#going to bed soon but it's been a few years

[wtfaniii]

Paternal Instinct

squid game men's x daughter reader

☆ As the title says, this is gonna be a little bit paternal, like, I'm sure they'd be the best when it comes to children (sometimes)

☆ I will put imagines in and out of games and depending on the character the reader will be of different ages.

☆ The next thing I'll post will be a request from Thanos

Hwang In-ho

● Outside of games.

You, being a teenager in this world that your father dragged you into after your mother's death, were complete chaos.

You worked as a supervisor at his side wearing a mask with the figure from the square depicted in the center and despite being part of an organization of sadists you have not killed anyone, In-ho made sure you did not have to.

You walked into your room and removed the mask from your face as let out a long sigh, it had been a long day overseeing the creation of the games that this year's participants would cross and now all you wanted to do was sleep but as soon as you dropped your body onto the soft mattress, the door opened.

In-ho, without his frotman suit, entered your room with a small cake in his hands and the candles lit.

True, it was your birthday, ¿how come you forgot your own birthday? Maybe it's because you spent the day planning the deaths of innocent people.

—I asked for this cake to be made for you —In-ho said with a small, almost imperceptible smile.

They weren't as close as before, but he cared about you and tried to pay attention to everything that had to do with you.

—Thanks —you forced a smile as you sat on the edge of your bed —But it wasn't necessary.

You wanted to take it back when you saw the slight grimace on your father's face but couldn't, you simply weren't in the mood to celebrate your birthday under these conditions, your life wasn't the best and although you didn't hold any grudge against In-ho sometimes you wondered what your adolescence would have been like if he had left you with your uncle Jun-ho and your grandmother.

—I know you think that, you can say it —He said, leaving the cake on the table next to your bed.

—¿Why didn't you leave me with Jun-ho? I don't want to live here, I've had enough with my mother's death without seeing you become a puppet for these games.

In-ho sighed and looked down, you were right, he should have left you with his brother, he could have taken better care of you than he was doing but he didn't want to abandon you, he had already lost the love of his life, he couldn't lose his little world after that.

—You are the only thing I have left —He responded with regret —Believe me, I considered it, letting you have a life you deserved but I couldn't just watch you through cameras ¿Do you think bringing you to this shit was my first choice?

You didn't respond, you just hugged him and let him return the gesture, you still didn't want to continue living there but you didn't want to leave him alone either, after all, both only had each other.

After a few minutes of silence you looked back at the cake and smiled softly.

—¿Is it chocolate?

—dark chocolate, your favorite —He left a fatherly kiss on your head and took the cake again to put it in front of you —Blew out the candles and make a wish

The smile on your father's face was enough to ease your worries for a few moments, you blew out the candles hoping that one day these games would end.

● Inside the games.

In-ho's plan was going just as he thought, he approached Gi-hun and began to gain his trust but seeing you walk towards them among all the players made his heart skip a beat.

—¿Can I be on your team? —You asked with a smile that showed your white teeth.

—¿How old are you, girl? —390 asked with a surprised expression.

—Twenty —You replied naturally, playing with your hands, but In-ho snorted and took two steps towards you.

—No —He looked at you witheringly —No —Now he turned to see Gi-hun's team —She is sixteen, no twenty ¿What are you doing here?

He ended up looking at you again, he really didn't want you to be here and worse because his lie along with his fake name Young-il would fall apart but you were smart.

—¿Do you know each other? —Asked 388, who you found cute almost immediately.

—Yes, he is a friend of my father

—¿What are you doing here? —In-ho asked again, almost desperate to get an answer. You disobeyed him and you can be sure that you will be grounded until you turn thirty.

—The same as you —You answered firmly and defiantly, your smile challenged him because you were sure that he wouldn't scold you or his whole false theater would fall apart —¿Can I be on your team?

—Sure —Dae-ho replied, smiling kindly at you.

You smiled at him too, but with other intentions, just to irritate your father a little and take advantage of the fact that he couldn't scold you now.

—Thank you —you said with a flirtatious smile and a wink, to which Dae-ho lowered his head in embarrassment.

—Sixteen —In-ho repeated with slight annoyance and a tense smile.

Dae-ho tensed and raised his hands in a sign of peace and took a step back, he was just being kind but it was better to be safe than to have to face that man who kept looking at you with annoyance and reprimand.

You would be a problem for your father because not only would you challenge him at every opportunity you had but you would also try to help Gi-hun end these games, that was your wish and nothing was going to make you change your mind.

The Salesman

● Outside of games.

The morning was calm, everything was silent and through the window you could see the clear sky with the sun shining, a good climate but a great contrast with the interior of your home.

The walls were wallpapered and the floor was shiny, you placed your hands on the cold marble table while your father placed a plate with a mountain of pancakes in front of you.

—Breakfast is ready —he said with a wide smile.

A polite smile, but most of the time it conveys coldness and threat. For you, this expression was genuine affection.

—¿Aren't you going to have breakfast with me? —You asked curiously watching him wipe his hands with the kitchen cloth and then fix his hair and walk towards the refrigerator.

—I would love to stay pumpkin but you know I have to go to work —He replied without paying much attention to you —After finishing your breakfast you take off your pajamas, get dressed formally and wait for your teacher to arrive.

You nodded silently as you used the fork to bring a piece of pancake to your mouth.

Life was monotonous.

Every day, you got out of bed to make it, had breakfast that your father prepared, bathed, combed your hair and got ready to take your private lessons at home, did your homework and at night you watched an exact hour of cartoons, brushed your teeth and went to bed.

Your father was a very organized man when it came to your schedule, you remember how one time you watched five extra minutes of television and as punishment he locked you in your room for five hours.

“Television melts your brain”

Despite everything, he loved you, you knew it, he just had a strange way of letting you know.

—I'll be back tonight, I love you pumpkin —He said approaching you to leave a kiss on your forehead.

He was a good father, but you didn't know anything about what he was doing out there.

You didn't know that he recruited and investigated people who would die playing for money or that sometimes he took on dirty jobs that his boss sent him, you didn't know what kind of person he really was and that was what the salesman wanted.

He adored you and that's why he avoided at all costs that you knew about the double life he led, he didn't want to hurt you.

However, there were certain mistakes that he regretted, one for example was that he himself had killed your mother as soon as you were born, he knew that she would want to run away with you, she did not want to continue living the life she had at his side and that was why he had to put a bullet between her eyes.

He didn't let her take you away from him, you were his daughter and even though he locked you up practically every day, he convinced himself that it was only for safety.

He only let you go out for a walk in the park and shopping malls on your birthday, once a year.

Despite how boring your life was, everything was going well until one night you heard moans and sobs coming from below your house.

You rarely heard them and this time you were very curious, you got out of bed, put on your slippers and left your room.

You silently walked down the stairs as the noises grew louder, when you reached what seemed to be the source of the sound, you saw that it was your father's secret room, a door that led to the basement was always locked, but this time... it was open just a little.

—¿Daddy? —You called him softly as you opened the door.

As you walked down the dark basement stairs, sobs mixed with opera music filled your ears, sending a shiver of fear through your entire body, you hugged your teddy bear tighter.

—The probability of dying is one in six and of surviving five in six —You heard your father's voice.

He explained with a polite smile, it was a great contrast to the situation was in, he liked to feel the adrenaline of this game and that way he could also get rid of these two men who had been following him during the day.

However, when he saw you at the bottom of the stairs with a scared expression and on the verge of tears, his smile faded and hid the gun behind him.

—¿What are you doing awake? It's past your bedtime and I told you a hundred times that you weren't allowed to come in here.

He spoke sternly and angrily, the two men he had tied to a respective chair began to make desperate sounds to get your attention, as if you were the only way to get out of there.

—¡Silence! —He shouted furiously making you jump a little in your place, you hadn't seen this side of him —Go to your room, ¡now!

Once you ran out of there, he took out his gun again and pointed it at the man in the red shirt. He was the one who made the most noise and that's why you woke up.

—Excellent, y'all traumatized a nine-year-old girl —He said with a tense smile

Although it was also his fault, he knew that at any moment you would discover his work anyway, but he hoped that wouldn't happen soon.

After you returned to your room you couldn't sleep, a couple of hours passed until your father opened the door and cautiously entered.

—You were disobedient —he began in a serious voice —And as a result you saw something you shouldn't have.

You were still lying face down with your face hidden in the pillow, he still had the loaded gun in his hand, he knew what had to do or else you would cause trouble.

But him couldn't.

The ease with which he killed his father was surprising but he couldn't kill you, you were the only thing that gave this home humanity and the mere thought of ending it made his stomach turn.

He clenched the gun in his hand and twisted his lips, after a long mental battle he put the gun in his pants and sat next to you.

—There are many things that you still won't understand, but what you can be sure of is that I am your father and I love you —With his hand he caressed your hair and felt you relax a little. —No matter what you saw down there, you will still be my daughter, but there will be some changes in this house.

You remained silent, you felt distrust but he was still your father, he was the only thing you knew and even if you were afraid of him you couldn't leave there, you had nowhere to go.

After a few minutes you sat up in bed and hugged him for comfort. He just caressed your hair and kissed your head.

Hwang Jun-ho

● Outside of games.

Being the daughter of a police officer had its advantages and disadvantages.

One advantage was that you could brag about it whenever someone bothered you at school, including teachers, and a big disadvantage was that you rarely got to spend time together as a father and daughter.

Jun-ho worked constantly but he also tried to keep an eye on you. "She's your daughter, before you know it she'll be your age," his mother constantly repeated to him reproachfully, she was right, time was flying and if he continued looking for his lost brother or working double shifts at the police station he would miss more years of your life.

For that reason, he decided to leave work early that day, and went to buy two hamburgers, some chips and candy while he thought of some fun activity to strengthen the family bond.

But when he got home he found you sitting at the table next to your teacher.

He twisted his lips, assuming you had gotten into trouble.

It was no surprise, you missed some classes, you didn't bring homework and your grades weren't the best but you were a great girl in terms of your behavior, just very distracted and Jun-ho couldn't help but feel guilty about that behavior on your part, yeah, sometimes you did it to get his attention.

After talking for two hours with your teacher she left and your father looked at you tiredly.

—You haven't taken any algebra classes, if you continue like this you'll fail the year.

You formed a fake smile on your lips.

—The teacher hates me —You stated, getting up from your chair to go towards the bag that your father had brought. —You left work early.

—I thought I'd do something fun, you know... father-daughter

You saw him with a raised chest, it was not usual, it was already customary for Jun-ho to spend most of the day outside the house, either looking for your uncle or immersing himself in his work.

—¿It's a holiday and I forgot? —You asked funny and sarcastic, turning around to get a juice from the refrigerator.

—Funny —he responded falsely —Now bring your notebooks, let's study together.

It was not the entertaining activity that he had in mind but if it brought them closer as a family it was an opportunity that he would not waste.

—¿Oh really? I mean, I already missed the school year anyway.

The look on Jun-ho's face let you know that he wasn't joking, they were going to spend the next four hours studying numbers and equations.

You really thought it would be a waste of time but it wasn't like that, as the conversation about algebra flowed the confidence did too, Jun-ho had been absent many times but this help made you remember that no matter what happens or how, no matter how big or small the problem is, he will be there for you.

● Inside the games.

You were stubborn, you always disobeyed any order they gave you, even if your father asked you not to get involved in his affairs you ignored him because were family and you should support each other.

The last few days you had seen Jun-ho more worried and anxious than normal, so you decided to follow him and find out the reason for his current state but you didn't imagine that it was something related to the disappearance of your uncle In-ho, apparently he had already got some clues and you wanted to help him.

He scolded you when he discovered you and warned you not to get involved, he even went to leave you with grandma with the excuse that he would be away for a couple of days but you escaped through a window and followed him again.

That led you to where you were now.

Your bare feet were sweating and your hands were shaking, you tried to avoid looking down through the glass you were in but curiosity got the better of you and you looked down into the void.

You were terrified.

The night you followed your father, one of the men dressed in pink with a circle mask discovered you, left you unconscious and when you woke up you were wearing a green uniform with the number "455" lying on a bed and surrounded by several people who dressed the same, you thought it was some joke, you didn't know what you had gotten yourself involved in, and when you saw that had to play a series of games to avoid being killed, you felt as if the soul was leaving your body.

You looked for your father among all the players but you couldn't find him and shortly after you learned that he had infiltrated the guards, he told you when he came in during a fight between players and was able to talk to you for a few seconds.

—I don't want to die —You murmured fearfully as you heard another glass breaking accompanied by a scream.

—You're not going to die, you have to relax —218 spoke behind you, you were one of the last to cross these crystals and you were more than grateful for that.

You gulped and continued jumping to the next crystal that fortunately had already been tested by another player.

Meanwhile Jun-ho felt his stomach turn and his heart beat like crazy.

He tried to maintain a firm and calm posture, he was still an infiltrator and he couldn't let them notice his concern, but seeing you there between life and death made his heart stop.

One of the so-called "VIP" with a gold mask called him to serve him more liquor and he obeyed, however, the conversation that these people were having about the players made his blood run cold, they talked as if they were just entertainment, some circus animals so that these people could have fun as spectators, but what caught their attention the most was the way they talked about you.

"She looks about fifteen years old" one said with amusement "I say sixteen" spoke another.

Wrong, you were thirteen years old and Jun-ho felt like the worst father in the world for letting you get involved in this.

—¿Will sell the body if she dies or will they cremate it? —One asked interestedly and earning laughter from the rest, Jun-ho only felt nauseous listening to it.

Jun-ho returned to serve liquor to one of the masked men but when he heard a glass break followed by a female scream that he immediately identified as your, he turned around and felt his world collapse.

Where you were previously standing was now 218 with the gaze lost downwards and the body tense, when it was your turn to decide between the two crystals you refused, you didn't want to do it and saw the man who helped you survive each game was there behind you ready to push you.

Another breaking glass caught the attention of the guests, guards and the frontman, Jun-ho had dropped the tray with everything and bottle of liquor.

—I apologize —he murmured, bending down to pick up the mess of broken glass, taking advantage of the fact that no one could see his face, he shed tears of pain.

[...]

A few months had passed after living that nightmare in the games, Jun-ho left there with a bullet in his shoulder and with the disappointment of discovering that it was his brother who was leading all that, but also thanks to that you left alone with some broken bones.

In-ho recognized you instantly and made sure that you could get out of there alive, when you fell from that glass platform your body did not fall directly to the ground, the blow was cushioned by a pad that had been placed specifically for you.

He pretended you were dead and sent you to the hospital, When Jun-ho found out that you were there, he cried with happiness knowing that you were still breathing.

He walked into your hospital room with a set of clean clothes in his hands and when he saw you sitting on the bed eating Jell-O and watching TV he couldn't help but laugh.

—For you this was a vacation.

—Falling from a great height brings its advantages —You said with a triumphant smile, you had gotten rid of many exams and schoolwork.

He always apologized to you for everything you had to go through, from that day on he stopped looking for In-ho (or at least he did it secretly from you) and he was more attentive to you, he took you to school, he was never missing to any event that was special for you and he promised to put you ahead of everything.

Seong Gi-hun

● Outside the games.

He's not the best father but he tries.

You were standing in the forum of your school wearing a dark blue robe and the characteristic mortarboard on your head, in your hands you held your diploma and tried to smile for the camera of the photographer that the school had hired.

You still looked between the seats in the stands for your father but there was no one, your mother had gone with your sister to the United States with her new husband and you had stayed here because you didn't want to abandon Gi-hun.

You formed a grimace on your lips and looked down with sadness and disappointment until suddenly you heard him voice among the people and you looked up again.

—Yes, my daughter just graduated, ��Oops! Sorry if I stepped on you —He spoke embarrassedly as he crossed the row of people to get to his seat.

You laughed softly and inevitably raised your hand to greet him and get his attention even though your teacher scolded you.

Gi-hun carried a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a gift box in his hands, he sat in his respective place and smiled at you affectionately.

To be honest with himself, he had not planned to come to your graduation, he would apologize to you later by taking you to eat, giving you a gift and flowers, but in the end he decided to go, late but he arrived.

It took him a long time to find the salesman again and he was practically investing all his money in it, this day was not going to be different, ¿what made him change his mind? The photo of you as a baby that he had saved on his phone, the one-year-old you would cry inconsolably if he knew he was going to be without him on this special day.

When the ceremony ended you ran towards him, who welcomed you with open arms.

—Congratulations my life, I'm proud of you —He said, giving you a fatherly kiss on the forehead.

—Thanks for coming —Your smile was enough to confirm that he had made the right decision.

He gave you your flowers and the gift, when you opened it you found a beautiful sewing machine, it was the most appropriate gift considering that you had just graduated as a fashion designer.

—¡Thank you dad! —You said happily, hugging him tightly again.

You were excited and he was also happy to share this moment with you, he had isolated himself from everything for the last three years but you managed to get him out of his comfort zone to also make him smile.

Sometimes he isolated you to protect you, he didn't want anyone involved in those games to know that he had a daughter, a great weakness if they asked him and if something happened to you he was sure that he would never forgive himself and he would be capable of doing the unimaginable for defend you.

He called you "my life" and it was because that's what you were to him, his entire life, his oldest daughter was all he had left.

● Inside the games.

The last thing he wanted to happen was exactly what happened.

The night they took him back to those games you were also dragged with him, not by your own will because you didn't know anything about this but by the simple fact of being the closest to him you found yourself involved in this conflict.

—¿Why didn't you ever tell me about this? —You asked him cautiously as ate the food those pink guards had given them in silver cans.

—I didn't want you to get involved in this —He admitted with an expression of failure and anguish —But now you're in danger.

—We'll be fine —You smiled at him with motivation —They're just... they're child's games ¿right? We will get out of here alive.

—She's right, we just have to be prepared —Young-il said agreeing with you.

You stayed quiet and sat next to your father while you finished eating until a dispute between players caught your attention, one with purple hair and his friend forcefully pushed another to the ground.

A grimace of pain formed on your lips as the poor guy was kicked in the abdomen, knocking the wind out of him.

—¿Aren't they going to help you? They are hurting him —You complained, turning to look at the group of allies that your father had formed, but when you saw that no one was going to do anything, you stood up.

But as soon as you took a step, Young-il put a hand on your shoulder as a sign that he would take care of the situation.

After he hit the two bullies you went to player 333 and helped him stand up.

—¿Are you okay? Come with me —You said leading him to your group.

He gave you his name as a thank you, Lee Myung-gi, while you were talking to him you noticed that he was attractive and he was only a couple of years older than you

Well, eight years to you wasn't much of a difference but your father wasn't too happy about it.

During the next game in which they had to team up with five players, Gi-hun tried to keep you close.

—Well, the five of us are here, we are complete.

—Myung-gi doesn't have a team yet —You said, approaching 333 who was still standing next to you but looking in all directions in search of some team —I'll go and form another one with him.

Those words didn't seem pleasant to Gi-hun either, but before he could refuse, Young-il interrupted to help you a little.

—That's good, this way it will be easier for you to find team.

You thanked him with your look and before your father could say anything you took 333 by the hand and the two of snuck through the players in search of a team.

Even so, you could feel your father's gaze on your back and not to mention Myung-gi, he did feel somewhat intimidated but he also couldn't deny a certain attraction he had towards you since he saw you.

It was incredible and made you laugh how despite the circumstances he was still protective of you, not only protecting you from physical harm, but also emotional harm and keeping an eye out in case someone wanted to break your heart.

With the salesman I didn't put it into the games because I think it's obvious that that man would never allow something like that when it comes to his daughter.

Thanks for reading and the next thing I'll post will be about Thanos, a pending request :D

[quarterlifekitty]

based on this. cw: graphic violence/descriptions, fatal wounds, gross stuff.

You ask yourself, often, how Soap fell into this life. He shows up at your door with trinkets, flowers, blushes and smiles– all while he pays the same rates as everyone else for a night in your stock-standard room. He’s a member of The Flock, a cutthroat organized crime family. They run the city you live in, they own the room you live in, and their members take up a vast majority of your clientele.

And you killed their Shepard. For reasons that seem so far away, now. Some old grudge that clung to you like the glue from a peeled-off sticker. It made dirt stick to you.

For a time, you acted like everything was normal. That’s how you get away with murder, isn’t it? Life goes on– why would a whore cry over the boss of her clients? And it works. Johnny visits like clockwork, always at the end of the night if he can– hates having to get out of the bed when he’s finished. He’ll take sloppy seconds gladly, but his face sours when he has to make room for other clients.

And then that stupid little corner store comes forward. A camera they’d thought had been broken flicked on for a few nights. Enough to see you leaving the wrong place at the wrong time.

The city is an above-ground sewer. Labyrinthine, dank, and full of garbage. You run barefoot– not able to dig up your years-old tennis shoes in time when dress shoes thundered through your building by the dozen. Building to building, alleyway through alleyway, seemingly at a dead end when you’re suddenly pulled inside of a door. The suit you know so well, a half-palm glove on the hand gripping yours, a mohawk. You don’t stop running. It’s unnerving– hearing nothing but his breath when he’s never shut up for as long as you’ve known him.

After what feels like miles, you’re headed off by a woman you’ve never seen. Her scowl looks so natural you imagine her smile is downright terrifying. Soap’s face is twisted in recognition as you’re pulled behind him. He tries to back up, but as soon as he turns to run with you the other way, a bullet connects with his skull. Bad dog, bad. His last gesture points the way and you run. You can’t waste his sacrifice. Your lungs feel like they rip and tear as you heave, blood like phlegethon trickling through your system while the acid bursts at the back of your throat, fortelling bile. Johnny, he told you one night, bathed in the neon from the signs outside diffused by your curtains, tha’s my real name. His name was Johnny.

When he wakes up, there’s a starburst ready to form, fresh and pink and raw on the side of his head beneath the bandages. There’s a heaviness to his insides, a fragility to his outsides– like if he leans over far enough his belly will split open and spill lead onto the floor. He can remember a face. A woman’s face, drenched in sweat and ready to burst with tears. Nothing else. Not even his own name.

A man with a smarmy smile and a hairline scar greets him in his room as soon as he can sit himself up. He’s holding a picture– dead ringer. Feels stupid, but he has to ask who she is. 

The whore that shot you, that’s who she is. Ready to go on a hunt?

Hunting. He remembers hunting. Explains what lodges in his throat and pounds inside his skull when he thinks of your face. Must be hate. Must be anger. Must be betrayal. The last being worst of all to a creature who lives on loyalty (which he’s told he is).

The city is on a complete lockdown– no way in or out. Your cheap scent should be easy to catch.

You won’t be getting away with murder a second time.

[darkmatilda]

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: two years ago, completely by accident, you helped catch a serial killer. now, as mysterious events start to pile up around you, you begin to suspect that someone is after you, seeking revenge. terrified, you're willing to do anything to save yourself—even if it means reaching out to your ex, who wants nothing more to do with you.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: [these warnings only apply to part 2!] spencer reid x criminal(thief)female!reader, stalking, mention of dismembered bodies, serial killer targeting women, mention of abduction, reader kinda joking about killing an old man (i have no idea how to phrase it differently)

𝐚/����: hi, my loves!! thank you for the feedback on the previous part, and as always, thank you to my dear friends from the server 👀 today especially @nachrosas who appears as one of the characters

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.3k

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

You were a bit embarrassed to admit it to yourself, but you didn’t leave your hiding spot until Spencer arrived.

It took him about forty minutes, though it felt like no time at all. In the dark, small closet, time moved differently. The human heart beats 60 to 80 times per minute—yours, however, was more than double that, which probably affected your sense of time.

You recognized his footsteps as he approached, and soon the door opened. For a brief moment, you two stared at each other in silence. He was wearing dark clothes again, with a burgundy shirt peeking out from under his jacket. His eyes no longer held the animosity they did the last time you saw each other. It seemed like everything that was happening had him so preoccupied that he'd forgotten, even if just for a moment, that he wasn’t supposed to like you.

"Hey," you managed to say, your brain only able to form this one word. 

Spencer blinked at the casual greeting.

"Are you okay?" he asked, still holding the closet door open. He looked at you more closely, noting your slightly bent knees and expressionless face. Only then did he move with some hesitation, unsure of how to act, before offering his hand to you.

You reached for it, only catching the tips of his fingers. Still, you could feel the strong, steady grip. He helped you out of the closet as if you were a princess needing support to exit a carriage. 

He released you immediately when your feet touched the floor, pressing his hand firmly to his body.

“What’s going on? Is… is this your apartment?” he asked, glancing around the room with confusion. “What were you doing in…”

“This is Rebekah’s apartment,” you cut him off, taking two steps forward to shake out your still shaky legs, and at the same time, to distance yourself from him. The bedroom was too small for a full walk, so you circled around, stopping at the edge of the bed. Your head was still spinning from the fear, but you forced yourself to straighten your back. You didn’t want him to think you were just paranoid again. You needed to appear confident about what you’d seen and what you’d been through.

“Rebekah…” he repeated the name aloud, thinking. You hadn’t expected him to immediately recognize who she was, but he added, “The woman you saved that time.”

“Right. Your memory,” you muttered, taking a deep breath. Your gaze landed on the empty bed, and the words Robert Miller escaped from prison echoed in your head. You quickly turned to Spencer, urgency in your eyes. “He was here. I came to check on Rebekah; I hadn’t heard from her for a few days. No one answered, so I came inside…and then he followed me…”

You stopped mid-sentence when you saw his expression. You had expected fear—not...disbelief.

“You called me, saying he escaped!” you shouted, crossing your arms angrily. “Do you have a reason to think I’m lying, or are you just doing this for the sake of it…”

“I’m not saying you’re lying,” he interrupted firmly, mirroring your tense posture. “I know you’re shaken up, and I know it really happened. The thing is, it couldn’t have been Robert Miller. The escape news reached us immediately. He wouldn’t have had time to get here, and how would he even know where she lives?”

First, you opened your mouth, about to say something, but then quickly pressed your lips together. Who else could it have been? At first, you thought it was just your perception, but then the memory of the scent that filled your nostrils as the man entered the room came back to you. You couldn’t shake the thought that it was him. Of course, you weren’t about to say that to Spencer—he already thought you were paranoid.

Maybe it was one of her friends? But then, damn it, why would he visit her when she wasn’t here? You lowered your head, trying to clear your thoughts and focus. You needed to figure out what had happened to Rebekah, first and foremost.

With that in mind, you bypassed Spencer and made your way to the kitchen.

“There’s something else you need to know…” he started, trailing behind you as if you were keeping him on a leash. You didn’t even turn at his words, heading straight for the fridge, bending down to peer inside. “Wait, are you seriously going to eat now?” 

You pulled a bottle of milk out of the fridge, but before checking the expiration date, you shot him a look full of disdain. He crossed his arms defensively.

“Yeah, I’m starving. You want something?” you muttered, going back to what you were doing. “I’m trying to figure out when she was last here based on expired food. Instead of standing there like a statue, how about you help me out, Mr. FBI?”

He clearly had no response, so he cleared his throat and ventured further into the kitchen, carefully scanning it for any clues.

“I didn’t know we switched roles,” he added after a moment.

You shrugged.

“I’ve always thought detective work isn’t that hard. Just have to be observant”

Spencer snorted.

“Well, in that case, maybe you’ll take a look at a certain case for me. The guy was called Zodiac. Ring any bells?”

You could have easily come up with at least five sarcastic replies, but there was something more pressing on your mind than winning this verbal battle. 

"Some of the stuff in this fridge is already expired, or about to be," you remarked, taking one last glance at the shelves. "If she’s missing, it was recently. Maybe...maybe today. And the person who did this came back to erase potential evidence. When I got here, the light was on. They must’ve turned it off. What do you think?"

He stood still, facing away from you, his back to the kitchen counter. He didn’t answer. You took a small step to the side, and that’s when you saw what he was holding.

"I don’t think they were here to erase evidence," he replied in an unreadable tone, a trace of tension in his voice. Only then did he turn toward you, holding up a piece of paper. "I think whoever it was, came here after you. They were following you. They wanted you to find this."

The piece of paper had a simple message written in bold black marker. 

POLICE = SHE DIES. 

For a moment, you stared at the words, frozen. You took the paper from him, light as a feather, yet somehow it felt as heavy as an adult elephant in your hands. Your arm dropped limply to your side.

"Now do you believe me that all of this is connected?" you asked, a hint of dark triumph in your voice. Spencer kept his jaw clenched. "The last murder? The faucet in my kitchen? Miller's escape, and now this?" you trailed off, struggling to swallow. "He's after me."

He stared at you silently, bracing himself with one hand on the edge of the counter. You tilted your head, unsure of what to make of the prolonged look he was giving you.

"You were right from the beginning," he said finally, the words clearly coming with difficulty. Before you could scoff at the obviousness of the statement, he added, "After you came to me, I took another look at the last murder. It turns out... we missed something important."

Normally, you would have thrown in some sarcastic comment about the FBI's incompetence or asked where your taxes were going. But you were too focused on his words, too eager to hear what he was about to reveal.

"One of the victims had, still attached, a piece of the rope they were tied with," he continued. "Paracord. A type of line used in sailing. All the other thirteen victims of Miller were tied with it. We never released that information to the public. We kept it under wraps in case someone tried to take credit for it. So...it couldn't have been a copycat."

This time, you were the one at a loss for words—or rather, the ability to string them together properly. You exhaled heavily, crushing the paper in your hand. The full weight of Rebekah’s situation had just hit you. She was being forced to endure all of this again. The note suggested she might still be alive. But even if you managed to save her—again—would she be able to piece herself back together after this trauma, again?

Despite the grim thought, one thing was clear: you had to do everything in your power to help her.

“You’re not telling anyone about this,” you snapped sharply, pointing at Spencer with the hand still clutching the crumpled note.

“I’m not telling anyone,” he agreed with a slight nod. “Except my team.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

“Listen, every serial killer demands not to involve the police. And do you know what you’re supposed to do in that situation? Involve the police. We’ll handle this—”

“And I’m handling it with you,” you finished firmly.

This time, he looked like he wanted to argue.

“It’s inevitable,” you added before he could say a word. “He’s targeting me, so I’m involved no matter what. Instead of wasting time trying to convince me otherwise, let’s get to work. What do you think about all this? Miller had a partner the entire time, didn’t he?”

Despite your mixed feelings toward him, you couldn’t deny his knowledge and experience—things essential for tackling this case, things you personally didn’t have. Not that you hid the fact that your understanding of crimes went beyond that of the average person. Spencer placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head slightly.

“Seems that way,” he replied, adopting that deeply calculating expression, the one where most emotions vanished from his face.

You tried to reconcile that look with a softer one—like the way he’d looked when the two of you used to lie in bed in the morning, talking excitedly about something. But you couldn’t. That memory had already faded, blurred, replaced by an indistinct haze. You weren’t sure if you felt any regret about it. Maybe you shouldn’t think about it at all.

“At the time, we were certain these were crimes committed by just one unsub,” he continued, his voice steady. “And I’d still hold to that theory if it weren’t for…all of this.”

Something uncertain sparked in your mind.

“What if he didn’t commit those murders? Sure, Rebekah was found in his house, but…”

“He confessed,” Spencer interrupted, his tone leaving little room for debate.

“Yes, but—”

“The polygraph confirmed his statement too,” he cut in again. Then, after a brief pause, he admitted, “Okay, I know that’s not exactly reliable evidence. But after all the time I spent interrogating him…studying his body language, his facial expressions, comparing it to the profile… he is The Waterside Butcher. Or at least…” his voice dropped slightly, “he believes he is.”

You listened to him only partially, your gaze wandering painfully around Rebekah’s empty apartment as you tried not to imagine what she might be going through or feeling right now. And, above all, you tried not to let yourself worry about your own safety.

“So, an accomplice,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “Someone we know nothing about. But if they teamed up for something like this, they must’ve meant a lot to each other, don’t you think? I mean, they must’ve known each other back then.”

Spencer gave a small nod—so small it barely felt like agreement.

“It’s possible. And since we don’t have anything else to go on, we should start there. Go back through Miller’s life. I should be able to access all the case files related to him without any trouble. And update my team about all of this” 

The silence between you stretched, tight and uncomfortable. It took you a moment to realize his words meant you should leave and get to work. Still, you felt glued to the floor of the apartment, as though moving would make everything more real. Finally, you sighed and straightened up, forcing a sense of readiness.

“You’ve got my number,” you said, heading toward the door. “Call me when you’ve got the files.” As you flicked the light switch on your way out, the apartment sank back into darkness.

Spencer hesitated on the stairwell, pausing in front of a graffiti drawing on the wall— spray-painted dick. He was blissfully unaware of the masterpiece behind him.

“Be careful,” he said, his tone serious. You couldn’t quite tell if there was genuine concern behind his words.

Maybe a little.

You reached under your jacket, pulling your coat back slightly to reveal the handle of your gun. You kept your movements measured, your face calm—or at least, as calm as you could make it seem. “I’m good,” you replied. 

“Still, just…be careful,” he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly. “Actually, you could just leave this to us—”

“So you can miss something important again?” you teased, your voice edged with sarcasm. You’d always been the kind of person who trusted your own instincts over anyone else’s, and right now, you didn’t feel like handing over control. “See you later. And hurry up. No naps on the way.”

Spencer opened his mouth, ready to snap something back, but you were already heading toward the stairs before he could get the words out.

*

Returning to the apartment was risky, but you had to do it.

Slowly opening the door, accompanied by the shrill barking of your neighbor's poodle, who gave his last, final concert every evening before collapsing on the couch, a strange calm filled you. And it probably wasn’t just because you were holding a gun. It didn’t seem illogical that Miller would show up here right after escaping from prison. If he managed to do that, if he and his accomplice were able to kidnap Rebekah, they must have been following some larger plan.

Soon, you would find out what it was.

Erika's dog kept barking as you double-checked the entire apartment. You were never the type to relax as soon as you entered your place, tossing yourself carelessly onto the couch. You always crossed its threshold warily, especially when you were involved in some major heist or making deals with someone from the darker side of the dark side of everything.

In any case, it was clean.

You shoved the gun behind your belt, hung your jacket on the hook, from which it immediately slid off, but you weren’t planning to worry about it. Instead, you made your way to your bedroom, to the cash album, to take most of it. You didn’t know how long Miller’s search would last or how the situation would unfold—perhaps escape would become necessary...but that would definitely not happen before you found Rebekah. Safe and sound.

You tried not to look at all the photos, from which your faces had been cut out. With a grimace on your lips, you skipped over those pages, jumping to the last one, the one with the money... when a photo fell out of the album, one that didn’t belong to you. At least, you thought it didn’t.

Because yes, there were a few photographs of family members, even ones you hadn’t been in touch with for a long time, who had passed away when you were a child. But this woman… you felt like you had never seen her before. She seemed young, the black-and-white photo with slightly bent corners, her hairstyle and makeup, indicated it must have been taken in another decade.

Slowly, you took it in your hands, analyzing her facial features with a furrowed brow. You might have thought it was just a photo that had been slipped in there, if it weren’t for the fact...that there was something familiar about her.

You stared at that face for a long time before you forced yourself to shut the album. Some time had passed, you had gone to visit Rebekah late in the evening, so it didn’t take long for you to realize it was the middle of the night. With no news from Spencer, you didn’t really know what to do, and it left you with a solid sense of helplessness. Closing your eyes wasn’t an option, so you leaned your hips against the damn expensive shabby chic island with a marble countertop, trying to make yourself some coffee. Many of the furniture pieces in your apartment were old, which made them stand out against the modern kitchen appliances. You hadn’t quite figured out how to work the espresso machine yet, and you were too lazy to, so you always preferred to grab coffee from somewhere in town. You spent an enormous amount of time searching through the cabinets for the user manual (spoiler: you’ll later realize you threw it away and hit your forehead against the counter in frustration) while wondering whether Spencer would ever contact you again.

Maybe he only promised to get back to you to push you away from the investigation, planning to handle it entirely with the help of his team. Maybe he considered you unnecessary in all of this and didn’t think you could help in any way. 

Wow, were you really antagonizing your ex in your mind again as a way to kill time?

You missed the moment when Erika’s dog finished its performance.

In any case, you were wrong. Spencer had sent you a message early in the morning, skipping the commas he always diligently used, which suggested he had listened to your advice and hadn’t taken a nap on the way. Once again, with your jacket on your back, you jumped into the front seat of his car.

"I thought this would take you less time," you said with dissatisfaction, looking at his hands on the steering wheel and feeling the familiar scent of his presence. It had been a long time since you last shared such a small space. "You always said the first 24 hours after a disappearance are the most important. We’ve already wasted about a third of that..."

“That’s not a typical missing person case,” he cut in between your words, sounding like a lecturer, allowing himself a brief yawn in the process. There was always that little purple ring around his dark eyes that disappeared during vacations or work breaks, when you’d spend time together in the laziest possible ways. "It’s a kidnapping, and the unsub has given us a condition. If, of course, his words hold any value, Rebekah will stay alive as long as you don’t notify the police."

"Which I already did," you muttered.

"My team is quietly searching for her. For now, we need to focus on what we decided earlier. We need to go through Miller’s life again and maybe find a clue about his accomplice. Here are the case files..." Spencer suddenly stopped, holding a thick folder in his hand, slightly extended toward you but still in his grip.

You reached for it, but he pulled it away.

“Jeez, found a moment to play the kid, huh…”

“I just realized you’re not authorized to look at these,” he replied.

“Why not?” you asked, throwing your hands up, accidentally brushing against his shoulder. "Ugh, right, I know. Protecting the privacy of the man who killed thirteen women. Sorry, officer, for wanting to breach his confidentiality and treat him with a lack of respect..."

He handed you the folder without a word. You sent him a triumphant smile.

“I had the point, right? You could admit it out loud."

“That would be dangerous for your ego.”

“You assume that one compliment from you could seriously affect it? Bold.”

Spencer glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, not fully taking his gaze off the road ahead.

"Did you want me to admit you were right or give you a compliment?"

You opened the folder to the first page, immediately confronted with Robert Miller’s face. You barely managed to hide the small twitch in your shoulders. Spencer scrutinized you once more, and you tried to mask your reaction.

“So,” you began, clearing your throat. “We’re heading to his father’s house, the one still alive. Kinda rich guy, huh?”

“I’ll have to keep an eye on your sticky fingers,” he muttered under his breath, barely audible.

“What did you just say?”

He put on the expression of a gentle lamb, almost angelic.

“That we’ll have to talk to him,” he replied with a slight shrug. “As much as his health allows. He was showing signs of dementia two years ago.”

“A rich guy, not fully in control of his mind?” you threw in with a small smirk, deliberately trying to get under his skin. You had heard his first comment. “I’m drooling.”

“Jesus Christ,” he sighed, rolling his eyes.

Silently, you studied the unsub's profile included in the file, refreshing information you already knew. That he and his father shared a passion for water in general, engaging in water sports and setting out onto the lake as often as possible. During one of their boat trips, he had pushed his mother overboard—she hadn’t been wearing a life jacket. Due to his young age, apparent remorse, and his father’s unwavering belief in his innocence, the incident had been ruled an accident.

In reality, it was the beginning of his murderous spree, directed exclusively at women. The first victim—the one who had given him life.

You arrived at a rather large estate, standing out slightly against the otherwise modest neighborhood. A typical American suburb, with an intensely green lawn that looked almost painted on. White walls, a dark roof, and untrimmed bushes hinting at a long-standing lack of effort in maintaining an illusion of perfection.

Spencer rang the doorbell and quickly shoved his hands into the pockets of his black coat. You stood side by side, the wait dragging on. You couldn’t help yourself—you nudged him with your elbow. He glanced at you, slightly surprised.

"When he opens the door, you're gonna do that power move with the badge, aren’t you?" you asked, your tone playful as you tilted your head to look at him.

Spencer chose to ignore the comment, pressing the doorbell again.

"Don’t be shy, I always thought that was kind of attractive," you added, watching in amusement as his expression stiffened ever so slightly.

He leaned in just a bit before speaking.

"And when he doesn’t open the door, you’re gonna pull your little hair pin trick, aren’t you?" he shot back, mimicking your tone—but with the clear intent to get under your skin rather than simply engage.

You snorted.

"You think I’m an amateur? I have actual tools for that..."

Both of you fell silent as the faint sound of movement came from inside. Someone was there, lingering behind the door, watching the two of you from the other side. After a moment of hesitation, the door finally opened to reveal a very young looking girl. A few curls had escaped from the loose ponytail at the nape of her neck, and her delicate face showed little enthusiasm at the sight of you. She was dressed casually—a loose button-up shirt thrown over a dark tank top.

For a brief moment, you struggled to place her. Was there anything in Robert’s file about a (significantly) younger sister?

Spencer introduced himself as FBI, and as he pulled out his badge, he made a very deliberate effort to avoid even accidentally meeting your gaze.

Understanding suddenly dawned on her face, and her lips pressed together slightly.

"You're here because of Robert," she stated rather than asked. "I heard he escaped. Well, I guess everyone in this country has heard by now. I've been careful about opening the door in case he… decided to show up."

There was tension—fear, even—in those last few words.

"And you are…?" you began, trailing off.

"His cousin," she replied in a strange tone, as if introducing herself with some kind of cruel nickname she'd been given in high school. "Rosas. On his mother’s side. I take care of my uncle—he’s not doing too well anymore. You want to talk to him, right?"

"May we?" Spencer asked. There was more behind it. 

Will we be able to?

Rosas let you in, leading you to a small bedroom on the ground floor. What had once been a cozy space with gray walls now resembled a hospital room, with a fan positioned right next to the bed where a frail-looking man lay. His face was gaunt, his body thinned by age and illness.

He didn’t look much like Robert—or maybe it was just hard for you to see the resemblance through the years and the sickness.

As you stepped inside, the girl leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, watching your every move.

“He’s not very responsive,” she warned. “ALS. He can’t even breathe on his own anymore. And his mind’s been going for a while. He says things that don’t make sense, sometimes calls me by different names. I… I don’t know if this conversation will help you at all.”

Spencer moved closer to the bed, his sharp eyes already absorbing every detail of the room. You, on the other hand, needed a closer, more deliberate look. So, without shame, you started pacing, examining the framed photos of sailboats and ocean landscapes that lined the walls. Devoted to his passion until the very end.

You approached the dresser, where a small lighthouse figurine stood.

“That’s very generous of you,” you remarked, not turning around. “Taking care of your sick uncle.”

Rosas hesitated before answering, then scoffed.

“He wrote in his will that his entire estate would go to whoever took care of him in his final days,” she stated, without a hint of remorse.

A small smirk tugged at your lips.

“I see. And I appreciate the honesty,” you said.

Of course, you didn’t judge her. How could you blame a young girl for wanting to secure some money in this economy? In fact, you were almost certain that if you had a dying relative with a fortune up for grabs, you’d do the same.

As you stared at the photo of Robert embracing his father against the backdrop of a boat, Spencer was trying to communicate with Joseph—a task that wasn’t easy, given his condition. The man barely reacted, his eyes drifting somewhere beyond the two of you, as if he were stuck in another time and place.

Rosas decided to help, stepping into the man's field of vision and speaking to him in a voice that suddenly became soft and soothing. In an instant, her nonchalant attitude disappeared, replaced by that of a caring guardian. There was no denying it—he was lucky to have her by his side in his final moments. 

“So you think Robert might want to visit his father?” you asked after both of you had seemingly given up and were now just staring at the man in silence, as if waiting for something. “You’re scared.”

“I know what he did to those women. Of course, I’m scared,” she said, her tone suddenly colder. Then she took a deeper breath, as if trying to calm herself down. “I think it’s possible he might show up. He broke out of prison, he probably needs money and…whatever else people who break out of prison need.”

Spencer nodded, confirming her theory.

“Don’t you think he might also want to say goodbye to his father?” he asked.

Rosas hesitated, considering the question.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted after a moment, shaking her head slightly. “My uncle got much worse after Robert was arrested. Especially after he found out that he was the one who killed my aunt. That…hit him harder than the other women.”

“That’s her?” you asked, pointing at the framed photo of a woman by the man’s bedside.

You froze in place as soon as you saw it.

Fuck.

Rosas confirmed it and went on talking with Spencer about her cousin. Two years ago, she hadn’t testified in his case—she was practically a new witness, a fresh perspective. Apparently, their families had never been particularly close.

You watched as Spencer listened intently, nodding with a thoughtful expression. Oddly enough, it filled you with a sense of calm. If he had pulled something important from this conversation, then this wasn’t a waste of time, and maybe—just maybe—you were one step closer to finding Rebekah.

You caught yourself realizing that you still trusted his mind.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the photo on the bedside table, lost in thought, until a sharp gasp yanked you out of your trance.

“Clinton,” Joseph Miller suddenly rasped, his voice hoarse yet somehow…tender? His eyes darted around frantically, taking in his surroundings with desperation, though they remained vacant.

Spencer and Rosas rushed to him, eager to seize this brief moment of lucidity.

“Clinton…Clinton…my poor boy…”

"Mr. Miller, can you hear me?" Spencer asked, his voice firm but gentle.

Silence. The man’s body went still again.

"Who is Clinton?" The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them.

Rosas adjusted the pillow under Miller's head, her movements careful.

"A family friend, you could say," she replied. "Well, I never knew him as a child because he was much older than me, just like Robert. But the Millers sort of took care of him after his parents died."

"Did they adopt him?" Spencer furrowed his brow. "We didn't know about that..."

"No, they didn’t adopt him," she corrected, shaking her head. "I mean... as far as I know, he grew up across the street. He was friends with Robert, and his parents weren't, well... the best. So he spent a lot of time with them. They’d take him on sailing trips, I think they even helped him financially when he went to school. By the time they died, he was already an adult, so there was no need for formal adoption. My uncle always treated him like his own son."

You and Spencer exchanged a glance, both of you frozen for a moment. You were sure your eyes were reflecting the same realization. You'd just found the partner you'd been searching for.

The air seemed to press heavily down on you, and you wiped your tired face with your hand.

"He was here a few days ago," Rosas added after a moment, reluctantly. "I didn’t like it much because... well, anyway, they talked privately for a while. At least, Clinton tried to talk to him."

She didn’t need to finish the sentence for you to understand her unease. The man who, as she said, her uncle treated like a son, suddenly appearing. A potential rival for the inheritance. A cold shiver ran down your spine, and when you glanced at Spencer, his expression mirrored yours. If your theory was correct... Rosas, just a few days ago, had let a serial killer into her home. Or at least his accomplice.

Spencer asked her for a few more details about him. After thanking her, she led you both to the door, but you hesitated for a moment.

"That's a very weak lock," you said, nodding toward the door. "It wouldn't be hard to break in. I’ll send someone to install a better one for you, okay? Since Robert is out there, it’s better not to take any risks. Maybe the police will offer some protection," you added louder so Spencer, walking toward the car, could hear you.

The girl smiled faintly. You couldn’t help it—you felt some sympathy for her. And you were scared for her safety, just as you were scared for Rebekah. And for yourself. 

You were about to turn around when something stopped you.

"You know, you could just disconnect him from the respirator," you muttered. It wasn’t that you wanted to suggest it, but you were curious about her reaction, about her real feelings toward her uncle. There was a lot of tenderness in the way she treated him, and you didn’t think it was just for profit. "You’d save him from suffering. And get the inheritance faster."

Rosas stared at you, probably thinking you were joking. She likely thought you were also in the FBI. Then she shook her head, as if in disbelief.

"I don’t think I could," she said softly. "Besides, this job isn’t that bad. I’d rather wait than end up in prison if someone found out."

"Fair point," you agreed, your gaze drifting to the side, where Spencer stood with his hand resting on the car door, listening to your conversation. Curiosity was the first step to hell. You raised your voice just enough to make sure he’d hear. "Although, sometimes all it takes is having a guy in the police, and you can get away with anything." Rosas chuckled, likely understanding what you were doing. "I honestly recommend it."

You waved her off one last time, and she gave you a friendly wave back.

When you got into the car, Spencer was staring at you seriously.

"Did you just suggest that girl kill her uncle?" he asked, his disbelief evident in his voice.

You shrugged. You couldn’t be bothered to explain it.

“I was just making sure she knew all her options.”

“Options...?” he repeated, sounding confused. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “I used to think nothing could surprise me about you, that I knew absolutely everything there was to know about you, and now, here you are, showing up two years later, and...”

He suddenly stopped, his jaw dropping when he saw what you pulled out of your jacket pocket.

“Did you fucking steal this?”

“Wait, let me explain…”

“You stole a dying man’s photo of his dead wife?”

He stared at the frame in your hands.

“I had to, because…” you started, but he cut you off again.

“Let me guess, that frame is probably worth a lot, right? You just couldn’t resist. Honestly, should I start tying your hands every time we go somewhere...?”

You silenced him with your hand, forcing him to close his mouth. You were so close now that you could see his dark eyes widen in surprise. Your next breath was a little shallower for some reason.

“I need to show you something,” you said calmly, almost in a whisper. He was close enough to hear every word, no need to raise your voice. “At my apartment.”

His gaze lingered on your face, then briefly dropped, only to return to your eyes. You removed your hand from his face and, after a moment, pulled away. There was urgency in your tone, a sense of seriousness.

Spencer swallowed, nodding slightly in agreement.

*

He stared at the two photos. One, slightly damaged, was from your album. The other, framed in an expensive frame. Though they were two different shots, it was undeniable they depicted the same woman.

You watched Spencer closely, noting the expression on his face. His eyes fixed on one point in front of him, his lips pressed tight, his jaw more defined than usual. You both sat on the floor of your bedroom, facing each other, the album spread out between you like a campfire around which campers gather. Without a word, he flipped through the remaining pages of the album, all the photos where your face had been cut out.

He froze when he came across the photo of the two of you in Rome.

He carefully reached for it by the corner, staring at himself, because, well, you were there only from your neck down. Honestly, you were at a loss for words. Here you were, flipping through pictures of your once happy relationship with your ex. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly light, and the spacious bedroom suddenly didn’t feel so spacious anymore.

Suddenly, Spencer cleared his throat, forcing himself to look back at the photos of the woman.

"That's Robert Miller's mother," he said, his voice still hoarse. "In both pictures."

You sat cross-legged, bracing yourself with your hands on either side of your body for better stability. Your head was spinning a little.

"He showed me this photo because..." you trailed off, shaking your head as you searched for an explanation. "I remind him of his mother? The same one he drowned?"

"Maybe..." Spencer began, but suddenly hesitated, falling silent.

"It's okay. You can say it," you encouraged, trying to mask the tension building in your chest.

"Maybe he sees you the same way he saw her," he explained, trying to soften his tone, as if not wanting to scare you. It irritated you a bit; you didn’t want him to treat you like a victim—more like a partner in the investigation. "As a problem that needs to be eliminated."

Your face gave no expression. You already knew this, but hearing it from him made it sound more blunt. You took a breath, a little hastily, trying to maintain a calm demeanor.

"I think it’s been here for a while, I just didn’t notice it," you admitted truthfully. "It definitely didn’t show up yesterday. Which means Robert couldn’t have dropped it off, it must’ve been his accomplice. Probably that Clinton guy."

"We need to find him. Well, both of them, actually."

And save Rebekah, you added in your mind.

You saw Spencer’s gaze drop back to your album, and how he forced himself to look away again. You nodded encouragingly at him.

 "Go ahead."

Spencer stared at you for a moment, sitting right across from him, before he slowly reached for the album, immediately skipping to the pages where most of the history of your relationship was captured. Many of the pictures showed just him, like the one where he was lying on the couch with reading glasses perched on his nose, absorbed in a book, while you sat opposite him, nudging his leg clad in pajama pants, forcing him to look at the camera. You told yourself in your mind that he was probably just curious about how he looked back then.

“I didn’t think you’d still have these,” he said, his gaze still on the photo. The corners of his mouth barely twitched, but he looked like he was holding back a smile. Then, finally, he gave in, and a small smile tugged at his lips. It had been so long since you'd seen it, and it was hard not to keep staring at him. “I didn’t even know half of these existed, but, you know… just saying.”

You let out a quiet chuckle.

“I move around a lot,” you said. “It’s harder to keep memories. But I like having them. Photos help.”

“Memories with your ex,” Spencer added, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

You studied him for a moment, then sighed.

“They’re still good memories,” you said. “You were...an interesting experience, you know. I loved you, even though we weren’t together long. In a way, I probably always will. It’s not like I look at you and feel hatred, or can’t even stand looking at your face in photos.”

You said it casually, a bit of a smirk playing on your lips. Spencer raised his eyes to look at you, a strange expression on his face that you couldn’t decipher. This time, in his hand, was a photo showing only his back as he walked a step ahead of you at some festival or event, reaching back without looking to grab your hand. 

You shrugged, not quite understanding.

"So what?" you asked. "Do you just hate all your exes?”

"Of course not," he denied.

Both of you stayed quiet for a moment.

"Just me, huh?" you asked.

Spencer’s face twitched as he reached for the next photo in the album, not answering right away. It was one of the few that showed both of you together, and it was a good one. It had been taken in a slightly spontaneous moment when you had just returned to his apartment from a restaurant. His shirt sleeves were slightly rolled up, visible as he cupped your opposite cheek with his hand, holding it gently while kissing you on the cheek, the kiss a bit chaotic because of the small smile on his lips. His eyes were closed.

“Can I keep this one?” he asked softly, lifting the photograph so you could see which one he meant. He held it so gently, as if it were something sacred.

His question caught you off guard, and the answer slipped out before you could stop yourself.

“No,” you replied curtly. Then you quickly shook your head, almost as if to bring yourself—and both of you—back to reality. What were you even doing? You were dwelling on the end of your relationship when you should’ve been fully focused on finding Rebekah, tracking down Robert, and hunting for the mysterious partner. You rose from your seated position to kneel, gathering the photos.

“Listen, we should focus on locating this Clinton guy. Somehow. From what Rosas said, he’s not exactly a clean guy. I’ll ask some of my contacts…”

“Oh, I’m sure my team will find him soon enough,” he cut in confidently.

He handed you the photo and stood up, adjusting his position. His shirt slightly pulled out of his pants as he moved. His face still wore that tired expression, and after your strange exchange, it seemed more tense than ever. You felt a bit weighed down by the situation yourself, but you quickly shook off the thoughts. It didn’t matter if he hated you or not.

Both of you paused for a moment, each with doubt written on your face.

"We'll see, so the people will be first," you said with a hint of sarcasm.

Spencer tilted his head thoughtfully, then gave a nod.

"Alright. The one who wins gets to keep the photo."

He didn’t need to specify which one. You raised an eyebrow, surprised that it mattered to him that much. Maybe he just needed some kind of stake for the bet, and that was the first thing that came to his mind. He stared at you, waiting for an answer, which came in the form of a simple shrug.

"Fine."

He looked at you for a moment longer, then seemed to realize he was probably planning to leave the apartment. His eyes blinked a little faster, as if he reminded himself of that. When he crossed the threshold, a strange feeling filled not just you but the entire apartment. Well, your previous interactions, your past conversations, never carried such honesty. Not once before had you both lowered your guards, revealing a little more of yourselves. Through the constant teasing and not-so-pleasant remarks, it was easy for you to miss the kind of longing that had been lingering between you.

You closed the door behind Spencer, but you didn’t lock it. You spent a long moment suspended in emptiness, leaning over a single sentence you had said to him, the one that had made him so uneasy. I loved you, even though we weren’t together long. In a way, I probably always will.

It wasn’t that you were ready to throw yourself into his arms or go back to him. The meaning lay in the fact that his presence would always carry some sentiment, an enduring nostalgia, and a collection of fading, good moments and feelings. Maybe you wouldn’t tell your grandchildren about him, but if one of them asked about him, pointing at a photo in the album, you wouldn’t frown—you’d smile.

A few minutes passed, when you heard...footsteps in the hallway.

Irresponsible, but you immediately opened the door. Somehow, you recognized them right away, knew that it was him, coming back to your door, even though he had just left. You almost laughed at the sight. Almost, because instead, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss that made his entire body lean in.

You didn’t know what wild impulse was driving you, but it was definitely nothing rational, nothing justified. Spencer remained still for a second or two, before his hand landed on your cheek. You almost forgot how he could kiss, the intensity of it making you take a step back, of course, pulling him along with you.

For a moment, you were out of breath, not opening your eyes as you pulled your face away from his, letting out an uneasy sigh. But then your lips didn’t find his again. Instead, you cracked your eyelids open, noticing that strange expression on his face—embarrassment, despite unspoken tension, a hunger he couldn't hide, even though he tried.

"I was going to say..." he started, quickly losing his train of thought and furrowing his brow to try to get it back. "I came back because my friend, Penelope, already tracked down Clinton’s apartment. And...and..I just wanted to tell you that."

Oopsie. 

part 3 (last one) soon

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony @heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch @trulymadlydarling @cynbx @penelopegarciaismygf @awordsmith @i-padfootblack-things @honestlyloving @fromsaltandsea @kwonhoeshi @mega-kittyglitter-1 @sleepysongbirdsings

*part 3 will be so freaking long get ready pls

[sirhamburrger]

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH ~ s. itoshi, m. kaiser, o. aiku x f!reader

⊹ in which you miss their match because you're sick. ⊹ tags/cw: reader is referred to as "meine liebe", "prinzessin" in kaiser's, that's literally it LMAO ⊹ wc: 876 total (this is very short) ⊹ a/n: very self indulgent but also dedicated to @aozui my fellow sae kisser and @wakeupmaddie kaiser glazer (but nonchalant)

“you’re burning up,” sae itoshi states bluntly, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. scowling, you swat it away, wincing at the throbbing pain in your head and the aching in your bones.

“am not, you just have cold hands.”

“will you quit being so stubborn for once?” he’s in the bathroom doing his hair now, his voice drifting out to the living room, where you lay limply on the couch. “if you need to rest, then just rest. you don’t have to be there.”

“but i’ve never missed any of your matches,” you protest, squeezing your eyes shut, though you have a sinking feeling this will have to be the first. your boyfriend doesn’t take no for an answer.

sae sighs audibly. he emerges from the bathroom, hands still damp from washing, and sits down in front of you.

you crack open an eyelid, and let out a tiny sigh.

“hey, you,” you mumble.

“hey.” he brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes, tracing your lips with his thumb.

“i’m sorry i can’t go see you play today.”

he frowns. why would you need to be sorry? “i’ll make a pot of tea for you, and i’ll have your favourite snacks delivered here soon. focus on getting better.”

you lean into his touch and hum, content. he watches and feels you drift off to sleep, and only then does he move to the kitchen to boil water for your tea. and you have no way of knowing this, but sae presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before he leaves, quietly shutting the door behind him.

after all, whether you’re there cheering him on or not, you’re the only one sae itoshi plays for.

michael kaiser is a man of few wants. it’s how he was raised - to cling on to anything and anyone, because things are all so temporary.

which is why you feel so guilty that you can’t even give him one of the few things you’ve offered him all the while you’ve been together - your presence. your presence at one of his most highly-anticipated games of the year.

by the time you wake up one hour before the match, all groggy and feeling gross, it’s too late. the stadium he’s playing at is two hours away, and when you factor in the time it takes to get ready, you know there’s no way you can go to see him.

you know he’s been telling you not to go, because you’ve had the flu for a while now. his voice echoes in your head, still; prinzessin, i’ll need you to stay at home and get better, okay? take your meds? can you do that for micha?

and you have to admit, you feel a little better after that nap. but you could’ve sworn you’d set multiple alarms for yourself just before michael left the house, so you could wake up on time -

unless…

you check your phone, and a voicemail from your boyfriend catches your eye. you sit back and let it play.

“guten morgen, meine liebe.” you swear you hear a hint of amusement in his voice as he says this, as it’s nowhere near morning. “i admit i turned your alarms off, and for that i’m sorry. but you’ll still be here with me, in spirit. okay, liebling?”

“okay, meine schatz,” you find yourself smiling and responding to the voicemail, even though michael’s not actually there with you.

and when your boyfriend scores the winning goal that night on national television, you see him look straight into the cameras and mouth your name.

oliver aiku isn’t the type to fuss. he’s not the kind to make a big deal out of things like colds or missed matches. life is long, and there’s always another game, another night out, another chance.

but when he walks into the apartment to find you curled up in bed, shivering despite the thick blanket wrapped around you, he feels something unfamiliar twist in his chest.

he leans against the doorway, arms crossed. “you look like shit.”

you groan, burrowing further under the sheets. “wow, thanks, oliver. that really helps.”

he smirks, but it fades just as fast. you’re usually quick with a comeback, but today your voice is weak, your face paler than he’d like. 

he sighs and steps closer, crouching next to the bed. “i was gonna grab dinner with the guys after the match.” he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “but i figured you’d rather have me here.”

you blink up at him. “wait - what? the match -”

“relax, i played,” he cuts in. “did my job, had my fun, then left early.” he taps your forehead lightly with two fingers. “i’d rather be here, anyway.”

you frown. “you don’t have to -”

“i know.” his voice is softer now, just like his touches on your hand. “but i want to.”

oliver aiku has never been the type to make promises he can’t keep, and he’s spent years living like nothing and no one could ever tie him down. but tonight, as he pulls you closer, listening to your soft and fevered, though slightly calmed breathing, he realizes - if there’s anywhere he wants to be, it’s right here.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist © sirhamburrger 2025

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Malleus Draconia - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Courtyard]

Malleus: …Hm, so, these were the topics broached during today's Housewarden meeting, I see.

Malleus: There are quite a few points that should be relayed to the students under my care. I thank you for the information, Schoenheit.

Vil: Enough with your "I thank you." It's enough of a hassle to be forced to deliver the meeting minutes simply because we're both in the same year.

Malleus: I do have every intention of attending the meetings. However, it is only when the small rectangle is broken that those machinated sentences are sent to me.

Vil: Based on context, I assume that's supposed to be his phone and emails… Does he break his phone often?

Vil: At any rate, I'm just glad I was able to find you quickly. It would have been terrible If I had to go all the way to Diasomnia.

Malleus: I agree. My fellow dorm mates are quite busy today. They may not have had the time to entertain guests.

Vil: Busy? With what?

Malleus: Tomorrow is my birthday. Everyone is putting forth the effort for after-school party preparations.

Malleus: It seems they've been doing various preparations, from decorating the party venue to arranging the dishes to be served. I'm sure it will be quite a party.

Vil: I see… I'm actually a little surprised that you're this giddy over your own birthday.

Malleus: Giddy…? Heh, perhaps.

Vil: Well, I do hope you're able to attend your birthday party. And make sure to fix your phone, at least.

[Vil leaves]

Malleus: I think I will head back to the dormitory, as well. I should relay the information to the other dorm students.

[Hall of Mirrors]

Malleus: I've scoured every inch of this academy's campus…

Malleus: And as I thought, there are no other run-down buildings similar to Ramshackle.

Malleus: I used to enjoy strolling its grounds at night... Oh, well. There are plenty of buildings.

Malleus: If I simply wait 100 years or so, they should be in peak condition then. I'll simply look forward to that moment and head back to the dormitory for now.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Hallway]

[Sebek speaks]

Malleus: …Ah, Sebek, you're still awake. Lower your voice. You'll wake the others.

[Sebek speaks]

Malleus: Heh, there is no need for you to apologize so strongly. You should head to bed soon, as well.

[Sebek speaks]

Malleus: Now, then… I suppose I should take a bath and head back to my own room.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Malleus's Room]

Malleus: It seems as though the humans have already all fallen asleep…

Malleus: Yet, it is still too early for me. I suppose I could look over what was taught in class today.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Malleus's Room]

Malleus: Hm, interesting… We only briefly touched this topic in class, but this is actually quite fascinating once I delve further into it.

Malleus: There are times that such common knowledge to humans is a brand new discovery for me.

Malleus: Because there are these occasional surprises, I find my time studying here at this academy to be actually worthwhile. …Do you not agree?

Malleus: My dear gargoyle?

Malleus: …Heh, you are looking spectacular today. I should expect so, as my best work by far.

Malleus: I should begin thinking about where on the castle grounds I should place it once I return to Briar Valley.

Malleus: …Ah, right. On that subject, there was something I intended to fill in.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Malleus: The Headmage once cautioned me to not keep so many gargoyles in my room, as the floor would cave in…

Malleus: However, the issue at hand here is the durability of the dormitory room floors. There is no reason I should have been the one scolded about it.

Malleus: There are many gargoyles all over this campus that is in need of serious repair.

Malleus: It is arduous enough to bring them to my room to repair them and transport them all the way back to their rightful place… And yet he rudely states that it wasn't even asked of me to do.

Malleus: "I urgently request the floors be reinforced. Be sure to improve the durability so as to be capable of holding as much as 50 gargoyles."

Malleus: This should be good enough. Now… I think I will welcome in a little night breeze.

Malleus: Ah, there are no clouds in the heavens tonight. The stars shine so brilliantly.

Malleus: When I first came to this academy, I was astounded by how differently the stars could be seen.

Malleus: In Briar Valley, both the town and the castle were lit all through the night.

Malleus: However, when the sun goes down here, most of the light disappears and it seems as though the stars shine brighter.

Malleus: I find it fascinating that despite it being the same night sky, the different environment lends to a different view.

Malleus: Even if there is no light, the stars are bright enough to see by. I think I shall spend the rest of the evening right here.

Malleus: …The skies are lightening. I was so caught up that I completely neglected the time.

Malleus: Despite the time spent here, I still feel at ease at night. It is rather difficult to adjust my schedule to those who do not thrive in the nighttime as I do.

Malleus: I suppose that is also part of the learning experience. I should try to sleep soon.

Malleus: If I am unable to get enough rest, it will affect both my classwork, and the party being held after school.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Malleus's Room]

[ting, ting]

Malleus: Mm… Time to get up already, hm.

Malleus: Mmhh… Hah. It is still strange to awaken to daylight.

Malleus: I should clear my head.

[magically splashes water]

Malleus: …The cold water somewhat helped to snap me awake. I suppose I should start preparing for the day.

Malleus: Come to me, mirror. Brush, detangle my hair…

Malleus: Yaaaawn…

Malleus: Urgh, I did not mean to let out such a large yawn. If I were to do such a thing before others, I would not hear the end of it from Grandmother.

Malleus: …Now that I think of it, how old was I when I used my magic half-asleep and caused my hair to tangle up in my horns?

Malleus: If I recall, it was not long after I was finally capable of taking on my human form… Heh, that brought back some nostalgic memories.

Malleus: Now, next I should… Ah, yes, Lilia was saying something about how the birthday boy should dress more lavishly.

Malleus: It may be unbecoming of me to wear my makeup as I normally do. I should select the colors I want to wear while I'm at it. First, my lips…

Malleus: How about red? This noble shade is said to be the color the Thorn Fairy would wear to celebrations… But could this be a little too garish?

Malleus: Purple, perhaps? Lip brush, paint mine lips the color of dark purple… Ah, yes, this is the perfect shade.

Malleus: However, thinking it over, wouldn't black be a more suitable color for a celebratory occasion, as it is the norm in Briar Valley currently?

Malleus: How vexing. Then, what if I were to mix the colors… Like this?

Malleus: Aah, a good shade, as I thought. I think I will wear this color to the after-school party.

Malleus: As long as I prepare ahead of time like this, I should not be late at all. I'm sure I'll make it in time for the party, as well.

[Main Street]

[zoom!]

Vil: Wah!?

Vil: What was that sudden gust…? Wait, Malleus?

Vil: Stop right there, it's dangerous to fly that fast! What if you hit something and cause an injury!?

Malleus: Ah, Schoenheit. Apologies, I was not watching where I was going.

Vil: Why were you in such a… Oh? Right, weren't you saying today was your birthday?

Vil: Weren't you throwing a party? What are you doing here?

Malleus: I am heading there now.

Malleus: While the party preparations were in its final stages, I was thinking of what would be the best makeup to wear today.

Malleus: They said they would alert me once the preparations were completed, however I found myself so engrossed that I did not notice their messages.

Malleus: This darn thing even sends notifications without a single sound for what should be important information. I absolutely cannot trust that small rectangle.

Vil: Notifications without a single sound…?

Vil: …Do you not know how to turn your phone off silent mode?

Malleus: What do you mean by silent mode?

Vil: …Ugghh… Fine, hand me your phone. I will turn the sound on.

Malleus: Is that alright? But…

Vil: If you're late to any meeting from here on out, I absolutely will not stand for it. And there is no need to worry, this won't take more than a couple minutes.

Vil: I'm sure you'll still make it on time to your party. Consider this my birthday present to you.

Malleus: Mm, you're right. I appreciate your gift.

Requested by @kingren77 and @sakurakudo.

[leighsartworks216]

My Pretty Bird

Sylus x gn!Reader

Soooo I got this idea suddenly and I HAD to write it. In my head I imagine you have a shapeshifting Evol that lets you turn into a crow and Ever ran experiments on you that basically mechanized you. Sylus found you and you've been partners ever since. But build whatever backstory you want lol

Warnings: silly, fluff, established relationship, shapeshifting, kissing, nudity, casual nudity, references to Midnight Stealth (Bond)

Word Count: 914

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Third Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Sylus smirks as he approaches you, all too amused with the hijinks Miss Hunter is getting up to.

You are decidedly less amused. Your feathers are all in disarray - some lay sadly on the floor, some are crumpled. You’re working desperately to straighten them out with your beak. Gentle fingers join in the work, caressing and flattening the feathers on your head and neck.

“What did she do to you, hm?”

Once your feathers are all smooth and settled, you hop up onto his shoulder, still bare from his shower and a little damp. He walks over to the bed. He outstretches an arm toward it, which you use as a bridge, stepping down from his wrist to the comforter. He busies himself with gathering clothes.

The familiar sound of shifting metal comes from behind. It’s not grating; softened over years of this happening.

“She shook me!” you cry out. The bed sinks under your weight, now in the shape and form of a human. The familiar red eyes of your bird form stare at his back. “I know you like her, but she’s really pissing me off. Who shakes a bird?!”

He chuckles, ruffling your feathers even more as you glare at him. His towel is tossed carelessly aside as he gets dressed. Rippling muscles are soon hidden with sleepwear and a robe. “She shook you?”

You huff. “Don’t say it like I’m stupid. You know I have it recorded.”

“I know. And I’m sure you’ll make sure she gets hers, soon enough.”

“You got that right.”

The towel is picked up on strands of energy and carried away to the hamper. You watch them as they go. You’ve always enjoyed the way it looks. Like rubies and ash. An unobtainable shiny object.

His hand glides along your jaw, rough calluses rubbing just under your chin. You automatically tilt your head back, eyes drooping in pleasure. “Just a few more days, I promise. You can handle that can’t you?” Damn him and that low timbre voice. On top of the scratches, you’re a goner.

You sigh. His fingers slow to a stop to grab your chin. When you open your eyes, he’s right there, looking at you with a deep fondness.

“Fine…”

He grins as he leans down to capture your lips. He tastes so warm and familiar. A soothing balm to all the stress you’ve been under lately, chasing after Miss Hunter and making sure she’s not being tracked by anyone else. A fitting reward for putting up with her.

When he pulls away, you shoot him a look. “But if she gets near me again like that, I’m pecking her eyes out.”

He chuckles warmly. “I’ll make sure she knows. I can’t have her upsetting my pretty bird like that again so soon.”

“I’d prefer ‘ever again’, but…”

“You’ll find something else to be annoyed about with her.”

“I already have a list.”

“Just a few more days.” His eyes close as he presses a kiss to your cheek. Then he rubs his nose against yours. It makes a fluttering sound of contentment slip free from your chest. And he looks all too smug about it. “Can you do that for me?”

You reach up, fingers slipping into soft white locks. He leans into your touch with his own appreciative grunt. “I can, but only if you call me your pretty bird a few more times.”

It’s the easiest deal he’s ever made. He’s more than happy to provide as he brushes his nose along your cheek, kissing lightly as he goes. “My pretty bird,” he hums lowly as he kisses just behind your ear.

You sink into his attention like always. You expose more of your neck to him without hesitation, giving him full access to kiss and nip at the skin there.

He grazes his teeth along your artificial pulse. “My pretty bird.”

Every mark, every peck is pure reverence. He sighs at the junction of your shoulder. He bites down harder here, hot tongue soothing over the indents of his teeth. “My pretty bird.”

The slightest twitch of your fingers in his hair is enough to draw him back up. His mouth finds yours with ease, kissing you deeply and in absolutely no rush. The cool air of the room chills the patches of his saliva left behind on your skin. It sends a chill down your spine.

You’re loath to pull away, but you can feel the exhaustion that slows his movements. It’s so faint - even Miss Hunter wouldn’t notice it. But you do. You always notice everything when it comes to Sylus.

You give him one last peck. His eyes, half-lidded and beautiful, watch you with unbridled care. “It’s a deal.”

Before his eyes, metal shifts and shrinks, until there are no fingers in his hair and he’s scratching under the chin of a mechanical crow. He smiles. “Goodnight, pretty bird.”

You hop away and fly off to your perch. He watches as you go right back to preening your feathers, as though being up there again has reminded you of Miss Hunter’s cruel acts against you.

He straightens back up with a sigh. Ever will pay for the cruel methods of their research. For everything they’ve done. For everything they did to you. It’s only a matter of time now. And it will be done. All he needs now is for Miss Hunter to find the brooch, tucked safely under the lapel of his robe.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

[malk1ns]

january 27 @ sharks, 2-1 loss

SIGHHHHHHHHHHH. short one today, game was boring sid was boring geno was disappeared i simply had nothing to wring from this one for a plotline. sorry! hopefully they start delivering again soon.

Sid stumbles across the Sharks’ walk-in photos when he’s scrolling Twitter after he wakes up from his nap, but before he has to get dressed and ready to leave for the arena.

He hasn’t talked to Macklin all that much. The league pushed him and Bedard together for promos as much as possible last season, but for whatever reason Macklin hasn’t gotten the same treatment; they chatted at media day in early fall, but that’s pretty much been it. He’s kept track of what’s going on in San Jose, though, just like he does with all highly-touted draft picks.

He’s noticed the way Macklin and the other rookie have latched onto each other. It’s good, to have someone who’s in the same boat as you when you have the weight of an entire franchise on your shoulders. Sid thinks his rookie year would feel a lot less bittersweet in his memory if he hadn’t been quite as alone as he was.

The pictures of Macklin in a jersey with ‘SMITH’ emblazoned across the back makes him pause, though. The expressions on their faces are familiar.

It’s been almost 20 years now, but to Sid it doesn’t seem like all that long ago that he was blushing and giggly over a crush on a teammate. He remembers how it felt, like he had some big secret that was practically bursting its way out of his chest.

The way Celebrini and Smith are looking at each other looks exactly how Sid remembers that feeling.

In bed next to him, Geno snorts into his pillow, groaning as his alarm starts to chime softly. Grumbling, he slaps at his phone until it goes silent, then rolls over and buries his face into Sid’s neck with a whine.

“You could have kept sleeping,” Sid scolds, tossing his phone to the side in favor of wiggling around until he can pull Geno into his arms. “You don’t have to be at the rink until puck drop basically.”

“Mmmm,” Geno manages in reply, mouthing at Sid’s jawline. “Want to go with you. I go see trainers before, maybe.”

Sid extracts one arm so he can grab for his phone again and check the time. “We can maybe wait another ten minutes,” he murmurs, rubbing his palms down Geno’s warm back. “Hey, I love you.”

“Я тоже тебя люблю, лапочка,” Geno sighs, going boneless under Sid’s touch.

It’s a rare day that Sid seriously thinks about calling out sick like a regular employee, playing hooky and spending the day in bed with his boyfriend. Today, though, with the California sunshine streaming in through the window, he wishes he could type out a message to his boss that he’s under the weather and let Geno’s warmth ease him back to sleep.

It’s probably okay if they take the second shuttle to the arena today instead of the first one, Sid reasons, letting his eyes slip shut. Just a few more minutes.

[winchesterwild78]

Daddy’s Girl pt 4

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (wife), Dean and Reader’s daughter, other characters from Supernatural

Warnings: childbirth, jealousy, attempted assault, physical assault, anger, language

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This chapter will feature a few time jumps. We wanted to capture Dean as a dad at different stages of his daughter’s life. 

This is a work of fiction and does not follow the Supernatural storyline. I do not own the rights to the characters used.

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated. 

Minors DNI 18+

*Time Jump 10 months*

I stood in the kitchen trying to open a jar of peanut butter and I couldn’t get it open. Tears started falling and I grew frustrated. 

Dean walked in the kitchen and chuckled, grabbing the jar and holding me. “Shh, it’s okay baby. I’ll open it for you. Don’t cry.” 

I sniffled, “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I couldn’t get the jar open and I, we really want some peanut butter.” 

Dean smiled and placed his hand on my growing belly. I was 9 months pregnant with our son. The baby Jack told us was coming. Even though we knew the baby was coming, it was a surprise when we saw the positive pregnancy test. 

Jack had said within a year, but we were still shocked. Delilah was excited and helped us get the nursery ready. 

“Daddy, can I take Bubbles in the yard to play?” Delilah asked, walking in the kitchen. “Yeah, pumpkin. Just stay in the fence. I’ll be out there in a minute.” She nodded and grabbed the leash. 

Since Sammy and Dean put the fence in Delilah has been taking Bubbles outside more and working on training her. We found it endearing since she was still so little herself. 

Dean handed me the jar of peanut butter, kissed my lips and touched my stomach. “I love you two very much. Go rest and I’ll be back inside soon.” 

I nodded and walked to the Dean cave and put my feet up. 

Being in the last month of pregnancy and days away from my due date I was tired, my feet were swollen and I was achy. I was over being pregnant.

I had just closed my eyes when I felt a gush of warm liquid. “Oh shit!” I knew my water had broken. I reached for my phone to call Dean.

“Hey baby. Are you okay? Do you need anything?” 

“Um, well I need you to take me to the hospital. My water just broke.” I chuckled. 

“Oh shit! Okay. Hey, Delilah, grab Bubbles. Your baby brother is coming. I’ll call Sammy.” He hung up and called Sam. 

Sam and Eileen were at the bunker within ten minutes. “You’re going to do great, Y/N. Let us know when he’s here.” 

I hugged them, and hugged Delilah. “I love you baby girl. Daddy and I will let Uncle Sammy know when your baby brother is here.”

“Okay mommy. I love you.” 

Dean grabbed my bag and helped me in the car. We headed toward the hospital. My contractions were coming faster and I was nervous. Dean had one hand on the wheel and the other holding mine. 

“You’ve got this baby. Just breathe. We’re almost there.” 

Two hours later we were holding our little boy. He looked just like Dean. Big beautiful green eyes, sandy brown hair and a smile that could melt even the coldest heart. 

Dean had called Sam and they were bringing Delilah to the hospital to see us. She came in quietly and I was holding the baby. He had fallen asleep in my arms.

Dean picked her up and kissed her head. “Hey pumpkin. Are you ready to meet your little brother?” She nodded, but looked nervous.

She looked down at the baby in my arms, “He’s so small.” I nodded, “Yeah, you were this small once too.” “I was?” Her eyes big. Dean chuckled, “Yep. You were my little pumpkin pie.” 

“Daddy, I’m still your pumpkin pie.” Dean laughed, “Always baby girl.” 

“Mommy, can I hold him?” I nodded and moved over a little. Dean sat her on the bed and I helped her hold him. 

He whimpered a little and she looked up at Dean. “It’s okay sweetie. He’s going to do that. You’re not hurting him.”

She nodded and looked at him. Her eyes are full of love and wonder. “Hi baby. I’m your sister, Delilah. I’m going to protect you and take care of you. You have to be nice to Bubbles though. Bubbles is our dog. Daddy got her for mommy, but Bubbles likes daddy more.” 

I smirked and Dean laughed. “She’s not wrong, Dean.” She leaned down and kissed his head softly.

I kissed her head and Dean took a picture of the three of us. “Look at that. My beautiful wife with our babies.” I smiled at Dean and he mouthed “I love you”.

“Mommy, what’s his name?” “Well honey, his name is Charlie Dean Winchester. After daddy’s little sister Charlie.” “The one that the monster’s killed?” “Yes, baby. She was brave and helped so many people. She’s the reason daddy got the mark removed from his arm.” 

She nodded, “Well I love baby Charlie. I can’t wait to play with him.” Charlie started to cry so I took him to feed him. Dean scooped Delilah up and hugged her, “We love baby Charlie too. It’s going to be awhile before you can play with him. Right now he’s just going to sleep and eat a lot.”

“Oh, so like you daddy?” Sam, myself and Eileen started laughing. “Hey, I don’t eat a lot.” I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Okay, but not as much as he’s going to.” 

We chuckled. Delilah looked at Dean, “Daddy, what about the pie you ate last night?” My eyes went wide, “What pie?!” “Um, nothing.”

“Daddy, don’t lie to mommy. You and I ate that pie last night after mommy fell asleep.” Sam busted out laughing, “Wow, she won’t let you get away with anything.” 

Dean shook his head. “What can I say, the pie was good and I was hungry.” He ruffled Delilah’s hair “Thanks kiddo.” She smiled, “You’re welcome, daddy.” 

“Alright, peanut. Let’s let mommy and Charlie get some rest. They will be home soon.” “But Uncle Sammy, I want to stay.” 

She clung to Dean’s neck. “Sweetie, you’ve got to go home and get some rest. Mommy and Charlie will be okay in the hospital tonight. I’m going to stay with them.” She clung tighter, “No, daddy. I want you to come home.” 

Dean sighed and looked at me. “Delilah, mommy needs me right now, I need to stay with her. Uncle Sammy and Aunt Eileen are going to take great care of you. You’re going to have so much fun. I promise.” 

Her tears started to spill over and fall down her little cheeks. Dean’s heart broke. “Baby, don’t cry.” He kissed her head and held her tight.

“Dean, go ahead and go home with her. We will be fine. I’ll have the nurse take him to the nursery so I can get some rest.” 

Dean was torn. He wanted to stay at the hospital, but his baby girl needed him too. He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh. 

“Dean, honey, I mean it. I will be fine. You and Delilah go home, get some sleep and come back tomorrow morning.” He nodded. 

Sam and Eileen were talking to the side. “Hey guys, what if Eileen stays with Y/N tonight? She doesn’t mind, and it will give her practice for when we have a baby.” I smirked, “Are you trying to announce something Sammy?” He laughed, “Oh no, not yet. What do you think?”

Dean looked at me and I looked at him, “That would be great. Thank you, Eileen.” She smiled and signed, “Of course. I can’t wait to hold him and help with him.” 

Dean let out the breath he was holding. He pulled Eileen into a hug and thanked her. He leaned down, kissed my lips and kissed the baby on the head. 

“Thank you baby for our beautiful family. You’re amazing and have given me two of the greatest gifts anyone could get.” “Thank you, Dean, for giving me two beautiful babies.” We kissed again and I gave Delilah a goodbye kiss. Then Sam, Dean and Delilah left. 

Charlie and I were released from the hospital after two days. Dean insisted on helping with night feedings again. He wanted to bond with his son like he did Delilah. During the day I took care of him for the most part. Delilah helped, but we noticed when Dean’s attention was on Charlie, Delilah would withdraw into herself. 

Then we noticed little things around the bunker that were either broken or out of place. I walked into the nursery with Charlie to change him and found his baby powder on the floor, opened and spilled. 

“Hey Dean, can you come here please?” Dean walked in the nursery and saw the mess. He sighed. “Dean, do you think Bubbles jumped up here and knocked the powder over?” He shrugged, “Maybe, I’m just not sure.”

I changed Charlie and Dean took him so I could go clean the kitchen. He walked in the Dean cave and sat in the rocking chair he put in there and started rocking Charlie. Delilah came in and started talking loudly. “Pumpkin, you have to be quiet. Charlie is trying to fall asleep.” 

“But daddy, I want to play and you never play with me anymore.” “Yes I do baby. I played this morning with you. Right now baby Charlie needs me.” 

She crossed her arms and pouted. She whispered as she walked out of the room, “Stupid baby. He’s my daddy.” 

Dean turned and looked at Delilah as she left the room. He sighed heavily. He knew this was coming. When Sammy was born Dean was excited, but then it quickly turned to jealousy.

When Charlie was asleep Dean carried him into the nursery to lay him down. He noticed diapers were all over the room and some of his stuffies were on the floor. Dean knew it wasn’t Bubbles.

Walking into the kitchen Dean put his arms around me and hugged me, “Hey, can we talk for a second.” I dried my hands and nodded, “What’s up?”

“I think I know who put the powder on the floor. It was probably the same person who put diapers and stuffies all over the room and called Charlie a stupid baby before leaving the room.” 

I sighed, “Delilah?” Dean nodded, “Yeah, I think she’s jealous.” “That makes sense. I’ll go talk to her.” Dean touched my arm, “No, let me. She seems more jealous when I’m with Charlie.” I nodded and he left to find Delilah.

He found her sitting on the floor with her stuffies having a tea party. Her favorite stuffy, the one Dean bought her when she was born, was sitting on the floor over in the corner. His heart sank. 

“Hey baby girl, we need to talk.” She looked at Dean with her big green eyes sparkling, “Okay daddy. What do you want to talk about?” “We need to talk about you and baby Charlie.” Her face fell, “Oh, why do we have to talk about him?” “Well baby, he’s part of our family. He’s your little brother and he’s going to look up to you as he gets older. Mommy and I want you to know that we love you just as much as we did before Charlie was born. 

She looked at Dean with tears pricking her eyes. “Sweetheart, you know that, right? Daddy loves you so much and so does mommy.”

The tears started to fall and Dean scooped her into his lap. “Baby, don’t cry. It’s okay.” She shook her head no, “Daddy I’m bad.” “What? No you’re not.” Shaking her head yes she cried, “Daddy I messed up Charlie’s room. I’m sorry daddy.” 

Dean held her tightly, “Hey, it’s okay baby. When Uncle Sammy was a baby I put peanut butter in his hair and tried to say he did it.” She smiled, “You did?” Dean nodded. “Come on, let’s go talk to mommy and when Charlie wakes up we can pick up his room together.” She nodded and hugged Dean’s neck tightly. “I love you daddy.” “I love you too, pumpkin.” 

*Time Jump 12 years* 

Delilah sat at the table in the library staring at her phone. Charlie was sitting working on his homework. “Hey sis, can you help me with this math problem? I don’t understand it.” 

Delilah, engrossed in her phone, didn't hear him. “Sis, did you hear me?” “Huh, oh yeah, what’s up?” “Can you help me with this math?” 

She nodded and got up to help him. Her phone went off and she glanced at it. A smile formed on her face. 

Charlie looked at her and smirked, “Okay, spill it. Who is he?” Delilah smiled at him and said, “His name is Jaxon and he’s a Senior. He asked me out Saturday night and I really want to go. 

Charlie just looked at her and said, “Well good luck with Dad.” Delilah bit her lip, “Yeah, he’s gonna be a hard sell.” 

Delilah walks to our bedroom and knocks on the door, “Hey mom, dad, can I talk to you two?” “Yeah, baby come in. We’re just folding laundry.” 

Dean pulled her in for a hug, “What’s on your mind pumpkin?” He could tell she was nervous. 

“Well, there’s a guy at school, Jaxon.” Dean’s jaw tightened. We both stopped what we were doing and focused on her. “He asked me out on Saturday and I really want to go. Can I go?”

Dean and I exchanged a look and before I could say anything Dean spoke up, “How old is he and what grade is he in?” “He’s a Senior and he just turned 18. He’s on the football team too.” 

Dean shot me a look. I knew what was coming next. “We need to meet him before we agree on you going on a date. He’s legally an adult and you’re not.” Delilah crossed her arms over her chest, “Dad, that’s not fair. He just turned 18 and he’s still in school. It’s not like I met him at a bar.” 

“I understand that, but we get to meet him before you date him. You know those are the rules.” “Those are stupid rules, it’s like you don’t trust my decisions.” 

Dean’s jaw clenched and nostrils flared. “Okay, Delilah, invite Jaxon over or we will meet out at a restaurant and we will decide after that. Dean, not another word right now. We’ve said our stipulations and Delilah understands them, right?” She nodded. 

She turned on her heels and left the room. Walking into her room she slammed the door and flopped on the bed. 

I walked over to Dean and placed my hands on his chest, “Honey, she’s a teenager now. We’ve raised her right and we have to trust her.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, “I know. I just don’t want her to get hurt.” “I know, baby. We have to trust her and trust that she will make smart decisions and ask us for help if she needs it.” 

Delilah figured Dean would say no so she sent Jaxon a text.

Delilah: Hey, dad is being an ass. How about we meet tonight at the diner on 5th?

Jaxon: So he said no to Saturday? 

Delilah: Pretty much. He’s not happy that you’re 18. Mom didn’t even defend me. 

Jaxon: Damn. Okay, what time do you want to meet?

Delilah: How about 11. They should all be asleep by that time. I can sneak out and meet you there.

Jaxon: Sounds great. I can’t wait to see you. Can you wear that pretty pink top you wore for picture day?

Delilah smiled and blushed.

Delilah: Yeah. Any other requests?

Jaxon: The skirt too. 😘

Delilah: Okay. I can’t wait. See you then. 

Jaxon: Me either. 

Delilah laid back on her bed and giggled. Her heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t believe a Senior, a football star, wanted to date her. 

Later that night everyone said goodnight. Delilah had gotten ready for bed and laid in bed listening for the doors to the bedrooms to close. 

About twenty minutes later, Delilah got up and changed. Checking herself in her full length mirror she smiled. Applying a little makeup, she grabbed her shoes, purse and coat. 

Opening her door she peeked out. When the coast was clear she tiptoed out and through the garage. She arrived at the diner a few minutes before eleven and found Jaxon leaning against his car. 

Her breath quickened as she approached him. “Hey beautiful.” She blushed and said, “Hey.” He took her hand and they walked in the diner. 

They sat down, ordered some food and ate. Delilah and Jaxon talked and his hand brushed against hers. 

“What do you say we get out of here?” Jaxon asked as he took her hand in his. Delilah was excited and nervous, but nodded yes.

Jaxon paid the bill and they climbed in his car. “Where are we going?”

“I have a special place I want to show you.” She nodded and he took her hand while he drove. 

A few minutes later he was pulling up at “Lover’s Lane”. Delilah suddenly got nervous. He put the car in park and slid over to her. “Hey do you want to get in the back?” Delilah bit her lip and nodded.

They got out and got in the backseat. As soon as the door shut Jaxon’s lips were on hers and his hands were running over her body. He cupped her breast and Delilah jumped back. “Jaxon, wait. I’m not ready for this.” “Aww, come on baby. Don’t you want to be able to tell everyone you made out with me.” 

She swallowed hard. He kissed her again and this time it was harder and his hands were grabbing her and trying to pull up her shirt. “Jaxon, stop!” He kept pushing himself on her. When he went to kiss her again and his hand slipped up her shirt, she bit his lip hard and kicked him in the groin. “I said NO!” “You bitch!” Jaxon slapped her across her face. She grabbed her stuff and stumbled out of the car. 

Jaxon climbed in the driver’s seat and put the car in drive and left. Leaving Delilah alone and miles away from home. She was crying and was terrified. 

She heard Dean’s voice in her head, “You can always call us for help, no matter what.”

She was shaking and pulled out her phone and dialed Dean’s number. Dean looked at his phone and was confused. He groggily answered the phone, “Baby, why are you calling me. What’s wrong?” Dean heard Delilah crying and sat up, “Baby! What’s wrong?” 

“Daddy, I’m so sorry. I messed up and I’m so scared. I snuck out and he left me. He left me all alone.” “Where are you baby?” “Lover’s lane. Daddy, I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay baby. I’m on my way.” I was awake and heard Dean’s end of the phone call.

When he hung up I looked at him. I could see the anger and fear in his eyes. “She’s okay, she snuck out and he left her. I’m going to get her and bring her home.” I nodded, “Tell her I love her.” He kissed my lips and left.

A few minutes later Delilah heard the roar of the Impala. When Dean saw her, anger filled his body. His baby girl was standing in the cool night air in a thin shirt and skirt. When he got out of the car he saw her shirt was ripped. Her body trembled as he pulled her close to him.

Taking off his jacket he wrapped it around her and held her tight. Tears pricked his eyes as he held her. “It’s okay baby. You’re safe. I’m here.” “Daddy, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have snuck out. This is all my fault.”

“No baby, it’s not. What happened?” “Everything was going well. Then he brought me here. I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t know what to say. We got in the backseat and started kissing.” She stopped and took a breath.

Dean was getting angrier and angrier as she spoke. 

“Then he tried to force himself on me and I screamed no. He kept going so I bit him and kicked him. He ripped my shirt and smacked me in the face.”

Dean breathed in deeply and let it out. He wanted to find Jaxon and kick his ass. 

“Okay baby, let’s get you home. You’re safe now. I promise.” She nodded and they got back in the car and headed home. 

I paced in the garage waiting for them to get home. I was terrified and the lump in my throat wouldn’t go away until I knew she was safe. 

A few minutes later I heard the rumble of the Impala. I stopped pacing and steadied my breath. I looked through the windshield and saw Delilah wearing Dean’s jacket and curled against the door. Dean’s jaw was tight and I saw fear and anger in his eyes. 

When he climbed out of the car, our eyes met. Mine silently asked if she was okay, his telling me she wasn’t. My heart sank. Dean walked around the car and opened the passenger side. He helped her out.

I noticed her shirt was torn open and panic and anger filled me. I ran to their side and threw my arms around her. 

She sobbed and her legs gave out. Dean scooped her up and carried her inside to her room. He carefully laid her on her bed where she instantly curled into a ball. 

Tears pricked my eyes. My sweet baby girl was hurting and I couldn’t make it stop. Dean leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her head and started to walk out. 

“Daddy, please don’t go.” Her voice was barely a whisper. He spun on his heels and sat on the bed beside her. I walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down. 

Her green eyes, red and swollen from crying, looked up at me. “I’m so sorry mama. It’s all my fault.” “Shh, no it’s not baby. None of this is your fault.” 

About an hour later she was calmer. She asked to take a shower and I looked at Dean. He shook his head yes. I told her I’d bring her some fresh clothes.

Delilah went to the shower room and Dean sat down on our bed and ran his fingers through his hair. I stood in front of him and held him. “Damnit, I’m going to kill that kid. Y/N he took advantage of her!” I rubbed his head, “I know baby. Did she tell you what happened?” 

Dean nodded, his words caught in his throat. “She told him no and he still tried to force himself on her. He not only put his hands on her, but he slapped her when she bit and kicked him.” 

I could feel his breathing increase. “Dean, calm down baby. I know, I want to rip his head off too, but right now she needs us.” Dean clenched his jaw.

“I need to go take her clothes. I’ll be back.” I kissed his head and left. 

I grabbed her some clean clothes and walked to the shower room. I knocked and heard sobs. I pushed open the door and found Delilah sitting on the floor, legs pulled to her chest and crying.

My heart broke and I wanted to kill Jaxon. I sat the clothes down and ran to her side. I sat on the floor beside her and pulled her into my arms. Reaching up I turned off the water and wrapped her in a towel. “Mommy I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have snuck out. I should have listened to Daddy.” 

I lifted her head up to look at me, “Hey, no. This is not your fault. This is all on Jaxon. He took advantage of you because he thought he could. Daddy told me you protected yourself, and baby, we are so proud of you for that. We all make mistakes in our lives, but you sneaking out does not excuse what he did to you. Nothing will ever make that okay. We love you so much baby and we’re thankful you called us. I promise we are not mad at you.”

I placed a soft kiss on her forehead and stood up, pulling her up with me. When we stood up I noticed scratches on her chest and bruises forming around her neck and her face.

I had to steady my breath but inside was a ball of rage. “I’m going to let you get dressed, I’ll be right outside.” She nodded and I left. 

I stood outside the door and waited. A few minutes later Delilah walked out. The two of us walked to her room where she crawled in the bed. “Mama, can you get daddy?” I nodded and left to find Dean. 

I found him in the bedroom pacing. I saw tears in his eyes. Crossing the room I pulled him in my arms, “Hey, it’s okay. She’s safe and asking for you.” 

He wiped his face and nodded. We walked to her room, “Hey pumpkin.” “Hey daddy. Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?” “Of course I can.” 

He sat beside her and I crawled in the bed behind her. The two of us held her while he sang to her.

I felt her body finally relax and she fell asleep. Dean leaned down and kissed her head then ran his hand over my cheek. I smiled and nodded.

He left the room and I stayed. I wanted to stay with her for a while. 

The silence in the room was deafening. The events of the night replayed in my head. About an hour later I slipped out of the bed and her room.

Walking to our bedroom I thought I’d find Dean in there. He wasn’t. My brow furrowed. I checked the kitchen, the showers, the library, still nothing. 

I walked to the gym and heard grunts. I took a deep breath. Pushing open the door I found Dean punching the punching bag with a brutal assault. His muscles tense and his jaw so tight I thought he would break a tooth. 

Each punch was more forceful than the last and pulled a primal grunt from his lips. I hadn’t seen him this angry in a very long time. 

“Dean, honey.” His grunts stopped and his eyes flicked to mine. “Let’s go to bed.” “No!” His voice dripped with venom. I flinched at the anger.

“Okay. I love you. I’ll be in the bedroom.” The punching resumed and I walked away. 

I knew Dean was angry at himself for not protecting her and angry at Jaxon for taking advantage of her. 

His assault on the bag raged on. “Stupid fucking punk! Does he think he can take advantage of my baby girl?! I’ll snap him in half.” 

Dean hit the bag hard and felt a pain shoot through his hand. “Shit!” 

Dean grabbed his jacket and keys and got in the car. He drove out of the garage and headed towards town. 

Sitting in baby he saw the glow of the neon lights from the bar. 

He hadn’t been in a bar or gotten drunk since before Delilah was born. Tonight the alcohol called to him like a siren's call. 

He walked in and sat down at the bar. Getting the attention of the bartender he ordered a whiskey and a beer. 

The first sip of whiskey burned down his throat. After two glasses of whiskey and three beers in the alcohol started to numb the pain like a balm. 

The image of his little girl shaking and crying replayed in his head. After a few more the bartender cut him off. 

Dean was pissed so he hopped in the car and headed for the convenience store on the corner. 

The bright lights made Dean wince as he made his way back to the beer case. He grabbed a six pack and headed towards the counter. 

Once outside he heard some voices coming from the car beside his. 

“Yeah. She was dressed like a little slut. She was begging for it. It was so easy to get what I wanted for her. I had her begging for more.” 

The teenage boys were laughing and asking for more details. Dean tried to ignore it, then something caught his attention. 

“So Jaxon, how was that tight pussy? Did she cry when you fucked her?” They all started laughing. Dean’s head spun around when the boy said “Jaxon”. 

“Yeah. She was wild. Maybe Delilah would be willing to help y’all out too.” 

Dean snapped. He grab the boy by the shirt and slammed him to the brick wall. 

“What the fuck did you say?! You tried to rape my daughter and now you’re trying to pass her around to your friends?!” 

Dean’s fist landed square in Jaxon’s nose. Then another punch and another. 

Dean was so angry he didn’t hear the police pull up. 

They arrested Dean and sent Jaxon to the hospital. 

I was asleep when the phone rang. “Hello?” “Hi, is this Y/N Winchester?” 

“Yes, um who’s this?” “Hi Mrs Winchester, this is Officer Smith with the Lawrence Police Department, your husband has been arrested for public intoxication, disorderly conduct, and assault.” 

“Oh my god. Can I come get him or does he need to stay there?” “No, ma’am, you can come get him.” 

“Okay, I’ll be there soon. Can you tell me who he assaulted?” “Yes, he assaulted Jaxon Jones. Mr Winchester said Mr Jones tried to sexually assault your daughter and left marks on her.” 

“Yes he did. It’s a mess. I’ll be there.” “Okay, Mrs Winchester, you know you can press charges against Mr Jones.” 

“Yes, I’ll talk to my daughter and see what she wants to do.” “Okay. See you soon.” 

I hung up, got dressed and walked to Delilah’s room. “Hey sweetie, I have to go pick up dad. He got into some trouble. We will be back as soon as we can.”

“Mama, what did he do? “He did what he thought was best. We will talk about it tomorrow, I just wanted to let you know in case you or Charlie woke up and we were gone.” “Is dad in a lot of trouble?” “I hope not sweetie, but I don’t know yet.” I kissed her head and left.

Driving towards the police station my heart pounded in my chest. Dean hadn’t gotten drunk or stepped foot in a bar since before Delilah was born. Tonight really did a number on him. I hated seeing him so angry when he was in the gym, but I honestly thought he’d have worked it out. I didn’t think he would get drunk and beat up the kid. Not that I blamed him.

I arrived at the police station and walked in. I was greeted by a deputy at the front desk, “Good evening, ma’am. Can I help you?” “Yes, I received a phone call from Officer Smith. My husband, Dean Winchester, was brought in.”

“Oh yes, ma’am. One second and I’ll get Smith.” I nodded and smiled, “Thank you.” “Oh and ma’am, for what it’s worth, I would have done the same thing. I have three daughters at home myself.” I smiled.

A few minutes later Officer Smith came into the lobby to get me. “Mrs. Winchester, if you’ll follow me I have some paperwork for you and then your husband is free to go.” 

I walked to the desk and signed some paperwork. A few minutes later Dean was brought out. His head was hanging low and I saw his hands were bandaged. 

Dean walked up to me and his voice was soft, “I’m sorry baby.” “Dean, we will talk about this later. Excuse me, Officer Smith, is there anything else I need to do before I take him home?” He shook his head no. “Mr. Winchester, the Jones boy, decided not to press charges. Seems like his daddy felt like he got what he deserved. You’re free to press charges against him if you’d like.” Dean nodded, “I’ll think about it, thank you.” 

Dean and I walked out to my car and he climbed in. “We will get Sam to help us bring the Impala home tomorrow.” Dean nodded. 

The drive back was so silent it was deafening. I looked over and saw Dean staring out the window. I placed my hand on his thigh. 

His hand covered mine and when I looked at him I saw the tears falling from his eyes. A lump formed in my throat. 

I pulled the car over and put my arms around him. Sobs filled the air and his body shook. “Dean, it’s okay baby.” “I’m so sorry. I lost it. I got drunk, he was talking about my baby. Offering her up like a piece of trash and before I knew it I attacked him. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t protect her.”

“Dean, look at me. This is not your fault. I just wish you would have talked to me before you took off. Baby, you have always protected the people you love. Especially your little girl. Dean, she’s safe and we’re safe. That’s all that matters. You were there when she needed you the most. Remember that. When she called you didn’t hesitate to get to her. That’s who you really are. Not someone who gets drunk and gets into fights.”

He held me tight, “I know. I just hope she can forgive me. That you can forgive me.” I cupped his face and placed a soft kiss on his lips, “Dean there is nothing to forgive. I love you, we all do, and that’s all that matters.”

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[sad-girl-hours23]

Thanks for the ask! Idk why but this took me approximately a billion years to write. I hope you don't hate it :)

Buck carries a vase of flowers into Tommy’s hospital room and sets them on the table in front of the window amongst the other bouquets and Get Well Soon cards. “If you get any more flowers, you’re going to need a bigger room.” He pauses for an indulgent chuckle that never comes. “I brought Heliotropes today. They’re your favorite shade of purple, like the ones you used to buy me.” Buck looks out the window and swallows harshly. “You know, I thought it was funny the first few times you bought me your favorite flowers. Until I learned the meaning of the name: sun-turning.” Buck wipes the tears from his eyes. “You always said that looking at me was like looking at the sun.” Quieter, Buck says, “maybe that’s why you walked away.” 

He sits in the chair beside Tommy’s bed. “I’ve missed those flowers these past few months; the color it added to my kitchen, the cherry pie smell. I almost bought some for myself, but do you know what I realized? I never bought you flowers—not once in our six months together. I’m not sure you know how much I care about you and I don’t blame you. Anyway, I didn’t buy the flowers, but I have gotten really good at baking, so my kitchen does smell like cherry pie again. It’s a shitty consolation prize.”

Buck takes Tommy’s hand in his. It hurts to see him this way—fragile and lifeless—but he’s still here. He’s still alive and there’s nowhere else Buck would rather be. “I hope you can hear me. I hope you’ve been able to hear me these last four days. And not just me, you’ve had a lot of visitors. I bought a guest book for everyone to sign.” Buck laughs. “Weird, I know, but I wanted you to have a reminder of all the people who are here for you, how many people love you.”

He squeezes Tommy’s hand. “The doctors say everything is healing as it should. That it’s up to you now. I’ve been there. Maybe you’re having a coma dream like I did—one where your mom is still alive and your dad isn’t an asshole and you have a boyfriend who buys you flowers and anniversary gifts and tells you he loves you and you’re captain of your firehouse and you have everything you’ve ever wanted.” 

Buck takes a deep breath. “However good you think you have it in there, it’s not real. You have to wake up, Tommy, because the world is darker without you. It turns out, it’s you that's the sun. I know it’s selfish, I know you may never give me a second chance, but I need you to wake up so I can buy you flowers and tell you I love you anyway.”

Buck lays his head on the hospital bed, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. “Please come back to me.”

Tommy’s fingers twitch against his palm.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 28 - Grimy

@jegulus-microfic January 28, Word count 554

Previous part First part

They’d only just made it back to the shack before the sun rose. Moony had been dragging his feet, tired from all the running around in the forbidden forest. But they’d got him back inside and comfortable before he started whimpering and howling, nuzzling at Padfoot for comfort as slowly the wolf disappeared to reveal Remus beneath. James hated the transformations; they were so hard on Remus, but the thrill he got from running around with a literal werewolf was like no other, not even quidditch made him feel like that. 

The second that Remus was no longer in his wolf form, Sirius changed back into himself and checked Remus over, healing a few of the deeper cuts he’d got when he’d tried to get past them and chase a herd of centaurs. , a very bad idea that Moony. 

“Thanks, Pads,” Remus said weakly, his voice hoarse from howling. 

“Shhh, Moons. You need to rest before Poppy comes,” Sirius hushed him, stroking his grimy hair out of his eyes. 

Too soon the telltale sounds of Madam Pomfrey coming down the tunnel to collect Remus drifted up to them. 

“Padfoot, come on,” James urged, holding up the invisibility cloak. Peter was fast asleep in James’s front pocket as Wormtail still and would stay that way until James put him in his bed once they got back up to the dorm room. 

“Remus?” Madam Pomfrey called out as she came into the shack. 

“Up here,” Remus answered back, coughing harshly as he raised his voice for her. Sirius’s hands fluttered uselessly above him as he continued to cough. James knew Sirius wouldn’t move on his own now, so he grabbed him around the middle and yanked him under the cloak just in time as Madam Pomfrey opened the bedroom door. 

It took her a while to get Remus back on his feet, Sirius twitching under James’s hands as he held him back.

“Sirius, stop!” He hissed in his ear, but it didn’t help. Finally, Remus was on his feet, leaning heavily on Madam Pomfrey and making their way down the stairs. They followed a minute or so after them, heading up to the castle.

James let go of Sirius as they climbed the steps into the entrance hall. Remus was back in the castle, and Sirius would calm down now. He grabbed his hand, Sirius still needed some contact when Remus was in the hospital wing, and they began the long walk back up to Gryffindor Tower. 

Only a few seventh years were up at that hour, but still, they didn’t want it to be obvious that they’d been out of bed all night. They snuck through the common room and up the spiral staircase, throwing off the invisibility cloak only once their dorm room door was closed. James deposited Wormtail on his bed and got Sirius into his before walking over to his own. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to collapse for a few hours. 

His curtains were drawn, which was odd because they’d definitely been open before he left last night. He pulled them open and froze as he came face to face with the tip of a wand. 

“Hello, love,” Regulus crooned before dragging him into the bed. Well, either this was going to be spectacularly good or spectacularly bad. 

Next part

[kiefromgingerland]

LINGER (p.1)

outlaw!lottie matthews x farmersdaughter!reader

summary: after weeks mourning the recent death of her father, y/n decides it’s time for her to take responsibility and fix the family farm her father left her. just when she’s about to give up and go home, she ends up housing—and hiding—the infamous outlaw of the west.

warning(s): not historically accurate, mentions of crime, mentions of death, mourning, angst, slow burn, secret romance, cursing, possibly ooc!lottie

a/n: this is supposed to be set around the 1890s, but if women and poc actually had rights bc like why not 🥲 also they’ll be using somewhat modern language bc idk how people in the west spoke

word count: 705

you should be at home, tucked away in bed with plenty more time left to sleep. you should at least have been rising peacefully by now, waking up to the sound of chirping birds and the rumbling of distant trains and the quiet stirring of street wagons. but no, you’re not home, and there is no exciting city ambience. where you are is slouched in a small run down saloon. you move the damp slabs of ham around with your fork and poke at the cold scrambled eggs. you finally spot the busy saloon waitress, a short woman around your age with shaggy dark hair. she has the striking hazel green eyes and arched dark brows. she had served you your eggs and ham, and offered some strong alcoholic drink, which you turned down. looking back on it, maybe you should’ve taken the offer.

“ehm, excuse me, ma’am? uh.. could i get that drink, actually?” you chuckle hesitantly. your friends back home would most definitely judge you for drinking this early in the day.

“the food that bad?” the woman asks sarcastically, with a charming smile. “coming right up.”

“no, the food’s.. great! i just got a lot on my mind.” you stutter nervously with a tight lipped smile, trying to be polite. “and thank you, ma’am.”

the woman slides the glass mug of liquor over to you from across the bar. “it’s no problem. and you don’t need to call me ‘ma’am’.” she says matter-of-fact-ly, with a raised brow. “‘name’s natalie. you can call me nat.”

“oh. thank you, nat.” you smile, offering out your hand, which she takes in a firm handshake. “y/n.”

“well? what are you here for?” natalie asks, crossing her arms and leaning on the counter.

“i’m visiting my dad’s farm.”

“hm. fun.” natalie says sarcastically.

“why do you say it like that?” you chuckle.

“why would you want to be hanging around some old man?” natalie scoffs.

“oh, uh.. i won’t be around him, actually.”

“yeah? why, where will he be?”

“uh, he’s dead.”

“oh!”

“yeah.”

“shit, sorry—“

“nah, no worries, it’s no problem. really.”

you take a long sip of beer, quieting down after the awkward encounter. nat continues cleaning the bar, serving customers. one of the guys at the bar points at a poster hung up by the door.

“what’s that about?” the man asks.

“hm? oh, yeah, the sheriff is making everyone hang up those wanted posters.” nat scoffs. “some felon on the run, i dunno what she did, but she’s a big deal apparently.”

“‘she’?” he questions.

“fuck yeah, ‘she’. women can be criminals too, y’know.”

the further you traveled through the quaint little town, you more Wanted posters you saw. a few of them were of old criminals, dating back from a few years to a few weeks old. however, you saw a lot of these new ones from the saloon, of that woman. the road began to get dirtier and the buildings started to lessen. soon enough, you ended on a dirt road with short, thin trees.

you can see a few farms in the distance, but keep on your track. after a while, you can see the house. increasing your pace a bit, you jog over. the house looks bigger now than it did when you left. you, your parents, and your siblings seemed so crowded, but now it’s looks so lonely. nobody bothered to come around after your dad died. there are still farm animals lazily stumbling around.

you take the time to lay out some food for the birds in the chicken coop, pile some hay and put out water for the horses, and toss some grains out into a pile for the goats and the pigs, all of the animals having run slim due to only having grass around.

when the sun begins to set, you decide it’s best to go inside. as you lie beneath the weight of the heavy quilts, the flickering candlelight casts warm shadows on the old wallpaper. the night is silent, except for the occasional bleat of a goat or low rumble of a cow in the yard below you. each breath hurts, your heart aching. outside, the wind picks up, howling through the trees, and in the distance, you hear the faintest sound of hooves. you begin to fall asleep, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

what you don’t know is that a dangerous woman is drawing nearer, her intentions as shadowed as the night itself, and soon, the quiet of your father’s cabin will be disrupted.

[talentforlying]

listen i know there's plenty of tooling around behind the wheel in the nbc show and in legends but constantine Cannot drive. never got a license, would fail miserably even if he did. he knows vaguely how to, as in which pedal does what and turn-the-wheel, but do NOT let him drive your car unless you've got a REALLY GOOD mechanic.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

we let the ocean drown out our voices/enjoying the bitterness/in the chaotic light, I close my eyes and see

[plutonious]

she's actually so swag. I also found out I'm a BIG fan of her color pallet. irida ily

[sysig]

Mint stole my heckin’ dog (Patreon)

[danielnelsen]

always fun to remind myself of the side effects of my thyroid meds