wide, too familiar. "Why’d you leave your pretty boy toy behind? Done with him and ready for me?"

Your skin prickled with unease, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “I’m good. You should head back.”

He ignored you, stepping closer. "Come on, don’t be like that. We’re vibing, right?"

He reached for you, his hand brushing your arm, and you jerked back instinctively. “Don’t touch me.”

The grin on his face faltered, replaced with something darker. “You’re just playing hard to get,” he muttered, his voice low and threatening now. "Girls like you always do."

“Back off!” you tried, but he took quick steps toward you.

Your heart raced, and before you could step away, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with bruising force. You twisted, trying to wrench yourself free, but he was stronger than he looked. His other hand moved to his pocket, and when he pulled out the glint of a blade, panic surged through you.

"Stop –"

"You’re not going anywhere –"

What happened next was a blur—a clash of instincts, fear driving your body into overdrive. He lifted the knife towards your throat, likely to threathen and not harm in the moment, but you could not wait to see how that would turn out. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, your hands lashed out, grabbing his wrist with one and prying the knife away with another. Suddenly the blade was in your hand, and when he threw himself on top of you, you shoved him off with one hand and used the knife with the other. 

It found its home in his neck.

You scrambled away, not yet realising what had just happened. At your hands. You stared at him in shock where he laid in front of you, the sounds sickening, wet gurgle as his throat opened up. Blood poured out in a thick stream, hot and fast, soaking his shirt.

In shock and desperation, you grabbed at the wound as if to counteract what you had just done, but he took that opportunity to grab you by the hair and neck, attempting to choke you. Fear surged through you once more, but his once-hard grip was already weakening and you could wrestle free.

By the time you recovered and looked up, the life had drained from his eyes. All you could hear was your breathing and the pulse in your head.

You could smell the blood. On your hands, on his clothes, still oozing from his wound. It was dizzying, the world becoming distant as you were trapped inside this bubble that consisted of the two of you. You and the corpse.

You realised you had never seen a corpse before, not in person. Smelling fresh blood was different from smelling it once it had harkened on Lee’s skin. Not even the thought of Lee could drag you out of the state you were slowly being pulled into.

Without fully acknowledging your movements, you moved back towards the man, the one who had wished you dead and died by his own knife. Your eyes were fixated on his wound, something building inside of you at a rapid speed. A coil built in your stomach, one you had known was there for essentially forever, without the ability to give it a name.

It snapped. And as it did, you leaned down and sunk your teeth into his neck.

Everything felt right, not the kind of comfortable right you had developed with Lee, it felt like your body was finally getting air after a long period of suffocation, it felt like water after a long run. It felt like a meal after having been starving.

Your face was buried further and further in the flesh, your mind completely void of all thoughts. Just your fingers and teeth, blood and bone. Feral, instinctive, lost in the hunger that just kept building, like it was never enough. 

"Shit."

A switch went off, and you were snapped back to reality. The smell of forest pine and moss, bonfire and smoke crept back in. As you slowly lifted your gaze, you saw him standing at the edge of the clearing, eyes wide, his face pale in the moonlight. His gaze was locked on you, and for the first time since you met him, you saw real shock on his face. Not fear exactly, but something close. Something you didn’t expect.

Horror.

“Lee…” Your voice broke, barely a whisper. The reality of what you’d just done hit you all at once, crashing into you like a wave. “Oh, God.”

Your eyes flashed back down and suddenly it was as if you realised you had a corpse at your feet. You scrambled backwards, breathing quickening, horrified and lost. You stared at your hands as tears were beginning to blur your vision, only worsened by how you couldn’t even see your skin’s colour through all the blood. Small curses kept spilling out past your lips as your eyes darted between the man, your hands and Lee.

“I– I didn’t mean to, I–” Your voice broke.

Lee took a step forward, his face still a mask of shock. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen in place, staring at the blood smeared across your skin. He’d always sensed something in you, always felt that you and him were the same in some way, but this… this was different. He hadn’t smelled it on you before. He had no idea.

“I didn’t– I don’t know what happened, I just–” You couldn’t make sense of it. Of anything. Your world was turned upside down.

“Hey.” Lee had made his way over to you, sitting on his knees in front of you. His voice snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts, low and firm but not harsh. He closed the distance between you grabbing your arm, pulling you up from the ground. His grip was steady, but there was urgency in it now. “We gotta go.”

You blinked at him, still in shock, the reality of what you’d done slowly settling in. “But –”

“I know, I know, okay?” He pulled on a piece of hair plastered to your skin by blood, tucking it behind your hair. “I get it. But we gotta go. Now.” His voice cut through your haze of confusion and guilt. He didn’t wait for you to respond, didn’t give you the chance to argue. He grabbed you by the waist, practically lifting you off your feet as he dragged you away from the body and into the trees.

The world around you blurred as he pulled you through the forest, his grip firm, unyielding. The pounding in your head drowned out everything else– the sound of the party, the crackle of the bonfire, the smell of blood still clinging to you. All you could think about was what you had just done. What it meant. What you were.

By the time you reached the truck, you were shaking, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Lee shoved you into the passenger seat, his hand still gripping your arm like he was afraid you might bolt. He climbed in beside you, slamming the door shut, his face hard and unreadable as he started the engine.

For a while, there was nothing but the hum of the road, the world outside the truck a blur of dark trees and empty stretches of highway. Lee didn’t say anything, his eyes locked on the road ahead, his grip tight on the wheel. Mind racing almost as fast as the car, as he sped down the highway, determined to get as far away from the scene as possible. You sat beside him, leaning your head on the dashboard in front of you as you tried to gather yourself. Your hands still trembling, blood still drying on your skin. 

You could barely breathe, the walls of the truck closing in around you. The reality of what you had done hit you again, harder this time. You had killed someone. Eaten someone.

You choked on a sob, tears already streaking the blood on your face. Your chest was tightening, your vision blurring. “Lee, I–”

There was no way for you to finish the sentence.

With your eyes clenched shut, hidden away, making yourself as small as possible in your seat, you couldn’t see the pained look he gave you. He needed to protect you by putting distance between you and the crime. But all he wanted was to pull you close.

“It’s okay. I will stop as soon as I can. It’s okay.” 

Eventually he caught eye of a discreet sideroad and veered the truck down it as fast as possible. He slammed on the brakes, parking the car on a plot of grass by a river. The engine cut off, leaving the night in a sudden, heavy silence. In the blink of an eye, Lee was out of the truck, opening your door to pull you out as well. You were too out of it, not processing anything that was happening. He ended up scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal style down to the riverside. 

One bloody bride that is.

He sat you down by the water, his hands still firm on your arms, not giving you room to break down yet. "Sit here." His voice was softer now, but still edged with urgency. He knelt beside you, shrugging off his jacket and dipping it into the water. The cold night air hit your skin, but you barely felt it, still lost in the haze of panic.

You sat there, frozen, as he started to clean the blood off your hands, your arms, your face, as carefully as he could when hurrying. His touch was careful, deliberate, the way it had been when you first found him at the creek, battered and trying to clean himself up. But there was something different this time, something softer, more protective, like he wasn’t just cleaning the blood away, but trying to take some of the weight of it with him. Like he was saying, You don’t have to carry this alone. His jaw was clenched, eyes focused entirely on you, like he was trying to fix you, trying to put you back together piece by piece.

“Lee,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Am I–?” You couldn’t finish the sentence.

He paused, his hands stilling for just a second before he looked up at you. His expression softened, something breaking in his eyes. He reached up with a wet hand, brushing over your cheek and simultaneously cleaning some blood off. "You don’t have to be scared of it," he murmured, his voice low, steady. "Or of me."

You blinked, tears welling in your eyes. "I don’t understand."

“I’m here.” His fingers remained on your face, wiping away the tears before they could fall too far. “I’m not going anywhere. You hear me?”

You gave a faint nod. 

For a long moment, neither of you said anything, the weight of what had just happened hanging between you. He kept trying to get as much blood as possible off you, making you presentable again both in case someone saw you and to help you feel normal again. He didn’t try to explain it, didn’t try to rationalize it. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “He attacked me, I protected myself and then, then–”

“I know,” he said quietly, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I know.”

Lee made sure your face and hands were free from blood, and then he helped you out of your stained sweater, leaving you in just your top underneath. He discarded it quick and turned back to you, grabbing your shaking hands.

“We need to move again, sweetheart” he said, voice low but certain. “We can’t stay too close.”

He stood up, reaching out to pull you up with him. His movements were quiet, purposeful. He didn’t rush you, but there was a tension in the air now, like he was calculating the next move. You could tell his mind was already working ahead, mapping out the quickest way to get you both far from the scene, far from the mess you left behind.

Your legs wobbled as you stood, your body still weak from the adrenaline crashing out of your system, but Lee’s grip on you was firm, guiding you back toward the truck. He opened the passenger door, helping you in before sliding into the driver’s seat. He tentatively took your hand with the one that wasn’t on the steering wheel, rubbing circles on it with his thumb as a silent comfort. The truck rumbled to life beneath you, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of the engine, drowning out the thoughts you didn’t want to face.

"I didn’t know it would feel like this," you whispered once you were back on the road, your voice shaking. "I never… I didn’t think I’d ever be like this."

Lee was quiet for a moment, his eyes trained on the road, like he was thinking carefully about what to say next. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, though there was something distant in it, like he was pulling from his own memories. "First time I fed… I couldn’t stop shaking afterward. Not ‘cause of the blood. It was the way it felt. Right and wrong all at once. Like it was something I was supposed to be ashamed of, but my body just didn’t care."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting you in a way that made your chest tighten. It was exactly how you felt – the rush of power, the satisfaction of feeding, mixed with the horror of what you had done. You had never wanted this, but it was like your body had decided for you.

"I didn’t want to stop," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t even think about it. I just… gave in."

Lee turned to you, his eyes soft but serious, and for a moment, you could see the weight of his own guilt mirrored in his expression. "That’s what it does. That’s what the hunger is." He paused, his jaw clenching briefly before he continued. "It takes over. And once it does… it’s like you don’t have a choice anymore. You just need."

You shivered, wrapping an arm around your stomach, trying to shake off the phantom feeling of the blood on your skin, the taste of it still faint on your lips. "I’m going to need it now,” you said, the realisation setting in. “How do I handle that?”

He exhaled slowly, and you saw the streetlights reflected in his eyes as they grew somewhat glossy. "You learn. Little by little. You get to know the hunger, learn how to control it instead of letting it control you. I will help you with it. You won’t do it alone.”

The tears you’d been holding back started to spill over, and you turned away, trying to hide your face. "I don’t really know what to do with myself now.”

He remained quiet, just held your hand tighter. 

For a long while, you just sat there, letting the silence and the weight of his words wash over you. The night felt vast around you, you realised now that Lee had rolled down the windows for you. Likely to help you breathe better. You should have known Lee would understand, because of course he would. Yet, there had been fear that he would be angry, disgusted. He wasn’t, not even a little bit. If anything, he was calm. Steady. Like this wasn’t something that could break you.

He built a little bit of confidence you, even as you felt your insides caving in.

The road stretched out ahead of you in silence, the dark trees a blur outside the windows. Lee was counting the miles until it would be safe to stop for the night, just a little bit longer. The truck was filled by spiraling thoughts from you both.

Lee had to stop himself from going down a rabbithole of blaming himself. Thinking that he influenced you, that maybe, if you hadn’t met him you never would have discovered this part of you. He wanted to hate himself, he wanted to break down, but with every glance over at you he knew he couldn’t. Your feelings were what mattered tonight. He knew he needed to keep it together to guide you through it. 

You had been crying on and off for the past hour, struggling with too many emotions at once. To process the assault and the intense fear you felt. Guilt consumed you, but not necessarily for killing the man, as you knew you had to, but then you felt guilty about your lack of guilt, and it was a never ending spiral. You felt horrible about feeding on him, about the discovery that you were an eater. When it was Lee it didn’t bother you, because, as you had come to realise, you just loved him. You know he is good. But you? That one was harder.

Then, your mind went to more practical matters. You had killed someone, feasted upon their body and then abandoned it. There were so many layers of illegal in those actions, and a new kind of fear and panic grabbed you.

Lee had seen these emotions develop in his peripheral, subconsciously speeding a bit faster, looking for somewhere safe to stop.

Your chest began to tighten, the panic from earlier threatening to bubble up. “Lee…” Your voice cracked, barely holding itself together. “What if someone finds out?”

He glanced at you briefly, his face unreadable. “They won’t.”

“But–”

“We’re not going back. Not to that town, not anywhere near it.” His voice was firm, cutting through your panic with the same intensity he had used earlier. “By the time they realize anything, we’ll be long gone. We’re already long gone.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they didn’t settle the storm in your chest. You squeezed your hands together, spotting some leftover blood around your cuticle. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the air in the truck was too thick, too stifling. The man’s corpse was laying on top of your lungs and you were suffocating.

“Lee… I…” You gasped, scratching at your skin, your vision starting to blur. You couldn’t catch your breath, couldn’t think past the overwhelming guilt, the horror of what you’d done.

He called your name, but you couldn’t register anything anymore.

The truck swerved again as Lee pulled off the road, gravel crunching under the tires as he pulled up to a small clearing, hidden behind a stretch of trees. An answered prayer. 

He immediatley turned to you, his brow furrowed with concern, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "Hey. Hey, breathe. Sweetheart, I think you’re having a panic attack."

You tried to speak, but your words got caught and you were doubling over in the space that felt more and more confining.

In a swift motion, Lee had pulled you over the console and into his lap, opening the door beside him to let in as much air as possible. He held you securely, tight grip meant to ground you as he tried to talk you down.

With a hand on your cheek, he made you meet his eyes. "Look at me. You gotta breathe, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. Focus on me."

You tried, but the panic had taken hold, your mind spiraling out of control. "I killed him. I killed him, and–"

"I know," Lee cut you off, his voice soft but firm. "You did. But it’s fine. It is fine, you are fine. I know. But you’re gonna be okay. You’re not in danger. Just breathe. Please breathe."

His words didn’t allow for you to argue, quelling your disagreements before you could make them. He cupped your face, stroking his thumb along your jaw, and exaggerated his breathing so you could follow it. In and out. He was so close, his eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, all you could focus on was him. He was pulling you back from the edge.

"Breathe," he repeated, his voice a low murmur. "That’s all you need to do right now."

You closed your eyes, following his lead, trying to pull air into your lungs the way he told you. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Slowly, painfully, the tightness in your heart began to ease, your breath coming in shaky but more controlled gasps.

When you opened your eyes again, Lee was still watching you, his hand still gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing away the tears you hadn’t noticed falling. "There you go." His voice barely above a whisper. "Just like that."

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch, your body still trembling but no longer on the verge of breaking. "I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice fragile and raw.

Lee shook his head, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong."

You wanted to argue, to tell him that you had done something wrong, something unforgivable, but the way he was looking at you – like you weren’t broken, like you weren’t some monster, made the words die in your throat.

"I’ve got you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. "I always got you. You’re good."

The weight of his words, the certainty in them, settled deep in your chest, pushing back the panic, the fear. You weren’t alone in this. You had Lee. You always had Lee.

You stayed like that for a while, just sitting in his lap in the truck, your breath finally steadying as the night stretched out around you. You didn’t notice how hard you were holding onto Lee, clutching his shirt and even some skin, but he didn’t say anything either. He just stayed beside you, his hands never leaving you, grounding you, pulling you back from the edge every time the panic threatened to take over again.

You breathed together. Through it all.

After what felt like hours, he finally spoke, his voice quiet but sure. "Let’s get settled down, okay?”

You nodded, too tired to argue, too drained to do anything but follow his lead. Lee helped you out of the seat, his arm steady around your waist as he guided you down. He went around the truck, gathering the blankets from the backseat, more than he would usually grab, and set up your usual makeshift bed in the trunk as quickly as possible.

Together, you climbed into the softness he had created just for you. It felt odd to do something so familiar when it felt like everything had changed. Lee had not, still watching you, as he leaned back against the cab of the truck. You pulled on one of his sweaters, settling in beside him. He tangled your feet together and grabbed your hand, but didn’t initiate more than that, expectantly waiting for you to process your thoughts out loud with him.

Your eyes were slightly glossy again when you whispered, "Thank you."

He shook his head, immediately softening. "You don’t have to thank me."

"I do," you whispered, your voice catching. "You didn’t have to do any of this. And you did."

Lee’s hand tightened slightly on your knee, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your pants. "Of course," he said, his voice low but firm. "You’re stuck with me, remember?"

A small, broken laugh escaped you, something warm flickering in your chest. You looked up at him, tears blurring your vision, but there was a kind of quiet relief there, too. Lee’s gaze was steady, unwavering, like no matter what had happened, no matter how far you had fallen, he was there to pull you back.

"Lee…" you started, but the words caught in your throat, too many emotions swirling inside you to put into words.

He seemed to understand anyway. Without saying anything, he angled himself more towards you, his forehead resting against yours. The closeness, the way his body pressed gently into yours everywhere, was enough to calm the last of your racing thoughts. You let out a shaky breath, your hands reaching up to gently hold his face, your fingers brushing through his hair.

For a moment, you just stayed like that, your breaths mingling, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

"I’ve got you," he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost lost to the night air. "You’re safe."

Something in his voice, the way he said it, made your heart clench. He had never said it out loud, but you knew. He tipped your chin up, meeting your lips with a searing kiss, one that felt like promise. 

It felt like forever before he pulled away, far enough to be able to see your eyes, searching your face for more hurt to quench. You could see his bottom lip quivering slightly before he said it.

"I love you.” 

Life stilled in the small clearing, and the weight of the past year came tumbling down on you. All you had done, all that had changed. How painful it had all been. How worth it it all was, to be sitting here in this boy’s arms now.

You took him in, your breath shaky. His words hung in the air between you, raw and real in a way that made your pulse race. 

He smiled, understanding your reaction. His forehead went back to yours, his hands cradling your face gently, his thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin. There was nothing aloof about him now. He was all here, in this moment, focused on you like nothing else mattered. "I'm serious," he murmured, his voice soft, the vulnerability in it something you'd never heard before. "I love you."

Your throat tightened, grappling with the weight of it all. "Still?" you whispered, your voice trembling. 

His grip tightened slightly, pulling you closer, his breath warm against your lips. "You think this scares me? You think any of this changes how I feel about you?" His gaze was intense, a burning passion that steadied you, even as your heart threatened to tear itself apart. "You’re still you. This doesn’t make you someone else. So, yeah. Still. Always."

Your heart soared, a flood of emotions you hadn’t expected surging to the surface. You kissed him again, slowly, just lips pressed against lips as you tried to calm yourself.  "I don’t know what life looks like for us now.”

"Then we’ll figure it out," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like there had never been another option. “Part of the fun, right?”

He pulled away just to kiss your forehead and temples, lingering there for almost a beat too long before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. "You're not alone in this. I’m not letting you go through it alone. Got it?"

You blinked back the hot, stinging tears that threatened to spill over. The calm in his voice, the unwavering certainty in his eyes grounded you like no else. It felt impossible, but here he was, telling you that you weren’t lost, that he wasn’t leaving, no matter what happened.

"I need you, you know," he whispered against your cheek, kissing it once more. "I don’t think you get that."

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer. You clung to him. "I do," you said, your voice soft but firm. "I need you, Lee. Desperately."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Then don’t overthink it." 

And before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, kissing you like it was the only thing keeping him alive. There was a quiet desperation in the way he kissed you, like every ounce of the feelings he couldn’t quite say were being poured into that moment. His hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss as though he was trying to erase the space between you.

You kissed him back with the same intensity, your fingers tangling in his hair, your body pressing into his, craving the closeness, the connection. Everything else faded into the background, drowned out by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his hands on your skin.

His lips left yours for just a moment, brushing against your jaw, then trailing down your neck, each kiss soft but deliberate, making your breath hitch. "I’m not going anywhere," he murmured again, the words muffled against your skin. "You’ve got me. No matter what."

You couldn’t find the words, so you kissed him again, your hands tightening in his hair, pulling him closer. He responded instantly, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against him as though he was afraid to let go, as though you might disappear if he loosened his grip.

For a long moment, the world was just the two of you. Nothing else mattered. It was just you and him, and the quiet understanding that you were in this together. 

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your forehead pressed to his, you let out a laugh, more from the relief of having him here than anything else. It made him give you a curios smile, just happy to see you regain some of your usual behavior.

 "So," you whispered, your lips brushing his as you spoke, "are you gonna say it again, or what?"

He let out a low chuckle, his arms still wrapped around you, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. "I love you," he said, his voice warm, no hesitation this time. "I love you. I’m not scared to say it, even if you make me say it a thousand more times."

"Good," you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again, softer this time, but no less meaningful. "Because I love you too. And I’m not letting you go."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he kissed you back, slow and lingering, like he wanted to memorize the feel of you against him. When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, his forehead resting against yours.

"We’ll figure this out," he promised softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm. "Whatever happens, we will be fine. Together."

You nodded, your heart finally settling, a sense of calm washing over you. "Yeah. We will."

And with that, the two of you sank down into the blankets, the night quiet at last. Lee’s arm stayed wrapped around you, his lips pressing soft kisses to whatever exposed skin he could find, as if he couldn’t quite believe that you were real, that this moment was real. 

As you lay there, tangled together, the world felt a little less terrifying. You had each other, and somehow, that was enough.

[olivethewriter]

Love is a drug

hey y'all this is my first one shot, and I am kind nervous, but I just watched euphoria and thought this would be a good fic idea y/n goes to fez's house and gets drugged by mouse instead of rue leading to a steamy confession

You knock on your best friend Fezco's door. "Fez, open up! It's pouring out here!"

The door cracks open a moment later. "Y/N, you really shouldn't be here."

"Too bad, I'm starving," you reply,making a beeline for the kitchen. You grab your favorite chipst.

"Nah, Y/N, I'm serious. You gotta get the fuck up out my house," Fez insists.

"Man stop stressin," you reply, plopping down on his couch and flipping through the TV channels.

"My supplier's bout to swing by, and I don't want you here when he does," Fez explains, growing more tense.

"I'm hungry," you repeat, munching on another chip.

"Then take the fucking chips with you," he grumbles.

"You're being hella rude today, but—" Before you can finish, Fez's phone rings, breaking the tense silence.

After a long pause, Fezco shakes his head. "I could fucking kill you right now."

Fez heads to the door as you turn off the TV. A tall, tattooed guy, way taller and bulkier than you expected, steps in behind Fez. 

"Well, shit, I didn't know your bitch would be here," he says, eyeing you.

"Nah, man, she's just a friend," Fez replies, taking a seat across from you.

"Well, hello there," the guy kneels in front of you, extending his hand. "I'm Mouse. Pleasure to meet you."

"Um, hi," you mutter, cautiously shaking his hand. His intense gaze makes you uneasy, like you want to crawl out of your skin.

he says, he stands up and unpacks his bag and starts describing its contents.

"Sure you don't want any fentanyl?" 

“Nah man im cool too many ODs” fez says 

“How bout you little lady want any fent?”Mouse asks, looking at you.

"No," you reply firmly.

"Nah, man, she's cool," Fez interjects. You've never used drugs before (besides vaping once), and you certainly don't want to start with something as dangerous as fentanyl.

"You gonna let him speak for you?”you look to fez for help “look at me when i talk to you." Mouse demands. He grabs your chin, playing with your hair.

"Have you ever tried it?" he whispers into your ear. You shake your head, speechless.

"No, for real, bro, I don't want her messing with that shit," Fez asserts, his voice steady but tense.

"Don't look at him. Look at me," Mouse insists, grabbing your chin and staring into your eyes. "Ever tried anything?"

You remain silent, unsure how to respond.

"No, seriously, man, she's good," Fez tries to defuse the tension, but Mouse isn't done.

"You know that feeling when you come so hard you can't hear or feel shit?" Mouse whispers, leaning in close. You freeze, feeling the point of his knife against your glossed lips.

You pray silently. You can't believe you're about to die. But you glance at Fez and open your mouth.

The drug hits you fast. In less than a minute, you're numb, barely able to sense anything. You lie down on the couch, eyes barely open.

"You like that?" Mouse asks, placing your legs on his lap.

"Uh-huh," you mumble.

"Wanna try more?" Mouse offers, leaving light touches on your thighs.

"No, man, she doesn't want any more," Fez says, struggling to keep his voice calm, hiding his growing anger.

"I-I want more," you slur, wanting to feel like this forever. Mouse places patches in your shorts' waistband, his hands lingering on your hips.

"That'll cost you three hundred," Mouse says.

"I'm broke," you manage to say.

"That's too bad. Guess you'll have to find another way to pay," Mouse says, his hand creeping toward your hips.

"Man, don't make her do that. I'll pay for her," Fez interjects.

"Nah, thought you were too good for fent," Mouse retorts. Fez grabs the gun, but ultimately decides against using it. That's the last thing you remember before drifting off.

When you wake up, Mouse is long gone, and Fez is nowhere to be found. You're in Fez's room, wearing one of his sweaters. You get out of bed and head to the kitchen, where Fez is eating cereal.

"I'm sorry," you say, barely holding back tears. Fez turns around.

"No, no, don't apologize. It's my fault. I should've had you wait in another room or just fucking shot him," he says, seeing your quivering lips. He pulls you into a hug.

"That was so scary," you admit, barely keeping it together.

"I know, ma," Fez consoles you.

"I thought I was going to die," you confess.

"It's okay. You're here now, and you're safe," Fez assures you, pulling away to look into your eyes.

"I won't let him hurt you again," Fez vows.

"I know," you whisper.

When you thought you were going to die, there wasn't much you regret. You love your family. You're on good terms with almost everyone. But you had never been in love before. You always thought you and Fez would end up together, and it was only a matter of time. But life isn't guaranteed. Tomorrow might not happen. And the next time you almost die, you don't want it to be without kissing Fezco O'Neil.

You look into Fezco's blue eyes. Without thinking, you ask, "Will you kiss me?"

Fez's blue eyes widen, but he doesn't hesitate. His lips touch yours, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. You look up at him, then at his lips.

"Do it again," you demand.

This time, Fez doesn't wait for you to finish your sentence. He kisses you fiercely. The kiss, sweet and hesitant before, is now intense and passionate. Teeth clash, and tongues wrestle as you try to get as close as possible. His strong hands wrap around your waist, and your arms tighten around his neck. You step closer, until every inch of your body presses against his. He lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He moves one of your hands from your waist to your neck, pressing a little harder. You let out a small gasp, pulling his face back into yours and kissing him harder. Your hands meet behind his neck, and unexpectedly, he bites your lip and looks into your eyes. You let out a whimper, but your phone dings.

"I need to get that. It's probably my mom," you sigh, disappointed that the moment is over.

"Yeah, of course," Fez says, setting you back on the ground. You look at the message from your mom, telling you to let her know if you're going to stay overnight at Maddie's house and come home.

"I'm so sorry. I have to go," you apologize.

"Okay, let me walk you out."

When you two reach the door, Fez speaks up. "Listen, I really like you. I want this to happen again. Can we do this again but not just like hooking up and shit? I want it all."

"Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Fezco?" you ask, smiling.

"I mean, I guess, if you want to be," Fezco says, looking down and fiddling with his hands.

"Of course," you say, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him.

"See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Y/N," he says, watching you walk away, the ghost of your kiss lingering on his lips.

[sleepysuga0]

Unspoken

A/N: Hey guys welcome to my page ! This is my first ever fic , please be nice 🫡 I really hope you all enjoy this oneshot I came up with it when I was sleep deprived 😭

Pairing : Yoongi x Wife reader

Summary : A love stretched thin by distance and silence, until absence becomes the only thing loud enough to be heard.

Genre : Established Relationship, Angst, tiny fluff at the end.

Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction and purely for entertainment purposes. All characters and events depicted are fictional and do not reflect real-life individuals or situations.

____________________________________________________

The clock read 11:13 PM, I had been sitting in our bedroom when I heard the door to his home studio creak open. It had been hours since he went in there—just like every other night lately. I didn’t even look up from my book as I listened to his footsteps pad down the hall, heading toward the kitchen. I already knew the routine. A quick snack, then back to work. Always back to work.

I swallowed, gripping the edge of my book a little tighter. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be.

On his way back, he slowed in the doorway, leaning against the frame. I could feel his eyes on me before I even looked up. When I did, he gave me a small, tired smile—one that felt like an old memory instead of something real. I smiled back, and for a split second, I felt something. Felt him. It was the closest we’d been in weeks. But it didn’t last. Before I could even open my mouth, he was walking away, and the moment slipped through my fingers like sand.

I needed him.

“Yoongi.” His name left my lips before I could stop myself. He turned around, eyebrows pulling together in quiet confusion.

I hesitated. This was stupid. He was busy. He had deadlines. He had a world outside of me that demanded more from him than I ever could. But I still said it.

“…Can you hold me?”

The pause was too long. His face was unreadable. Then—

“I don’t know if I have enough time.”

A knife to the chest would’ve been kinder.

“Oh,” I whispered, the weight of humiliation pressing down on me. I could feel tears burning at the edges of my eyes. I wanted to crawl into myself, to disappear, to erase the past five seconds and pretend I’d never asked at all.

But then he sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and walked over to me. I barely had time to react before his arms wrapped around me, firm and familiar.

But something was off.

His body was stiff. Hesitant. His touch—something that once felt like home—felt foreign now. And my mind wouldn’t stop racing.

Did I force him into this?

His fans will be disappointed if the album doesn’t come out on time.

I’m always in the way.

I’m ruining his life.

Does he even love me anymore?…

I couldn’t take it. I shook my head and pulled away, ignoring the flicker of surprise on his face.

“You can go back to your studio. I’m fine now.”

“Are you—”

“I’m fine, Yoongi.”

He didn’t believe me. I knew he didn’t. But after a few seconds of hesitation, he nodded and left.

I stared at the ceiling that night, never once falling asleep. My mind looped the same thoughts over and over, whispering the same awful conclusions.

He doesn’t love me anymore. I’m just another thing pulling him away from his work. If I disappeared, nothing would change.

And so, I did.

I started staying at my friend’s place. At first, it wasn’t intentional—I just kept making excuses to stay out later, to avoid going home to a house that barely felt like mine anymore. But then one night turned into two, then a week, then two weeks.

Yoongi hadn’t noticed.

Of course he hadn’t. He practically lived in his studio. Even when I was home, it wasn’t like we saw each other anyway.

But then—things started to click.

The dishes were piling up. His coffee cups stayed wherever he left them. His laundry sat in the hamper, untouched. The scent of my shampoo, my perfume, was fading from the house. The bathroom counter remained exactly as he’d left it—none of my skincare bottles or hair ties shifting out of place.

He was the only one home.

And he was finally starting to realize it.

When I finally came back, I wasn’t planning to stay long. I just needed fresh clothes. My plan was simple—sneak in, grab my things, and leave before Yoongi even noticed. He was probably in his studio anyway.

But when I opened the door, I froze.

He was waiting.

Sitting on the couch, arms crossed, staring at me with a look I couldn’t read.

I jumped back, heart hammering in my chest. “I—”

“Where have you been?” His voice was calm, but not soft.

I clenched my jaw feeling defensive all of a sudden. “You didn’t even notice I was gone.”

His expression hardened. “That’s not true.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Isn’t it? You work all day, all night. You don’t even come to bed. I could’ve packed up all my things and left for good, and you wouldn’t have noticed until you needed something from me.”

His jaw tensed. “That’s not fair.”

My eyes flashed. “Not fair? Yoongi, I have spent our entire relationship waiting for you. Waiting for you to come home. Waiting for you to see me. Waiting for the moment I’d finally matter more than your work.” My throat tightened. “But that moment never came. And I’m done waiting.”

Yoongi exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Y/N, I work hard for us. For you. I thought you understood that.”

I scoffed, the heat rising to my face. “For me?” I stepped closer, shaking my head. “If this is for me, then why do I feel like I have to beg for your time? Why do I feel like I don’t exist in your life outside of the moments you allow me to?”

His hands curled into fists. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you, Yoongi!” My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. “I want us. I want to feel like I’m not fighting to be in my own damn relationship.”

His mouth opened, then closed. He had nothing to say.

The silence hurt more than anything.

I inhaled sharply, blinking back tears. “I’m leaving, Yoongi.”

His face fell. “No, wait—”

I turned and walked out the door.

And this time, he noticed.

—

One month.

One month of unanswered texts, missed calls, and desperate voicemails.

Yoongi had never begged for anything in his life. But for me? He begged.

I ignored every message.

Until he showed up at my friend’s house.

When I opened the door, I barely recognized him. His eyes were sunken, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them. His hair was a mess. His clothes hung looser on his frame.

He looked wrecked.

For the first time in our entire relationship, Min Yoongi looked like a man who had lost something he couldn’t live without.

“…Y/N,” he whispered. His voice cracked.

My throat tightened. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to steady my heart. “What are you doing here?”

He let out a breath, shaky and uneven. “I needed to see you.”

I didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry,” he continued, voice raw. “I should’ve seen it sooner. I should’ve realized how much I was hurting you before you had to leave. And I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I—” He swallowed hard. “I love you. I love you more than anything. And I swear to you, I will change.”

I stared at him for a long moment, my heart aching.

“…If I come home,” I whispered, “I need to know you mean that.”

His eyes softened, desperation and sincerity written all over his face. “I swear it.”

I inhaled shakily.

“…Okay.”

—

That night, as he held me close, I still felt the ache of everything we’d been through.

But I also felt his arms tighten around me, as if he was afraid to let go.

And for now, that was enough.

[atlanticum]

A rundown of my favorite "The Queen of Nothing" moments<33333

• Does he have a new seneschal? Does he have a new lover? <…> Does he talk about me?…

• “Love is stupid. All we do is break one another's hearts.” I feel like Jude agreed with Heather at that moment:/

• “You,” I say to my twin. “Get out.” YOU GO GIRL

• “Locke is dead” LADIES AND GENTLEMEN THIS IS THE MOMENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR

• The very thought of being there, of seeing Cardan, speeds my heart. Oh juuuuude

• "I knew you liked her," says Locke. "That's why I had to have her first. Do you remember the party in my maze garden? How I kissed her while you watched?" "I recall that your hands were on her, but her eyes were on me," Cardan returns. I FUCKING LOVE THIS

• "I loved him." "Sometimes I believed that you did, yes," Cardan says absently. AND THE FACT THAT HE KNEW IT WAS JUDE

• "Jude never loved Locke." "She loved someone else. He's the one she'd want dead.” —or in her bed who knows;)?!

• WHEN CARDAN SAYS HE’LL “EXAMINE” HER ALONE IN HIS CHAMBERS. Naughtyyy boy;)

• “Well, didn’t you get my letters?” “What letters?” THIS LITERALLY RIPS MY HEART OUT AND TEARS IT TO SHREDS

• "Jude, you can't really think I don't know it's you. I knew you from the moment you walked into the brugh." *Crying, screaming, throwing up*

• When Cardan tries to explain the exile to her and that it was all a trick that she was supposed to figure out and be proud of him, but he doesn’t have enough time… :(

• I am the Queen of Elfhame. Even though I am the queen in exile, I am still the queen. And that means Madoc isn't just trying to take Cardan's throne. He's trying to take mine.

• The fact that even when The Ghost betrayed her, when Jude found him she still wanted to save him!!! SHE’S THE BEST

• I'm not going to let myself get distracted by letters I never received or the way he looked at me when we were alone in his rooms or my father's theories about his weaknesses. I’m a tad speechless…

• WHEN THE ROACH COMES TO SAVE HER WITH CARDAAAAN!!! AND FOR HER HE LOOKS EVERY INCH A SPY FROM THE COURT OF SHADOWS

• “That boy is your weakness” OH WOW stupid Madoc is right about one thing. SHOCKER.

• Let Cardan not be shot. Let the Ghost be clumsy. Let me get inside easily. Let me stop him.

I do not pause to ask myself why I am in such a panic to save someone for whom I swore I rooted out every feeling. I will not think about that. Oh, sweetheart.

• “Do not touch her. She is my wife," Cardan says, his voice carrying over the crowd. “The rightful High Queen of Elfhame. And most definitely not in exile." CHILLS. literal chills.

• Cardan stands over me. <…> His white sleeves are rolled up, and he’s washing my hands with a wet cloth. My gods, i’m dying, he cares about her so much

• (about the gown)>> It is perhaps too plain for a queen, but Cardan is extravagant enough for both of us.

• “And the next thing we know, the High King is on our doorstep looking ready to tear down the whole apartment complex to find you” AAGHAHAHA I LOVE HIM

• “It was terrifying watching you fall. I mean you’re generally terrifying, but I am unused to fearing for you. And then I was furious. I am not sure I have ever been that angry before”

• “I was afraid of you when I had a knife to your throat” this tore my heart open

• “This is my room” he points out, affronted “And that’s my wife”. FUCK YEAH “So you keep telling everyone” the bomb says AAAHAH LOVE HER

• “Oh, I don’t know,” I say “Maybe he’d like to hear me scream”. oh he would “I would” Cardan says “And perhaps one day I will” I’M FOLDED.

• “Unlike Locke, I never thought love was a game” he says “You may accuse me of much, but not that” oh boy

• “I offer my queen’s hospitality. The hospitality if knives” ah, yes, badass jude

• “You looked like a knight jn a story tonight” I’M ON MY KNEES CRYING. THIS IS TOO CUTE.

• “By you, I am forever undone” I AM SCREAAAAMINGGGGGG

• “My sweet nemesis, how glad I am that you returned”

• “It’s you I love” he says “I spent much of my life guarding my heart. I guarded it so well that I could behave as though I didn’t have one at all. Even now, it is a shabby, worm-eaten, and scabrous thing. But it is yours” ABSOLUTELY MELTINGGGGG

• I can’t believe he said that and then just walked out, leaving me reeling. I am going to strangle him. I adore her

• When the bomb hugs her once they see each other, when Cardan was turned into a snake.

• “Please. I will do whatever you want. I will give up the crown. I will make any bargain. Just please fix him. Help me break the curse” im gonna cry

• I was happy, just before everything went so terribly wrong. This is gut wrenching

• They won. Everything was going to work out. AND HE LOVED HER

• “I would settle for even his worst self, his cruelest trickster self, if only he could be here” THIS IS ENEMIES TO LOVERS AHAAHAHA

• The Ghost’s eyebrows rise, and he glances at me. I grin.

• Like the whole thing how the Roach is telling the Bomb that he loves her is hilarious and super cute.

• The way Jude thinks that she can never tell Cardan how she feels is so sad. If Holly black had actually killed him off I would have died with him.

• “With my whole heart, I wish Cardan was here” she is longing for his annoyance I CANNNOT

• WHEN NICASIA TOLD HER THAT HE SENT THE GOWN I WAS SCREAMING MY GODSsss “He never told you, did he?”

• “And I saw the way you used to look at him when you didn’t think anyone was watching you” AAAH YESSS

• He’s every bit as terrifying as any serpent. i don’t care. I run into his arms. IM ON THE FLOOR SOBBING

• He holds me as though I am the only solid thing in the world. im absolutely dead in the best way possible

• “You don’t want me dead” “If you joke about this, I am going to—“ “Kill me?” I think I might hate him after all Thin line between love and hate, right Jude;)

• “I knew little else, but I always knew you” MY HEART IS EXPLODING

• And when he kisses me, I feel as though I can finally breathe again. MY HEART SQUEEZED IN THE BEST POSSIBLE WAY

• When Cardan silences Randalin when he interrupts Jude. You tell them KING

• THEY’RE CELEBRATING THAT THEY GOT MARRIED YEYYYYYYYYY

• When Cardan adjust his crown and she rolLs HeR eYeS and HE GRINS.

• To family and Faerieland and pizza and stories and new beginnings and scheming great schemes. I can toast to that.

i’m absolutely in love with these series🤍

[aftgtandn]

We're at a real risk of sounding like a broken record at this point but you guys are AMAZING!

We still can't believe how much support you all have shown the fest. From reblogs and retweets, to comments and joining in all the fun games, it's truly been a blast.

We really, really can't thank you enough! Our hearts are so full to see T&N fest be so fun for the second year in a row — and it's all your doing! Every fic, every piece of art, every work adopted, every meme, every comment left, every full bingo card, every rec. IT WAS ALL YOU.

To our creators in particular: we owe you THE WORLD. Thank you for being brilliant. Please make sure to tag us in all your claim posts so we can reblog them!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO... here's the full list of works AND THEIR INCREDIBLY TALENTED CREATORS:

Are you Real? by Whyreme Rated Mature | 6052 words Andrew comes back from Easthaven but Neil isn't at Palmetto, where he promised he would be. If you ever wondered what it would be like if Andrew was present for the immediate aftermath of Christmas at the Nest, this one is for you.

[art] don't flinch. by ghostheroes Rated Gen | Art There's not that much space from the cheek to the eye. In the art piece we have for you today, Lola aims the lighter barely an inch higher.

echoes by doodleishere Rated Teen | 100 words What if Kevin didn't leave the next alone? In this flash fic, Jean gets out too when Riko's anger finally snaps.

Bite the hand by Ateiluj Rated Mature | 4515 words We all have asked the question: what was going through Andrew's mind during The Choking Incident? A question we might have not asked, however, is: what would happen if no one stopped him? Well, this fic answers both of those!

duck duck goose by glittersinnin Rated Gen | 2329 words When Andrew goes through Neil's duffel, Neil holds his tongue. It will take some patience for him to get adequate revenge. Patience... and some experience handling the local water foul.

Let Down by maydaykevin Rated Gen | 4132 words How would it affect Kevin and Andrew's deal if Kevin hit Andrew back when Andrew chokes him? How is their relationship impacted by this unexpected bout of violence between them? Find out in this fic!

If You're Throwing Me to the Lions by orionauriga Rated Teen | 3763 words It's not easy when your boyfriend comes with a whole lot of baggage, especially twin-brother-who-hates-you shaped baggage. It's not easy but it's worth it, for Aaron, and Katelyn knows how to stand her ground.

If I was easy to kill you would have done it already by lazarusthefirst Rated Mature | 9196 words They were always meant to be partners, now it's Jean's job to make sure Neil behaves. Neil isn't great at being a partner, but he knows partners don't leave each other behind. In this fic, Neil doesn't come back to Palmetto alone.

Butterfly Effect! Read More on Page 12 by animediac Rated Gen | 5194 words How much can the death of one character affect the narrative? Through newspaper and blog articles, emails and social media posts, that's exactly what this fic explores. How many lives can the butterfly effect of one unfortunate 'accident' change?

Nathaniel by nyaar0n Rated Gen | Art Neil Josten is a Fox, but what if he never got the chance to be? Nathaniel Wesninski is a Raven through and through, and in this art piece, he snatches the spotlight both on the court and with his partner.

Now it's Time to Live (and Turn to Dust) by Witheredcarnelians Rated Mature | 4573 words Renee makes it just in time to save Jean ... or does she? This fic explores the crushing guilt of leaving behind a loved one, and being unable to save them in the end.

caught up in you by rooftopkisses Rated Mature | 5463 words "What are you hoping for, coordinates?" Neil doesn't lock the door, and Nicky walks in on Neil and Andrew kissing. Nicky can be trusted — mostly because he fears Andrew's knife — but Andrew's tendency toward quiet implosion is a different story.

but i've walked this far by rwnjun Rated Teen | 14556 words When the countdown ends, Neil gets taken. His dad is dead, but manages to make substantial damage before he gets shot. Now Nathaniel gets to be Neil Josten, but who is Neil Josten if he can't play Exy?

i've been feeling smaller by neiljokesten (vykio) Rated Teen | 2433 words Over worrying and wound-tending, Aaron and Neil get caught on a never-ending loop of the pot calling the kettle black over sacrificing themselves to protect a loved one

a familiar face by Shinobimoon Rated Gen | 4184 words How would things have gone if Kevin had recognized Neil right away? Would Neil have run, or still signed with the Foxes? Read more in this fic!

Better Luck Next Time by AllAngstNoComfort Rated Mature | 7812 words What if Riko had gone for Aaron instead of Seth, that night? In this fic, we learn exactly that and how that affects the Foxes.

the most unkindest cut of all by deadangelo Rated Mature | 2550 words Riko Moriyama has been many things to Kevin Day: a friend, a brother, a partner, a monster. The die has been cast. Riko is going to die. This time around, Ichirou has a spectator seat saved for Kevin.

we want the young blood by undermoonwalker Rated Teen | Art What if Elodie was sold to the Ravens? What if Jean had a predetermined partner through all that darkness? This art looks at the possibilities of the Moreau Ravens!

you'll be alright (no one can hurt you now) by wesawbears Rated Teen | 1757 words Jeremy Knox can't figure out their newest recruit. But having some secrets of his own means that he can tell when something isn't right, and if there's one thing about the Trojans is that they protect their own.

as soft as feathers by delossanctuary Rated Mature | 4714 words What's a T&N fest without a devastating Abby fic? This year, ponder on this: what if Neil's finger slipped when he needed an airport pickup?

TKO by justadreamfox Rated Mature | 4733 words Remember that busboy Neil paid to knock him out? In today's T&N fic, Neil doesn't get left on the floor of the club afterwards. Not everyone is out to get him.

i know that i did you wrong (but will you trust me when i say that i'll make it up to you somehow) by evenfallwriter Rated Mature | 7076 words Neil gets something different for his 19th birthday: his father's death.

depraved heart by decaflondonfog Rated Mature | 7000 words There is a horrible scene at the Hemmick house. There is a dead man on the ground. There is Andrew, laughing. And then there is Kevin, standing with a bloody knife in hand and something far more potent than fear clawing at his rib cage.

kintsugi by gus_47 Rated Explicit | 4728 words Riko's violence knows no bounds; what if he didn't stop at Kevin's hand? This fic follows Jean as he weathers and grieves the aftermath of the Raven's ugliest secret.

The Mallard's Lullaby by Random2002 Rated Mature | 6313 words The Moreau family are good at business; why sell one child to an Exy empire when you can sell two? Good thing Elodie's got a stuffed duck, a pieced together first aid kit, and her brother. What more do you need?

Light in a prism by sassy_pen_sassy Rated Teen | 1030 words There's a life outside of the walls of the EAU Raven's nest; Jean learns what that's like with Renee by his side in this sweet fic.

not dead (yet) by ashestoashes7 Rated Mature | 13593 words When Andrew is released from Easthaven, only three of his charges are there to pick him up. He always knew Neil was a pipedream. If Andrew cared more, Neil could become a nightmare.

Digits by twolipsliterature Rated Teen | 2700 words A cheerleader and a Exy player on the run from his hitman father walk into a bar. This time, Neil gives Marissa his number instead of being an asshole for once.

shots fired by liaisun Rated Mature | Art Neil threw out the guns when his mother died, but today we take a look at how things might have gone if he hadn't.

Timing by HereBeChickens Rated Teen | 1116 words Kevin scores. Neil falls to his knees. ""You've always known what it's like to be second."" Riko swings. Andrew still gets there in time. But this is where we diverge.

presumably dead arm by kevjean Rated Mature | 15518 words What if someone else had found Kevin first after Riko broke his hand? What if that someone was special in a way that was never allowed before? In this fic, Kevin finds a slightly different way out of the Nest, and discovers something on the way.

and this is just my luck by starwarned Rated Teen | 2107 words Kevin Day is a star. He won't let a gay crisis get in his way. At least, that's the plan -- it becomes difficult for Kevin to maintain that dissonance after he overhears Andrew offering to blow Neil.

n'oublie pas de vivre by FireHeartAW Rated Teen | 5028 words What is left of Jean Moreau without Exy? Can he find a new place for himself without the Ravens even if his injuries prevent him from ever playing again? And what does he need to make that happen?

i am not scared of death, i've got dreams again by liliacskiess Rated Explicit | 5566 words Eden's back alleyway is not the place to be on a Friday night; Nicky learns that the hard way in today's fic which asks 'What if Andrew didn't arrive in time to fight Nicky's attackers'?

Back to the Old House by TearsOfATrickster Rated Teen | 6664 words Neil's not the only one willing to protect Andrew when he's at Easthaven. What if Kevin went back to EAU for Christmas?

Only Human by aquared46 Rated Mature | 2677 words “Shouldn’t I feel different? Powerful?” Neil survives his father, but the encounter leaves him with nightmares that seem like they should be good dreams. Andrew is there to listen as Neil tries to process.

Baltimore Basement by ConventionalExy Rated Mature | Art The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. In this art, Neil is taken to Baltimore by his father's people, but he knows his way around a cleaver.

The Graveyard Shift by KweenDay Rated Mature | 7100 words What if Andrew noticed there was something wrong in the locker room? What if Andrew stayed at Neil’s side? What if Andrew was brought to Baltimore too? In this fic we find out exactly what goes down behind the walls of the Wesninski manor.

the ongoing effects of growing a backbone by favbitchcharlie Rated Teen | 10641 words What if instead of giving Neil the plane ticket to EAU, Kevin tore it up? What if Neil let a bit of Nathaniel slip through? In this fic, Kevin and Neil go to break Andrew out of Easthaven in their own non-Coach-approved way.

The Prince and The Pauper by CherriPips Rated Mature | 8695 words After Riko broke his hand, Kevin went running to Wymack, but what if he saw Andrew first? In this fic, we find exactly how that interaction goes down.

Tear away at the Mask by Moondal Rated Teen | 2779 words What if more than one Fox had crossed paths with Neil in his past life? And what if this one particular Fox immediately recognized him, too? This is a fic about Natalie Shields, Nathaniel Wesninski, and about reinventing yourself.

scavenger's hunt by kiwiaok Rated Mature | 10341 words In a world where Lola survives her gunshot wounds in Baltimore, Neil has to face her once more during her trial, and things come to light that he would rather had stayed hidden.

Neil Josten Is Not Fine by the_greater_grief Rated Teen | 3362 words "In Neil’s dreams, Aaron never shows up to save the day." Neil's nightmares have become a problem even he can't ignore. When his sleeplessness begins to mess with his performance on the court, he gives in. Maybe Dobson isn't so bad, after all.

damage control by seasy33 Rated Mature | 11656 words When Andrew witnesses Nicky kissing Neil, his confidence in his plan to break Neil wavers. What can he stomach in his mission to keep his family safe? And what will it actually take to learn Neil's secrets?

patient violence by Mercey Rated Mature | 6981 words An orderly catches Dr. Proust and Andrew ends up escaping Easthaven early. Where to next? Well, Neil’s in the Nest and Andrew’s looking into a jailbreak. In this fic we find out what happens when Andrew goes to get Neil out of the Nest.

Deadliest Piece by LynxDoesArt Rated Explicit | Art When Neil realizes that something is wrong at the Hemmick's house, he rushes upstairs to find Andrew with the rest of the monsters close behind. What if Kevin got a hand on Neil's racquet before Aaron?

it lives in the throat by timeloops (kunimi) Rated Teen | 14440 words Switching places with your twin is fun, until… technically, Aaron Minyard dies in a car crash with his mother. But the dead body isn’t Aaron and now he must deal with the fallout of it all.

With all the love and appreciation in the world,

Your T&N'24 mods and helpers 💚

[hongism]

a small little tidbit for u guys to hopefully enjoy 🫶

...

“Do you believe in God, y/n?”

“No,” comes your blunt answer, not a breath of hesitation between when he lays the object against your palm and when your lips part to speak. His lips twitch at the haste in your response. Fingers curling around you, Hongjoong digs his grip into yours with enough force to make it burn and sting.

“Then isn’t it funny how one can believe in a God who put him at my mercy?” He arches a brow at you without shifting focus, and you’re the one to break eye contact in favor of looking down at the figure who remains knelt at the altar mere feet away. It makes your skin crawl, and in an act of desperation you shift your head in the opposite direction to look back towards the doors. However this time, rather than it being unguarded, you set your sights on someone else. Familiar in a way that should leave comfort in your bones, and yet.

Dread sinks through you like an anchor seeking purchase at the bottom of an ocean.

There, in the space between a column and the door, stands San. Though in the shadows and just barely visible to you, you can see his cat-like eyes staring back at you through the candlelit darkness so sharply. You know well enough that if he truly wished for you not to see him, then he would be shrouded entirely from your sight. That inkling of familiarity in your gut which you felt upon entering seems more like intuition now. The man at the altar does not budge, almost deluding you into thinking he isn’t truly the man you’re assuming him to be.

“There is no merciful God out there,” Hongjoong continues, fully satisfied with the discontent painting your features, “if one were even to exist. Mercy is a selfish concept made by selfish people to grant forgiveness to those who do not deserve it. Men should not pray to monsters, yet suddenly they are believers when I arrive at their doorstep. Has anyone ever worshipped you, y/n?”

You swallow around nothing to keep yourself from jerking your attention back to San.

“Prayed to you?”

Hongjoong brings your hand up alongside his, letting the edge of the knife rest against the column of his neck. It’s unmarred and clean, compared to the rest of him that you’ve seen thus far.

“Can you even imagine that kind of love?”

“Stop.” You aren’t wholly aware that you’ve just uttered the word yourself, but it does grant you reprieve and your hand falls down to your side with fingers still loosely clutched around the knife. Small and hardly enough to do damage, your mind supplies as your push your thoughts elsewhere. Likely nothing more than a fruit knife.

“I do not consider my actions to be merciful — I’m not quite that full of myself.”

“Do you believe in any God yourself then?”

“Why should I need to believe in anyone other than myself?” Hongjoong hums and looks to his right. Moments later, he is heading up the altar, heels clicking against the polished tiles as he walks right past the prostrated figure at the foot of those steps. Though you are no believer, the sight still feels quite sacrilegious when he positions himself directly in front of the marble altar and leans his weight against it.

The unknown guest at Hongjoong’s feet finally stirs, and you remain rooted to the spot as he stretches to his full height. Long fingers curl around the hems of his hood, and the black fabric barely budges when he tugs it down to rest at his neck. He looks different now, hair bleached even more white and the ends aren’t as frayed compared to when you last saw him, but it’s unmistakably the man you know so intimately. Yet despite apparently being privy to the entirety of this interaction you’ve just had with Hongjoong, Seonghwa does nothing to acknowledge your presence behind him. Hongjoong smiles something fond, gaze almost clouded as he stares down from the heightened altar. When his fingers curl under Seonghwa’s chin, you decide that you’ve had enough.

“Why did you bring me to see this?”

“Me? Well, that’s simple. I didn’t.” You are ready with your retort but the disbelief coursing through you renders you speechless. “You chose to follow.”

[inafieldofstarflowers]

Having alternate POVs gives a more rounded perspective of so many parts of aftg, but I think that Jean specifically gives a more in-depth view of Kevin which is deeply necessary to understand his character.

On multiple occasions throughout his narration, Neil comments on Kevin’s single-minded focus on Exy. This makes sense, because Exy is at the heart of Kevin and Neil’s relationship and is central to the overarching conflict of the books. Neil gives his game to Kevin, and Kevin takes that seriously. Moreover, Kevin has something to prove, to himself and to the world, and the success of the Foxes in their season is key to his success in proving his worth, so of course he’s focused on it. Also, Kevin just truly does love Exy: he’s spent his whole life working hard to get to where he is by the time the series begins, and he clearly did that because he cares just as much as he did it because it was expected—it makes sense that he loves the Trojans, because they play for love of the game, not just for the desire to win.

When Jean’s narration discussed Kevin, it agrees with all of these things: Kevin is fanatical and he loves the Trojans (even though his playing style is incongruous with theirs, as Jean points out) and he is arrogant, though not without cause. It also, however, gives peeks at a softer side of Kevin. Part of this is because so many interactions between Kevin and Jean are colored by Kevin’s guilt at leaving Jean behind, and the validity of Jean’s accusation that Kevin twisted the knife as he left, but regardless of the reason, Kevin lets his walls down ever so slightly when it comes to Jean, and while he’s still standoffish, it’s also evident how deeply he cares about the people he loves. Jean notices this side of him, though he doesn’t typically mention it outright, being justifiably angry with Kevin; he leans closest to admitting it when others criticize or doubt Kevin’s motivations, unwilling to let them misrepresent him.

Kevin Day is the ultimate fake idgaf-er. He has his people—Andrew, Neil, and Jean, but also the Foxes as a whole—and he sticks by them. He believes in them. His faith in Andrew keeps him going, his confidence in Neil gives him space to dream about the future, and his trust in Jean is what he falls back on (when he learns about the district change, when Neil is headed to the Nest),

Applying that lens to the original trilogy makes so many of Kevin’s actions stand out, even though Neil rarely flags them as significant or identifies them as a result of either his desire to show up Riko or his fear of retribution (which Neil sees as cowardice, while Jean intimately understands the way that bone-deep terror mixes with a cultivated, years-long habit of obedience to make a cage that is nearly impossible to escape).

In this light, Kevin’s love for the Trojans looks like a small act of defiance. His History major—of which Neil makes only a passing mention—gains weight as evidence of other passions strong enough to get Kevin to fight. Kevin’s plea for Neil to leave after he learns his identity, his decision to agree to train Neil every night, and his initial refusal to accept Neil’s choice to go to the Nest at Christmas are all highlighted, exemplifying how much he cares about Neil. Every act of defiance—every time Kevin stands up for or by the Foxes, each interview where he indicates he is where he wants to be, each moment he supports Neil instead of trying to change him—gain weight with Jean’s commentary on the trauma that comes from the Nest.

Kevin Day is an Exy player. He is arrogant and irritable and abrasive; he has built himself around his success. He has also built himself a net to fall back on out of the people he has chosen to have faith in, chooses to find worth in people the rest of the world has written off and fight for them to achieve the version of themselves everyone else has long stopped believing they could be. He is the Son of Kayleigh Day and David Wymack, and he takes after each of them in spite of growing up mostly apart from both of them.

[kingdom-of-sins]

F1 drivers in the apocalypse

Max Verstappen

He was not prepared for it, nor he ever imagined something like this would ever happen. That being said, the poor guy had to kill the infected or zombies on day one, and at that time they were still considered "people" so Max was kinda in shock.

He had blood in his hands for at least two days because he was still trying to make sense of what's going on.

He learned that no one can be trusted pretty soon when a loving family teamed up with him and on the second night they tried to kill him and take his weapons and supplies. He survived but decided to never trust anyone, no matter who they are.

He quickly became very skilled with blades and axes. He always carries an axe.

Avoids trouble. Kills anyone who seems shady.

He has lived days he won't even wish upon his enemies...actually he would.

Charles Leclerc

When the apocalypse started Charles thought either it was a big prank or somehow Halloween arrived early. He really screamed his lungs out when he saw a zombie eat a person alive. The guy literally froze and went completely cold.

Let's just say Charles found out quick enough that butter knife is not that effective in killing zombies, and neither is a chokehold. Ran over a few zombies with his Ferrari

Went completely paranoid and didn't sleep for a week until he passed out. Woke up to find his survival kit and Ferrari gone. Couldn't believe he got robbed. Got very angry and decided to track the guys who robbed him

Found the guys who robbed him. Asked politely to return his stuff and his car, got laughed at. He got even more angry. Had a blackout, and when he came to his senses everyone around was dead and he was covered in blood.

Went back into paranoid mode, but this time he is scared of himself as well.

Lando Norris

This guy locked himself in his house, thinking it's the safest place. But he almost died from a heart attack when the dead came banging on his door at night. He had to climb through his balcony and jump to escape. Dislocated his shoulder and only realized it when he stopped running. Popped his shoulder right back in after an hour of crying in pain.

He figured out that the zombies smell the living so he covered himself with the disgusting insides of a few dead bodies. Got him far enough and without harm for three days.

Almost got killed when he ran into a group of few humans, they thought he was a zombie.

Killed a living thinking it was a dead guy coming for his brain. Because of it he had nightmares for weeks.

Found a group and stuck with them for his safety and survival

Oscar Piastri

He tried to drive himself out of the city but the car broke down and he was trapped inside with the dead surrounding him. He waited till dark when the zombies slightly stepped away, and then he made a run.

He Home Alone an entire department store and stayed there for a few weeks until his traps stopped working. He gathered everything he could and left, and went out of the city.

Soon learned that in the new world politeness doesn't always work, but a gun always does the job.

Got offered to join a group, but he declined. The group started to hunt him for other purposes. Each one of them died a horrible death after getting stuck in his traps.

Took shelter where the group were staying.

Carlos Sainz

This guy was on vacation and got stuck in a foreign country. Literally stole a boat and escaped thinking that only that country was infected.

Reached a completely different country and saw the same chaos. Wants to get home but there is no way.

Kill count went from 0 to 20 in a day when both dead and living came after him. He never recovered from that. When he looked in a mirror after weeks he barely recognized himself.

Turned a little psychotic but still has a good heart...at least that's what he believes, otherwise he is no longer a human.

Killed a group in their sleep to take over their farm.

Alex Albon

Probably the only guy in the world who refuses to kill anyone, living or dead.

An excellent thief. First time he stole he left a sorry note. Carries a cat with him, his companion. Survived on cat food for a week till he found an abandoned market.

A master at staying out of trouble. No one can catch him or even see him until he wants them to. Very polite but talks to himself and the cat, may have gone a little crazy.

Franco Colapinto

What would you do if the girl you were picking up for a date gets bitten by a zombie and then comes back to life? Well, Franco tried to take her to the hospital. Not a good place to be when the entire hospital went into lockdown, trapping the living and the dead inside.

Franco ran and found himself in the morgue. A few more people joined him. They only lasted there for two days before one of them died and turned and bit another. Franco had no choice but to get out and lock them all there. He somehow got to the roof and escaped through the fire exit.

Almost got killed or bitten many times over the next few weeks. From innocent flirtatious guy to a ruthless killer. Very brutal kills.

He got out of the city right before it got nuked. Took shelter inside a train tunnel. Anyone who tries to pass it dies.

Lance Stroll

He was safely in his basement, had no idea how bad it was outside. Thought it was just an extreme version of covid. He was forced to get out when his cook died. When he got out it felt strange, like he was the only man on earth. That didn't last long when his security team turned zombies came after him.

Got the helicopter and flew away. Went to search for the military, hoping he would be safe. Soon learned that all organizations no longer exist. Ran out of fuel and had to land. Spend the night at an abandoned military base.

Was surprised in the morning when he found out there were people there. Begged them to let him stay there and in exchange he will tell him his address and they can get all the resources, including weapons. The leader agreed.

Eventually turned into some sort of caretaker of the group.

Fernando Alonso

Poor guy lost all his loved ones in a month, and not only that, he also had to kill their zombie version. It drove him crazy. He almost gave up, putting himself in dangerous situations just so he could kill.

Others like him started to follow him, respect him. Fernando felt like it was his responsibility to protect those who are loyal to him. But by this point he has become ruthless, and any trace of pre apocalyptic Fernando was gone.

He led his people to a military base and settled there. No one goes in or out with his permission.

Others have tried to attack the base and take over but Fernando is too good with his strategies and they always end up running away or dead.

Lewis Hamilton

Always with the faith and positivity. First he was all about saving and protecting people. Soon realized a little bit of fear and kindness will get him followers, people who would serve him and be loyal to him.

Doesn't like to get his hands dirty, but every now and then he will punish or kill someone to set an example and to keep the fear alive.

He thinks of himself as a saviour, and by his logic everyone should surrender and join him if they mean well.

Tried to take over Fernando's group but failed miserably. Revenge is still his priority but doesn't know where Fernando currently is.

George Russell

He was just minutes away from getting eaten alive when Lewis saved him. He owes Lewis his life and wholeheartedly follows him.

Lewis' right hand man. Loves to do all the dirty work. No one can question him.

He doesn't talk about his life prior to joining Lewis, mostly because he is no longer that man. But he was a killer even before the apocalypse

Cruel is his middle name