#he is living on my head for far too long i love him

[dualityvn]

Keith would turn to hypnosis or brainwashing to make us love him if he’s fully snapped…?

Could I maybe please request a drabble about that por favor 🥹

Sweet Vacation

CW: kidnapping, brainwashing, fork harassment

Word count: 1345

You ignored the first signs that Keith wasn’t doing well mentally. When he’d turn his back to you at night and sob silently, you’d pretend not to hear it. When he’d spend his evenings staring out the window for hours on end, eyes glazed over, you’d find things to busy yourself with. 

It did annoy you when he put a tracker on you. The fight that followed only made things worse. He became constantly paranoid, asking to hear your voice every hour you weren’t home, having breakdowns when you so much as left the room he was in. 

There was no doubt that he wouldn’t accept it if you tried to break up with him. You never bothered to start the conversation. You simply packed your things one day, blocked his number and left. 

Unfortunately, he’d used more than one tracker. 

- - -

You awaken to an unfamiliar hardwood floor, head pounding and limbs stiff. So stiff, in fact, that you aren’t able to move them. Your eyes shoot open as you tug on the ropes tying your limbs to the chair you're sitting in. 

The room you’re in is unfamiliar, a lavish living room with wooden walls and a large fireplace. A sweet, mind-numbing fragrance catches your attention. Possibly, the herbs burning in a bowl on the coffee table before you. All the curtains are drawn, so you fail to see anything outside. You can’t remember how or when you got here. 

The sound of footsteps approaching brings your attention to the closed door. Keith appears from behind it, looking much more frazzled and unkept than usual. His hair is a bit messy, he’s not wearing the usual concealer under his eyes and his collar is askew. 

“My love! You're awake!” He rushes over to you. 

“Keith! What the hell did you do to me? Where am I?!” 

He shushes you as he caresses your cheek. You want to scream at him, fight against your restraints, yank yourself away from his touch. But for some reason, as soon as those thoughts enter your mind, they fade away. 

“Everything's alright, dear. You're safe now. I'm sorry about the ropes, but there was no other way. I'll take them off once they're not needed anymore.” 

There is nothing sane in his gaze. His eyes are big and alert and his smile is too wide for comfort. 

“Where are we?” you ask, much calmer than you'd like. 

“Somewhere where nobody will bother us! Don't worry, it's just the two of us.” 

You don't know what he's done to you, but your fear, anger and alarm are all much too mild. 

“Oh! I've made you lunch! Let me grab it for you before it gets cold.” 

He rushes off through the door, then returns with a plate of food and a fork. The sight and smell of it makes your stomach grumble. For how long were you out? 

“I hope you like it! Open wide!” Keith holds some of it out in front of you. 

Thoughts of turning away or refusing the food pass through your mind, then leave just as fast. You reluctantly open your mouth. 

Even when he's crazy, he manages to make infuriatingly good food. You do not complain about being fed the entire plate. If you want to try to get out of this situation, you'll need the energy anyway.

“You ate everything! Good job!” he praises you cheerfully. 

Then, he looks down at the fork in his hand. His eyes flicker between it and your mouth for a moment. Until they eventually settle on you as he brings the fork near his face and licks the part that's been in your mouth. Once his tongue reaches the tips of the tines, he sticks them entirely in his mouth. 

You stare at him, dumbfounded. Before you can say anything about it, he sets the fork back on the plate and turns to leave. 

“I'll bring you a glass of water! Can't let you get dehydrated!” 

What the hell was that? How far gone is he? 

You finally get your brain to cooperate and attempt to struggle against your bindings. Unfortunately, they're tight and secure. Looking around, you can't spot anything sharp enough to cut them. 

When Keith returns, he's brought back not only your glass of water but also a small satchel. You eye it curiously as he helps you drink. 

And once it's done, he sets down the glass and opens up the satchel. It's full of herbs, some of which he places in the bowl with the others. That mind number scent hits you again. Any thought you'd had of escaping is beginning to blur.

As if reading your thoughts, Keith answers. “Just a little something to help you relax! I know you're probably quite stressed.” 

He puts the satchel away and picks up a book instead. “How about I read you something? That way you won't be bored!” 

You want to say no, you want to reason with him, ask him to let you go, convince him none of this is necessary. But none of it leaves your lips. 

“Okay,” you say instead. 

- - -

It's been two days since Keith locked you up in this house. He's fed you and kept you hydrated. When he's not been taking care of you, he's been keeping you entertained or simply chatted with you. 

Perhaps it's your fault you've ended up this way. You ignored the signs that he wasn't doing well. You weren't a very good partner overall. 

This morning he made you heart shaped pancakes with strawberries. It was kind of cute. 

Perhaps you don't need to escape, perhaps he will snap back to reality and release you himself. The two of you aren't good for each other. 

- - -

Four days have passed since Keith brought you here. He untied you from the chair but kept your wrist handcuffed to his to make sure you don't run away. 

It's a pretty nice vacation home. Apparently you're in the mountains. The view from the balcony is stunning. Although it gave you a bit of a fright when you woke up here four days ago, it isn't so bad. 

Keith still insists that you let him prepare meals, despite you being able to help now. You can't believe you treated him so coldly before. When he discovered you had bruises on your wrists from the rope, he cried and kissed them better. 

At night, when you get ready for bed, he asks if he can cuddle you. If you say no, he keeps his distance. When you do give him permission, he holds you tight and whispers that he loves you. He smells sweet, a bit like burnt herbs. 

- - -

It's been a week since the start of your little vacation. You took a walk through the forest this morning, hand in hand with your beloved boyfriend. He told you about the plants that grow here and which ones are safe to eat. He's so smart! 

When you got back, you made lunch together. He’s been a bit down and anxious the past few days, but today he was in good spirits. Though he still won't tell you where he got the new perfume he's been wearing. It's so sweet, it makes you want to hold him close constantly. 

Now that it's evening, you're both sitting on the couch, cuddling as you watch TV. Keith holds you against his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head. You feel safe here. 

“I love you,” you murmur. 

He stiffens at once. Thinking there must be something wrong, you pull away to look at him. A mixture of shock and joy battles on his features. 

“I love you too!” Tears are spilling from his eyes. 

You laugh and cup his face, holding it still so you can kiss away his tears. Your boyfriend is so sentimental. His hand brushes over your chin, silently asking you to lean down. His lips quiver against yours, soft and uncertain. You press in lovingly. 

Even the taste of his lips is sweet.

[cheeseatlantic]

ph my gyatt we having new simon bunny dad series request by yhe LOVELY bunnybeaches !!

BUNNY LOVE 1/6

You stepped into the living room, a carrier in your hands, your excitement barely contained. The fluffy little bunny inside had been a spur-of-the-moment decision at the shelter, and you couldn’t wait to introduce your new companion to Simon. You had no doubt he’d come around eventually; he just needed some time.

But when you set the carrier down on the floor, Simon immediately stiffened at the sight of it. He was sitting on the couch, his usual scowl deepening as his eyes flicked from the carrier to you.

“What’s that?” His voice was gruff, but you could hear the edge of annoyance already creeping in.

You grinned, crouching down to open the carrier. “Surprise!”

Out hopped your little bunny, a tiny, soft ball of fluff with the most adorable twitching nose. The rabbit sniffed around and hopped cautiously toward the carpet.

Simon’s eyes narrowed, and you could almost see the muscle in his jaw tighten. “You’re not serious,” he muttered.

You laughed, kneeling down to pet the bunny, who was now hopping around curiously, utterly unaware of the tension between you and Simon.

“Come on, Simon. Meet my new friend.” You smiled at Simon, teasing him gently. “She’s really sweet.”

“I don’t like rabbits,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and looking away like he couldn’t be bothered. “They’re too small. Too fragile. And they chew on everything. What if it ruins the furniture?”

You rolled your eyes, petting the bunny’s soft fur. “She’s not going to ruin anything, Simon. Relax.”

He sighed deeply, running a hand over his face. “Fine. But don’t expect me to—”

Before he could finish, the bunny scurried toward him, ears twitching as she hopped right up to his boots, her little nose sniffing his foot. Simon froze, staring at the rabbit like it might bite him.

Your grin widened. “I think she likes you.”

Simon’s lips tightened, but you could see a flicker of something softer in his eyes as he glanced down at the bunny. She was cute, and even Simon wasn’t immune to that kind of thing.

“No,” he muttered. “I’m not doing this.”

But as the bunny’s soft paws brushed against his boot again, he slowly crouched down—far slower than necessary—and gave the little creature a careful pet. His touch was light, hesitant at first, but as the bunny nuzzled into his hand, Simon’s scowl softened ever so slightly.

You caught the little glance he shot you from the corner of your eye—something that looked like guilt or reluctance. You raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything, watching as he tentatively pet the bunny again.

It didn’t take long for Simon’s resistance to crack.

By the next morning, you came downstairs to find the bunny happily snuggled on the couch with Simon. She was nestled against his chest, her soft little body rising and falling with every gentle breath he took. His large hand was cradling her, carefully stroking her fur, and for a moment, he looked completely relaxed—completely unbothered by the small, fluffy creature in his arms.

You couldn’t help the amused chuckle that escaped your lips.

“Are you… spoiling my rabbit?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe, crossing your arms.

Simon didn’t look up, but the slight flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. He cleared his throat, eyes flicking to you, still not acknowledging the bunny nestled in his lap. “She’s… she’s quiet,” he muttered. “Keeps to herself. Not as bad as I thought.”

You tilted your head, giving him a knowing smile. “I see, so it’s not that bad?”

“Mm,” he grunted, eyes shifting downward at the bunny’s twitching nose. “Not really.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping into the room. “And you’re just… holding her because she’s quiet?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, shifting his grip a little, but the softness in his movements told a different story. “She’s… well, she’s not so bad. Quiet and calm. Doesn’t bother me.”

The bunny gave a soft squeak, and Simon’s fingers immediately stilled. You caught the way his gaze softened as he continued to pet her, the stubbornness melting away more each time she nuzzled into his chest.

“Okay, but you’re not spoiling her, right?” You grinned, teasing him now that he was caught.

He glanced up at you again, his eyes hardening like he was trying to stay firm. “I’m not spoiling her,” he muttered, though his voice was softer than usual. “She’s just… easy to look after. Doesn’t demand much.”

You snorted, sitting beside him on the couch. “Right. Doesn’t demand much.” You glanced at the bunny, now snuggled up and completely at ease in his arms. “Seems to me like you’re doing the spoiling.”

Simon didn’t reply at first, and you almost thought you’d won when he finally grumbled, “She’s just… easier to look after than you sometimes.”

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could retort, he sighed, his grip tightening just a little around the bunny. “But don’t get used to this,” he added, trying to sound serious. “I’m not going to let her make me soft.”

You smirked, leaning in just a little closer. “Right. Sure...”

For a moment, you watched him, and you could see it—despite his attempts to hide it, the way his eyes softened each time the bunny nuzzled against him, the gentle way he petted her, even how he kept her in his lap like she was the most precious thing in the world.

“Simon,” you said softly, “you love her, don’t you?”

He shot you a quick, almost panicked look. “I—I don’t love her. She’s just… she’s quiet. Keeps to herself.”

You laughed, the sound light and teasing. “Sure, Si. Whatever you say.”

Simon huffed but didn’t argue. The truth was clear in the way he adored the bunny, even if he refused to admit it. And as you sat there beside him, watching him spoil her with every gentle pet and soft touch, you couldn’t help but smile.

Yeah, maybe your little bunny had won him over—and maybe, just maybe, Simon loved her more than he’d ever admit.

shoutout hophop for being the inspo everyone thank hophop

[jasmineandcedar]

Surrender | Masters of pretense, part 1

An Elriel two-part fic (dual POV)

Because Azriel is avoiding the Riverhouse, Elain comes to dinner at House of Wind with Nessian and Azriel for quiet, seductive, devastating revenge. Here’s my take on Elriel-coded ‘banter’. Subtle, alluring, quiet.

Because I like to play with stereotypes, here’s a little glimpse of Azriel believing he’s in control—until Elain proves, without question, that he never was. He is but a puppy on a leash whenever Elain is around.

Also, the potatoes make a re-appearance (the gravy too).

Content warning: sexual fantasies.

----

The fire was crackling softly in the hearth, sending shadows dancing along the stone walls of the dining room like living things. Dinner at House of Wind had long since ended, at least for everyone except Cassian, who was still shoveling food onto his place with the same enthusiasm he had at the start of the meal. The rest of them lingered in the quiet aftermath. Nesta was absorbed in her book, preternaturally still save for the occasional flick of a page. Elain gently swirled the wine in her glass, watching the dark liquid as if absorbed in thought.

Azriel sat there, pretending to brood. In reality, he was absorbed by her.

Elain.

She looked ethereal, beautiful as ever. Serene, even, with the soft glow of the fire kissing her impeccable features. But Azriel knew better. He knew that glint sparkling in her eye was not mere contentment. That delicate flush dusting her cheeks was not from the warmth of the fire. It was because of him. For him, if he allowed himself to wish. The way she quietly toyed with him, sweetly and mercilessly, whenever he had dared to show up at dinners after last Solstice had him wishing all kinds of things, despite himself.

Dangerous and foolish things.

And—Mother above—Elain was enjoying this far too much.

Sipping from her wine, Elain swallowed slowly. Azriel’s eyes—traitorous things that they were whenever she graced them with her visage—followed the movement of her throat. The slow bob, that delicate tensing of muscle, made his fingers flex against his knees and his jaw tighten. He wanted to trace the velvet-soft skin of that immaculate throat with his fingers, to follow its graceful line with his mouth, but that would be a sacrilege if there ever was one.

Her lips, soft and rosy and far too lovely for his sanity, parted slightly as she took another small sip of that crimson wine that stained those lips the colour of sin. Azriel let out a slow exhale and felt heat replace the ice in his veins.

He wanted to trace those delicate lips with his fingers too.

Feel their softness yield beneath his touch.

Before he put his teeth to them.

Then—Mother save him—her foot.

The faintest touch, just a whisper of contact, brushing against the exposed skin of his ankle. He stiffened, his entire body locking down with the precision of a Spymaster, every muscle going taut. She didn’t press or push. She was just… there. The faintest graze.

It was the kind of thing that drew him mad. Madder than if she would have flipped the table and straddled him right then and there. At least something like that, he could have handled.  He liked to think so, anyway. After all, restraint in the midst of chaos was second nature to the Spymaster of the Night Court.

But this? This was calculated. Precise.

The Spymaster of the Night Court had met his match.

In a female so lovely and ethereal she could have been spun from moonlight. A female who feigned innocence with the same deadly skill that he feigned indifference. Two masters of pretense, locked in a dance that could only end one way.

Surrender.

And Azriel was losing.

He was losing his damn mind.

She wouldn’t even meet his gaze. It made him want to flip the table and beg on his knees for her to just look at him.

But no.

Elain just tilted her head, the firelight catching in her curls and painting her in gold and honey. That maddeningly sweet smile danced across her delicate features as her eyes remained fixed on the wine she kept swirling with slow, measured grace.

She was ruthless. Gentle torment wrapped in honey and light and everything holy in the world. And that feigned innocence just made Azriel burn even hotter.

It made him burn to see what it would take to have her drop all pretense.

He burned to get his hands on her and finally find out how long it would take before those sweet smiles turned into breathless moans, into ragged, needy pleas that were everything holy in this world but had nothing to do with innocence.

He wanted her undone.

By his hand, sacrilege be damned.

“Az?” Cassian’s voice pierced the haze that was Azriel’s mind, distant and wholly unimportant. Because Elain’s foot was tracing a lazy, featherlight path higher up his calf, just enough to remind Azriel who was sitting in front of him.

Not that he needed reminding.

His entire body was wound too tight, like a string pulled so taut it was ready to snap. His breathing was shallow, every inhale a battle of control and every exhale threatening surrender. He felt his pulse throb in places he had no business thinking about at the dinner table.

He was too damn hot. Warmth curled through him like the shadows swirling frantically at his feet. It was as if his need for her had replaced the blood in his veins, pulsing through him with the promise of life itself—as vital as breath. Every beat of his heart carried her name through his bloodstream.

Elain. Elain. Elain.

His whole world had narrowed to nothing but her.

One single moment of her attention, and he’d practically be wagging his tail like some goddamn puppy on a leash, desperate and eager for more.

Never had there been a more useful time to be a shadowsinger.

To be able to conceal.

Spying and stealth be damned—without his shadows to hide behind, every secret, every dark desire and aching need would have been laid bare for all to see the second Elain Archeron stepped into any space he occupied. The shift in his scent would have revealed it all.

He gritted his teeth at Cassian’s interruption, trying to find his way back to the present moment through the maze of his desire.

“What?” he managed, without tearing his gaze from Elain. The word came out sharper and more impatient than intended, rougher than it should have been.

That was… slightly concerning.

Concealing his emotions had never been an issue. Neither through war nor centuries of calculated deception and carefully measured restraint.

Not until her.

Not until he met his match.

Elain Archeron had him beat for more than just secret-keeping. She had him beat at his own fucking game, and she knew it. In fact, she was looking far too pleased with herself. And that quiet boldness, on a face so innocent and sweet, had Azriel utterly leashed.

He wanted her.

Cassian raised his eyebrows. “Pass the potatoes, will you?”

Not the potatoes.

Even goddamn potatoes had him obsessing over her. Because of that first Solstice when he had been unable to stay away from her. When he had first started to fully realize how utterly fucked he was.

Azriel’s gaze drifted to the bowl of potatoes. They weren’t Elain’s this time, of course. They were courtesy of the House and, naturally, nowhere near as divine. But still, they reminded him. Of her.

Of how she had struggled with that heavy bowl, brows adorably furrowed in quiet determination. Of how he had walked up to her, his pulse hammering in his ears, shadows coiling nervously at his feet. Wingbeats had fluttered in his stomach—as if he was some foolish and inexperienced boy instead of a centuries-old, and certainly not inexperienced, spymaster.

It had taken every last drop of courage honed over all those centuries for him to, shamelessly and despicably, make damn sure their fingers brushed when he reached for the dish. But he had done it, even as he struggled to breathe as longing pulsed through his veins and his heartbeat quickened.

She had blushed.

Seemed stunned, even. More beautiful than he'd ever seen her, dusted with flour and all the gentleness of her caring heart.

Those foolish winged creatures in his stomach had taken flight again. Restraint stretched thin as he fought the urge to grin like a lovesick fool when he got to the table and let his lethal gaze sweep across the room, daring anyone to eat before Elain was seated.

Elain.

His gaze drifted back to her. Without tearing it from her, Azriel grabbed the heavy dish of potatoes a little more forcefully than he intended. Without blinking—or thinking—he dumped the entire bowl on top of Cassian’s plate with a dull thunk that echoed through the quiet room.

Elain’s lips twitched. Just barely. Of course, Azriel noticed it.

He noticed everything when it came to her, even without his shadows.

He could map every freckle on her face in his sleep, should he ever get any. He could track the smallest shift in her expression, every twitch of every muscle, every glint in her eye. Every strand of that thick, honey-brown hair out of place. He knew every wayward curl. Nothing in the world could have had that small, knowing smile escape his notice.

“Dude?” Cassian’s brows shot up as he stared at the heavy dish of potatoes now balancing precariously on top of his plate.

Still unable to look away from Elain, Azriel’s voice came out low. Rough. “You want gravy too?”

Those beautiful lips twitched again, and wingbeats fluttered anew in Azriel’s abdomen.

But he really shouldn’t have said it.

He really shouldn’t still be holding a grudge against Cassian for daring to eat before Elain was seated at Solstice more than a year ago. He definitely shouldn’t have let his voice drop or his emotions slip through the cracks of his dissolving composure. And he most certainly shouldn’t have let his gaze drop to Elain’s lips. To that small, knowing smirk still teasing the corners of her mouth and Azriel’s control just the same.

But he was out of his mind.

Elain’s foot retreated slowly, with a timing too damn perfect to not be calculated. Azriel let out a faint, shuddering sigh as the absence of her on him left him desperate for her to return. And—Cauldron damn him—he found himself leaning towards her, drawn to her like a celestial body helplessly caught in the unrelenting pull of its sun.

She had him dancing to her tune like a goddamn puppet on a string.

Elain—sweet, ruthless Elain—just tilted her head to the other side, still swirling her wine. Those wide and deceptively innocent eyes of molten chocolate remained locked on the dark liquid in her glass. As if she hadn’t just caught him in her gravity.

“I’d love some…” her sweet voice, all silk and secrets, pierced through the tension like a blade.

Then came the pause.

Long.

Lethal.

Almost casually, she let the air thicken around them once more before she delivered another blow.

“… Azriel.”

His name on those lovely lips nearly had him actually flip the damn table and throw himself on the floor before her.

But then, finally, she met his gaze. Warm brown eyes focused entirely on him.

Cauldron have mercy on his soul.

Azriel nearly groaned. He wasn’t sure if he actually did. He swallowed hard in a desperate attempt to collect his dissolving composure. He tightened his jaw and tilted his head slightly, gritting his teeth. Without a word, he leaned forward to slowly push the gravy boat towards her.

Cassian glanced between them before his gaze landed on Azriel, brows still raised. “Someone woke up on the wrong side.”

Azriel ignored him.

Because Elain was smiling at him now, sweet and demure as ever. Her quiet devastation and that soft curve of her lips had him enthralled. And when her foot ghosted over his ankle again, Azriel nearly knocked over his drink from relief and need.

Like a goddamn puppy on a leash.

“He always wakes up on the wrong side,” Nesta muttered, not bothering to look up from her book. She flipped a page, her tone dry, “Do you even have a right side, Az?”

Azriel barely heard her. His focus was locked on the female sitting across from him, the one who haunted his every waking moment. Including the ones he should have been asleep.

“I didn’t wake up,” he muttered right back, his voice once again lower than intended. “I didn’t sleep.”

Cassian huffed, lifting the heavy dish of potatoes from his plate.

“You should try it sometime,” he said briskly. “Might help with the chronic brooding.”

Azriel didn’t answer. He was getting cranky now. Restless. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone. He wanted to be free of this dining room, of the laughter and pointless conversation, of eyes that might see too much.

He wanted Elain. Alone.

“Why didn’t you sleep…” Elain murmured,  her attention still focused on the wine glass she now gently rolled back and forth by the stem between her slender fingers.

Slow. Effortless. Merciless.

She paused again, just enough to let the tension coil thick in the air between them before delivering another devastating blow.

“… Azriel?”

His name on those lips.

Heat licked down his spine, like a barely-there caress, soft and slow and dangerously intoxicating.

It set him ablaze more thoroughly than his fist around his cock did during the sleepless hours he spent stroking himself to the thought of her unravelling. To the thought of those perfect lips, soft and swollen, parting around breathless moans as he filled her. As she arched against his naked skin—equally bare and needy—her breath hot and sweet against him.

He could almost hear it.

The desperate little sounds she’d make as he reveled in her pleasure. The way she’d gasp his name, not teasing or coy, but pleading in breathless surrender.

He wanted to be so damn good to her.

He’d take his time. Taste every inch of her until she was gasping and trembling on his tongue. He’d lap up every moan, let every breathless whimper guide him like a treasure map to every hidden secret behind that feigned innocence. Then he’d bury himself in her, over and over and over, wringing every last drop of pleasure from her until it was him playing her body like an instrument and they moved to the same rhythm. He’d learn every tune by heart until he had nothing left in him to give and she had learned the true meaning of satisfaction.

Azriel exhaled through his nose and clenched his fists under the table as if willing himself to stay composed.

It wasn’t working. At all.

Because his pulse was throbbing even harder, in all the wrong places.

“I’ve been…” He looked up at her, hopeful—pathetic really—like some lovesick fool. But Elain wouldn’t meet his gaze. He’d tear down mountains to have those chestnut eyes on him again, to feel the featherlight weight of her gaze tracing over his face like the touch of a lover.

“…distracted, lately.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and they felt like a confession.

Elain’s lips curled. Not quite a smile, but something more dangerous. Knowing.

And Azriel knew there was more of that sweet torture to come. And those wingbeats in his stomach were entirely overpowered by pure, ravenous heat.

“Distracted?” Elain echoed softly.

She put her wine glass down on the table. Her thumb began gliding in slow, measured strokes along the stem of the glass.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

She bit her lip lightly, her teeth grazing the soft curve of those rosy lips as her large, chestnut eyes followed the languid rhythm of her thumb.

That slow, deliberate rhythm made Azriel’s lips part involuntarily. His shadows slipped beneath the table, curling tighter around his feet as if they, too, were as desperate to reach for her as he was.

At least he still had enough sense left to not groan aloud.

“By what, I wonder?” Elain spun that silken voice between them like a web, and Azriel was caught like a helpless prey.

Was she really going to make him say it? Here? In front of Nesta and Cassian? His pulse thundered so wildly he thought surely, they must all hear it.

Perhaps he should actually say it.

Perhaps he shouldn’t be such a coward.

Perhaps he should just flip the damn table.

He cleared his throat, trying—failing, really—to mentally push back the desire licking at the edges of his control. “I’ve had… things on my mind.”

“Mmm,” Elain hummed sweetly, the sound dripping over him like warm honey, and Azriel felt it everywhere. Thick, slow, seeping into the marrow of his bones. Goosebumps rose in its wake, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. But Elain’s thumb—that slender, delicate thing capable of such ruthless, seductive intent—just continued that slow, sinful path up and down the stem of her wineglass.

Azriel couldn’t tear his eyes from it.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

He wanted this. All of it. Unleashed. On him. This beautiful predator hidden beneath the timid, delicate guise others didn’t bother to look past.

“Things?” she asked, her voice light and effortless. Her beautiful eyes, still torturously turned away from him, refused to meet his.

Mother, please.

Azriel swallowed thickly, feeling his throat go dry. “Only one, actually.”

Elain blinked. Azriel noted with a satisfied smirk how, for a fleeting moment, her eyes flicked to his before she looked away again, back to the dark liquid in her wine glass.

“I hope it’s something...” she murmured in that voice like warm honey. She paused, and her fingers moved to trace a lazy circle along the rim of her wine glass. “… worth losing sleep over.”

Azriel’s traitorous pulse hammered even harder in his throat. “It is.”

Elain’s lips parted just slightly in a soft intake of breath that had Azriel’s shadows singing in his ears, that puppy desperate for her approval running victory laps in his dazed mind.

And then—Cauldron damn him—Cassian’s voice shattered the moment.

“Yeah, he loves his reports,” he said through a mouthful of potatoes. “I never got the appeal.”

Nesta snorted softly, peering up from her book at last. “Brooding and mysterious as always,” she mused, but a knowing smirk was ghosting her features as her sharp gaze moved between Azriel and Elain.

Azriel braced himself.

“Maybe we should get him a hobby,” Cassian said, shoveling another forkful of potatoes into his mouth. “Might help get his mind off things”.

“Good luck,” Nesta laughed under her breath. “Have you tried knitting, Az?”

Azriel clenched his jaw. Hard.

“Knitting?” Cassian chuckled in between bites. He barely swallowed before grinning wide. “And what would our dear spymaster knit?”

Azriel didn’t take the bait.

Nesta smirked, glancing between Azriel and Elain once more before returning to her book with that knowing look still sparkling in her eye. “A leash, maybe.”

Cassian raised his brows in confusion.

Azriel pointedly ignored them. In fact, he barely heard them.

Because Elain’s foot was back. Sliding up his calf with that same sensual slowness that was driving him mad and making every muscle in his body tense. He swallowed thickly, fingers tightening around the fragile stem of his own glass until he thought it might snap.

He didn’t dare move an inch. Didn’t dare so much as breathe.

“Elain,” he said, his voice dangerously low, both a warning and a plea all at once.

Elain finally looked at him again and Azriel’s head stilled. His shadows paused their restless dance at his feet.

“Azriel?” she replied, her honey-sweet voice wrapping around his name, soft and lethal in equal measure. Her wide, innocent eyes held his. That beautiful, sweet deception.

He could think of an infinite number of things to say, all of them equally dangerous. All of them leading to the same inevitable, reckless end.

Surrender.

Instead, for now, he settled on the one that wouldn’t end with him exposing his every secret and begging on his knees, pleading with her to let him put his hands, his mouth, his tongue on her like the desperate male he was.

“Pass the gravy,” he rasped, his voice too rough. Needy even. “Please.”

Elain’s eyebrows lifted, her lips pursing slightly before she shifted towards him. She reached for the gravy boat, her fingers curling around the handle in a way that made his breath hitch. A wayward golden curl slipped free to fall in her face as she leaned forward.

Azriel froze.

He had never seen anything more beautiful.

The wicked gleam in her eye defying the shy blush warming her cheeks. The honeyed glow of her as the firelight danced over her features. How the wine clung to her lovely lips, the deep crimson a dark, sultry promise against the delicate fairness of her skin. Like temptation itself. And that wild curl—it had him spellbound. He ached to reach across the table, to brush it back and slide his hand into the thick, silken curls of her hair. To fist it, pull her against him, and claim those crimson lips the way he should have when he had the chance.

For the life of him, Azriel couldn’t breathe. He knew she must see the pure desperation in his eyes.

“Of course…” she murmured softly, and then—Mother save him—she slid the gravy boat toward him with torturous patience, those chocolate brown eyes never leaving his. When it reached him, she made damn sure their fingers brushed. Azriel swallowed every curse he knew, biting down another groan.

But she wasn’t done with him yet.

Because then, Elain—sweet, ruthless Elain—brushed that wild curl behind her ear. And when she looked up at him through her lashes, those doe-brown eyes shimmering with quiet victory, Azriel was utterly undone.

She had him exactly where she wanted him, and they both knew it.

Her lips parted. In a whisper, she delivered the final, lethal blow.

“… Azriel.”

His name. On those perfect, wine-stained lips.

Azriel groaned aloud. A deep, guttural sound that tore from the depths of him, carrying every ounce of need, every obscene fantasy, every shred of longing he fought so damn hard to contain.

The room went completely silent.

Nesta lowered her book. Cassian stopped mid-bite. Azriel’s shadows froze.

Even the crackling fire seemed to still.

“Well, fuck me,” Azriel breathed, every syllable slipping free in surrender.

And then—damn the Cauldron—he let go.

Dropped every pretense.

As Elain’s lips curled in quiet triumph, he finally flipped the damn table and fell to his knees.

Surrender.

[minkiroo]

notes of jasmine

p.sh x reader

pure domestic fluff, inspired by this moment in his recent live hehe

warnings: none! just hwa being silly, not canon compliant (he is not an idol), thats it

_______

the weekend fell upon you two, a week’s worth of work and toil finally pushed behind you as you finally can rest. seonghwa rests his head on your lap, as you sit back on the couch, crocheting the blanket you’d finally set your heart on making absentmindedly. he, meanwhile, scrolled through his phone, humming along to the shared playlist you had playing on the speaker. it was bright and sunny: the rays filtered through the curtains and naturally brightened the shared living room.

you pat his arm lightly, signalling for him to get up. he hums, caught off guard, but lifted his head nonetheless. you place a pillow under his head in lieu of your leg and stretch briefly before leaning over.

“im going to go shower and get ready for dinner, ok?” you whisper, a small smile on your lips.

he hums in response. “mm, ok. don’t take long.”

“oh please.”

you laugh lightly before pressing a quick kiss to his lips and moving to the bathroom, where you quickly washed up your body before going to the bedroom to get dressed.

“seonghwa?” you called out.

“yes, baby?”

“what’s the occasion for dinner?”

“uh, like dress code? i don’t know, whatever you want love.”

“no, like, where are we going? somewhere fancy, casual? you didn’t tell me.”

he lights up in realization, “oh - upscale!” 

“perfect. you need to get ready too.”

“coming.”

as he made his way to the bedroom, you sprayed a new perfume you grabbed after seeing reviews online. though you didn’t spoil yourself often with perfume, this one you couldn’t pass up. surely this date night would make a good occasion to try it.

he pauses at the door, sniffing. “what’s that smell?” his voice was low and curious.

you look at him, and then shake the bottle you set back down on the dresser. “new perfume. you like it?” you hold out your wrist, letting him smell.

he grabs your wrist, sniffing and humming as he basked in the scent.

he moves abruptly behind you, burying his nose in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. he murmurs softly, “you smell so nice.”

“thanks.” you giggle. he continues to move his head to different spots around your neck and chest, deeply inhaling, almost exaggeratingly so. you laugh, both because of his silly antics and also because his long hair was tickling you with every slight movement he made against you.

“you’re so silly today, ah, seonghwa stop that!” you jump as he nips at your neck, pressing loving kisses and continuing to bask in the scent of your new perfume.

“i’m sorry that i cant help how good you smell and how good you look and how perfect you are.” his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against him as he continues his loving ministrations.

you pout, turning to face him directly, smoothing down his hair against his head. you study his face, a small smile adorning your face as he lightly pants from breathing in far too much perfume. “i’m glad you like it. i’ll wear it all the time now if this is how you’ll be.”

he hums before leaning in, capturing your lips in a warm kiss. though you indulge him briefly, you pull away sputtering, making a face.

“eughhh. you kissed off all my perfume and now you taste like it.”

“deal with it. you love it.” he teases.

“i do not love it though i do love you.” and with that, you kiss him, disregarding the faint taste of perfume. 

your lips moved against each other’s in a slow but passionate dance, imbuing all the love you had for each other in a simple kiss. you couldn’t help but laugh, breaking the kiss and pulling him into a hug. 

as the night went on - the dinner date, the walk in the cool evening air, and the love you made when you returned home - the sweet scent of your perfume remained lingering in the air—a reminder of the little things that made your love so special.

[uncannydevotion]

“ would you fall in love with me again? ”

a/n: someone sent in a request tht was for masky in relation to this song (epic the musical my beloved <3) but then it spiraled and i started thinking of other creepypastas w this song in mind and it became this so. so. so. yeah. i was gonna include more but i didn't wanna overwhelm myself so you only get these 3. weirdly turned into a sequel post for some of my other work?? somehow??

includes: masky, ticci toby, and homicidal liu.

warnings: purely self-indulgent, varying lengths, so many references to the song, mentions of murder, toby thinks of hurting the reader it's brief but idk heads up there, a lot of guilt and self-loathing, masky's part is technically a sequel to this post, and toby's part is vaguely a sequel to this post, lots of crying, many religious references in liu's part, attempted violence against reader in liu's part dw it's brief and not graphic, borderline unhealthy dependency in liu's part?? idk but the vibes are there i think.

MASKY

Two years. Two years had gone by since Slender wiped your memory of Masky. Two years since he was forced to leave you, forced to give up on the only thing that ever brought him happiness.

Two years, and you were standing right in front of him. And you remembered him. He doesn't know how, but you were looking at him with recognition in your eyes, his name falling from your lips.

His heart was racing so fast he thought he was dying, and his hands were shaking. It took everything in him to not run up to you, to not cling to you until he was certain you'd never leave.

He had been so sure that he'd never see you again. Truthfully, had he not been so utterly overjoyed seeing you, he would've been scared. When Slender finds out about this—and it will—it'll have you killed.

When he asked how you remembered, how you knew where he was, you smiled and told him that you didn't remember everything, just bits and pieces. But it had been enough to make you search him out, picking up on a trail he hadn't even realized he was leaving behind.

Honestly, Masky had dreamt of this moment far too many times. From the moment he left you behind, he would dream of reuniting with you. Dream of returning to your arms. It was hard to believe that this was real.

But he knew it was real.

Your touch felt far too warm to be fake as you gently took his mask off his face, revealing the tears staining his cheeks as he looked at you. He didn't even realize he was crying, he was just so caught up in the fact that he was with you.

Though his joy was short lived when he realized that this meant you knew what he was. A murderer, a cog in whatever machine Slender was running. He didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve your love, or your touch, or your smile.

He choked on his apology, barely able to get the words out as you pull him into a hug. He wants to tell you that you should just forget about him. Your life was probably easier with him gone, right? How could you ever fall in love with someone like him?

But all of his concerns seemed to go quiet with you here. Just this once... just this once he'll be selfish, and focus on the now.

TICCI TOBY

For as long as he can remember, Toby's felt as if he were missing something. He's never known what, but ever since Slender... took him in, it's felt as if a piece of him had disappeared. Or maybe he never felt whole? He... he can't remember.

Sometimes he'd have dreams. Dreams of his family, he thinks. A mom he can't remember, a father he murdered, a sister... did he have a sister? He doesn't know. He's not sure if he wants to know. But what he does know is that in some of his dreams, there's always someone else. Someone who isn't part of his family.

Someone who makes his heart ache when he wakes up. It's a confusing feeling, one that he finds himself loathing and clinging to at the same time. It's a feeling that reminds him that he's alive, at least.

A feeling he becomes unbearably aware of when he reunites with you in the forest. He was going to kill you. Wanted to kill you. But then you said his name, and so many memories came rushing back that he didn't know what to do.

So he scared you off.

But now, a few days after your less than friendly reunion, Toby wanted answers. You knew him, and he's sure he knew you. That's how he found himself lingering near the edge of the forest, hoping that maybe you'd come back.

And you must've wanted answers too, because you came back. You came back, and the conversation that followed was painfully awkward. He didn't apologize for trying to kill you. The urge was still there, really, and if you didn't have the answers he wanted, he'd probably give in to it.

According to you, you and Toby used to be friends. You had been in love with him, apparently, back when you were both younger. And strangely enough, Toby believed you. Something inside him told him he could trust you, something he didn't quite understand.

There was this fond expression on your face as you rambled off memories you had of him. He couldn't remember anything you were talking about, but it sounded familiar, and the look on your face had this tightness in his chest easing.

It was like he was home, in an odd way. He's not sure he's felt this content in a long time, just sitting here in the forest with you. There's this sick feeling of want in his chest as he looks at you, and it felt like he was going to suffocate because of it.

He doesn't even process the words he's spoken until you're looking at him with a shocked expression.

"Would you fall in love with me again?"

It was a stupid question. It was so fucking stupid, and he can't help but internally berate himself for asking it. How could you ever love him again? He tried killing you! He's killed more people than he can count, he's prone to violence, he's barely keeping himself together. How could you love someone like him?

But instead of you brushing the question off, you coax him into meeting your gaze, "I never stopped loving you."

And suddenly, the world didn't feel as lonely anymore.

HOMICIDAL LIU

Liu was never meant to fall in love with you, he thinks. You were like an angel, one he would never deserve. But meeting you, it made him realize that it was... okay to live, even just a little.

He's always been so caught up in hunting down Jeff, in trying to kill his own brother, that he's forgotten how to be a person. But you reminded him of that, like some sort of blessing from God.

He never knew what he was going to do once he finally killed his brother, but now he finds himself picturing a future with you. It seems a bit silly, especially since there's no telling whether or not he'd be able to deal with Jeff without dying himself, but...

It's a dream he finds himself thinking of often.

And Liu was, by no means, shy about his past with you. You knew everything, right down to the smallest little detail. The small things, like what his mother's favorite food was, and how he used to spend the weekends at his granddad's.

You knew everything. You knew that Liu was out to kill his brother, something he had admitted to you one night under the stars. He had been ashamed, the confession coming from him quietly, his hand tightly grasping yours, scared that you might shy away from him.

The fact that you didn't leave him meant everything, more than you'll ever know. You didn't condone murder, but you also understood that this was something he had to do. And you promised to be with him every step of the way.

Truly, a gift from God.

Which is why Liu could feel his head pounding, knife shaking in his hands. His chest was heaving, and he was only vaguely aware of the blood staining his clothes and skin as he stared down at the person he just murdered. Someone who tried to hurt you. He doesn't know the full story, all he knows if that their grip on you was too tight, the fear in your gaze making him see red.

He only really understands what he's done when he hears you saying his name. Tears were streaming down your face as you gently pried the knife out of his hand. Liu never killed. It was always Sully. Never him. Never. But this... this was him.

Liu just murdered someone. For you. Right in front of you. You... you witnessed it. Oh dear lord, what has he done? He barely registers the tears in his eyes, apologies spilling from his lips. He didn't apologize for committing the act, but he apologized for letting you see it.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve to see that. You shouldn't--fuck--are you okay?"

There was a feeling of panic swelling up in his chest at the thought of you realizing how horrible of a person he truly is. The thought of you leaving had his throat closing up, and it was difficult trying to take in deep breaths. It was bad enough that he could feel Sully trying to take over, to spare him from the panic and stress.

Anything you were saying went unheard until he felt your hands cupping his cheek, forcing him to look at you. There was a look of determination in your eyes, and it's almost as if you knew where his thoughts were spiraling as you spoke.

"Nothing can make me leave you. I don't care if you kill thousands of people, I'd fall in love with you over and over again. I'm here, always."

And Liu can't help but cry. You were too good for him. He didn't deserve you. He'll never deserve you. But he clings to you.

God may never forgive him for his sins, but getting into Heaven didn't seem so important anymore as you pulled him into your arms.

[mangionebabymama]

“Sunflower” - Luigi Mangione

“And then told me that she'll love me for as long as she's alive” - “Sunflower” by Rex Orange County

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: My first time writing in the third person omniscient point of view of Luigi, especially with keeping in mind of Rex’s perspective in the lyric’s storytelling. Instead of me being the simp, Luigi’s gonna be simp here. Enjoy me in my feels, again 😔

“Do you ever think about how small we are in the grand scheme of things?” 

With a soft voice, she posed the question into the world, but the gravity of her words made Luigi feel a tightness in his chest. He wasn’t entirely sure what she meant—he wasn’t even sure if she was talking to him, herself in reflection, or the universe itself—but he didn’t care. His undivided attention was wholly absorbed by her, enchanted by the way the golden rays of the setting sun caressed her skin, warming all the melanin deep down in the innermost layers there, and transforming her into a figure of otherworldly beauty. 

“Uh… what?” he only got out, though his voice wobbled a bit. He cleared his throat, embarrassed, but she didn’t notice. Or maybe she did, and she loved it. She loved him. That thought alone made his heart race.

As she turned her head toward him, her laughter was a comforting melody, reminiscent of the sun's gentle touch on his face. The sunflowers around them swayed gently in the breeze, their bright yellow petals catching the light and framing her like a painting. Luigi had never been much of an art person, no less a right-brained kind of one, but he was pretty sure she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The vast field of sunflowers, with their faces turned toward the sun, seemed to mirror their own relationship, where they were each other's sun, their love blossoming like the flowers around them.

“I mean, look at all of this,” she said, gesturing to the endless field of sunflowers they were lying in. The flowers stretched as far as the eye could see, with their faces turned toward the sun like they were worshipping it. “We’re just two tiny specks in the middle of all this beauty. Doesn’t that make you feel… I don’t know, alive?”

Luigi didn’t answer right away. He was too busy studying her—the way her hair fell into her face, the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, the way her lips curved into a smile that made his stomach do flips. She was right, of course. They were small. Insignificant, even. But, in spite of everything, lying next to her with the sunflowers surrounding them and the sun setting in the distance, he felt anything but small. He felt alive.

“Yeah,” he answered, at last, his voice barely above a whisper. “It does.”

Turning to him, she caught his gaze, and he suddenly felt as if he couldn’t draw in the air. There was something about how she looked at him—like he was the only thing that mattered, like he was the reason the sunflowers bloomed and the sun set north of the west at night, and the world kept spinning. It was intoxicating. Addictive. He never wanted it to end.

“You’re staring,” she said, a cheeky smile curling her lips. 

“I can’t help it,” he confessed, his cheeks turning a shade of red. “You’re… you’re like a sunflower.”

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I mean,” he kept talking, sounding more sure of himself. , “You’re… natural. Beautiful. Pure. You’re delicate, but you’re strong too. You don’t need anyone to tell you you’re special—you already know it. You’re… you’re just you, and that’s enough. It’s more than enough.” He paused, his heart pounding in his chest. “You make me want to live, you know that? You make me want to be better. To be… me.”

She didn’t say anything long; he feared he’d said too much. But then, she reached over and took his hand, her fingers intertwining with his, and he felt like he could breathe again.

“I love you,” she said simply, like it was the easiest thing in the world. And maybe it was. Maybe love was supposed to be easy. Maybe it was supposed to feel like lying in a field of sunflowers with the sun setting on your skin and your heart so full it might burst.

“I love you too,” he spoke, his tone heavy with feeling. “For as long as I’m alive. Longer, if I can.”

She smiled, and it felt as if the sunflowers surrounding her blossomed solely for her. “Forever, then.”

They remained silent for some time, with only the rustling sunflowers audible in the breeze. As the sun lowered in the sky, it bathed the world in golden and orange hues, filling Luigi with a sense that this was the most perfect moment of his life. He glanced at her once more, his heart swelling with an indescribable emotion.

“Hey,” he spoke gently, his voice just a whisper. She glanced at him, her eyes intrigued. “Can I… can I kiss you?”

Her smile provided all the reassurance he needed. She leaned closer, their lips connecting, and everything else disappeared. The sunflowers, the sunset, the vast field—they all blurred into the background, leaving just her. Her lips pressed against his, her hand clasped in his, her breath intertwining with his. It was gentle, sweet, and everything he had ever envisioned it would be. At that moment, he felt a rush of emotions—love, desire, and a profound sense of connection with her.

When they finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against his, her eyes closed and a smile on her lips. “I’ll love you forever,” she whispered, her voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it. He could feel the change in the air, the shift in their relationship. The kiss had sealed their love, making it stronger and more real than ever before.

“I’ll love you longer,” he replied, his voice just as soft.

He couldn't help but adore her laugh, a sound he knew he would cherish forever. It resonated like music, tending to make him think of sunflowers swaying in the breeze and crickets singing as the sun set everything.

They lay there for a while longer, the sky darkening around them and the stars beginning to peek through the clouds. Neither of them spoke—there was nothing that needed to be said. They were content just to be, to exist in that moment together.

In due time, she lifted herself into a sitting position, extended her arms overhead, and let out a quiet sigh. “We should probably head back,” she said, though she didn’t sound like she wanted to.

“Yeah,” he agreed, though he didn’t move. He didn’t want to. He wanted to stay there forever, surrounded by sunflowers and her.

She stood, offering him a hand, and he took it without hesitation. Together, they made their way through the field, the sunflowers towering over them and brushing against their arms. The environment was still and harmonious, and Luigi couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how life was meant to unfold. This was where he belonged—with her, in the middle of a field of sunflowers, with the sky painted in hues of gold and orange.

They reached the edge of the field, and she turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling in the fading light. “Today was perfect,” she mentioned, her voice so warm that it tugged at his heart. 

“It was,” he agreed, his voice just as warm. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she answered, her grin brightening the dark. “Forever.”

“Forever,” he echoed, and he meant it. Every word. Every promise. Every moment with her was a gift, and he wouldn’t waste a single one.

She reached out, retaking his hand, and together they walked into the night, the sunflowers, the sunset, and the stars fading into the background. But Luigi didn’t mind. He had everything he needed right there, her hand in his and her heart beating in time with his.

Forever. It didn’t seem long enough. But it would have to do, for now. 

Because with her, he felt like he could live forever.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Getting deep into the aus in my head rn. Ok so you know that genre of arranged marriage webtoons/novels that's like, "the crazy princess is forced to marry the brave knight by the king, who wants to punish the knight for some reason" and then the princess turns out to either not be crazy or to be amping up the crazy on purpose, probably in order to survive some dark shit happening in the palace?

Ok so like. That. Now make it obkk.

(I'm tempted to say mdtb but obkk just fit better, I think. But also like, shit make it mdtb too, I love this trope)

Now here's the thing; I think there's a super fun argument to be made on both sides for who gets what role.

Crazy prince Obito could totally play into his Tobi persona, which would just be cool symmetry. But also knight Obito could be so cool, just objectively. And it could be interesting to play with a crazy prince Kakashi who like, saw his whole family murdered in front of him and then played up the crazy act to avoid becoming next on the chopping block.

Im going to settle with a prince Obito, so now please buckle up for todays au:

"Crazy" prince Obito who isn't quite as crazy as he seems being forcefully married to war hero general Kakashi of the Hatake dukedom in order to humiliate the Hatake's,,

(this one is nearly 4k words, so we're putting a cut on it)

SO! Starting from the top!

The Hatake dukedom is basically the only power to rival our beloved evil king Madara's throne. Other than them, Madara is pretty much untouchable, so his paranoid ass tries to keep a pretty firm eye and thumb on them. Gotta make sure they remember to stay the hell in line, you know?

So Kakashi is ordered to go to war pretty young, possibly in an attempt to get the young heir killed and cut off the Hatake's at the knees. Only for some years later, Kakashi to pretty much singlehandedly win that war and return this super big war hero. Which is a big problem for Madara, because now the Hatake's have even more political capital. And again, his paranoid ass does not like the possibility of there being someone to rival him in power.

As it is, there are only 3 (living, conscious) Uchiha left.

Madara, who is king.

Obito, a bastard nephew of Madara, who is absolutely fucking insane and only ever let out a tight leash when his insanity amuses Madara. He's only lived this long because his stupidity amuses Madara sometimes, and because he's very clearly no threat to him

And Sasuke, Madara's.... technical spare, who is only allowed to live because of his resemblance to Izuna.

(And somewhere deep in the castle, there sleeps on one Uchiha Izuna, trapped in some sort of coma Madara can not wake him from)

All the other Uchiha were killed (we will return to this) including Itachi and Shisui

(Incidentally, among Kakashi's loyal companions he collected during his years at war, there are two dark haired boys who are so careful to hide their faces when in public. I'm sure there's no relation there.)

So! Kakashi returns from war and Madara is like 'shit, I need to stop this train before it gets too far off the tracks' and invites Kakashi to the palace to "reward" him for his service.

Only when Kakashi gets there, the "reward" he's given is that Madara has arranged a spouse for him— his famously insane bastard nephew.

Getting into the politics of this: Giving him Obito humiliates him in public + gives him a ticking time bomb for a wife + reminds him of his place + gets rid of Obito too, who Madara is probably sick of seeing at this point.

Plus if we like, lean into period typical homophobia or whatever, Madara giving him a husband instead of a wife has implications too. Madara says you will NOT procreate, the Hatake house will NOT have a heir, and if they do then they'll automatically be a bastard who will never have a mother.

Take this crazy guy as ur wife lmao get fucked have fun <3

He's ending the Hatake's and Obito's bloodline in one move, 2 birds with one stone!! He's so smug about this solution he's worked out.

Kakashi, obviously yk, is super offended and panicked and also doesn't even want to get married, especially not to the goddamn famously insane prince, but he cant say no to the king! So he's kind of just forced to bow his head and grit his teeth and say thanks as Madara is all smug and happy on his throne saying some shit about he can't wait for the wedding.

So yk, Kakashi brings Obito home and it's this whole fucking spectacle because Obito is freaking the hell out and acting like a total lunatic

The whole rug pool is that Obito isn't nearly as insane as he's acting. To be clear, Obito does have just a whole list of mental issues, and is genuinely incredibly unstable— he's just also playing it way, way up in order to protect himself from being looked at too hard by Madara.

And obviously, yk, he's suddenly thrown at Kakashi with pretty much no warning for either of them, and he doesn't know who the fuck Kakashi is, other than his reputation for being at war for years now. So he's gonna really crank up the crazy factor because it's the only way he knows how to keep himself safe— at least until he's gotten a better handle of Kakashi what the hell he's all about

Anyways just, Kakashi and his crazy wife Obito,,

Kakashi ofc eventually sniffs out that Obito isn't nearly as insane as he's acting, and Obito is able to act a little more genuine to what he's really like.

Meanwhile we also get lots of Sakumo content, who is around btw and acting Duke Hatake. Also Rin is around, probably as Kakashi's second in command. We also get team ro, who Kakashi collected while he was at war and act as his lill team and trusted confidants

I want to see Obito and Sakumo in particular interacting tbh.

The differences between Madara as Obito's hella abusive shitty uncle who would purposefully provoke and feed into his fits, and his new so much kinder father in law who takes even his best attempts of causing a scene and making a fool of himself with a slow blink and a calm demeanor,,,,,, ough,,

Obito experiences fatherly love for the first time in his life and promptly has several crisis's about it

Now! Rewinding a bit to focus back on Madara / Uchiha situations ->

Madara doesn't really have an official heir. Or he does, but it's Izuna. Who, if you remember, is in that coma.

Madara is deep in denial about the fact that his brother is NOT going to wake up. Get over it Madara, it's been 10 fucking years !!!

Like I mentioned before, Sasuke only got to survive because he looks so much like Izuna. Madara probably straight up calls him Izuna and makes him dress and act like his younger brother sometimes when he's in his worst mental states (it flip flops a lot)

Sasuke can't be around Madara when he drinks bc Madara mistakes him for Izuna and starts alternatively yelling at him for daring to leave him and crying messily all over him

Sasuke is technically heir, but not really. Madara will only ever refer to him as the spare— because obviously, Izuna is going to wake up some day. Obviously. Any day now.

Now obviously, Sasuke already has a big brother! Which Madara does not like. How is he supposed to project all his issues onto Sasuke as a younger brother if Sasuke already has an elder brother?

So like, Madara gets rid of Itachi because he doesn't want Sasuke to have a big brother figure in his life other than him, bc yk, Sasuke is his Izuna shaped stress toy to cope with the loss of his own brother.

Madara sends Itachi to the front lines of the war at like 13 to have him killed. But then Kakashi saves him (team Ro noises,,)

Itachi quietly disappears from the playing field and is written off w the countless unnamed dead, and Madara is satisfied. Meanwhile, a masked assassin joins Kakashi's inner circle,,

(In the castle, in the middle of his grief, an 8 year old Sasuke is told he can address Madara as elder brother)

"How did Izuna even fall into that coma?", I hear you asking. Well!

I am now sliding to u a doctor/mage/saint Tobirama who is somehow the reason Izuna is in his coma (maybe on purpose, maybe by accident)

But Madara can't kill him bc hes like. The best doctor he has. And he needs him to keep Izuna alive in his coma.

"Damn, well how did Tobirama get to be working for Madara?" I now hear you asking

Well! x2, We will now rewind even further, to Madara's childhood ->

Starting it off with: is it even a naruto au without a dash of "childhood friends gone wrong?"

Basically, when Madara was a kid, he got to be close friends with Hashirama. Only for Hashirama to be unwittingly used as a tool by his father, for Butsama to try and overthrow the king of the time, Tajima.

A ploy that nearly worked, Butsama managing to kill Tajima + all of Madara and Izuna's other siblings + most of the other Uchiha right in front of the boys.

At the last second, Madara, with the help of the family's advisor, Zetsu, managed to kill Tajima and divert his plans. But now most of the Uchiha were dead and they had a crisis on their hands.

Madara is put on the throne at like, 13 years old, with only Zetsu to really rely on because everyone else is fucking dead, defected, or suspicious as hell. (Which is why, even decades later, he remains so consistently paranoid of anyone who might have the power to rival the throne; ie, the Hatake)

Anyways. Boy king Madara with his spooky advisor Zetsu at his side.

Zetsu is that trope of a a super obviously creepy and evil royal advisors, you guys know the trope. He is hunched behind Madara's throne whispering into his ear

"Kill them sire,,, they disrespect you,,,"

He like helped raise Madara when he was a young so Madara is DEEP in his pockets. After all, after the Uchiha were nearly overthrown, he was the only adult figure Madara had to depend on.

(To be clear, Madara himself is a shitty person. Zetsu is his own brand of spooky evil guy, and yeah he's a terrible influence on Madara, but Madara has made his own shitty evil choices in this too.)

After everything settled down, Madara had to decide what the hell to do with the remaining Senju— including Hashirama and Tobirama, who were also now among the only survivors of their clan.

Hashirama never meant to betray Madara, but he still did, and for that Madara can bear to look at him or he'll begin to feel sick.

Madara ends up being unable to kill his old best friend (even as Zetsu urges him to do it), and instead just sends him off to some temple deep on the edge of the kingdom, under heavy guard, basically banished from everywhere else in the kingdom. Hashirama goes quietly.

Tobirama, however, he keeps. Forced to serve in the palace as a sort of doctor.

Put him in some sort of magic collar that means he can't disobey a member of Uchiha royalty or smthn fun and fucked up like that, it could be fun. Collar that man !!!!!

Its enchanted w an order like, "you must follow every order given to you by the king" and then later down the line (when Madara is inevitably overthrown) Madara tries to order Tobirama to do smthn, Tobirama just looks at him coldly and goes "you are king no more."

I think whether Tobirama put Izuna in a coma or not would be left intentionally vague. We never know. Not even I know.

Maybe it was an accident, and Madara can only assume the worst because of who his father was and his clear hatred of the Uchiha.

Or maybe it was on purpose, his intrusive thoughts finally winning out. He certainly doesn't seem to have much sympathy or regret for the fact Izuna's been asleep for a decade now

Now, pointing back at Zetsu and Madara

Zetsu is sort of just a generic shadowy advisor for Madara in this. He's running the kingdom behind Madara's shoulder, he just kinda gets to do whatever and thrives bc of it. Zetsu living his best life!!!

Everyone is suffering in some way EXCEPT for Zetsu, who is having a wonderful time

So like. Madara seeming convinced he'll never die. Bc Zetsu has been whispering in his ear ab ideas of eternal life and necromancy, telling him he can rule forever and use this newfound power to wake Izuna. (Which is also ofc why he has no real heir and doesn't seem too worried about it)

(Meanwhile in the bg Tobirama is being used for his research. He's… happy about this, actually. He's thriving, just a little bit. Madara lets him play with dead bodies. And yeah, it sucks he has to obey the bastards commands, he's given p much unlimited funds and just kinda makes cool taboo shit as he researches immortality. He still bitches ab it tho.

Maybe in the end, he'll drag Madara out from the dungeons by the scruff like hes a wet cat and says smthn vague ab how hes going to be calling the shots from now on, and they disappear into the night)

So anyways. Inhuman somehow vaguely immortal Zetsu— who's been running out on his immortality juice.

Maybe we can play w Kaguya and the Hatake clans involvement? Zetsu gets his power from siphoning off of Kaguya, but the Hatake's of these past few generations have been worshipping her too, so she no longer has eyes only for Zetsu— meaning he no longer gets as much power from her.

Which is also why he's pushing Madara to hit the Hatake's w the ban hammer, because he wants them out of the way so Kaguya will look his way again.

(Or at the very least, Tobirama can hurry up and inventory human immortality already so Zetsu can try out a new method)

If you wanna get extra fucky with it, we can go with a 'son of Kaguya' Kakashi au, and throw in even more fucked up moon goddess family drama. Kakashi has no idea he's even related to the moon goddess, but Zetsu is losing his fucking mind because he's no longer his mothers number one special little boy anymore

What even is an obkk au without heaps of family drama in all directions?

Ok so, rewinding back to where we were, with newly wed Obito and Kakashi ->

So, Kakashi has been at war for some years now and has a lot of shit to do and catch up on now that he's back. Including catching back up with his dad, who he hasn't been able to see for any longer than a week tops in years. Very emotional! Very fun! Madara is a bastard for keeping them apart

But specifically tho. Kakashi helping Itachi to reunite with Sasuke.

I mentioned before that Kakashi collected team ro while he was out at war, and each of them probably has some sort of mini quest to fulfil,,

Senju bastard Tenzo who maybe grew up in the same church Hashirama was banished to, but was eventually sent away by Hashirama who couldn't bear to see him live the same isolated life as him (and maybe feared that Tenzo would be killed if Madara heard there was a new mokuton user)

Itachi and Shisui, Itachi being sent away to die and Shisui being an Uchiha bastard who either Madara thought he managed to kill (but escaped the massacre of his own remaining family Madara would eventually pull) or who got sent away with itachi to die at war. And just them wanting to reunite with Sasuke, their only remaining family left, who they worry for every day that he's left alone with Madara.

Im thinking tho. Sasuke eventually somehow escaping on his own (before team ro can even try to sae him) and managing to get to the Hatake dukedom,,,, Kakashi and Obito end up basically adopting him, pass it on

Super emotional Sasuke and Itachi reunion my beloved,,, I want Sakumo to try and dad them both, it'd be fun. Sakumo is just dad-ing everyone in this au, he's so father shaped

Sasuke spending so many years alone w only Madara as his family and maybe a weirdly fucked up and distant uncle-ish energy Tobirama who he regularly sees Madara going out of his way to make his life miserable.

But also like, obviously: Sakura and Naruto. I bet those two helped him escape tbh

Uhh knights in training Naruto and Sakura who are so determined to protect their prince Sasuke (even as Sasuke tells them he doesnt need his protection)

What if Sakura is training under Tobirama in place of Tsunade? Could be fun, idk.

Where is Tsunade in this, is she dead? Was she ever born? Did Madara steal her from Hashirama to make her work in the castle? Could be fun,, on that note too, Orochimaru might be somewhere around here, working with Tobirama to unlock immortality for Zetsu/Madara (*cough* himself *cough*)

Anyways, knights Sakura and Naruto who enter the palace so starry eyed for their beloved king Madara and prince Sasuke,,, only to slowly realize this is NOT the fluffy sparkly fairytale they thought this was going to be.

Im thinking narusasusaku energy where Sakura and Naruto are being silly and competing for their beloved, closed off ice prince's attention, alternating between fighting each other for Sasuke to look at them and teaming up to get rid of potential rivals

Meanwhile Sasuke is looking on at these fucking idiots blatant attempt to throw themselves at him in that way that only kids can, alternating between being annoyed and exasperated and trying to hide how amused he is. They are one of the only bright spots in his life ,,,

Madara doesn't even really have a reason to fuck Sasuke over w them tbh, honestly he might even encourage it just bc they're knights in training and he wants his spare to be well protected (against everyone but him lmao)

Madara is shitty but Sasuke is in this really weird position where he's probably the safest from him. Beccause, you know, Izuna. There's a lot of emotional abuse there and incredibly unhealthy dependency from Madara's end, projecting Izuna onto Sasuke. But for the most part, Madara dotes on him. Because, again, Izuna. Though there's also probably a certain amount of genuine fondness Madara has grown for him

He only really gets violent if it looks like someone will try and take Sasuke away from him (particularly in a familial way, which is what got Itachi (almost) killed)

Naruto and Sakura are deemed safe by Madara because they too are under his control, and every prince does need a good knight.

He might even think their not so well hidden crushes would be good for him, because that way he can count on them to ruin any of Sasuke's future romantic prospects for him. And if Sasuke ends up getting with his knights, he will never have a reason to leave the castle, even once he's an adult. A win win for Madara!

Madara approaching Sakura and Naruto both, telling them he thinks theyre just soooo good at being knights and, obviously you know, as their king he will hope they give him lots of updates about Sasuke.

Both Sakura and Naruto are super starry eyed and all for it at first, but Sakura quickly realizes that Madara is asking them to spy on Sasuke for him.

Sasuke himself is not surprised and probable expects it. This is what Madara has done with every single other person that he's ever looked at longer than 3 seconds.

There is a reason Sasuke has no friends, and it's not just because he doesn't want any. That one time when he was 9 and he told his playmate that he missed his big brother and hoped he would come back soon, only for Madara to later drag him out of bed in the middle of the night, scream at him and threaten to send him to die on the front lines with his brother if he really wanted to be with him so bad— well, that kind of gave him trust issues. Understandably.

Thinking also that over the years, while Kakashi was at war, Madara was keeping Sakumo from going to see his son by claiming he needed him close to the palace. So, like, Sakumo interacting with Sasuke on and off over the years,,, just this occasional figure of stability Sasuke is never supposed to talk to for too long,, this man he knows Madara is scared of, who feels so warm to him.

And Sakumo, missing Kakashi so much, interacting with Sasuke thinking about how 'my son was this small, when your uncle sent him to die' and nearly crying about it later.

Anyways just sasusakunaru,,, prince sasuke and his two knights who enter the castle at like 12, starry eyed and fulled of hope— but slowly becoming disillusioned as they realize what kind of life Sasuke is really living.

Them going from swearing to protect their prince with all the strength and surety of a couple of hopeful kids with big dreams— to really, genuinely meaning it, and eventually helping him escape from Madara's hands.

And then ofc them fleeing to the Hatake dukedom, where Sakumo and Kakashi give him sanctuary and he gets to see Itachi again. Who, by the way, he thought was dead and had NO idea was here. Yayy!

Anyways!

Endgame of Kakashi and Obito overthrowing Madara and tossing him into the dungeons. Tobirama ends up dragging Madara out of the dungeons and they disappear into the night together, never to be seen again. (with the implications of a sudden very sharp shift in power between them something to think about off screen)

Sasuke becomes king bc neither Kakashi or Obito wants the throne, and rules with his trusty knights (and partners) Naruto and Sakura.

Obito is happy being a trophy wife for Kakashi, this is actually his ideal ending (after the horror and stress of adjusting to this new unknown life)

Sakumo meanwhile gets to be godfather of the first sasusakunaru kids and swears to protect the Uchiha family for as long as he can

The end, or something

[kayrma]

See You At the Next Stop

Lily Evans meets a posh-looking bloke with messy hair on the way back to London, and for once in her life she actually enjoys a train ride. Maybe having a spontaneous seat partner isn't that bad after all.

Read on AO3 (2.9k words)

happy birthday, lily evans-potter! didn't have enough time to finish my punk!lily fic but i realized i never actually posted this fic from two years ago to tumblr so this is my contribution for today <3

Lily stared down the document in front of her, willing her brain to start writing words again. She had been on the train for nearly two hours now, travelling from Edinburgh to London. Visiting home had been yet another disaster, with Petunia continuing to judge Lily for moving to London after school and finding an inner-city job.  Her sister liked to say that Lily was wasting her money trying to live on her own (which was a lie, Lily had a lovely roommate named Mary), and that she’d be better off staying home and finding a husband. Sometimes, Lily thought Petunia was stuck in the nineteenth century, but she blamed most of that on her horrendous boyfriend Vernon, who worked for a drilling company or something else of the sort – it seemed far too boring to keep track of. 

Really, Lily had only gone home to visit their mum, following the two-year anniversary of her father’s death. His death had hit their family hard, despite them all knowing it was coming. Her father had suffered from cancer in his final years, but it still hurt knowing he was gone. Mr. Evans was Lily’s biggest supporter, encouraging her to attend Cambridge despite the monetary toll it would put on their family. He had helped her search for scholarships, and she ended up going to university for much lower than she ever could have expected without her father’s help. He was the one who helped her move to London, being there to help her move into her tiny flat despite him slowly growing weaker. She missed him every day, and she missed her mum, but she needed to be back in the city for work tomorrow.

Snapping out of her painful memories, Lily looked back at the half-empty document, with only a title and an introduction on it, not even in Times New Roman yet. She switched the font, the Arial irritating her, and leaned back into her seat. Even though she was on the high-speed rail, the train ride had felt impossibly long. She was seated next to some messy-haired Indian bloke, his glasses on top of his head and earbuds plugged in as he typed away on his own laptop. The man was gorgeous, to say the least, especially since he had unbuttoned the top collar of his dress shirt, and was wearing Converse with his slacks. Really, she couldn’t not admire him. Lily had a personal policy of not sitting next to men if she could avoid it, but he looked around her age and seemed relatively unassuming when he got on at Newcastle about an hour after her, and Lily found herself unable to say no. A part of Lily had wanted to ask him for his name, to know more about him, but he seemed to be a little bit of a mess as he got on the train. All he offered her was an apologetic smile as he struggled to shove his duffel into the overhead compartment as the train started moving. She smiled back at him, perhaps a little too eagerly in comparison to his semi-grimace. He had rolled up his sleeves as he sat down, and what was Lily supposed to do but stare at his well-defined tan forearms? He probably worked in some posh company, considering his attire (not that Lily could judge, she was still wearing business casual as well). Any time she peeked over at his laptop, he was typing furiously into some form of sheets that she truly could not decipher no matter how much she wanted to try. Looking away from him and turning her attention back to her own laptop, her brain felt like it was about to melt. 

Deciding to take a break, Lily closed her laptop, ridding her mind of thoughts about her struggling article. She pulled out her phone, and seeing that her plan was about to run out for the month, she started to play some silly game that didn’t require any data. At that moment, the messy-haired bloke looked over, saying “Oh, I love that game!”

He had said it extremely loud, presumably because he was blasting music in his earbuds, but Lily laughed and turned towards him.

“Really? All my mates make fun of me for playing it – what level are you on?”

“Oh, don’t worry, my mates do the same. They say it’s because I still act like a ‘bloody child’ but I think I just enjoy a bit of mindless fun, y’know?”

Lily nodded, glad to see that she had something in common with the gorgeous bloke. He hadn’t told her what level he was on, but his smile and enthusiasm more than made up for it.

“Regardless, I’ll let you get back to the game, this project might be the death of me.”

She slumped back as gracefully as she could, disappointed that he was busy, but she shot him another smile and went back to playing her silly little game. After exhausting her thumbs, she genuinely felt like she had lost brain cells, choosing to just put away her phone and relax with some music. Putting her head against the seat, she closed her eyes and tried to stop thinking entirely. However, no matter how much she tried to empty her mind, the bloke next to her kept popping into her mind. She ended up just embracing it, allowing her mind to fill with thoughts of who he could possibly be as she felt herself drifting off into sleep. 

Lily had no idea when she woke up, but she felt an impossible crick in her neck as she opened up her eyes. Quickly checking her watch for the time, she realized she had only been asleep for a little over half an hour, and sighed in relief – she’d still have time to try and work on her article again. However, as she tried to get up, she realized there was a weight on top of her head. Glancing upwards, she realized she had fallen asleep on the bloke’s shoulder, and he was leaning back on top of her head as his hands were stilled on his laptop. His shoulders were sturdy and broad, and Lily thought that she wouldn’t mind staying there forever. Not wanting to disturb him as he seemed utterly relaxed, Lily stayed put, hoping he’d wake up soon. 

After a few minutes (that felt like a lovely forever), his head lifted off of hers, and she took the opportunity to escape. Before she could even look at him, she heard the sound of his neck cracking as he stretched it, and Lily’s jaw dropped wide open. 

“That sounded like it hurt,” she commented discreetly, hoping he wouldn’t take it the wrong way. 

He smiled at her, glasses almost slipping off his nose now, rather than tangled in his messy hair. Shaking his head, he said “I always do it to wake myself up, it feels rather good actually.” The bloke proceeded to crack each one of his knuckles, and then his wrist. Lily grimaced at the noise, but couldn’t help herself from laughing. She figured she should probably apologize to him for falling asleep on him, even though she didn’t know how she ended up on his shoulder. 

“I’m Lily, by the way. Sorry I fell asleep on you. I’ve been working on an article and my brain genuinely felt like it might have melted if I hadn’t taken a break.”

“No worries Lily, it’s lovely to meet you,” he stuck out his hand, “Potter. James Potter.”

“Bond-like, are we?” Lily took his hand and gave him a firm handshake, trying to put on as serious of a face as she could in order to mirror his own expression. 

“Of course, milady Evans. What takes you to London this fine weekend?”

“Why Mr. Potter, I’m heading back to work. I visited my mum in Edinburgh, and I’ve got a roommate and a flat and a job to get back to tomorrow.”

“Is that so?” James flashed a smirk that would have brought her to her knees if she hadn’t already been sitting down. “Well Evans, I’ve just done the same, except that I visited my mum and dad in Newcastle, and am heading back to the flat I share with my brother and our friends, and a job as well.”

Lily giggled, of all things, and looked down to realize that their hands were still intertwined from when he had reached out to shake them. She dropped it before she could get too flustered, and tried not to notice the disappointed look on James’ face. 

“Right then, Potter, where do you work? I’d bet it’s somewhere posh, with the clothing you’re wearing and those sheets you were typing away on.”

Clearly surprised she had noticed, James’ quick reaction gave away that she seemed to have gotten everything right.

“Stalking me already Evans? And then falling asleep on me? Have you got some sort of ploy going on here, an evil scheme or whatnot?”

“Oh of course, I’m a journalist for The Daily Prophet, you see, and you’re the subject of my next story. James Potter: The Posh Bloke with Messy Hair and Unfinished Work.”

James let out a loud laugh at that, startling the other people in the full cabin. They all seemed to glare at him, despite his laugh being perfectly beautiful in her opinion.  He raised a thick eyebrow, questioning her with just that one expression.

“Alright, well you’re not the subject of my next article Potter, sorry to disappoint. But I do really work for The Daily Prophet, and I’m afraid I’m the one with unfinished work seeing as my article’s barely hit a page yet.”

“And you’re sure it can’t be about me? My messy hair just won’t do for The Prophet?”

“Afraid not, sorry, unless you’ve got a secret as to how you manage to keep it that messy. You’ve run your hands through it more than I can count in just the time we’ve been talking, and it’s not shown a single sign of being tamed.”

“Well Evans, I suppose I’ll let you in on a secret then.” He leaned in close to her, his lips almost brushing her ear as his breath made her shudder. “My dad’s actually the creator of Sleakeazy’s Hair Products, and I refuse to use it out of principle.”

Lily’s head snapped around so quickly it nearly gave her whiplash. She looked at James with an incredulous look on her face – there was no way he was telling the truth. But his face looked so earnest, completely devoid of his teasing demeanor, and Lily ended up just staring at him in bafflement. He snickered as she continued to stare him down, and his hands went right back up to muss up his hair.

“Yeah, I know. My brother ended up with the good hair genes, considering Sleakeazy’s has never really been able to do much for me anyways. Well, he’s not really my brother, we took him in after he ran away from his shitty family, but he’s my brother in everything but blood.”

James seemed like he was about to continue rambling, almost like his mouth was moving quicker than his brain. Lily reached out to put her hand on his wrist, but whether she did it to calm him down or for her own benefit, she didn’t quite know. 

“That’s really sweet of you and your family, James,” she gave him a small smile, “You’re clearly of the good sort. Maybe I will write my article about you after all. James Potter: A Bloke with Messy Hair and a Penchant for Being a Good Person.”

“All that from a bit of rambling, eh, Evans?” He was evidently smug, happy with the perception he’d given of himself. Something about his smirk made Lily want to wipe it clean off his face with a kiss, but it was far too early and far too public of an area to do that. Instead, she humored him with a laugh, and pulled her laptop out of her bag. 

Opening a new document, she enlarged the font into the awful old-Gothic newspaper style that came preloaded, and wrote up all the silly titles she’d come up with today. James reached for it slowly, wordlessly asking permission to take her laptop. She nodded and passed it to him, curious to see what he’d possibly type. He deleted all the words she’d put in, and changed the font to fucking Lobster, of all things, and then turned the laptop away from her. James seemed to be taking his time to think about what he was about to type, mussing up his hair yet again. After a minute or so of anticipation, he turned the laptop back to her, and it read: “James Potter: A Bloke with Messy Hair Who’d Like to Take One Lily Evans on a Date.”

Lily gave him what might have been the goofiest grin of all time, snatched back her laptop, changed the font to a respectable Times, enlarged it, and wrote in “Yes” so that it would fill up the page. James smiled back at her with the same reckless abandon, and leaned over to hold her hand. And then the computer nearly slipped off her lap.

They both reached for it, knocking heads in the process, but managed to save it from a horrific death on the train (she was a journalist, she needed to make use of her sensationalizing skills sometimes), and they both started laughing. They kept going even as she quickly put her laptop back in its bag. The passengers around them were definitely staring at them with irritation now, but that meant nothing to her if it meant seeing James’ smile. She leaned back into him and grabbed his hand to hold it properly this time, looking up at him like she could ravish him right there. He stared back at her with the same dark look in her eyes, and kissed her forehead and her nose. 

God, this boy and his ability to make her giggle. She whispered, “If you’d like to kiss me, you can just do it, y’know?”

He leaned in for a chaste kiss, “Right, but if I kissed you like I wanted to right now, we’d probably get a complaint for public indecency. Besides, it’s just another half hour to London, and my flat’s not too far from the station.” And then he winked at her. Lily gaped at him with an open mouth, and James pushed it back closed after a beat, saying “Don’t catch any flies in there, love.” Truly, James Potter was an enigma she could write an article on. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll get back to writing my article then. It seems I might be busy after we get off this train.” 

James stared her down as she pulled her laptop back out of its back, tied up her hair, and for extra flair, picked his glasses off his head and put them on. 

“Fuck, nevermind, you’re blind as a bat, Potter,” Lily blinked furiously, and shoved them back onto his face. James ruffled his hair (of course he did), and reopened his own work. Before he started working though, he reached over and pulled her closer to him, so much so that she was nearly on his lap, and then took his arm right back away once she was squished into him. Embracing the position, Lily opened a new document, abandoning the pages she had previously written, deciding that her next article would just have to be about something more lighthearted than the current foreign affairs of the UK government; her boss Minerva could probably appreciate some good news anyway. Pulling up the notes of an old interview she had done. Finally finding a rhythm as she typed away, Lily was startled by the “London, next stop!” that blared over the train’s PA system. She glanced over at James, who seemed just as rattled, and they both put their things away in unison. As everyone else on the trains stood from their seats to take their luggage, James immediately bumped his head as he got up.

“Bloody hell, these have no right being so low,” He grumbled as he stretched out and reached for his duffel.

“Sure you won’t need help with your bag this time, Potter?” Lily felt the need to tease him, just to humble him with her first impression of him from when he boarded the train. As if to prove a point, James swiped her bag off the overhead carry bin as well, and held on to both of them as the cabin started to clear out. Lily did a final check of their seats, and lightly jogged to follow him out.

“Well Potter, I recall you saying your flat wasn’t too far from the station. Are you planning on making good on that?”

“Of course Evans, what kind of man do you take me for? I’ll have you know I don’t put out on the first date though, I’ll be making you food since my flat’s got a stellar kitchen.” She raised an eyebrow at him, willing him to continue, because she wanted to know what he could possibly be making for her. “My mum’s aloo tikki recipe, I think you’ll like it.”

“This feels like a dig at me for being half-Irish, but I never mentioned that, so I’ll accept it. I look forward to seeing your cooking skills since you’ve got the sort of hair that would catch on fire in a kitchen.”

James gave her that stunning smile again, and grabbed her hand as they walked out of the station, and on the way to his flat. Lily had a good feeling about this bloke with messy hair and enough charm to create a whole new world.

[nameless-jamie]

I love the PA series!! So so good! The dynamic between them <3 if you ever write more of them, I’d love to see your take on a role reversal type of situation where Jamie has to help his PA (maybe she’s having a bad day or something like that).

Thank you for all your writing <3 and hope your week is going okay!

Tissues and Tea

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, flirting

A/N: Hello! Thank you for this great request. I hope you like what I made out of it. I'm doing fine, I hope you have a great rest of the week and enjoy your reading. <3

Y/N should’ve stayed home. She knows that.

But the thought of leaving Jamie Tartt to his own devices for a full day? Unsupervised? With a match coming up and at least three emails that need responses before noon? Absolutely not.

So here she is, standing outside his house, sniffling, a little wobbly on her feet, but determined. Her usual pencil skirt and blouse combo were exchanged for some jeans and a loose hoodie. She rings the doorbell and barely has time to brace herself before Jamie swings the door open, wearing—of course—nothing but gray sweatpants and a cocky grin.

"Ew, you look like death."

"Good morning to you too," she grumbles, brushing past him into the warmth of his house.

Jamie shuts the door behind her, frowning. "Nah, for real. Why d’you sound like a ninety-year-old chain-smoker?"

She ignores him, heading straight to the kitchen counter where she usually sets up her laptop. "I’m fine. Just a little cold."

Jamie narrows his eyes, watching as she unpacks her work things with shaky hands. "Right," he drawls. "And I’m fuckin’ Cristiano Ronaldo."

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her head was throbbing and she could not take any banter today. "Jamie, I’m fine."

"You’re not fine," he counters, stepping closer. "You look like you’re gonna pass out. Actually—" He pokes her arm and she loses her balance a little. "—yeah, that’s definitely wobbly behavior, love."

She swats his hand away. "I just need to get through the day, then I’ll rest."

Jamie scoffs. "Yeah, not happening." Before she can argue, he grabs her laptop and walks off with it.

"Jamie—what the hell?!" she croaks, chasing after him.

"Oi, don’t strain yourself," he teases, holding it above his head like a schoolboy dodging a playground fight. "You’re sick. Ya need to rest. And lucky for you, I’m a proper gentleman, so I’m gonna look after ya today. Call me your personal assistant."

She blinks. "You? Taking care of me?"

Jamie gasps, mock-offended. "What, ya don’t trust me?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Rude," he mutters, placing her laptop high up on a shelf, far out of her reach. He puts his hands on her shoulders and shoves her towards the living room "Now, let’s get ya on the couch, yeah?"

She knows she should fight this, but honestly? Standing for this long is exhausting. And Jamie's 150.000-pound-couch looked comfy ass hell. So, reluctantly, she lets him guide her to the couch, where he throws a ridiculously big fluffy blanket over her.

"There," he says, hands on his hips. "All cozy. Like a little babeh."

"I can’t move," she deadpans, buried under the weight of the blanket.

"Exactly." he pulls the finger-guns at her.

She glares at him, but Jamie just grins.

A beat of silence, then—

"Want some tea?"

She exhales. "That would be nice, actually."

Jamie beams, disappearing into the kitchen. A minute later, she hears cabinets slamming, the sink running, and Jamie muttering "fuckin’ hell, where’s the sugar?" under his breath.

"It's in the second cupboard on the left," Y/N shouted as loud as her croaky voice let her.

"Got it!"

When he returns, he hands her a mug with the smuggest expression. "There ya go, love. My specialty."

She takes a sip—and immediately grimaces. "Jamie."

"What?"

"This is just hot sugar water."

He frowns. "Nah, it’s tea."

"The teabag is what makes it tea..." she narrows his eyes at him. "Let me guess, you don't know where the teabags are?"

"I could put some leaves from my kitchen plant in there. Same thing, innit?" he scratches his neck embarrassed.

She sighs, setting it down. "You’re lucky I’m too weak to fight you right now."

Jamie plops down next to her, looking way too pleased with himself. "You are lucky, actually. Not everyone gets personal Jamie Tartt care."

She gives him a tired, but teasing look. "Oh, so this is an exclusive service? Where do I complain? Is there like a hotline or..."

"Hey don't get sassy with me, you booked the VIP package. Special treatment. No refunds." He smirks, then leans in a little. "Want me to tuck ya in?"

"Jamie."

"I’ll do it proper, promise. Maybe even sing ya a lullaby."

"Jamie."

His smirk widens. "Or, if ya prefer, I could be your personal hot water bottle. Y’know, for extra warmth."

"Jamie."

"What? No cuddlin' ?"

She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch—because despite everything, he is making her feel better.

He watches her for a moment, his teasing expression softening just a little. Then, without thinking, he reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Y’know," he says quietly, thumb brushing against her temple, "you spend so much time lookin’ after me. Someone’s gotta return the favor, yeah?"

Her breath catches.

It’s the kind of moment she’s always tried to ignore—the kind where Jamie isn’t just the flirty, cocky footballer she works for, but something more. Someone who cares about her. Someone who, if she let herself believe it, might actually love her.

But she’s too tired to overthink it today.

So instead of pushing him away, she just leans into his already open arms, lets herself relax under the ridiculous blanket, and mutters, "Fine. But if you try to feed me soup, I’m leaving."

Jamie grins. "Nah, love. I’m terrible at soup."

And with that, he settles in beside her, her head on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Y/n's silent snores fill the room and Jamie sighs satisfied. Yep, he's refusing to move from this position—ever again.

[shy-canadian-snowflake]

Poolverine 46. nanny/single parent au. Wade would give such great Fran vibes.

Wade knocked at 24601 French street and waited. There was a shout, some cursing, someone tripping over something, another swear and something thrown at a wall before the door opened. Mr. ‘Call me Logan for fuck sakes’ Howlett opened the door looking like a hot mess. 

More of a mess then hot. 

“Wade? The babysitter?”

“Sure thing boss man.” Wade said with a thumbs up. The older man instantly looked like he regretted hiring the Merc. Not that he knew Wade was a Merc for hire.

Now this wasn’t the job Wade was expecting when he put out a notice saying he’d work for dirt cheap so long as it came with a free beer. He was expecting low ball offers for hits, and maybe some cat napping. Maybe stealing back a sweater from a crazy ex. He did not expect $8.50 an hour to watch Mr. Howlett’s three chaotic children. He really didn’t expect Mr. Howlett to really be Officer Howlett who’d tried to arrest him no less than seven times this month alone. Not that the man knew who Wade was, seeing as he wasn’t in his awesome red body condom suit. 

“Come in, don’t bother taking off your shoes, Jubilee spilled glitter all over the fucking place again.” Wade went into the house with his head high ready to take on this challenge. 

There were three kids standing in the living room. One holding an unopened bottle of glitter, who Wade suspected was Jubilee, looking about to pour glitter on the youngest girl. The youngest was swearing in Spanish, saying words Wade didn’t want to repeat- damn thats fucked up shit- lastly was the oldest, who looked like she was trying to pull Jubilee away from what disaster was about to happen. 

“Girls!” The father hissed. The three girls broke apart and all spoke at once. 

“Don’t you see daddy- I was just tryin to help?” 

“Laura bit me so I was going to-

“Maldito culo de perra hijo de puta”

“Enough.” The father growled out in such a way that all three shut their mouths. An array of angry faces glared up at their dad, before looking quizzically to Wade. “Wade, these are my daughters. Anne Marie-”

“Call me Rogue.” The girl stood proudly, her fluffy hair seaming more wild.

“She’s going through her rebel phase. Just call her whatever the fuck she wants. That’s Jubilee-”

“Hiya Mr. Why do you look like that? Did you fall into lava or somethin’? Why’d ya do that? Wha-”

“And lastly we have Laura.” The smallest child looked Wade up and down.

“El Coño”

“La puta.” Wade said back. The child took one second to look surprised before a far too wide smile grew on her face. The two other girls were sizing him up. He felt like he was thrown to the wolves. The wolves were three girls under the age of 14. This was about to be his most difficult mission yet. He wasn’t sure if he’d make it out drowning in teen angst, unglitterfied or even bitten, but he was excited to see what the hell the day brought.

I had to google who Fran was... I'm sorry Anon! I hope this is okay!! Debated on adding more- I was thinking Wade would use his merc skills to keep these kids from killing each other- but then I thought no I kinda need a nap before I write more. Please keep sending the asks!! I'd love to spend the day writing ideas and little ficlets!

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Pieces of Her - Chapter Three

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

Summary: Five months away from her dream wedding, Kenya’s world is turned upside down and her heart is shattered leaving her heartbroken and confused.

Keyna sighed as she shut off her car and looked at the house before her.  She pulled the ultrasound out of the sun visor and stared at it. After taking the pregnancy test at her studio the other she called her doctor for an emergency visit. Her doctor confirmed that she was three months pregnant. 

She spent three days sitting with the news and debating whether she should tell Jon. She still hadn’t spoken to him since the night she left. He had called her a couple of times but she had let them all go to voicemail. 

Sighing, she ticked the ultrasound into her bag before getting out of the car and walking up to the front door. She didn’t know if she should knock or just use her key to get in. What if what Talisua said was true? What if Jon really had moved Trinity back into the house? 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.  She didn’t have to wait long to hear someone on the other side of the door. A small smile was on her face as she heard the sound of nails tapping against the floor before a loud bark. 

“Zeus, chill.” She heard Jon grumble on the other side before the door opened. 

Jon looked shocked to see her. “Kenya?” he called out, lifting his hand to touch her. She flinched and he immediately put his hand back down. She couldn’t stop staring at him, he looked… bad. His beard was unkempt, his hair was greasy like he hadn’t washed it in weeks and he had dark circles under his eyes. 

Their staring contest broke when Zeus let out a loud bark, pushed past Jon, and jumped on Kenya. Kenya laughed as Zeus tried to lick her face, she gently pushed him back. 

“Zeus, chill,” Jon said again and whistled. Zeus stopped jumping on Kenya and walked back into the house. 

“Can I come in?” She asked

“Of course, this is still your house, too,” Kenya said nothing as she followed Jon into the house. She toed off her UGG slippers and walked into the living room. Jon followed behind her. He watched as she sat on the couch, her posture rigid, as if she would rather be anywhere but their shared home “How have you been?” He asked, his eyes still on her. “I missed you.” 

Kenya scoffed and reached into her bag to pull out the ultrasound. “Here.” 

She heard Jon suck in a deep breath as he took the ultrasound from her. With a shaky hand, he brought the picture up to his face. “This forreal?” he asked and she sucked her teeth. 

“I wouldn’t lie about no shit like this Jonathan.” Kenya snapped with a roll of her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Jon muttered. “I just wasn’t expecting this.”He was happy. Before everything happened, he and Kenya were trying to have a baby. Jon’s eyes lingered on the ultrasound, his hands trembling as he stared down at it, “How far along are you?” 

“Three months.” 

“This is good right?” Jon asked and Kenya turned her head to look at him. “Kenya this is so good, I- We can get back to how we used to be.” 

Kenya’s eyes flashed with pain, and she turned her head slowly to look at him. “How we used to be? Jonathan, you moaned your ex-fiancee’s name while you came inside of me! There is no getting back to what we used to be. I only told you because I didn’t want my child to grow up without a father.” 

“Kenya, please. I love you. I fucked up, but I can’t live without you” 

Kenya scoffed and rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, right. Your mom already told me what the deal is.”  Jon furrowed his eyebrows. “Your mom came to my studio last week, she told me to come and get all my shit from my house so Trinity could get herself comfortable in my house. That’s so fucked up Jonathan. Now you tryna tell me you can’t live without me?! Fuck off.” Kenya snatched the ultrasound from Jon’s hand and stood from the couch.  “I’ll text you to tell you my next appointment.” 

“Kenya!” Jon called out as he jumped from the couch and followed her to the front door. She didn’t stop though. She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. “Please, just listen to me.”  

Kenya stopped walking and turned around to glare at Jon. “There is nothing left for you to say! I only came here to tell you about our child, nothing more.  I’m not doing this for us, Jon. I’m doing this because that’s what’s best for our child.” 

Jon stood there frozen. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. He wanted to yell at her, make her understand how sorry he was.  But he couldn’t he could only watch as she turned to walk out of the front door, down the driveway, and to her car. She didn’t even look back at him before pulling off.  

Jon closed the door and slowly walked back into the living room, he dropped down on the couch and put his head in his hands. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to breathe through the ache in his chest. He had no right to stop her, no right to expect her to stay. She had every right to walk away, she had every right to not want anything to do with him. 

The only thing he knew for sure was that he had just let the most important person in his life walk away. And he didn’t know how to get her back.

It had been two weeks since Kenya told Jon she was pregnant. And it was now time for her first checkup. She had texted him and told him the time of the appointment. He had responded that he would be there. 

Kenya sat in the waiting room, her nerves on edge as the seconds ticked by. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. 

“Kenya?” 

Kenya took a deep breath as she stood up, she checked her phone again and sighed when she had no new messages from Jon. He was late. Grabbing her bag, she followed behind the nurse to the exam room. She remained quiet while the nurse got her vitals. 

“The doctor should be in shortly ok?” The nurse said with a warm smile. Kenya nodded and returned the smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“Thank you.”  The nurse nodded and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. She checked her phone again, but still no messages from Jon. Her nerves were now gone, she was pissed.  He had said he was going to be here. He said he was gonna be there for their child. 

She heard a soft knock on the door before it opened slightly. The doctor walked in, a warm smile on her face. "Hi, Kenya! How are you feeling today?" 

“Excited,” Kenya replied. She was excited and she wasn’t going to let Jon’s absence and broken promise upset her. “But also a little nervous.” 

The doctor nodded understandingly. "That’s totally normal. Let’s get you checked out and make sure everything’s looking good. I’ll do a quick ultrasound, and we’ll go from there."

Kenya’s mind wandered as the doctor prepared the equipment, and soon the cold gel was pressed against her abdomen. The buzzing of the ultrasound machine filled the quiet room,

The doctor hummed thoughtfully as she examined the screen, clearly looking for something specific.  “Oh!” She said and Kenya started to panic. Her eyes flickered from the screen to the doctor. “Well, double congratulations. You’re having twins.” 

“Oh fuck” Kenya’s breath caught in her throat. “Twins?” 

Doctor Monroe nodded her head with a chuckle. "It looks like there are two little heartbeats in there. Two babies. Healthy and developing right on track." 

TWO?! Kenya couldn’t believe her eyes or her ears. Before she could say anything, the door opened and Jon stumbled through, out of breath and holding two gift bags, one blue and one pink. 

“I’m so sorry,” He blurted out as he rushed to Kenya’s side. “I wasn’t sure which one to get and shit, I spent too much time in that damn store.”  He stopped rambling as he noticed the look of horror on Kenya’s face as she stared at the screen. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m - we’re - twins.” That was all Kenya could get out. Jon looked towards Doctor Monore for confirmation and she nodded her head. 

“Twins, here look.” She placed the transducer back on Kenya’s stomach.  “One baby here,” she pointed to one of the images, “and the second one right here. You can see both heartbeats. Everything’s developing normally.”

Jon’s breath hitched as he saw the two tiny forms on the screen, side by side. His chest tightened as the reality of two babies settled in. He couldn’t deny the rush of emotions, but there was still that undercurrent of anxiety. Twins. It was so much more than he had expected. He already had two kids from a relationship way before Kenya. They were both teenagers with his oldest now in college, it was like Jon was starting all over. 

“Everything looks great, Kenya. We’ll schedule another checkup in a few weeks.” Doctor Monroe smiled at the two of them. “I’ll get these printed out and have my nurse bring them in.” 

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said, her voice steady, though still distant as her thoughts swirled.

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said, her voice steady, though still distant as her thoughts swirled.

The doctor gave them one last glance before she stepped out of the room, the soft click of the door behind her somehow making the silence feel even heavier.

“You cool?” 

Kenya rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache start to creep in as the reality continued to sink in. She glanced at him, then quickly looked away, her gaze landing on the ultrasound images, still clear on the screen.

“What are the fucking odds?” 

“I mean…” He trailed off with a chuckle. “But everything it gonna be okay. Imma be here for you and our children. Diamond and Jordan are gonna be ecstatic.” 

Kenya tried to hide the grimace on her face at Jon mentioning his other children. Now, she loved them but they could care less for her. Diamond, Jon’s 15-year-old daughter hated Kenya and no matter what Kenya tried to do, nothing ever worked. 

Kenya had gotten Diamond and her friend backstage passes to a Chris Brown concert, Diamond barely said two words to Kenya the whole night and only thanked her father for the tickets. 

It seemed like everyone in Jon’s family was against her and it made her second guess if she wanted to bring children into this dynamic. Because they could hate her all they wanted, but she be dammed if they hated her children. 

Authors Note: OMG ABOUT TIME 😬

Sooo twins... were we expecting that?

Lemme know your thoughts on this chapter!

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[pinkmirth]

it’s so hard for me to imagine alucard in a modern au . . . like what in the world is he doing in the city?!

[tbob-enthusiast]

Messy school doodles HAHEHHE

Season 2 Robbie (not canon Robbie ofc, but rather the "S2" of my own fic which I may or may not ever finish). The lore is that his hair was MUCH longer than this, but it got shaved off due to Lore Reasons™ and now it's growing back :]

NOT STAN. That's my beta Dipper HAHEHHEE. My notes are just emphasizing how similar they look. Me, earlier today, drawing beta Dipper: "STAN PINES ?! 😨😮😮😨😨😨"

Perhaps. Gay people. I am thinking about it really hard fr

[im-smart-i-swear]

guy trapped in a hell of his own creation: haha ive never done anything wrong in my entire life. and im always right:] anyway. why did my little brother move out:(

its so funny to me that at first glance tashi seems like hed be the most 'normal' out of all the clones but at least all the others are slowly healing n shit while hes just getting more and more insane each day and one day hell snap and explode and maim someone

[httpscameron]

arranged marriage with simon.

the marriage was arranged by your parents, you didnt even know it was going to happen until a few weeks before the wedding. your first meeting with simon was in a coffee shop. your mum just told you to go there at ten am to meet him there.

he stood out like a sore thumb. his hair was messy, a dirty blond but short, he was sat in a booth with a cup of tea in a to-go cup. a look of exhaustion on his face and a five oclock shadow of a beard. he had eyebags that were deep but his eyes were a soft blue. simon wore dark clothes, probably to keep himself looked at atleast as possible.

you took a breath of nerves before getting a coffee yourself before going over. you stood opposite him. “simon riley?” you asked him just to confirm really that he was infact your husband to be.

he just nodded “yeah i am.” he didnt bother asking for your name because well youre obviously his future wife he knows your name. “i didnt ask for this you to be my mrs, so dont blame me.” he tells you a in mutter. his voice was husky, a smoker and clearly a heavy one at that.

after that visit you didnt meet again until your wedding, you couldnt really class it as a wedding. you both went to county hall and signed the documents and you had your stuff moved in that night.

it was awkward, very awkward. that night the two of you stayed in silence. you both agreed to share a bed because thats what married people did. he was in a pair of joggers and a dark tank top. you were in your usual pyjamas. both of you as far away as possible in the bed. the tv was on playing the eleven oclock news. once the show finished you both said your good nights and that was it.

life went on like that for a few months, simple hellos and simple mutters of how are you. it was terrible. he was a good man at that, he allowed you to quit your job and the two of you lived on his income, you had unlimited cash and could do as you please. however the one thing you werent allowed to do was cheat. it was a basic thing you both agreed to early on as it wasnt fair on the other no matter how much you both disliked the marriage.

simon went on deployment, it was long three months without speaking (like that really bothered you). he returned late into the night, you were asleep in your bed, sleeping as snug as you could.

he kicked his boots off at the bottom of the bed and his clothes stripping to his boxers, as he climbed into bed, his arms wrapped around you quickly. waking you up. “simon?” you said quickly.

“shh birdie i need this.” he huffed, his head going into the crook of your neck, sniffing your hair which still smelt like that shampoo you used. you just being there settled him instantly. he fell asleep instantly too. you fell asleep too, the warmth of his arms was somewhat suprisingly nice too.

after that night you both had a silent agreement to sleep cuddling, even if some nights your head was on his chest or you both spooned. it was nice actually, being close to your husband.

the two of you eventually agreed on going on date nights, simple stuff twice a month even if it was getting a take out and watching a film and well it was perfect. settling into routines with him that you never thought would happen. being able to fall in love with your husband.

he thought of you as his salvation, your relationship bloomed into one of love and adoration to each other, spending early mornings and late nights together. simon wouldnt be the man he was without you, even if it was a rocky start it still happened. you still both fell in love and had the happy ending neither of you expected.

masterlist

[chlopieno]

.

vent ahead, sorry