#i will. try again later i am too tired to attempt again

[archduke-enver-gortash]

was working on an oc summary post for all my main ocs but just now tumblr app crashed in the middle of me editing it and it seems that it has been sent into the void aka just is fucking gone from my drafts :) this is fine

[reidmotif]

Relax, I've Got You

Summary: Reader isn't the best at handling stress, and her roommate Spencer, notices. Luckily, he has quite a few salacious ideas on how he could make her feel better.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: friends-with-benefits situation, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), mentions of anxiety/symptoms of anxiety.

Word Count: 2.7 k

Masterlist

You were never good at handling stress. 

You were well aware of this facet of your psyche– the way tensity would often wind around your limbs, snaking into the very depths of your bones until you were entirely drained and devoid of peace, a shell of the person you were accustomed to being. 

You had dealt with this complication on your own for the most part. You’d come home after a long day, and attempt to find yourself again through chamomile tea, lavender mists, and a warm blanket. 

Of course, there were days where even these measures could not suffice in curing your weariness. 

That’s where Spencer Reid came in. 

He’d only been your roommate at first. With the economy going as it was, it was simply more practical to find one, rather than renting alone. He’d responded to an ad you’d put up, and you accepted. The process was easy, honestly. You had no qualms about sharing your living space with another person, and even found the arrangement enjoyable at times. Spencer was well-mannered, never missed rent, and wasn’t even at home most of the time. When he was, he was quiet. Sweet. 

Through time, you found yourself becoming friends with the man. The conversation was light and easy, and in a rare turn of events, you started to open up to him. Even more surprisingly, he returned the favor, adding to the understanding that was fast growing between the two of you. It seemed only natural, since both of you were made naturally vulnerable by the circumstances of your situation. You’d come to your apartment, drop the mask of the day, and see that Spencer was already there, becoming an extension of the solace you found at home. Soon enough, the comfort of your couch was simply synonymous to him as well. 

It didn’t take long for Spencer to notice the anxieties that would plague you when a deadline came about, or when you simply fixated on an issue for too long. The way your bedroom light wouldn’t shut until 4 AM, or how you’d pace in the kitchen, so wired that your body denied you the rest you so desperately needed. He noticed the dark circles, the occasional irritability (followed by an apology, of course), the headaches, everything. Which is why he thought nothing of it to suggest some remedies for your troubles over breakfast one day. 

“Caffeine can actually increase stress, if you weren’t aware.” He says, eyeing your second cup of coffee that morning. “There’s actually a large amount of data that indicates you should limit caffeine intake, especially if you’re already anxious.” 

You narrow your eyes, furrowing your brows slightly. “Says who?” You retort, not quite ready to give up your chosen beverage. 

“The NIH, Penn State, the AMA-” 

“Okay, okay. Sorry. I got it.” You interrupt, knowing you’d started a losing battle the moment you’d questioned him.  “I’ll try to cut down on it.” 

He grins, satisfied with how the interaction had played out. You, on the other hand, started to drift farther away from your current setting. You swallow, putting down your coffee cup before rubbing your eyes, a soft sigh escaping you. 

“Something wrong?” Spencer asks, cautiously, his voice soft. 

You tsk, shaking your head and shrugging a bit at your own dilemma. “It's just.. I’m already so tired. I’m exhausted and the day’s barely begun.” You pause, unable to articulate just how fatigued you were.  “It’s like I can already feel the mid-afternoon headache I’m going to get later, and it hasn’t even started yet.” You hate the way you sound, longing for the day you could fully relax for even a fraction of a second. 

“You’d probably be a lot less tired if you slept a little more.” Spencer suggests, and you shoot him a death glare. 

“Don’t you think I know that?” You snap. “I’m trying. It’s not that easy. It’s just-” You groan, stopping yourself as the quick realization dawns on you that you’ve misdirected your frustrations. There’s a wave of shame rising up almost immediately, heating your cheeks up in regret. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer. Sorry. That’s unfair of me. I know you’re just looking out for me.” You murmur, taking a deep breath to calm your senses. 

“Hey, don’t worry.” He says, his voice low and compassionate. “I get it. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now.” 

You nod, closing your eyes as you continue to breathe. He continues to speak, his voice remaining warmhearted. 

“There are actually quite a few ways to alleviate stress. Some experts recommend meditation, exercise and yoga. I wouldn’t mind doing those with you, if you were interested.” He offers, as he continues to ramble, lost in his own explanation in the hopes of being of service to you. “Some experts even name sex as a useful stress reliever, due to the endorphins and oxytocin released after completion.” 

You give a fruitless laugh. “Jesus, I wish. I don’t have the time to try and find someone willing to do that for me.” 

Spencer goes quiet, and you finally open your eyes. You’re met with his stare, trained on your form, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“What?” You ask, upon returning his gaze. 

He clears his throat, shaking his head, as if he was ridding himself of a passing thought. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m sorry. I hope you do find something that works for you though. I hate seeing you like this.” 

You soften at his concern. “Thanks, Spencer.” You say, the affection in your voice unmistakable. “Maybe I’ll end up taking on.. Yoga? That seems doable, right?” 

He smiles. “Yoga. Right.” 

The days pass on, until you find yourself in a similar scenario you’ve been in one too many times. You’re pacing the kitchen, a small clock reading that it was currently 2 AM. You couldn’t even really decipher the source of tonight’s anxiety– all you know is you feel it, and you feel it deeply. 

That’s when a voice breaks through the darkness, halting your movements altogether. 

“Hey, are you alright?” Spencer’s soft, slightly deeper voice. 

“Oh, yeah.” You call out, despite the growing tightness in your chest. “I’m fine. You can go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you.” 

He shakes his head, scratching his head as he makes his way towards you. “It’s nothing.” He reassures. “I needed to pee anyway. What’s going on with you?” He inquires, gently. 

You rub at your chest, biting your lip. “The usual.” 

“Work?” He asks, softly. 

You purse your lips. “I’m not even sure at this point. Just really anxious.” 

His expression softens. A beat of silence passes between the two of you. 

“I’m- um. I’m willing to help.” He stammers out, suddenly seeming much more nervous than he was a moment ago. 

You give a dejected smile. “That’s sweet, Spencer, but I dunno. I think I have to deal with this on my own.” 

“No, I mean. I can help. I’m willing to help. To do that for you. I’m your friend. I want to help.” He restates, his voice a little urgent. 

“Willing to do what?” You ask, wholly confused with where he was going with this. 

He takes a breath. “Sex. Or, an orgasm, at least. You said no one you knew would be willing to help you like that. I am. If you want.” He blurts out. 

You stand there, momentarily shocked into silence. You’re suddenly able to recall the conversation you’d had, just a few days prior, and realize what he was trying to say.  Here you were, in your kitchen, with your friend- your roommate, and he was selflessly offering himself to you. For sex. For de-stressing sex.  He sounded so earnest, despite the obvious lewdness of his offer, and the juxtaposition made your head spin. 

“I..” You start, your voice caught in your throat. 

“You don’t have to feel compelled to say yes. I’m just offering. I want to help you.” He interjects, his voice still carrying that unselfishness you’d known from the very beginning. 

“I.. no. I mean, yes. I want to say yes.” You find yourself admitting after a moment. “But.. are you sure? It’s.. I mean, it’s sex, Spencer.” You whisper. 

“I’m aware.” He says, matching your softer tone. “I’m okay with that. Are you?” 

You take a breath. Looking up at him, you take in his slightly tousled hair illuminated by the soft moonlight that drifted in through your apartment windows. His white sleep shirt was crumpled, and even in the darkness that enveloped you, you could decipher the kindness in his eyes, his mere presence bringing a shade of ease into you as you spoke to him. 

“Yes.” You murmur out, the words flowing out with no hesitation. “I’m okay with that.” 

“Can I kiss you?” He says, gently, and your nod of affirmation is almost immediate. 

He steps closer and cups your cheek, before pressing his lips against yours gently. It’s a sweeter kiss, something that, despite never saying out loud, you would have expected from him. His mouth moves languidly against yours, before pulling away, slightly out of breath. 

“Kissing actually helps to reduce cortisol.” He murmurs. “It indirectly lowers stress as a result. Is it working?” 

And true to his words, you realized that the tightness in your chest had faded somewhat, no longer blaring with the intensity you had just felt a few minutes prior. An entirely new feeling settled within you- an ache, a need for this man and what he brought to you. 

“Yeah. It’s working.” You mumble out. 

As if he could read your mind, Spencer gently takes your hand. “Let’s move to the couch, yeah?” He murmurs, already leading you to his spot of preference. 

He gently guides you to sit on the couch, quickly finding your lips once again to exchange some soft kisses along the way. His hands drift up and down your back, fingertips light and tender. His every touch speaks to something more, to an unspoken dedication that you’d never felt before until this moment.

To something that maybe extended beyond the original purpose of your rendezvous. “Is this alright?” He asks, his tone hushed and reverent. 

You nod, almost in a trance. He was so gentle, so reassuring. He was exactly what you needed. 

His lips find yours again and you respond eagerly, letting your hands tangle into the mess of brown hair that sat atop his head. He let out a small groan as your fingers slightly tugged on the strands, sending a thrill through you. 

He starts to trail the kisses down your neck, seeking out more sensitive spots that could bring you into a further state of rest and repose.  Everything about you spurred him on, it seemed. He paid attention to every noise, every movement– his ultimate goal seeming to hinge on your pleasure throughout this. 

Of course, you respond accordingly to the dedication, a soft gasp or whimper escaping you when he would mouth at the perfect spot, which would only cause him to increase his actions tenfold, leading to even more response on your end. 

The perfect feedback loop driving you to pliancy and ecstasy all at once.

His lips begin to drift down, and you realize he’s settling in between your legs now, hands on the waistband of your sleep clothes, urging you to lie down completely, which you do. 

“Gonna take these off now.” He whispers, looking up at you between your legs. 

“Please.” You respond, waiting with bated breath. 

He manages to pull down the last barrier between you two, before being met with the mess he’d created. His lips parted as his fingers trailed lightly over your wet slit, your arousal evident on his finger as he marveled on the effect he could have on you. 

“Jesus, you’re beautiful.” He whispers, as if his eyes are set upon something precious, something worthy of worship. And in a way, isn’t that exactly what he’d set out to do the moment he’d placed his face between your thighs? 

He loops his arms around your thighs, before slowly allowing his tongue to dart out, delicately, tracing the wetness of your pussy. A moan slips out of you, low and needy, and that’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s diving in, devouring your cunt like a man starved. 

“Spencer.” You gasp out. You say his name like prayer, like he is god-given, because in this moment, he is. 

His tongue traces your clit in circles, before directly placing his lips over the swollen bud, applying some light suction. The tenderness in the action, the way his eyes flit upto yours, watching your gaze for the utmost reassurance that he was doing right by you, only hurdle you closer and closer to your pleasurable end. 

It’s almost as if you’re floating, your back arching as his face stubbornly stays buried in your cunt, lapping at your wetness insistently. He wants your release just as bad as you do, and it’s clear he’ll do anything for the sweetness that comes with you falling apart in his arms. 

“Oh god.” You moan out- how is it possible to feel so airy, and yet so present all at once? To feel every movement of Spencer’s warm, wet tongue lavishing your clit, and still be somewhere else entirely- a new height of pleasure you had sorely needed all along. 

One of his hands leaves the iron-grip it had your thighs in, letting his fingers drift towards your entrance. He slips the digits in, slowly pumping into you, only adding to the overwhelming rapture you found yourself in. Your eyes shoot open, and you find yourself writhing against him. 

“Spencer- oh god. Please, please.” You babble out, legs starting to tense with the beginnings of your orgasm. 

He only pulls away enough to murmur softly. “That’s it.” His fingers continue their steady pace into you, his grip on your thigh keeping you planted to the mattress. “I got you, love. Come for me.”

With nothing else to say, he resumes eating you out, and the combination of his fingers and mouth finally barrels you towards your orgasm, shuddering as it rips through you, as your every sense is clouded- with this, with him. 

It’s only until you’ve ridden out the entirety of your orgasm that he pulls away. Sitting upright, he leans forward to caress your jaw, taking in the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the flushed appearance your face had taken on in the throes of gratification. 

“Feeling better?” He asks, softly. 

“Entirely.” You whisper back, almost in awe. Not only at how well it worked, but how adoringly he stared at you, it being enough to stop your heart in your chest. Did he always look like this? How did you never notice? 

“Can I return the favor?” You implore, already beginning to get up, but Spencer pushes you back down lightly, shaking his head. 

“You’re tired.” He says, as if his word was fact, despite these being your feelings that were being spoken about. “Right now, the oxytocin coursing through your body is priming you perfectly for sleep, and God knows you need it.” He chuckles out.

You realize that he’s right, and for the first time, you feel the fatigue that comes naturally with sleep, as opposed to the restless nights you’d been dealing with. You still feel disappointed though, feeling a sting of rejection as you’re unable to touch him back. Still, your tiredness is undeniable, and so you nod. 

He gets up, finding a blanket to lay on top of you, before kneeling beside your face. He looks at you with subtle veneration, before letting his lips brush against your forehead. 

“I’ll take you up on your offer tomorrow, though, if that’s alright.” He murmurs. “When you’re rested.” 

Your smile is immediate. “Deal.” You whisper out. 

He looks at you for another beat, before letting his knuckles brush against your cheek, slowly retreating to his bedroom, as to let you get the rest you so desperately needed. 

You close your eyes, amazed by the tranquility that came with Spencer. How simple intimacy came with him, as if that’s how it should’ve been all along. 

You know you’ll ponder on this fact in greater detail later on, but for now, you relished in serenity of the afterglow. 

“Spencer Reid.” You think. “What divine comfort you are.” 

HOOOLY SHIT. how long has it been since i uploaded? a long time? i think. hahahaha. in between traveling, [redacted life updates], and even more, i just wasn't very inspired to write. i hope this speaks to some of you, and i hope it was enjoyable to read. as usual, any likes, comments, reblogs are so so so deeply appreciated. feedback as well! thank you so so so much for reading regardless, i am eternally grateful for any and all support <3 (oh also haha. this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins friends with benefits challenge! check it out.)

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman and Female Reader

Finale

Word Count ~ 3.3k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ fluff and smut, pregnancy

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl @kawaiichookie @vexillum-moeru @blackcurrant28 @r4yyyyy @dazedin2d @mrsspector-grant

The true name of your doppelgänger is crooned into your ear.

A sound that is strangely soothing, syllables slipping like water in a brook, a gentle rush of water.

You attempt to replicate the sound and of course it doesn’t come out right. He’d warned you of this. The human tongue is incapable of replicating the foreign language.

“Why do you have such an easy time learning ours and we can’t learn yours?”

He’s gone back to the human version of his being, the tired eyes of the milkman studying your frustrated features, his fingers stroking and smoothing away the lines creasing your brow and the corners of your mouth.

“The newness of it, maybe. Yours is a relatively young race.”

You prop your head up on your hand, dragging fingernails over your lover’s chest. “How old are you?”

“Me, or my species?”

“Both.”

He turns onto his back, nestling down in the pillows. “In Earth years….we have existed for tens of thousands of years. I’m a tenth of that.”

“You are not over a thousand years old,” you murmur in disbelief.

His eyes meet yours and he smiles softly. “You’re right, I’m not. I’m teasing. Sorry, love. More like one hundredth of that.”

“A century.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Wow.” It’s hard to reconcile the idea. Despite whatever face he wears, you’ve always thought of him as near enough your own age. “An older man, huh?”

“Something like that.” He lifts the hand you have resting on his bare chest and kisses the inside of your wrist. “Is that okay?”

“It’s a little late to ask, but yes, it’s definitely okay.” You bend to kiss his mouth. “I really wanted to learn your name.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He worries his bottom lip, considering. “What if I tried to describe what it meant instead? And we discovered a language equivalent that was similar.”

“Alright,” you agree.

The milkman’s copy pauses, considering. “In Greek mythology, there was a name for something otherworldly that was borrowed from Latin, then later used to describe a kind of afterlife. Fields of paradise. An eternal resting place of bliss for the worthy. Elysium. But that notion of otherworldly is the best way to describe it. The original term is Elysian.”

“Elysian,” you try it out. It sounds nothing like what the alien had said earlier, of course, but the idea is there. “I like it. It’s pretty sounding.”

“Well, that’s it, then.”

“Elysian,” you repeat, bending to kiss his mouth again. He smiles against your lips. “You like hearing it, huh?”

“It’s pleasant, I’ll admit.”

A sudden thought occurs to you. “How do you know about Greek mythology?” You have never seen anything that indicated the milkman read classical literature.

The doppel clears his throat, looking a little nervous. “There was a professor.”

“Oh.” Of course Francis wasn’t the first human he’d ever cloned. “Did you…take him over, too?”

“No. Just replicated. Retired. Library at home.” He squirms a little, looking uncomfortable.

“Did you…” You don’t really want to give voice to the query. You’re not even sure precisely which it is. Kill? Consume?

“Sweetheart, please don’t ask me that.”

You swallow thickly. You forget, sometimes. Caught up as you are in how he is now. Denying what he used to be.

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t remember.”

“But you remember what you read in a book.”

The doppel sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “It was awhile ago.”

“Not who you were when you…Francis…”

“No.”

“How many? How many people have you…”

He sits up, and you straighten beside him. “I don’t want to talk about this. It’s not who I am anymore. What I am. You know that.”

“I know. I just…” Your voice trails off again.

“Listen to me, sweet girl. All that matters now to me is you. Keeping you safe. Making you happy. I love you.” He plants a kiss on your bare shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

“We should go to sleep. Work in the morning. And that damned box to deal with,” he mutters, leaning to switch the bedside lamp off.

You feel him lying down again and you snuggle next to him, your head pillowed against his chest, his arm curled around you. You’re wide awake, now. Questions spiral in your mind. “Elysian?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever miss your planet?”

“Maybe a little. I did. Not so much now.” His arm around you tightens.

“What was it like?”

“Very green. More of a tropical climate, I suppose you would say.”

“And you left because…”

“Food shortage.”

A brisk answer. You’re not going to ask what precisely the doppels consumed in their native location. “Have you been to any other planets?”

“One. Small. We didn’t stay long.”

Another ominous answer. Not enough to eat, perhaps? Did anyone ever properly repel the invaders? Or were they an unstoppable force, like a plague of locusts sweeping the land, consuming everything in their path, leaving nothing but desolation in their wake?

“What’s it like traveling in space?”

“So many questions tonight.” His lips press against you hair. “It’s indescribable, really. Beautiful. Vast. Daunting. Someday, I would like to show you.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as you both mull over that prospect. You had never thought much about space travel. Had no real knowledge of astronomy. But the idea of exploring the stars with this creature by your side made you curious. What would it be like, to be so far away from the only home you've ever known? You feel the gentle rise and fall as the doppelgänger’s lungs expand and deflate and hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. You try to match his rhythm. A game you haven’t played since childhood. Facing off with a friend in the schoolyard. While cuddling with a parent at home. That is what he feels like to you. Home. How fiercely you want to protect him. You squeeze his shoulder.

“What happens when you run out of members of your squadron to send here for sacrifice?” You ask quietly. A concern you’ve harbored for a long time finally given voice.

“Let’s not worry about that tonight, okay? I’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

“Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to be harmed, either.”

“I know, my love. Now try to sleep.”

You shut your eyes, thinking there’s no way you’ll be falling asleep anytime soon, only to find yourself proven wrong as you soon descend into slumber.

***

You awaken to darkness.

It’s early, dawn still a ways off. You reach out drowsily to find the doppelgänger sitting upright beside you in bed.

“Elysian?”

“There’s a doppel,” he says softly. “But something about it is off. I don’t…”

You’re instantly alert again, jerking upright, throwing the sheet off of you. “Where is it? Outside? On this floor?”

Had you let one in by mistake? Or was this some new intrusion?

“I’m not sure,” he replies distractedly. The weight on the mattress shifts as he rises, his face barely visible when he draws back the curtain to peer at the street below. “Not outside,” he declares. “Closer than that.”

Your pulse quickens. Inside, then.

“Wait there,” he advises. “I’ll go have a look around.”

You immediately disobey, sliding out of bed. You can’t just sit still waiting for whatever was going to happen. You pad barefoot out of the room, finding yourself in more darkness. Your fingers trail on the wall as you move forward, your feet leaving carpet and finding linoleum.

“Elysian?” You hiss, squinting, trying to detect him in the shadows.

“I told you to stay in the other room,” his voice growls from somewhere to your right. The living room. “It was gone, but now I’m sensing it again”

You bump into the couch, finally deciding it’s more of a hazard trying to find your way in the dark, invader be damned, reaching blindly until you crash into the lamp, nearly knocking it over before your fingers fumble for the switch.

Francis’ doppel paces the small apartment, even unlocking and cracking open the front door before shaking his head and shutting it again. His gaze meets yours.

“So where is it?”

He steps towards you slowly. His eyes widen. “Is it possible…”

“What?”

“Sweetheart.” He stands before you, laying a palm on your abdomen.

“I’m…”

“Carrying my baby. Our baby.” His other hand cups your cheek tenderly. “We did it, my love.”

He gathers you against him, his face burrowed into your neck. Wet. He’s crying. You’re crying, too. Weeping. Relief. Joy. A new kind of fear. Maternal instinct kicking in already.

You had to protect your unborn hybrid child.

***

There’s no sleep to be found for either of you now.

You’re cuddled on the couch, wrapped in Francis’ bathrobe, the doppelgänger’s arm curled around you protectively, waiting for the new day to begin.

“I’m afraid to make an appointment with the doctor. I should go, but…what if they find out?”

“Best not then, love. Just to be safe. You should talk to your mother. Whatever you need to be doing, what to expect…”

You nod. “We need to get married as soon as possible.”

“You’re already my wife in every way that matters, but yes, we will. Very soon.” He pauses. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I know your reasoning behind it, but I think you should stop working for the DDD. Especially since we’re moving into your house together. There’s no reason for either of us to be anywhere near here anymore. Let’s go, sweetheart. Leave this behind. Start over. Begin our life together properly.”

“Let me give a notice. Finish this week, and the next. It’s just how we do things. Allow them time to find a replacement. We still have the box to deal with,” you remind him.

“Then you’ll leave the DDD?”

“Yes, I’ll leave.”

He sighs heavily. “Thank you.”

“What time do you think it is?”

“Maybe three? I left my watch in the other room. Can’t see the clock from here,” he murmurs against your cheek. “We still have time.”

“I was thinking we should go downstairs. Tamper with the device right now before the sun even rises.” You lean back to look at your lover. “They’ll keep working on it. There’s no guarantee they won’t succeed again. Or find another means.”

“I know. But that won’t be your fight, love. That’s for someone else to worry about.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Yes,” he admits. “More than I ever have been. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it. Our baby is worth it.”

***

The director of the DDD requests an exit interview with you.

Really not a request, more of a requirement. You’re not entirely surprised. You didn’t think you’d escape quite that easily.

It’s been a little over a week since you and Elysian sabotaged the anti doppelgänger frequency box. Lying about the results on the survey after the allotted trial period. A temporary solution to a larger problem, but at least your doppel was safe for now.

And your baby. Your half human, half doppelgänger child nestled in your belly.

You try not to rest your hand on it as you sit before the stern faced man’s desk. Of course there is nothing visible yet, your stomach still flat, but you’d already grown accustomed to touching there. You force your hands to meet and fold together in your lap, your head bowed slightly, the very picture of meekness and subservience that seemed so favorable for women of the time.

“You’ve submitted your two weeks notice.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the reason for that is?”

“I’m getting married. Ready to settle down, start a family.”

He grunts. You can’t tell if it’s approving or not. “People don’t often leave the DDD. Not voluntarily,” he adds.

“Yes, sir. I’m aware. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I feel it’s the right one.”

“Not going to be easy to replace you. Not if you gave two months notice, let alone two weeks,” he admits grudgingly. “The DDD thanks you for your service. I’m certain you’ll still uphold the tenets of the cause, even if you’re no longer formally employed by us.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The middle aged man begins to slide a document across the desk towards you after signing it and stamping it with the official seal, only to halt at the last moment, staring hard at you. Your eyes lift to meet his.

“I understand there’s a new vacancy in that residence now. Another rare occurrence.”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“The milkman that was missing that day of your…indiscretion. Francis Moss, wasn’t it?”

“Mosses,” you correct, then wince internally.

“Yes. Him.”

You remain silent, your hand still stretched out, reaching for the paper. Your heart thuds in your chest. Please, just let me go. Please, please…

You suddenly have the document clutched tightly in your hand. He was letting you go after all. Freedom. You force yourself to walk from the room at a dignified pace, the paper carried in front of you like a shield. When you exit the office building your tense, rigid posture relaxes and you heave a sigh of relief. Another challenge overcome on the road to forever with your doppel.

***

You love coming home to your fiancé.

Seeing his delivery truck in the driveway. Soon you’ll be the one welcoming him inside every afternoon. But for now, he’s the first one to your inherited farmhouse, waiting for you on the porch he’d raced up to kiss you all those months ago, gifting you a taste of new rain and the smell of fresh petrichor.

“How did it go?” His tone is casual but you know better, seeing his white knuckled grip on the railing.

“I’m free.” You wave the letter in the air and he snatches it from your hand, hurriedly scanning the words.

“You really are,” he murmurs, looking bewildered and relieved.

“That doesn’t mean they won’t still be watching. But for now, for now…”

He smiles at you, one arm wrapping around your waist. “Should we celebrate?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Hmmm…” He hums thoughtfully, his lips brushing your ear. “Come inside with me, love.”

***

There are little details of the house that bear traces of Francis Mosses, now. The crocheted blanket rests over your couch. The portable record player has a permanent home in your bedroom. The dresser hosts a collection of your doppel’s things: a belt, cologne, some spare change, a wooden handled hairbrush. There’s a shirt that needs mending hung on the post at the end of the bed.

“I’ll fix this later.”

“Mmm hmm.” His eyes never stray from your face. You sit on the edge of the bed and he kneels in front of you, sliding each shoe off, caressing your calves. You sink a hand into his hair, bending to plant a kiss on his forehead, inhaling his scent. Notes of bergamot, the clean citrus in his cologne. Your shampoo now in his hair. Strawberry. Everything a combination of you two. Already joined in so many ways.

His hand cups one knee, his palm warm and comforting over the joint. He slides it inside, stroking under your skirt, creeping between your thighs. He nudges at the clothing that is your work attire, shoving impatiently to gain better access. You accommodate him, pushing yourself back until you’re lying horizontally across the mattress, your skirt now rucked up around your hips, the doppel’s fingers dragging your panties out of the way.

“Need to be inside you, sweetheart.”

He’s on his hands and knees above you. You work on the fly of his pants. Your haste makes you clumsy. The metal teeth of the zipper catch on the fabric of his pants. He shakes his head, laughing softly, the sound turning to a growl when he struggles in your wake. It finally gives and he lowers himself down, guiding his cock into your entrance.

You gasp and his mouth crushes yours, swallowing the sound.

His hips press yours and you’re thinking of the nearby field with its fading summer flowers. That’s where you want to be wed. Here beneath the open sky, in this sanctuary of yours. You whisper it beside his cheek and he draws back, looking at your features. “Is that what you want, love?”

“Yes.” Your rock your pelvis against him, your legs wrapping around his body. “Elysium fields with my Elysian…”

“I love you,” he breathes. He thrusts and it hits something tender inside, the aching place deep in the hollow. Your fingers tangle together. Hot inside you. Something molten in your core. You’re melting. Clinging to him. The world shatters, comes back together in little pieces. Tired eyes gazing into your own. Soft smile.

***

You’re still tangled together.

Bodies intertwined. A comforter thrown over you both to ward off the chill of the oncoming autumn night. You’re discussing possible baby names again. You like the idea of something celestial. Named for the sun or the moon or one of the countless stars above. A constellation, an outline of a portrait when they arrange themselves just so. A planet, a galaxy. Infinite possibilities.

“It reminds me of a song,” Elysian murmurs. You’ve been taking turns tickling each other. You were losing horribly but determined to get revenge, making another attack along his unprotected ribs. He remains stoic and unresponsive despite your best efforts.

“What song?”

“Hmmm…” He hums thoughtfully. “In Other Words, I believe it’s called. How does it go?”

Fly me to the moon

And let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On-a Jupiter and Mars

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, darling, kiss me

Your heart lurches. It’s the melody. The one Francis used to hum. The replicant notices your teasing fingers grow still and he stops singing abruptly.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was the song. The one Francis used to hum all the time.”

“Oh, love. I didn’t realize…”

“Of course not. It’s okay. I’m okay.” Your eyes feel a little full, tears brimming.

“I know you still love him. I wouldn’t ask you not to. That wouldn’t be fair.” He drags a thumb across each cheek, close to your lashes, collecting the salted liquid. “He’s always going to be present in some regard. But I can’t resent him. I have to love him a little bit, too. Because he brought me to you.”

“What if I’d called the DDD that day? What if…” More tears escape. You’re suddenly overwhelmed. If you’d contacted the disposal team and destroyed him, this person that has become your world, created a new life with you…This song was what had finally swayed you. Another gift from Francis.

“Sweetheart. You didn’t. You let me into the building. Into your heart. There’s nothing there to be sorry about, from your perspective anyway. If I had to choose again, I would not see you hurt, I would not want to take him from you, but love, how could I ever give you up? I can’t. I could never. You’re carrying our future. You’re my forever.”

His lips graze yours. Your fingers curl around the back of his neck, drawing him more firmly against your mouth. “Sing the rest for me. I want to know all the words.”

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing forever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

In other words, please be true

In other words, I love you

“I love you.”

You’re joined again. Hips and hands and mouths.

Maybe one day in the future you will be brave enough to travel with the alien into space. Explore the wonders of the heavens with your children by your side.

For now, you are content in this bliss on Earth.

[bluejeanstrash]

pt. 2 | pt. 3

tags: vampire! seventeen x human reader, 18+, mdni, dubcon, mind control, oral (m receiving), mentions of a gangbang, hardcore humiliation and degradation (verbal and physical)

seungcheol’s hand twists around your hair, grabbing a fistful of it to pull you off his cock. ‘stick your tongue out for me’ he cooes. you feel quick steady taps against your wet tongue and immediately you can tell it’s not his cock anymore. who is it today?

you don’t have time to dwell on that thought as seungcheol shoves your head forward, the cock sliding into your mouth as you hear a low satisfied groan. this man, whoever he was, was much more unforgiving than seungcheol, and you can feel it in the way he uses your mouth — like it’s not attached to the rest of you.

it’s not long before you feel your jaw ache and you start slacking, barely putting in any effort into pleasuring him.

‘tch, is this how we treat our guests? i know you can do better than that’ seungcheol chides, disappointed in you.

you hear the man zip up before he bends down, now eye-level with you. ‘open your mouth’ he speaks with an unexpected low drawl that makes your toes curl. he pushes his thumb inside your mouth, the coldness of it making you shiver, and the shiver making your nipples hard. faintly, you hear someone laugh. the man goes deeper, probing further and further until you finally gag.

‘are you tired?’ he questions and you shake your head no. ‘it’s okay if you are’ something tells you not to admit to that.

‘i’m not tired’ you say aloud, immediately regretting it, and a second later feel a sharp sting across your face ‘i don’t remember giving you permission to speak to me’

‘wonwoo, you’re scaring her’ you hear someone hum and you freeze, your blood curdling. he’s here again.

‘am i?’ icy fingers grip onto your blindfold, yanking them off as your eyes try to adjust to the darkness, and when his silhouette becomes sharper you almost gasp — inches away from you is one of the most beautiful vampires you’ve ever seen. it’s blinding beauty and it feels like if you look at him too long you’ll lose your mind; so you drop your gaze to the floor.

‘am i scaring you?’ he asks and you shake your head again.

‘see, she’s not scared’ he turns around to tell them. ‘them’ are the familiar figures that sit at the back, hidden in the shadows. you still don’t know their names — you’re left so mindfucked each time you can barely remember a thing. they all come and go, most don’t even touch you, they just want to watch a human being toyed with.

‘you know-’ he turns back to you ‘-i don’t really care for humans but i have to admit i do like how nice and warm they feel when i fuck them’ he runs two fingers down your neck. ‘and he’ his eyes flicker to seungcheol and back ‘tells me you’re a really good slut. tells me you begged to live so you could become one’

‘so, if you can’t even do that properly then there’s no point keeping you alive’ he whispers, pushing his sharp nails into the throbbing pulse in your neck.

‘that’s enough’ seungcheol steps forward.

a snarky little smile pulls at wonwoo’s lips ‘why? have you grown attached to your pet?’ he mocks, attempting to rile him up.

‘now now, let’s not fight in front of the human’ you hear him again, a shiver running down your spine. you remember the last time he was here — him and the other one took turns with you for hours. it was brutal. so why does your pussy throb thinking about it?

you hear his sadistic hum echo off the stone walls as he tugs at the chain that’s attached to you. he drags you towards him, watching you crawl across the floor to where he’s sitting.

‘i hope we didn’t ruin the mood for you’

you say nothing.

‘did we?’ you know from experience there’s no right answer here. ‘yes? no?’ he pushes, itching for you to answer.

‘jeonghan, i think you’re the one that’s scaring her’ someone laughs and you feel your blood curdle for the second time. the other one is here too.

your pulse picks up, your heart beating through your chest a million times a minute. you try to calm yourself down but it refuses to steady. are you scared? excited? both?

‘ooh, i think she likes you joshua. can you hear that? her heart is beating so fast’ jeonghan tattles like a snotty kid revealing your crush to the class.

‘aww, you like me? come here’ jeonghan drops the chain as you turn to joshua. he claps his hands calling you towards him like a dog. you crawl to him, the cold stone under you bruising your knees; but every time you get closer, joshua takes one step back. you can hear hushed snickers from the audience as he does it again and again, taking longer strides each time.

‘joshua, her knees’ seungcheol warns. he hated bruises on his human pets.

‘okay, okay, i won’t tease anymore’ he stops, letting you reach him.

‘now let's not forget our manners. when you greet someone you should bow. i’ll go first’ he bows to you, causing jeonghan to chuckle. that sick laugh triggers memories of last time. these two played off each other's energy constantly — when one laughed, so did the other; when one was cruel, the other followed. they were so in sync, right down to the way they fucked you.

‘now you go!’

you bend, bowing low, feeling hot humiliation burn through your body.

‘lower’ he lifts his foot up and places it on your back, pressing down till you can’t bow any further. ‘how polite’ he smiles a smile that reaches his eyes.

‘see, we have such an obedient slut here, so why are you wasting time fighting?’ jeonghan taps his nails on the armrest before letting out a long sigh ‘now someone please fuck her, i’m bored’

‘get up’ joshua pulls you up by the chain. ‘choose!' he points around the room 'who do you want to fuck the most? we’ll start off with them'

you look around, your eyes drawn to wonwoo. it’s almost hypnotic the way you feel compelled to look at him. your body wants him…and so does your mind? there’s a voice repeating his name in your head that you're sure doesn't belong to you.

joshua’s eyes follow yours ‘how interesting..’

‘well, wonwoo’ he lets go of the chain as it hits the floor with a resounding clang ‘she’s all yours’

wonwoo smirks, walking over. behind him you see seungcheol’s face sour, his eyebrows pulled together.

wonwoo walks leisurely, a warm wetness spreading between your legs as he practically devours you with his eyes on the way.

the closer he gets, the more you realise just how tall he is. his lean frame towers over you as he grabs your jaw making you look up at him. under his rough grip he can feel it all — your blood rushing, your rhythmic pulse, the heat of your skin — you feel so alive and that makes him so hard.

he takes his thumb rubbing it across your plump lips and then without warning pricks you, immediately licking away the blood that oozes out ‘fuck, you’re delicious’ he mutters against your lips. he glances back to see seungcheol has taken a silent step forward and rolls his eyes.

‘well’ he says, pushing you down to your knees ‘i hope for your sake you fuck as good as you taste’ he unzips his pants, pulling out his cock and stroking himself as you see him lick his lips again desperate for another taste of your sweet blood.

‘go on, what are you waiting for? open your fucking mouth’

god, you’re in for a really hard night.

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Could you pls do prompt #6 with azriel 🙏🙏🙏( “I don’t want to go to sleep with this hanging between us.” or “I can’t sleep with you still mad at me.” )

“I don’t want to go to sleep with this hanging between us.” or “I can’t sleep with you still mad at me.”

Azriel x Reader

wc: 900

a/n: i love when men grovel

prompt list

You were absolutely furious at Azriel. He had promised not once, but three times, that he would be home in time for dinner tonight. And yet, here you are, staring at his cold plate of food.

You hear the front door open and shut. Azriel walks towards the kitchen, seeing the pots and pans and realizing his mistake. Without saying a word, you angrily dump his plate in the trash and begin to scrub the dishes.

“Sweetheart…” he tries to approach you, but the furious glare you give him makes him pause. “Y/n, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time, and Elain needed help-“

“Of course, it’s Elain again! When am I going to be your priority, huh? I’m your gods damned mate, Azriel, and yet I always seem to come second to Elain. Get your fucking priorities straight, because I’m tired of the disappointment.” You snap.

“You know how she gets, y/n! Try to be understanding. She needs someone to help her through these bad days.” You roll your eyes at his excuses.

“I don’t want to hear it, Az.” You let out a frustrated sigh.

“You’re being unreasonable y/n. Stop being so sensitive and try to understand the situation!” He yells. He sees the change in your expression at his words and realizes he went too far. “Y/n, I’m-“ You cut him off.

“Go stay at the townhouse. I don’t want to look at you right now.” You say coldly before shutting the door to your shared room, locking him out.

You wait until you hear the front door open, indicating that Azriel has left, before you let the tears fall.

———

As if the gods knew you were having a bad night, a heavy storm pours down on Velaris. Any other night, you would enjoy the sounds of thunder while wrapped in your mate’s arms. Tonight, however, each clap of thunder makes you shudder.

You gave up on trying to sleep after hours of tossing and turning, so you decided to go make a cup of tea.

As you wait for the teapot to boil, you hear a banging on your door. You let out a heavy sigh, almost certain you know who is on the other side of that door. You open the door to see Azriel, completely soaked from the rain.

He is panting heavily, bracing himself on the door frame to steady himself from the wind. Cauldron, did he fly here in this storm?

“I don’t want to go to sleep with this hanging between us still.” He says breathlessly.

His eyes are bloodshot, and you try your hardest not to feel bad for him right now, but you can’t help it. Azriel is always so deeply affected by your fights, probably because he still believes deep down that he doesn’t deserve you. You can’t help the way your heart aches at the thought of him beating himself up so badly over this.

“Get inside you idiotic bat. You’re going to catch a cold.” You pull him in the door and shut out the raging storm. Water drips from him all over the floor. “Wait here, I’ll get a towel.” You mutter. When you return a moment later to hand him the towel, he immediately pulls you into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I am forgetful and horrible and you deserve so much better. You were right, I hadn’t been prioritizing you, but that stops now. I was so so stupid to ever take you for granted for even a second. If you want, I’ll never speak to Elain again, if that’s what will make you feel better. I’m so sorry. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” Your heart aches at the pain in his voice. You pull Azriel closer, and almost immediately he buries his face in your neck. You run your fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm him.

“I know you’re sorry, Az. You need to stop saying you don’t deserve me, though. You have such a big heart, that sometimes you stretch yourself too thin by trying to help everyone. Just because I get angry at you, doesn’t mean I love you any less. I understand that Elain has needed some extra assurance lately. And I’m not asking you to never speak to her again, that’s a bit dramatic.” Azriel sniffles and pulls away to look at you. “I just need you to make sure you make time for me, even when you are helping everyone else.”

“I will, I promise. I love you, y/n. I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you.” He releases the tension from his body at your words.

Azriel spends a few more minutes drying off before following you to bed, immediately pulling you to his chest.

“I can’t sleep when you’re upset with me.” He mumbles quietly, pulling you closer.

“I know, Az. We’re okay, let’s talk more in the morning.” He nods sleepily.

———

The next morning you wake up to breakfast in bed, four bouquets of flowers, and coffee from your favorite cafe. You’re not even sure how he had time to do all this, but before you can question it, Azriel is bringing you another plate of apology pancakes.

I just want to hug azriel🥺

this is the last one for tonight. i will post more tomorrow!

prompt list

[suntoru]

summary: burnt out reader is still awake at 4 am!! what does their boyfie do?

a/n: i offer scraps to apologize for my inactivity 💔

wc: 559 words

warnings: pure fluff, overworking, stress, grouchy kings 😋

don’t fall asleep. don’t fall asleep. don’t fall asleep… don’t…

you sigh in annoyance. this mantra isn’t exactly working very well. you’re tired as fuck. all you want to do is to go crash into your bed and be wrapped up in your lovers arms a cozy blanket, but the stacks of paperwork you currently have on your desk isn’t going to shrink by just staring at it.

it’s the ungodly hours of night, not a single soul is awake except you. in hindsight, you should’ve at least taken a look at your workload before deciding you’d do it all later. but it really isn’t your fault!! the paperwork is beyond confusing, the font is way too small to read, and to top it all off, you need to finish it by tomorrow- or in four hours. frustrated tears start to well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over your lash line. why is this so difficult? the stupid higher ups were supposed to do this, but somehow this task got handed it to you, and you’re clueless. if you have any hope of keeping your job, you need to focus.

you try and concentrate, but your eyelids start to droop from tiredness and exhaustion. taking another sip of your lukewarm coffee, you almost shriek when you notice a figure from the reflection of your monitor. leaning in closer to inspect what it is, you squint your eyes. …wait a minute. is that… your boyfriend? turning around to confirm your suspicions, indeed it is. his hair is tousled, sleepiness written all over his face as he trudges over to you.

“it’s four. why aren’t you in bed?” he grouches, tugging on your sleeve, motioning you to follow. his forhead is slightly crinkled, lips tugged into a cute pout… even while grumbling, you can’t help but notice how pretty he is. the ethereal glow of the moonlight only serves to make him look even more angelic. you want nothing more than to snuggle with him in bed, but you need to keep this job.

“sorry, love…” you apologize, scratching the back of your head sheepishly. “but i don’t think i can join you right now. i’ve got work to do, but i’ll try and be quiet.” you turn your attention back to the papers, missing the glare he gives you.

not paying any mind to the shuffling of footsteps getting closer, you yelp in surprise when you feel a strong pair of hands pull you off the chair and lift you into cozy arms. “babe…” you whine, trying to get free from his grip, but he’s so warm… and you’re so tired. maybe five minutes of sleep wouldn’t hurt…? no. if you get distracted now, you’ll never finish your seemingly endless piles of work. once more, you attempt to move, but he only holds you tighter, huffing in annoyance.

“sleep. i’ll help you with this in the morning.” his words are short and simple, yet it somehow brings you comfort. and you’re not sure if you exactly believe him, but you allow yourself to sink into his touch.

nuzzling deeper into the crook of his neck, you breathe in his scent. it smells… safe, reassuring, loving. and as your shared home falls into tranquil silence once again, the peaceful allure of midnight lulls you to sleep in his arms.

─ ✰ SCARAMOUCHE, AL HAITHAM, DILUC, XIAO, CHILDE, TIGHNARI, + any of your favs!!

©kaeffeinee 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[pedrospatch]

to hell and back l one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l main masterlist l next chapter

summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI. canon violence, canon language, brief mentions of slavers, brutality, torture, assault, guns, reader is an archer, mentions of hunting, animal death, injured/unconscious Joel, very minor mentions of blood, age gap (reader is 30, Joel is 56) very brief mention of scars, reader does not/cannot speak at times, a lot of internal dialogue from reader, at one point reader does try to speak to Joel but she is unable. *please be advised that no specific diagnosis is used or will be mentioned, i’m writing the series with the idea that reader herself cannot fully comprehend her inability to speak at times. basically the gist of it is we have a very traumatized person who does not realize just how traumatized she is.

word count: 8.2k (good lord I am so sorry)

a/n: not a whole lot to say except for that this is...different. at least i think it is, i could be wrong lmao. this is by far one of the most challenging things i have ever decided to write, but hopefully it turned out okay

California l Fall, 2023

You’d been on the run since dawn.

It was several hours later now and nightfall was approaching—and it was approaching a hell of a lot fucking faster than you could have even anticipated. The darkness was quickly closing in, falling around you like a velvet black curtain. However, stumbling around blindly in the dark was currently the very least of your worries. 

Your feet were raw, both completely blistered and bleeding through your socks inside of your worn out, muddied white canvas sneakers. Your sore, aching legs screamed out for mercy and your knees trembled violently, threatening to buckle out from underneath the weight of your body at any given moment. 

In the week and a half leading up to your escape from captivity, you’d been deprived of both food and water—it had been your punishment for closing your eyes and turning your head away after you’d been instructed by the slavers to watch their brutal assault of the young teenaged girl that you had been sharing a cage with. She’d been unable to keep up with her work duties, and they had decided to make an example out of her.

Despite still having been forced to witness the horrendous, unspeakable things they’d done to that poor girl, your initial resistance resulted in you being beaten and then starved for several days. Occasionally, one of the late night guards would try and bribe you, offering a small piece of jerky or a couple of stale crackers in exchange for a blowjob. At first, you told him you’d rather cut your own tongue out with a rusty blade than suck his dick, but when he proposed the disgusting, vile trade again just a couple of nights later, you’d accepted it—because him pulling you out of that fucking cage after hours and removing the tight shackles from your wrists when no one else was around would give you the chance to finally make a run for it.

You swung yourself around the nearest redwood tree, slumping back against its thick, wide trunk. You covered your mouth with your two hands in an attempt to silence the sound of your heavy panting. 

Besides being in pain, malnourished and severely dehydrated, the exhaustion was starting to set in too. The adrenaline pumping through your veins had brought you this far, but exactly how much farther could it take you? How much longer could it possibly keep you going before your tired body decided to give up and give out?

Somewhere behind you, you could hear the men calling out cheerfully.

One sang out, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Come out and plaaaaay,” a second taunted.

The third shouted, “We’re gonna get you!”

Their giddiness made you want to vomit. If your stomach hadn’t been empty, you would have.

Those sick, twisted fucks weren’t letting up. 

They’d been on your heels for hours.

The large group of slavers in California were over two hundred strong and had dozens of prisoners chained up in their human cages—they had more than enough people to force into labor. There was no need for them to waste their time and efforts going after you, but after spending the last eight months witnessing firsthand how these sadistic bastards operated, it occurred to you that their desire to recapture you wasn’t out of a need for labor. It was for their entertainment. 

They were hunting you down for sport.

This was their idea of fun.

“Fuck,” you whispered underneath your breath, your hands falling down to your sides.

Something had to give.

Your legs, your body, your will to live.

Perhaps all of the above.

You couldn’t keep on running for much longer.

And even if you could, where the hell were you supposed to go? How were you supposed to get there?

You had no food, no water, and no weapon.

Just the torn, tattered clothes on your back.

You were defenseless against whatever else was out there and you couldn’t see yourself surviving longer than a couple of days at most.

There was a part of you that wanted to give up and surrender. If you could be absolutely certain that they would shoot you dead on the spot, you would actually consider it and step out from behind the tree—hell, you would happily let them put a bullet between your eyes and put you out of your misery once and for all. But they wouldn’t be so generous. You knew they would have their way with you here in the middle of this forest and only after they were done would they take you back to their settlement where they’d put you right back in shackles so the real torture could begin. Just like that teenaged girl, the slavers would make an example out of you so that nobody else in their right mind would even think about running away. 

They would be sure to make your death as slow and as agonizing as possible.  

No. If you were going to die, then you were going to die. But fucking not like that.

Hearing them draw closer towards where you’d been hiding, you pushed yourself away from the redwood and willed yourself to keep on going.

Wyoming l Fall 2024

Your eyes softly flutter open.

Bright, early morning sunlight filters in through the ripped, white lace curtains that hang over the small, square shaped window right above your head. 

Blinking the sleep away, you prop yourself up slightly on your elbows and take a glance around at your surroundings. The old, abandoned cabin that you’d stumbled across just a couple of days ago is tiny, cramped, and crumbling. It also reeks—it smells damp, musty, and earthy, like rotting wood. But beggars can’t be choosers and you are certainly in no position to be a chooser right now. It’s not what you consider to be ideal, but it’s four walls and a roof, which is more than anyone can ask for. It’s sparsely furnished with a table and two chairs, an old wood burning stove you had been too afraid to light because you didn’t want to risk setting the place on fire, and there’s even a small, twin sized bed for you to sleep on. Well, perhaps calling it a bed was a tad bit too generous. It’s really just a mattress sitting on four large concrete blocks. It’s rough, dirty, and torn with rusted springs and bits of fluff sticking out from every corner. Still, it sure as fuck beat the hell out of sleeping outside in the dirt and using a rock as a pillow.

Besides the luxury of having something close to a proper roof to sleep under, there’s also a lake just two and a half miles north of the cabin where you had been able to fill your canteen with fresh water. Not to mention, you’d also been able to bathe and wash your clothes for the first time in a couple of weeks. You had been on your own for about a year now, and this was the luckiest you’ve gotten in terms of finding a decent place to stay.

Whether or not it’s safe, it was still too early to tell. 

Sure, you were out somewhere in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and hadn’t seen a single soul, living or dead, in a couple of months now. But that still didn’t mean that running into the infected or other people wasn’t a possibility. Letting your guard down was risky. Too risky. 

You swing your legs over the side of the mattress and sit up, slipping on your pair of warm, wool socks before tugging on your boots—you’d found them over the summer and even though they had been about one size too small for you, you’d managed to break them in since then and the supple brown leather now molds almost perfectly to your feet. You stand up and lift your arms up above your head while simultaneously twisting your stiff, sore back in a painful, but much needed stretch. You’re only just a couple of months shy of turning thirty years old, but lately, your bones snap, crackle and pop with each and every movement, making you feel twice your actual age. 

The thought of it makes you snort in amusement. You should be so lucky to stay alive long enough to see the age of sixty. Hell, you’re still unable to fathom how you’d even made it this close to seeing thirty.

Dropping your arms back down to your sides, you make your way over to your khaki colored pack and pull out your aluminum canteen from one of the side pockets. You twist off the cap and gulp back a long, cool drink of water, hoping to get rid of the dryness in your mouth and the cracks in your chapped lips. As soon as the liquid makes it all the way down to the pit of your stomach, the hollow, muscular organ grumbles loudly, demanding food. You’d had some decent luck while out hunting the previous morning, capturing two wild rabbits—you had eagerly skinned, cleaned and cooked them both, devouring one right after the other so fast that it had nearly made you sick. It had been a pretty decent meal, but not nearly enough to completely satisfy your ravenous hunger. Prior to finding the cabin and settling in, you had been living off of a couple handfuls of nuts and berries for three days while on the move. You were still fucking starving and all you could do was pray that you’d find more rabbits today. 

Maybe you’d get even luckier and spot a pheasant. It was their season, after all. 

You drink some more water and set your canteen aside. You’d planned to return to the lake later in the afternoon to refill it as well as to have another bath. You pull on your faded, black denim jacket over your hoodie and pick up the wooden bow and brown leather quiver of arrows sitting beside your pack. You’d found the weapon in some hunting shop back in Utah that had already been picked clean to the bone over the last couple of decades. However, no one had even bothered with taking the bow. It hadn’t really surprised you, though. In the post outbreak world, a bow and arrow would do absolutely nothing to protect against the infected runners and stalkers—and it would do much less to protect against clickers unless your aim was flawless.

Still, a bow was useful in its own right. 

It was perfect for hunting game. It was silent, keeping you and your location concealed from potential passersby at all times. Most importantly, you could reuse your arrows so long as you were careful and didn’t break them while removing them from your kills—and in the event that you did happen to snap an arrow, all you had to do was salvage what you could from the damaged projectile and make a new one. Simple as that. 

Your father had taught you how before he’d died.

“Why bother with a bow? What about a gun?” you had asked him. 

“Might not always be able to get your hands on a gun,” he’d replied as he sharpened an edge of the small, thumb sized rock in his hand. “Or bullets. It doesn’t hurt to have alternatives in the event that you can’t get your hands on either of those things, kiddo.” Despite being in your mid twenties at the time, he’d still always call you kiddo. “Always have a backup weapon, alright?”

He’d been wise to give you that advice.

You did have a firearm, a colt pistol that you hardly have ammunition for. There were ten rounds left in the clip and with no luck in finding any more in the last couple of months, you’d decided to preserve them, saving what little bullets you had left for a real emergency. You kept the gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans at all times, along with the sharp switchblade that you used to gut and skin game. As far as weapons go, you sure as hell could’ve been a lot worse off. But if you happened to stumble upon more ammunition for your gun, you certainly wouldn’t complain about it. 

Slinging your bow and the quiver of arrows over your shoulder, you grab the dark gray foraging bag that you used to collect and carry your kills in and leave the cabin, feeling somewhat confident enough to leave the remainder of your belongings behind instead of hauling them all along with you like you had the morning before. It wasn’t that you feared someone would come along and steal them. There wasn’t really anything for anyone to steal, anyway. Rather, you’d gotten so damn used to the instability and the constant moving around—you never stayed in one place for too long and were always prepared to run. But today, you decide to leave your things in the cabin, feeling certain that you would return in just a couple of hours. 

You step out onto the creaking, three step porch that’s so old it buckles slightly under your weight and a gentle breeze nips at your cheeks and nose. It’s the middle of autumn in Wyoming and the air outside is fresh, cool and crisp. Winter was looming right around the corner like a dark shadow, and although you’d somehow managed to make it through the previous year’s brutal snow season, that didn’t do much to stop you from being nervous about the one that was to come. If all went according to your plan, you’d be holing yourself up in that shoddy little cabin until the worst of winter was over and then you would move along.

To where?

You didn’t have the slightest fucking clue. 

You make a short trek about two miles south, going in the opposite direction of the lake and finding yourself closer to the thick forest trees that surrounded the base of the mountain range out in the distance instead. There’s a dried, grassy clearing just feet from the entrance of the forest—finding a single, decently sized boulder in the middle of the wide, open space, you decide that behind it is the perfect spot for you to set up and hope for the best. Carefully setting your things down on the ground, you pull out a pair of old, cracked binoculars from your bag. You lean your body over the smooth, round top of the rock and lift them up to your face, peeking through the lenses. You hope to spot something right away because it sure would be fucking nice to eat something sooner rather than later. Otherwise you might just start gnawing at your own arm. 

Diligently, you scan your surroundings for any and all signs of wildlife. 

That’s when you see it, standing near the edge of the woods.

You gasp softly as your sights fall upon the deer. 

Pulling your face away from your binoculars, you blink furiously before taking another look just to be sure that your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you. It’s not a hallucination. It’s a white tailed deer, a female, and from the look of her, she has to be at least about a hundred pounds. At least.

You try to not get too far ahead of yourself, but it’s far too late. The thought of finding some herbs and making a hot, venison stew for supper makes your mouth water. The rest of the meat could be dried out and made into a batch of jerky that could feed you for months. Months.

Then, you suddenly remember you’ve never even attempted to bring down an animal of that size before and you’re slapped back into reality.

You think about your father, who would bring home a deer every weekend after going on his hunting trips with some of his old college buddies. “You want to aim for the heart or the lungs,” he’d say as you and your siblings would watch him dress the carcass, much to your mother’s chagrin. “Look between the shoulder blade and the last rib,” he would tell you and your brothers. You’d also had an older sister, but she had always been incredibly squeamish and had a soul that was much too sweet and caring for hunting. She would always want to bring home every animal your father shot and nurse it back to health. “Somewhere between those two lies everything you need to hit in order to do the job and do it well. And for the love of god, don’t you ever aim directly for the shoulder. Behind it, kiddos, always aim behind it. You got it?”

“Yes Papa,” you’d all chime out together.

Setting down the binoculars in your hands, you reach for your bow and pluck an arrow from your quiver before stepping out from behind the boulder. You’re careful to be as silent as possible as you take a few steps closer towards the unsuspecting grazing animal. You position yourself and stand perpendicular to the deer, placing your feet shoulder width apart—you’re a little farther from your target than you would have preferred, but you don’t want to risk going any closer and scaring her off, so it would have to do. Once you feel comfortable enough with your stance, you nock the arrow and set it on the string. You then hold the string and steady your grip on the bow, relaxing your shoulders before drawing it and pulling your arm back until you’ve reached your anchor point, which is always the corner of your mouth. 

Breathe, you remind yourself calmly as you aim at the delicate spot behind her shoulder blade. Nice and slow. Breathe.

Just as you’re about to release the arrow and take your shot, the deer whips her head back towards the trees and her ears prick forward—a split second later, she darts off, zooming across the field in the opposite direction of where you’d been standing. 

Your mouth falls open in disbelief. 

“Are you fucking shitting me?” you mutter under your breath.

Frustrated, you lower your weapon and just as you start to contemplate whether or not it’s even worth it to try and hunt her down on foot, you suddenly hear something—it isn’t until the noise draws closer to where you’re standing that you realize it’s the sound of a galloping horse.

Perplexed, you squint over in the direction of where you think it’s coming from, right near the edge of the trees. Then, just a moment later, a brown stallion emerges from the woods with a dark haired man riding in his saddle. He holds a rifle in one hand and clutches the reins tightly in the other. 

Gasping, you whirl around on the heel of your boot and immediately make a beeline back to the boulder. You swing around the rock and crouch down, ducking out of his sight. You couldn’t be too sure if he’d seen you or not, but it doesn’t matter—a wave of sheer panic washes over you and you can physically feel your own body preparing itself to go into fight or flight mode. Despite having your gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans, you still haven’t reached for it and continue to clutch your bow and arrow in your hands instead. 

Swallowing dryly, you turn and carefully lift yourself up just enough so that you can glimpse over the top of the boulder. That’s when you see a second man emerge from the woods. This one is blond and he is on foot instead of a horse. He’s also armed, carrying a shotgun. 

“You’re mine you fucking son of a bitch!” he shouts. He lifts his weapon, aims, and then squeezes the trigger, shooting the horse in the side and bringing him down instantly. His rider goes flying off and he hits the ground several feet away from the dead animal, landing so painfully hard that even from a distance you’d manage to hear the loud, cracking sound his body had made upon impact.

You momentarily freeze. 

Your heart anxiously jumps up into your throat as you watch the shooter begin to approach him. The attacker moves slowly and with no haste seeing as his helpless victim is lying there motionless on the ground with his eyes closed and no idea that he’s about to die. The blond man comes to a halt just a few feet away from him, grinning as he lifts his shotgun once again and points the barrel of it at the other man’s head. His index finger hovers over the trigger. 

Before your mind and body can even make the connection, you rise to your feet and aim your bow, swiftly sending an arrow straight through the blond man’s neck. He crumples, falling to the ground writhing and squirming as he bleeds out in less than sixty seconds.

You wait it out for another minute, refusing to move another muscle until his body finally goes limp and you are certain he’s dead. Taking a look around, you make sure the coast is clear and grab your belongings, slinging them over your shoulder before you make your way over to the scene. Unsure of whether or not there could be others heading in this direction, your plan was to pick off their guns and any other useful supplies before making a run for it back to the cabin. You crouch down beside the man you’d shot and killed, carefully pulling your arrow out of his neck. It makes a loud, horrid squelching sound as you remove it and blood from his jugular splatters your blue jeans. You then pick up his shotgun and check the chamber for ammunition. 

Just like the pistol tucked away in your waistband, there’s hardly any rounds left, making it all but useless. Rolling your eyes, you carelessly drop the gun on top of his chest and move on in search of the rifle. You spot it right beside the dark haired man.

Apprehensive, you cautiously make your way over towards him. With how still he had been lying, you could have sworn he was gone—perhaps the fall off of his horse alone had killed him. But just to be sure, you decide to give his side a harsh nudge with the toe of your boot. 

He groans and his head rolls to the side.

He’s still alive.

You effortlessly string the bloodied arrow in your hand and aim it right at his chest.

Move again and you’re dead, motherfucker.

“Ellie,” the man mumbles, his eyes still closed.

Ellie?

You slowly lower your bow.

Without realizing it, a little bit of your guard lowers along with it. 

Carefully, you sink down onto one knee next to the man and get a better look at him. He’s much older than yourself, somewhere in his fifties if you had to guess. He has harsh forehead lines, deep creases in between his eyebrows, a patchy beard that is speckled with many, many grays, and wild waves of thick hair that look soft to the touch. Though some of his features are a little worse for wear due to his age, he’s still quite a handsome man from what you can see. He also appears to be in decent shape, clean and well fed, and you detect the light scent of laundry soap on his clothes. Surely, he had to have been part of some kind of group, and judging by the leather trimmed saddle on his horse, this group was one that was very well off in this post outbreak world. 

You hesitate, but then lift a slightly trembling hand and take the side of his face, cupping it in your palm as you turn his head towards you. 

There’s blood on his right temple and your fingers reach up to touch what you had assumed was the source of the bleeding—but then you realize it was a scar, maybe an inch or two in length at most and completely healed. Your fingers trail up even further and venture into his hair which, as it turned out, is in fact just as soft as one would imagine. You find a small gash on his scalp and your fingers become coated in the man’s blood.

Must’ve hit himself on a rock or something.

Your hand leaves his hair and you place it on his broad chest as you begin checking him over for any other potential injuries or wounds. Slipping your opposite hand inside of his brown jacket, you lift the hem of the dark green thermal henley he’s wearing and you discover the scar on his temple isn’t the only one he possesses—he has several more, way too many for you to count on one hand alone. You’re so preoccupied with inspecting the remainder of his abdomen that you don’t even notice the way one of his hands is slowly reaching for yours, the hand that’s still resting on his chest, right over his heartbeat.

Semiconscious, the man takes your hand in his so damn gently that it startles you and takes you by surprise, but it doesn’t frighten you. Weakly, he laces his fingers together with your own and he speaks again, uttering softly, “Babygirl.”

Puzzled, your eyebrows knit together.

It almost sounds like he’s pleading.

For what—for who? For Ellie?

Is she the babygirl he’s referring to?

Your other hand moves up to his shoulder and you give it a violent shake. 

Hey, you’ve got to get up now.

“H—” You try to speak the words, but can’t. They’re formed in your mind and it feels like they are right there on the very tip of your tongue, but when you open your mouth, they refuse to come out. You frown.

It’s happened before. 

In the spring, you’d stumbled across a small group of people while out hunting in Idaho—it was the first time you had seen other human beings since leaving California in the fall. There had been both men and women and they even had children with them, but that did nothing to stop you from panicking when they’d approached you. One of the women cornered you, trying to tell you that they were traveling across the country to the east coast. “It’s okay,” she’d tried to tell you, holding up her hands. “We’re not bad people, I promise. We’re just trying to get to the quarantine zone in Boston. I think you should come with us, honey.”

You’d been so terrified that when you’d tried to tell her that you didn’t want to join them, you couldn’t push the words out. It felt like your voice had gotten stuck in the back of your throat. That’s how afraid you’d been.

Technically, you can speak.

You’d talk to yourself often when you were feeling lonely. You would read the books you carried in your pack out loud. Hell, you even liked to sing.

But whenever you became stressed, anxious, or scared, it would happen. You’d lose your ability to speak and to communicate—not that you had anyone to communicate with except for yourself, but that’s besides the point. No matter how hard you tried to force your vocal cords, all you could get out were quiet, strangled noises. It was as if your own fears chased your voice away and during periods when you were under extreme distress, it would take several days for you to find it again. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that, whenever you used your voice back in California, it only led to the harshest of punishments. 

A gunshot sounds off in the distance, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You shake the man again, harder this time.

Come on, get up! They could be coming this way!

It’s useless. He’s losing complete consciousness. 

You hear another gunshot and this one sounds like it’s coming from the base of the mountain range on the other side of the trees, not all too far from where you are. For all you know, it could very well be members of his own group who are firing those weapons out there. But whether it was his group or the other man’s group, it doesn’t really fucking matter. You don’t want to run into either one of them, regardless of who were the good guys and who were the bad guys. In your eyes, everyone’s a fucking bad guy. 

Yanking your hand out of his, you get to your feet and prepare to make a run for it. But just as you’re about to take off, the man mumbles one last time. It’s incoherent and barely audible, but you manage to catch that name again. Ellie. 

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.

For some reason you can’t quite explain, that sweet little name bounces around in the inside of your skull. 

You chew the inside of your cheek anxiously. 

If it’s his group out there, they’ll save him.

If it’s the other man’s group, they’ll kill him.

Normally, you’d have no problem with the idea of leaving another person to die.

After everything that happened in California, you had lost your sense of humanity. Your ability to empathize and actually give a shit about other people had been long gone—or so you’d thought. But you had just saved this man’s life and now you find yourself unwilling to run the risk of leaving him for dead. And you don’t have the slightest fucking clue as to why. He’s a stranger. He shouldn’t matter to you. 

You exhale a heavy sigh of defeat.

Okay, how the fuck do I do this?

Without much time left to waste, you gather up your belongings over your shoulder and pick up his rifle, slinging the brown leather strap across your chest so the gun rests comfortably against your backside. You walk around him, lean over, and hook your arms securely underneath his. Using every ounce of physical strength you have inside of you, you start dragging him back to the cabin as fast as you possibly can.

The pretty melody fills his ears as he comes to.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high

there’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby…”

Joel Miller isn’t all too sure if heaven is a real place that actually exists, but the very minute he hears the feminine voice singing, he can’t help but think he’s died and that’s exactly where he’s gone—because only an angel could possibly have a voice like that. So rich, so smooth, and oh so sickeningly sweet.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue...”

The ballad being sung is all too familiar to him.

The Wizard of Oz had been Sarah’s favorite movie back when she had been a little girl, when she was seven years old and she still believed in princesses and fairy tales and faraway lands with yellow brick roads. Even when she grew older, his daughter continued to hold a soft spot for the film and Joel would watch it with her every Thanksgiving at his parents’ house right after their dinner—it would air on cable and Sarah would beg him to let her have her slice of pecan pie while sitting cross legged on the floor in front of his old man’s television set.

“So long as you don’t make a mess on Nana and PopPop’s carpet,” he’d warn her. “Deal?”

Sarah would beam at him and nod eagerly. “Deal!”

He’d grab his own slice of pie, park it right on the couch behind her, and together they would get lost in the whimsical world of Oz, although admittedly he’d usually fall deep into his food coma long before Dorothy had the chance to make it back home to Kansas.  

“Where troubles melt like lemon drops

away above the chimney tops 

that’s where you’ll find me...”

The words fade and the rest of the song is now being hummed.

Goddamn, he thinks.Even the humming is too fucking beautiful.

Joel feels a cold, damp cloth dabbing at his sore right temple.

Come to think of it, everything is fucking sore. 

Once, when Joel had been in his mid twenties, he had been doing some under the table roofing job with his younger brother, Tommy. It had been the hottest day of the summer in Texas, and the two of them thought having a couple cold beers with their lunch to cool off would be a good idea. The pair of them went back to work and started fucking around, goofing off like the drunk idiots they were. While horsing around, Joel accidentally stumbled right over the edge of the roof and he had fallen about fifteen feet to the ground, landing on his back on Mrs. Adler’s lawn. Luckily, he’d been okay after the fall and hadn’t sustained any serious injuries or broken any bones, but he had spent the following three to four weeks feeling like he’d been hit by a fucking Greyhound.

That’s how he felt now.

Like he’d been hit by a fucking bus. Twice. There isn’t a single part of him that isn’t pulsating with pain—his back, his shoulders, and his head. Oh god, his head feels the worst. It’s fucking killing him. 

Joel’s eyelids twitch and he cracks them open ever so slightly, just enough that he can see the silhouette of another person hovering over him. He feels a hand at the crown of his head as the other continues to dab at his temple with the cool cloth. It feels incredible against his warm skin and even sort of soothes the pain.

He lets out a small groan and the humming ceases.

Finally, he manages to force his eyes open.

Joel hears a little gasp and the bed he’s lying on squeaks and shifts. He then hears a loud thumping sound as if something, or someone had fallen to the floor. 

Although he’s still disoriented and his entire body aches with even the slightest movement, Joel manages to push himself up into a sitting position. Blinking rapidly, his blurred vision steadies itself after a minute and he glances around. He’s in a small, single room wooden cabin that has seen better days in its lifetime. Looking down, he sees that he’s lying on a bare, worn out mattress with his own jacket draped over him like a blanket. He racks his mildly concussed brain, trying to recollect what had happened—it takes him a minute, but one by one, the memories start flooding back to him. Joel had been leading mid morning patrol with Tommy when they had been ambushed by a large group of hostile raiders. He remembers shouting at his brother, telling him that he’d try and lead some of them off, away from the direction of their community. He’d succeeded and managed to pick off a few of the bastards that had been tailing him with his rifle, all except for one. The very last thing that he remembered was the sound of a gunshot behind him before his horse went down and he’d been thrown off and knocked out.

Everything after that was nothing but a blur.

Joel takes another look around the cabin and that’s when he sees you.

You’re on the floor, backed up against the wall near the foot of the mattress. Your eyes are wide and round, like a deer caught in the headlights. Your chest heaves, rising and falling rapidly—you remind him of a helpless, frightened animal that had been cornered by a vicious predator. You clutch the handle of a switchblade up against your chest with the blade pointing downwards, holding it so tightly in your hand that Joel can see the skin stretching tightly over your knuckles. 

“Who the hell are you?” He grimaces slightly, his own voice causing his head to throb. 

You don’t reply.

Joel moves onto his next question. “Where am I?”

Again, no response.

He tries again. “Are you alone?”

Silence. 

Joel takes a better look at you.

You’re young. You couldn’t have been older than your late twenties, perhaps even your early thirties although that might have been a bit of a stretch. You had that look about you, one that had become all but too familiar to him in the last two decades—the exhausted appearance of someone trying to survive in the post outbreak world. Your face is tired and worn, but somehow still soft and youthful at the same time. You might have looked a little rough around the edges, but you’re still the prettiest goddamn thing he’s seen in a long, long time. 

Joel speaks again. “Who are you? Where the hell are we?” When he’s met with complete silence for the fourth time, he raises an eyebrow, feeling annoyed. “You gonna fuckin’ say somethin’ or what?”

You can only stare at him, your fingers wrapped around the handle of your knife in a vice-like grip.

Joel frowns.

Are you really that fucking terrified of him?

Or perhaps you can’t hear?

Only one way to find out, he thinks to himself.

He raises his voice, asking once again, “Who are you? Where are we?”

You wince, your features twisting in discomfort.

Oh, you could fucking hear him, alright. 

Joel swings his legs over the side of the mattress, his movement causing you to shrink back further against the wall, almost as if you were trying to become a part of the old, rotted wood. He holds up his two hands, demonstrating that he has no plans to move another muscle towards you. “How long have I been out?”

He tries to show some patience and gives you a minute, gives you a chance to respond, but when you say nothing, he can’t help but sigh out in frustration. Just when he’s about to force himself to come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t be getting any kind of answers out of you, you lift your free hand and hold up three trembling fingers. 

His stomach sinks. “Three days? I’ve been out for three fuckin’ days?”

You give him a nod so tiny and so subtle that he would’ve missed it had he blinked.

“Fuck,” Joel curses, hanging his head. He begins to spiral.

What happened to Tommy? And the others? 

Did they make it out alive?

And then Ellie’s face flashes in his mind, causing the blood in his veins to run ice cold. 

What could she possibly be thinking right now after he’d been missing for three whole days? Who was taking care of her and looking after her while he wasn’t there?

He needed to get back to Jackson—he needed to get back to Ellie.

He wasn’t sure how he would be able to do that if you didn’t start talking soon and answering his goddamn questions.

Lifting his head, Joel looks over at you again. 

“You all by yourself?”

You hesitate, but then nod in reply. Yes.

Joel sighs, his tense shoulders relaxing. That’s a start. “Listen, I’m gonna need a little help here, alright? I don’t remember much ‘bout what happened. I’m part of a community. I was out on patrol with my group when we were attacked by raiders. There were too many of them and I tried to lead some of them away,” he explains. He might not have known what had happened after he’d been thrown off of his horse, but the fact that he’s in your cabin and he’s alive help him piece at least one part of the puzzle together. “Wait a minute. Did you—did you save me out there?”

Sucking in your bottom lip, you nod again.

Stunned, Joel’s eyebrows raise up towards his hairline. “You fuckin’ serious?” he can’t help but question in complete and utter disbelief. Skeptically, he presses, “But how? What happened out there? How did you get me here all by yourself?” His queries spill from his lips one after the other despite knowing most of them, if not all of them, would go unanswered.

You look overwhelmed by them—by him.

Figuring it’s best to take it one slow step at a time, Joel stands up and he cautiously walks over towards you. He holds out his hand. “S’alright,” he assures you in the most gentle voice he can muster. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

You refuse to loosen your grip on your knife, but you accept his hand and allow him to help you up to your feet. Given that you didn’t lodge the blade straight through his chest, Joel would say some progress had been made. 

He releases your hand and takes a step backwards to give you your space. He isn’t too sure if you can’t talk or simply don’t want to talk—still thinking you’d been the woman he’d heard singing when he had drifted back into consciousness, he guesses it’s probably the latter. 

Joel tries to think of questions he knows you’ll be able to answer without having to speak. 

“How long have you been by yourself?”

Shifting anxiously from one foot to the other, you hold up one finger. 

“Sorry darlin’ but that don’t really help me much,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Are we talkin’ one week? One month?”

You make a gesture with your hand. Keep going.

“One year?” He doesn’t bother hiding his blatant skepticism. “You’ve been completely alone for one whole year?”

You point at him. That’s right. 

Joel is beside himself. He’s almost in awe over the fact that you’ve survived on your own for so fucking long.

“You got any other weapons besides that knife?”

You nod over towards a bow and sheath of arrows next to your backpack.

“You’re kiddin’ me. That’s all you’ve got?”

You narrow your eyes at him.

Hey, it’s a good weapon and it saved your fucking life, thank you very much.

“Sorry. Just can’t imagine that thing would do much against a clicker. ‘Specially if your aim is shit,” Joel muses. He notices the offended expression on your face and quickly moves on. “You don’t have a gun at all?”

You reach behind yourself and pull out a colt pistol from the waistband of your jeans. You finally set down your knife and then show him that you’re low on ammunition and don’t have any more. Tucking the gun back into your jeans, you step around him and walk over to a corner where his rifle is propped up against the wall. You pick it up, make your way back over to him and hand it over. 

I believe this belongs to you.

“Thank you,” he utters quietly, taking it from you. “And I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the gun, either. I honestly don’t think I’d be standin’ here alive if you hadn’t done whatever it was you did out there.” His eyes try meeting yours. “I’m serious, darlin’. I owe you one. I really fuckin’ do.”

You shrug, too timid to meet his gaze.

“I’m Joel,” he says after a minute, setting his rifle down. “What’s your name?”

You simply stare at him.

“Oh that’s right,” Joel mumbles sheepishly. “You can’t—” He stops himself, but he’s sure you know what he’d meant to say.

You can’t talk.

“You got a pencil or somethin’ to write with?”

You snort and roll your eyes at him. No, sorry. Silly me totally forgot to pick up a pack of pencils while I was out scavenging for supplies the other day.

Joel chuckles and holds up his hands in defense. “Figured it was at least worth askin’,” he says. “It’d be kinda nice to know the name of the person who saved my fuckin’ ass, you know.” He clocks the way the corners of your mouth threaten to turn upwards into a tiny smile at his remark. “How ‘bout a map? You got one of those so you can show me where we are?”

You hold up a finger, as if telling him to give you a minute. Digging into one of the front pockets of your pack, you pull out a large map of the state of Wyoming. It’s severely creased, as if you’ve folded and unfolded it hundreds of times. You hand it over to him and as he holds it out for you, you point to your current location. 

“Jackson’s ‘bout fifteen miles south from here,” Joel murmurs as he scans the map. Suddenly, his dark brown eyes flicker over your wrist—the long sleeve of your thin gray shirt had hiked up, exposing severe discoloration and scarring that went all the way around, marking your skin. 

Noticing where his gaze had wandered off to, you quickly retract your hand away from the map and tug your sleeve down back into place. But it’d been much too late. He had seen the mark, clear as fucking day. 

Joel awkwardly clears his throat and for the sake of not causing you any discomfort, he pretends he hadn’t seen a goddamn thing. He turns his attention back to the map. “Remember how I told you I’m a part of a community? It’s in Jackson and it ain’t all too far from here,” he states, peering up at you from over the top of the map. “The town’s gated and it’s secure. You’ll be safe there. If we head out right now, we can make it there by nightfall—”

You back away from him, shaking your head.

I’m not going with you.

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Look darlin’, I don’t mean to offend, but you ain’t gonna last a whole lot longer out here on your own, especially not in a place like this with winter right around the corner. If you don’t starve to death, then you’ll fuckin’ freeze to death.”

You glare at him and lift your chin.

I’ve been doing just fine on my own, thanks. 

Having read your mind, Joel sighs. “Alright, fair enough. You’ve gotten this far by yourself, but that don’t mean you gotta turn down an offer for some help. Just come with me to Jackson—”

You shake your head even harder.

The last time that you had agreed to go back with a stranger to their camp, you’d been imprisoned. Tortured. 

Joel observes you, and it doesn’t take him very long to connect the dots between the scars around your wrists and your refusal to leave with him. His hard, stony face softens. “Listen sweetheart, I ain’t all too sure ‘bout what’s happened to you,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “But I can assure you that you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout a thing this time around. Just come with me and I’ll prove it to you.”

You toss him a skeptical look.

“Jackson is a safe place,” he swears. “My brother runs it along with his wife and a small council. There’s families, lots of children—hell I’ve got a kid myself. Teenager. Her name is Ellie and she’s fifteen years old.”

Your lips part slightly and your eyes glimmer with something that looks a lot like recognition, though Joel can’t be too sure what had prompted it. Perhaps you’d known someone with that name once in your life. 

“There’s plenty of food, running water, electricity,” he lists off in an attempt to sway you. “It’d be a shot at a normal life. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Crossing your arms, you lift your chin again.

You’d heard that before.

Why the hell should I even trust you? Why should I trust this place is what you say it is?

Joel bites back another frustrated sigh. 

Normally, he wouldn’t bother to put up with such stubbornness. He wasn’t one to plead or beg and part of him almost wanted to give up so he could be on his way, but you had saved him from being killed. He owed you his fucking life. He had to get you to go with him. He wouldn’t give up until you agreed to go to Jackson with him. 

“I’ll let you carry your weapons,” he offers as a compromise. “Hell, you can even walk behind me with your gun pointed at the back of my fuckin’ head if that’s gonna make you feel safest.”

You squint at him. Really?

“Or that bow of yours,” he adds, chuckling softly. “It’s your pick, darlin’. Whatever’s gonna make you feel comfortable. I’ll trust you not to shoot an arrow through the back of my skull—all I ask in return is that you at least make an attempt to trust me too. I think that’s a fair enough deal. Don’t you?”

You bite your bottom lip. 

I don’t know about this.

“I really don’t wanna leave you out here all alone,” Joel says, taking a step closer towards you. He finds himself feeling surprised that it hadn’t startled you and he only hopes that means that, to some degree, you trust him already. “Please. You saved my life—and I know you probably don’t need me savin’ yours, but at least let me take you to Jackson so you can see for yourself what we’ve got goin’ on there. If you don’t like it and you don’t wanna stay, then we’ll load up your pack with food and supplies. We’ll put you on a horse and you can be on your way. You can choose to leave and no one will lift a finger to stop you, I’ll make sure of it. How does that sound?”

He waits, giving you a chance to think it over.

Finally, after a minute, you sigh and reluctantly nodd your head. 

Okay. I’m gonna try and trust you.

“Good,” Joel says, softly. “Now get your stuff and let’s head out before we start losin’ daylight.” 

[winchester-24]

Imagine accidentally waking Dean up while baking a pie for his birthday

It was 3:46 in the morning, and you were exhausted. You have been decorating the bunker all night, wrapping gifts, and baking a homemade apple pie for Dean’s birthday. Dean never wanted to celebrate his birthday. He always downplayed it and made a joke that it was just one more year closer to death. Not this year though. Your boyfriend was going to get the celebration he deserves whether he likes it or not.

You knew a little about baking, but you were not an expert. You didn’t know the first thing about making homemade dough or pie filling, and at 2 o’clock in the afternoon, it seemed like a great idea. Now, over 13 hours later, you realize you hate yourself.

Dishes were everywhere in the kitchen; ingredients spread about, and flour covered you as you accidentally spilled some, okay a lot, on you at your first attempt to make the dough. You will never underestimate the bakers that make these for a living ever again. You were kneading the dough when it started to smell like something was burning; you looked behind you at the stove and realized your filling was boiling over.

“Shit, shit, shit,” You cuss quietly as you rush over to take the pot off the stove. The flour and egg mixture on your hands did not help you hold the handle when it slipped from your grip and fell to the floor. The pot makes a loud noise as it hits the floor, and your filling goes everywhere. You were ready to cry and scream right then.

You walked away and took a deep breath, trying to regulate your emotions. You were just tired, and you were doing this for one of the most important men in your life. It was a good thing you bought extra of everything. When you heard him, you went to grab something to clean up the filling with.

“Uh, sweetheart? What’s going on?” You whipped around to see your half-awake boyfriend standing in the doorway. His shirt was gone, and his sweats hung dangerously low. You took in the most beautiful sight before you. You stared at him, completely forgetting he had asked you a question.

“Oh, um, I am baking?” You said it more like a question than a statement. Dean looked around and let out a little laugh.

“I didn’t know baking involved food being on the floor- wait, is that pie filling? Are you baking a pie?” You sighed.

“Yes, I am making a pie, and it's not that you need to be concerned about it. Go back to bed.” You try to usher him out so you can continue without giving too much away, but Dean Winchester was an intelligent man and quickly put it together.

“Baby are you making a pie for my birthday?” he said, walking over to you. He was going to put his hands on your waist, but then he saw the flour all over you and decided against it.

“Ugh, yes, but you weren’t supposed to see it until tomorrow. Surprise!” You pout. Dean looks at you and thinks you are the most adorable person in the world, staying up late to do something nice for him. You looked cute and covered in flour, trying to do something you never did for him. It made him feel loved and made him appreciate you even more.  Not caring about the flour any more, he grabs you by your waist and pulls you in for a kiss. Much to your displeasure, he ends the kiss too soon and looks at your darling face. He kisses the top of your forehead.

“Don’t stress over the pie too much, sweetheart. Come to bed soon; you need rest.” You nod your head, and he starts to leave the kitchen. You turn around to resume getting something to clean up the pie filling when he speaks again.

“Hey, baby?” You turn around and see him already with a cheeky smile.

“That’s not the only filling you can clean up.” You gasp and turn red in the face.

“Dean!” His laugh carries down the hall as he goes back to bed. Your mind is on things other than the pie the rest of your baking time.

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape - Wedding Pt. 2 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Language, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Anxiety

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: The second part of our wedding... I was reading my doc and figured this part was solid enough to be put into the universe lol. More to come but, once again, I do not know the timeline. I hope this holds you guys enjoy and this holds you over in the meantime! *insert Lil Wayne - Sorry 4 The Wait - here*. I've said it a million times and I will say it a million more, I cannot get my brain to stay in one tense while writing so ignore it the best you can lol. I LOVE YOU GUYS!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Epilogue - The Wedding Pt.1

You’re not sure how long you’ve been staring at the dark ceiling when you hear your phone start to vibrate on the side table, causing you to groan. Just because your nerves are keeping you awake doesn’t mean you want to talk to anyone. When you see his name flash across your screen your first reaction is to laugh at his insistence but quickly anxiety washes over you. Every possible thing that could be wrong flashing through your mind as you answer his call.

“Lew?” You croak out, your voice dry in your throat.

“Hey. Shit, I didn’t wake you did I? Just needed to hear your voice and this can’t possibly count as me seeing you before the wedding.” He’s quiet on the other end, probably trying not to wake Miles in the other room.

“No, can’t sleep.” You admit. You’ve thought a few times throughout the night that you should have given in and let him hold you tonight, knowing you more than likely already would have fallen asleep.

“Neither can I, my nerves are going crazy.” He sounds vulnerable and you can’t help but worry.

“Not backing out on me, are you?” You attempt to joke, even though the anxiety is real.

“What? No, baby, never.” He laughs at the absurdity of your question, making you feel that much better, “No, I’m just stressing over the whole thing. Thinking maybe we should have just run away and eloped.”

“We still can.” You giggle, knowing he’s joking but understanding the feeling.

He joins you in your laughter before falling silent. You know he’s too deep in his own thoughts so you let him settle on what he wants to say.

“I’m just worried something will go wrong like the catering will be shit or the decorations won’t be right. I don’t know, I just need it to be perfect for you. Perfect for us.” He finally shares, his voice is tired.

“Lew, the only thing that could possibly ruin tomorrow is if for some reason we legally can’t get married. Even if we end up in a courthouse, I’m ending the day as your wife. Everything else is just an excuse for us to throw a kick ass party.” You try your best to assure him.

His laugh comes through the phone before he lets out a sigh, “You’re right, nothing else matters. This is why I’m marrying you ya’ know.”

“Why? Because I would have said yes even if you proposed with a ring pop?” You tease him, your smile spreading across your face.

“Well that,” He laughs, “but also because with two sentences from you, I’ve felt calmer than I’ve felt since the second I got here to the hotel. You always manage to make everything seem okay and truth be told as long as I have you, it is.”

His words hit you deep, knowing how much he means them.

“You know you’re supposed to save the vows for later, right?” You joke, trying not to choke up, knowing if you’re too sincere with him right now you will end up in tears.

“I love you Y/N.” He says simply, aware you're trying not to get too emotional.

“I love you Lewis. You wanna stay on the phone?” It’s something you’ve done many times while he’s been away and the distance has gotten to be too much. You barely talk, just content in the sound of each other's breathing and the rustle of the others sheets.

“If you don’t mind?” He sounds nervous again, like he feels like he’s asking too much of you.

“Always. Good night Lew, I love you.” You say quietly, settling back into your bed.

“I love you baby.”

You don’t say another word, both falling asleep quickly after your chat. The comfort of each other being all you needed to truly relax.

* * *

Charlotte's soft voice ringing through the room is the first thing you hear as you try to adjust to being awake. The second you start to come into yourself, the nerves come flooding in.

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” Charlotte is laughing as you sit up in bed. Your phone is still sitting on top of the comforter next to you, the call now having ended. You can only assume Lewis is already awake and getting ready or his phone died. You can’t help but smile at the memory of your conversation last night, both of you needing a moment of solace within the other.

“What?” You ask groggily, attempting to wipe the sleep from your eyes.

“Well, to start I said Good Morning Ms. Soon to be Hamilton,” She started, her voice much too loud before realizing and quieting right down, “then I told you that hair and makeup are on their way to the venue and the car will be here in about an hour.”

You raised your eyebrows at her as she sat down on the bed.

“I know, I should have woken you up earlier but I heard you talking in here at almost three in the morning, I assume with Lewis, and I wanted you to get some sleep,” She explains softly, putting her hand up to stop you as you go to respond, “there’s a light breakfast here if you want some, but you have plenty of time to shower and grab some food. If you don’t eat now, I’ve already scheduled some food for you at the venue that you can eat while they're doing your hair before you get your makeup done.”

You let out a sigh, thankful that she has thought ahead, you go to thank her but she starts again.

“I’ve already confirmed with four different people at the venue that your dress is there, hair and makeup has a place to set up, your room is on the other side of the building from Lewis so you won’t run into him, and all of the decorations have arrived and are being set up. The only thing you have to do today is let us take care of you, know that Miles and I have everything under control, and get married!” She finishes her spiel with a smirk, knowing that everything she just covered were concerns running through your mind, always proving even further why she was your Maid of Honor.

“Thank you, you are an absolute angel.” You say as you grab her hand.

“I do have to ask, just being nosy,” She starts, laughing gently, “was it Lewis on the phone last night?”

You feel yourself blushing unnecessarily, there being no reason to be embarrassed for talking to the man you are about to marry.

“Yeah, neither of us could sleep, just needed to talk to each other for a second.” You say sheepishly.

“And that right there is why you two are getting married today baby!” She says enthusiastically, once again much louder than you would prefer for the time of day.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” You tell her as you push yourself out of bed, feeling your stomach growl, “food will be there for me?”

She laughs at your need to double check before nodding, “Yes there will, I heard that, you need some food.”

“Leave me alone.” You grumble, laughing softly to yourself too as you stumble to the bathroom.

“You’ve got an hour, let me know if you need anything.” You hear her yell as she makes her way out of your bedroom to let you shower in peace.

It feels like you’ve entered an alternate universe once you are out of the shower. You ended up taking longer than anticipated and were being rushed to get dressed before ushered downstairs and into the back of another town car. Charlotte had a small bag packed for you and said she would take care of your luggage that was still in the room after the wedding, keeping the suite for the bridal party to stay in after the event. 

Your jaw almost dropped when the car finally pulled into the venue. You had been there before, a few times actually, over the last two summer breaks with Lewis, trying to finally decide. But now… now it was snowing, a winter wonderland surrounding the manor that had been deemed a castle by almost everyone around you and you couldn’t help but agree. A castle had been a dream of yours as a kid but never something you found realistic as an adult, safe to say realistic wasn’t in Lewis’ vocabulary when it came to your wedding. You had been watching Downton Abbey for the third time one night and made an offhand joke to Lewis about how you should get married at Highclere Castle, from then on he had made it his mission to find something that fit the bill. His first thought had been the castle itself but it hadn’t been an option, instead he found a place just outside of London that you had never heard of, something your wedding planner had never even seen, it was perfect. It was large and regal but still fit with both of your styles, allowing it to be decorated with a fine line of modernity and tradition. 

When you pulled up to the front door it looked as though you had stepped into a movie, the snow painting the perfect backdrop despite your hesitance. You hadn’t been sure about a winter wedding but Lewis was impatient and winter was his favorite season. He had done so much of what you had dreamed of that you couldn’t help but agree, knowing it didn’t matter when or where you got married, as long as it ended with him.

Charlotte was quickly ushering you and your mother inside and out of the cold. The entrance was bustling with people moving flower arrangements, chairs, tables, everything you had asked for being set up right in front of your eyes. Charlotte was pulling you down the hallway to your left before you had a chance to even take it all in.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m rushing around but you can relax the second we get you into the bridal suite. I promise.” She was apologizing from in front of you while you tried to keep up with her brisk pace, your mom close behind you.

“Are we late?” You couldn’t help but ask, feeling nervous all over again.

“No , we’re perfectly on time, but the damn men are early and I will be damned if Lewis wins and sees you before you’re at the altar.” Her voice is serious and you can’t help but laugh out loud. It truly isn’t that big of a deal to you but the moment you mentioned it being part of the plan Charlotte and Miles made it their top priority for the day of the wedding.

“It’s really not that big of a deal.” You continue to laugh at Charlotte as she slows down once you’ve reached the doors of the suite. Secretly you wouldn’t mind a quick hello, or even just a glimpse at his beautiful face, but she was determined.

“It’s part of the plan therefore we will be sticking to it, everything will be exactly how you want it today.” Her voice is stern before she opens the door to the suite and welcomes you in.

You’re immediately welcomed by the crew you had hired to take care of everyones hair and makeup. You had spent a while choosing the perfect team and had been in touch with them frequently over the last few months and the familiar faces made you excited. Charlotte tells you to take a seat on the plush couch off to the side and makes her way over to talk with the crew, making sure everything is taken care of for you. Your mom comes to join you on the couch, mimosas in hand with a shocked look on her face, acting as if she doesn’t know where they came from. You giggle as you happily take one from her hand while someone sets food on the small table in front of you, immediately reminding you of how hungry you were back at the hotel.

“You should have something to eat, even if it’s just a nibble. You have some time before you need to start getting ready.” Your mom tells you softly, gesturing towards the spread sitting in front of you.

You nod, leaning forward to grab a pastry as you watch Charlotte in amusement, animated as ever while she gets everyone and everything organized. You take a moment to sit in silence, well as silent as it can be with people bustling about, letting yourself take it all in. You continue to eat as much as you feel you can keep down before someone is suggesting you get in your robe. When you come back from the changing room there are many more people in the room, everyone finally arrived and ready to get ready. You had decided to keep the wedding parties small on both sides. You had Charlotte as your maid of honor, your cousin who had become a sister to you over the years, and your childhood best friend. Miles was Lewis’ best man, Nicolas, and Daniel. Your mom was getting ready with you as well as Linda, Carmen and Lewis’ sisters.

As you sat in the chair watching your hair transform, joking and laughing with your stylist Javier, you took in the sight around you through the mirror. Both families and friends blending into one big happy group, laughing together and sharing mimosas. You were thrilled at the thought of everyone becoming one large family, beyond excited for the next chapter of your life.

“Ladies! I need to say something before everyone starts with their makeup,” Charlottes voice commanded the room getting everyone's attention, “thank you! Okay, I just need to start by saying Y/N, I love you so much and I am so beyond thrilled that you are marrying my second best friend,” she sends you a wink as you both laugh with Lewis not even in the room to defend his decade long friendship, “he is like a brother to me and you very quickly became my little sister. That being said, I want to stress to every one that today is supposed to be perfect and WE are going to make sure it is,” her words are firm as she gestures around the room to your bridesmaids, “these two mean the absolute world to me and after everything it took to get them to this point I will not settle for ‘okay’, we’re looking for perfection.”

“Char, it’s-” You try to stop her, feeling like she’s making far too big a deal out of your day.

“Nope, Y/N, let me say this, you deserve it.” She shushes you before continuing, “I want everyone to have an absolute blast but most importantly I NEED Y/N and Lewis to have the best day of their lives. Annoying guest? Figure it out. Issue with the rings? Find me or Miles. Trouble with your dress? Suck it up, today isn’t about us.” Her voice is that of a strict teacher as she lectures your family and friends and you can’t help but roll your eyes and laugh before the comment about the rings latches on to your brain, “Y/N, babe, I love you so much and I am so happy for you. You are marrying the best human I know, well second to you of course, and I cannot wait to see the life that you two create together, I know it will be magical. Cheers everybody!”

You barely even register the sweet words she directs at you as she finishes her speech, your body working on auto pilot to raise you mimosa for her toast. The moment she sees the look on your face she’s rushing over to you.

“Hon, what’s wrong? You look worried.”

“What’s wrong with the rings? They’re here, right? They look correct? Nothing’s broken? You said there’s a problem with the rings, what's the problem?” You rush out your new concerns, not taking a moment to think once she’s in front of you.

“What? No, no, everything’s fine. Why would there be a problem with the rings?” She asks you confused for a moment before the realization dawns on her face, “Oh sweetie that was just an example, everything is totally fine. It’s exactly like we talked about, I have your band and Miles has Lewis’, I even texted him when we got here to make sure he had it. Do you want to see yours? I have it in my bag, I can go grab it.” Her words of reassurance are rushed as she tries to calm the new anxiety fluttering through your mind.

“No, oh my god, sorry, I just…” You shake your head, wanting to laugh at yourself for becoming so panicked so quickly, “I think my brain just blacked out after I heard ‘issue with the rings’, I don’t know why I let that freak me out so much.”

“It’s okay, you have a lot going on and this is a big deal, don’t worry about it, it’s what I’m here for.” Charlotte calms you, rubbing your forearm as she squats in front of your chair.

“Alright beautiful bride! Ready to make that gorgeous face even better?” Javier’s voice comes excitedly from behind you, rubbing your shoulders as he tries to coax you to turn around so he can start on your makeup.

You take a deep breath, the reality of the day settling into the pit of your stomach, before turning around, ready to be transformed. You’ve had him do this look on you numerous times, wanting to make sure it was exactly what you wanted and you trust his skills, but still the underlying anxiety refuses to leave you. You had opted for a more natural look, similar to what you would do on the day to day but elevated, you wanted to look like yourself, like the you that Lewis fell in love with. As you sat in the chair being pampered, listening to people bustle around behind you, a billion new scary thoughts and anxieties swarmed through your head.

You know you’re making the right choice, there is no one in the universe better made for you than Lewis and no one who you could love or love you more than him. You know everything is taken care of and planned to your liking, but you didn’t place each flower or taste every dish prepared today. You know all of the most important people in your life RSVP’d yes, but you haven’t laid eyes on them today, you don’t know if they’ve arrived on time. Every single detail that has been a stress in the back of your mind for the last year has now become the only thing you can think about. You’re trying so hard to let them slip to the background, to stay in the moment, enjoy the laughter of your bridal party and the random chatter from Javier, but it doesn’t work.

Your mom is the first to notice, seeing you with a furrowed brow and your eyes shut tight as Javier steps away to grab something.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” She asks quietly, her hand resting on your shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.

The sound of her voice almost brings you to tears and you can’t quite explain why. You look at her through the mirror, noticing the deep concern on her face.

“Everyone wants it to be so perfect, what if it isn’t? I asked everyone to travel so far and what if it lets them down. The Hamilton wedding is supposed to be THE event, what if it’s not right or something goes wrong or it isn’t what people were expecting?” You ramble so quietly you’re worried she won’t be able to hear you.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” She says through a pout, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and meeting you cheek to cheek, “not an ounce of what you just said matters, I know you’re nervous but don’t stress yourself. Today is supposed to be one of the best days of your life, not because of how fancy it is or what caterer you hired, but because you are marrying a man that will love you, protect you, and take care of you for the rest of your life. I know that it feels like it’s all about the party and the flair, but today you are taking a step for you and Lewis and that is all that matters, you are building your life with an amazing man who would move mountains for you and that is all that matters. All you have to worry about is making it to the end of the aisle, saying I Do, and kissing your husband. We’re all just lucky that we get to witness it.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out with a dry laugh, “you’re right. It’s just so much.”

“Just keep reminding yourself that that beautiful man is going to be legally yours till death do you part.” She laughs before kissing your cheek, lightening your mood as you picture his perfect face. While her words do ease your nerves a new very important thought pops into your head, a new non-negotiable.

“Charlotte.” You call out urgently, aware of your time crunch.

“I’m here, what do you need?” She asks quickly, rushing to your side like a lady in wait.

“Lewis,” You start, watching as her eyebrows shoot up in a disapproving look, “no I know, I won’t look at him or let him look at me, I just need to squeeze his hand and hear his voice, I promise.”

She still doesn’t look quite convinced as you plead with her, “Y/N, no seeing Lewis was a very hard rule from day one of wedding planning. Are you sure?”

“Char, please, figure out a way so I don’t see him, we’ll stick to the rules but he’s been there to calm me down and make sure I’m okay for every major thing in my life for a more than half a decade and I don’t know about you but I’d say this is a pretty major thing! It won’t be any worse than me talking to him last night, I swear.” You plead with her, grabbing her hands, suddenly very set on needing to at least speak to Lewis before walking down the aisle.

“Okay, okay, yes, I will make it happen, but before you get into your dress, just in case, gimme a sec.” She agrees as her face softens, seeing your desperation, realizing that she too would need Lewis for a moment before something this big. He may be your lover, your fiance, the man you are about to spend the rest of your life with, but at the core he is your best friend, the man that has been there for you since you showed up at game night years ago, your other half.

Charlotte quickly leaves the room after squeezing your hand and telling Javier he can start working again. You assume she’s headed to find Miles, or she’s gone straight to Lewis. You start to get anxious yet again that you may be causing Lewis anxiety, you should have told her to tell him that you’re fine and just being selfish, remembering the moment of fear you had last night when he had called you.

You’re not sure how long it takes her but once your makeup is finished she has returned and is requesting for you to follow her. You feel silly walking out of the suite with pinned hair and your robe on but all you can think about is talking to Lewis, eager to hear his voice as if you’ve just started dating. Charlotte ushers you down a hallway to an empty room with a door on the other side. You’re far enough away from everyone that the noise has quieted and you can subsequently feel your brain calming down, realizing just how overstimulated you’ve been for the last few hours. Charlotte guides you to the far wall of the room, next to the door frame, turning you to back up against it before gently knocking on the door. It takes only a second for the door to open, Miles’ smiling face appearing next to you.

“Well hello beauty, you look fucking incredible.” He says before leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“It’s not fair that I don’t get to see her.” You hear your fiance whine from the other side of the wall, making you giggle and your cheeks warm.

“All in due time brother, you’re the lucky one though, you get to see her at the altar.” Miles says teasingly, leaning back through the door to look at Lewis before coming back to you, “So I have your fiance here as requested. Char and I will give you guys some privacy.”

“Thank you Miles, I’m sorry if this is a pain, I just needed a minute.” You tell him, reaching out to squeeze his arm.

Before he can respond, Miles is bursting out into a laugh, “Love, this was a help on my end, mans has been so annoyed that he hasn’t been allowed to see you all day, he hasn’t shut up about you once. Enjoy, you evidently both need it.” He says as his laughter begins to die down, sending a disapproving look into the room behind you where you assume Lewis is giving him the same back. “You guys have five minutes, and absolutely no peeking.”

“We won’t.” You and Lewis both promise in unison, making both of you giggle as Charlotte and Miles walk away to another room to give you your privacy.

“I mean it!” Miles turns around to yell, still walking backwards as he points his finger at you, “ I will know just by the look on bruvs face if he caught a glimpse of you, don’t you dare.”

“We’ll be good, I promise. Thank you guys!” You yell back at him as they disappear through a nearby door.

“Hey you.” You hear Lewis’ soft voice after a moment, your heart swelling just upon hearing the recognizable timbre.

“Hi.” You squeak, forgetting everything you had wanted to say when you asked Charlotte to make this happen.

“Are you okay?” He asks you, his voice filled with concern and care.

“Yes, oh my god yes,” You start, your anxiety of concerning him coming back tenfold, “I’m so sorry, I just, I don’t know, I was getting really anxious and then I realized that I haven’t had a big moment in life without you either being right there or calling me for like more than five years and then I got worried that I wouldn’t make it through something like this without talking to you first, which is silly because I know I’m literally preparing myself to marry you, like I’m going to see you at the altar in like an hour but I don’t know, my mom said all this stuff about how amazing you are trying to calm my nerves and then I realized I absolutely had to at least talk to you and I’m sorry if you were busy, I’m not trying to be needy, you just calm me and this day is so much and there's so much going on and it has to be perfect and-” Your words are rushed, not thinking them through as you ramble to him, not stopping to even take a breath.

“Y/N,” Lewis cuts you off, his voice firm but gentle, “it’s okay, please take a breath.”

You drop your head, almost embarrassed by how calm he sounds with the emotions swirling around in your head at the moment. You listen to his request and take a deep breath, trying to calm your breathing and your mind.

“Good, now another.” He instructs you calmly as you feel his hand sneak around the door frame and brush your hip.

The moment you see his skin you reach down and grasp his hand firmly, needing him to ground you as you take yet another deep breath.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper as you squeeze his hand, trying to breathe like he wants you to.

“Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for,” He starts softly, squeezing your hand just as firmly, “I know this whole thing is a lot and there’s so much going on, but none of that is important. I don’t give a fuck how anything goes as long as I get to end the night married to you, that’s all that matters today,” His voice is soft as he assures you, washing over you like a warm blanket before it turns cheeky as he adds, “well I also want to see you in that dress and obviously whatever you have underneath it.”

You want to laugh and cry at the same time, amused by how easily a stupid (yet serious) comment could lift your spirits, simply because it came from him. Amazed that the same sentiment that has been spoken to you by everyone around you with no avail, could take a burden off your chest simply because they came from his mouth.

“I love you so much Lew.” You reply, squeezing his hand so hard you’re worried you’ll hurt him, trying to fight back tears as you do.

“I love you so much my sweet girl and I will tell you just how much when you meet me at the altar. You’ve changed my life, you’ve made me a better man, a better human, you’ve made me happier than I knew was even possible and I want nothing more than to marry you today. I don’t care how that happens, if you want to run away right now and head to vegas we can, at the end of the day I just want you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and nothing matters besides us. This whole castle could burn down right now and as long as I still had you I truly would not care. I love you so much and today is going to be incredible no matter what happens, but I bet you nothing will go wrong because we planned it and we’re pretty amazing.” He sealed his words with a kiss to the back of your hand, chuckling as he finished. His lips on your skin gave you a whole new sense of confidence and ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach.

You wished so badly that you could see him, that you could properly kiss him, but you reminded yourself that you were close to the finish line, that he would be all yours soon.

“I love you too, so so much, thank you for this, I’m sorry if I interrupted, I just needed to hear your voice and be close to you.” You admit to him with a sigh as you lean back against the wall.

“You’re never an interruption, whenever you need me I’m here, always. Besides, Miles wasn’t lying, I’ve been going crazy since we left the rehearsal dinner wanting to see you, touch you, kiss you, talk to you, literally anything. I know we’ve gone weeks apart from each other but everything feels different right now.” He tells you, making you smile, that you're not completely alone in your desperation. You take a moment, leaning against the wall in silence as you hold his hand, letting your nerves wash away.

“Alright, love birds! Time to go get fancy and hit the altar!” Miles’ voice cuts through your moment as he hollers and claps, returning to the room.

You let out a sigh, wishing your moment with Lewis could continue but reluctantly begin to move away from the wall. Before you can get too far, he is gripping your hand and pulling you back to place a kiss on your hand before leaving a lingering kiss on your pulse point.

“I love you Y/N, just come meet me at the altar. Nothing else matters.” His words are muttered into the skin of your wrist before he finally lets you go and Charlotte is ushering you away back to your suite as Miles stands guard making sure Lewis doesn’t cheat and sneak a peek at you.

“Feeling better?” Char asks as you make your way down the hall.

“So much better, I feel perfect.” You say through a smile, meaning it wholeheartedly, “ I’M GETTING MARRIED!”

[writingquestionsanswered]

I'm tired of my ideas always being big. It's overwhelming. I like seeing others' WIPs and ideas because they're just so simple... Like, that comic about a mermaid living in the ocean in our modern time and dealing with plastic trash. So simple and my own brain is bursting with ideas. But my own WIPs... they just start huge. I'd like something smaller... but I don't know how.

Stories Always Get Too Big

Stories can get out of hand quickly when they sprout too many independent threads. There are three primary culprits that serve as sparks that create these threads:

1 - Setting 2 - Non-Protagonist Characters/Relationships 3 - Back Story

The thing to remember, though, is that no matter how interesting your setting is, no matter how compelling your other characters are, and how fascinating the back story is, those things are not your plot.

Plot is the sequence of events through which the protagonist (and potentially other main characters) attempt to resolve the story's conflict by overcoming obstacles and setbacks in pursuit of a goal.

In other words, focus on this:

the protagonist > their normal world > the event that introduces a problem they must resolve > the goal they formulate in order to resolve that problem > the events that occur as a result of their pursuit of this goal > their attempts to overcome obstacles and setbacks encountered along the way > their attempt to solve the problem once and for all > failure or success > life in a changed situation/world

Anything else doesn't need to be there unless it is critical in order for one of the above steps to make sense.

So, let's take your mermaid example... though I haven't read that comic so I'm winging it here:

the protagonist = mermaid normal world = doing mermaid stuff inciting incident = finding plastic trash in the water goal = clean up/find the culprit and teach them to do better events = cleaning up, learning about humans, tracking down culprit climax = mermaid appeals to humans to do better finale = mermaid is living in a cleaner ocean

Now, let's say your brain starts to go off on a tangent about a deep oceanic rift and an evil merman wizard who lives there... stop right there. It's a fun idea, but what does it have to do with this story? How does it relate to the trash, clean-up, finding the culprit, or appeal to humans to do better? It doesn't. Theoretically, you could make it make sense... like, maybe the merman wizard likes the trash and wants the ocean to be dirty and gross, so maybe he is opposing the mermaid's attempts to clean up and to appeal to the humans. Okay, that works, so you can keep it. But, let's say you also have this idea about these creatures that live around the hydrothermal vents, and the mermaid meets and falls in love with a scientist who's studying them. Okay, again, interesting idea, but this one is much harder to fit in with the rest of the story. Sure, you could say the scientist is studying marine pollution instead... that brings it back around to the main conflict, but still, what does this relationship add to the story? How does it help or harm the mermaid's mission? How does it help to explore the story's themes or help deliver the message? It doesn't really sound like it does, so this would be an example of a thread you can probably snip.

And the thing is, it would be okay to follow a thread like that while you're plotting or writing your first draft, just to see where it goes and see if you can make it work. Part of why we edit and revise is to snip out the threads and elements that aren't pulling their weight. But learning how to curb them as they occur to you will help save you work later on down the line. Try writing those ideas down in an ideas document, and maybe those can be worked into different stories, a sequel, or a companion story.

One final note: I am very much aware that there are some epic writers out there who let wild tangles of threads sprout as they write, and they follow them all without abandon, relevant or not. That's okay, too. These are writers for whom that works, who don't feel overwhelmed by all of those threads, who want to write something bigger and more unwieldy. Maybe in time as you get accustomed to writing smaller, tidier stories, you embrace the bigger stories your brain wants to tell. Or maybe you don't. Whatever works best for you is all that matters. :)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[sl8yter]

Get It Together - Mühl

Pt 1.

Nikas bestfriend Nahiem is “going through a hard time” and Nika is always there for him. Which causes a lack of presence for her gf.

TW - Angst, mentions of cheating, insecurity, nika being a meanie, and lots of audacity

Im in the mood for angst so sorry yall

Nika Muhl x fem reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Nika.”

….

“Baby hello?”

…

“Nika”

“Huh oh sorry bebo I was texting Nahiem” Nika replies to my endless please in an exasperated tone looking at me standing in the kitchen as I prepare our plates

Dont start and argument please Niks

“Didn’t you guys just hang out last week? You said this week it’d be about us.” I walk towards Nika setting her plate on the table in front of me

“Hes my best friend and hes going through a hard time right now. I cant just ignore him.” She says finally taking her eyes off her phone to look at me

“Yea I know and I understand that but sometimes it feels like you care about him more than you do me.”

“Well I didn’t mean to make you feel that way and im sorry you do”

I sit down frustrated at her statement slightly banging the plate against the table

“Jesus christ, please dont be like that tonight” Nika says playing with her food

“Youre right, Im sorry its just that I love you you know that I do and I wish to spend time with you but its hard to do that when your friend is dragging you off everywhere. It makes me feel ignored.”

Why am I apologizing shes the one with the attitude

“Well Im sorry you feel that way bebo im not trying to ignore you. I want to spend time with you too. But Nahiem needs me too. We’ve been friends forever you know that” Nika says staring at me with a look in her eyes. The same look she gives me whenever she just wants me to agree with her

“I need you too Nika its not fair youve guys have been hanging out too much. I mean imagine if I went to go hang out with one my guy friends every other day.”

“What the fuck are you trying to imply here” Nikas tone changes. Her syllables grow sharper and her accent comes out

Shes mad

She stares at me waiting for my reply as im silent for a moment

“Im not trying to imply anything. I just want you to understand how it looks from my perspective. Which now you clearly do. I dont think you would do that to me but I cant help but wonder sometimes. Youre always texting him and barely even texting me anymore.”

“Im not cheating on you if thats what youre trying to imply. I lost my appetite, im gonna head out.” She adds with quickness, standing up from her chair and grabbing her keys off the counter

“No you always do this. Whenever things dont go your way or I dont immediately agree with you you leave I want to talk more. I want you to understand me more.” I say chasing after her pulling her arm to make her look at me

“Well I try and you make it so difficult”

“You try? You’re kidding me. I barely see you anymore. I wake up and youre gone. I tell you I want to talk its always im busy or later im out with friends. Im trying it feels like im the only one trying anymore.”

“I try so hard you just dont see it.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it giving me a sorrowful face.

That isnt what she looks like when shes sad

“What dont I see Nika please explain to me” I ask knowing shes full of it. She just wants someone to come home to

…

Her silence makes me snap. I let go of her hand

“Im actually so tired of your bullshit. Im gonna be frank with you since you arent gonna comprehend it any other way. I love you Nika I want to work on our relationship but you have to want that too. At this point ive debated leaving and ive also debated staying in case the sweet girl I knew a year ago wanted to show up again. I think we need couples counsel-”

Im cut off by her grabbing the sides of my face and attempting to kiss me. I retract quickly and try to ask her why she did that but she cuts me off before Ieven start

“Why are you being so difficult right now.” She says giving me a look of disgust. As if a kiss or angry fuck was gonna fix this

“Fuck off Nika. You can leave. Im not the one being difficult. I really dont want to lose you but if youre gonna keep being such a dickhead to me you cant leave. Ive had enough. I try so hard to understand you and I want you to let me im but obviously that isnt gonna happen. I love you but its obvious its not reciprocal.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Leave. Get your self together then you can come back to me. Its gonna be hard to put whatever emotions you have or had for me into words but when you do and you can explain to me why you wanted to throw all this away for me for some guy who probably wants to hit and dip.” I say in the calmest voice possible holding back from yelling at her. If i yell im gonna cry and if I cry Nikas gonna hug me, then ill fold.

I cant give in this time

“Wait bebo im sorry okay I can see how much this hurts you. Lets talk this out I can stop talking to nahiem. I swear he doesnt mean anything to me. I love you let me prove it.” She says, her long and built arms trying to snake around me

“No Nika , I already tried to talk this out. Go back to your dorm, take a shower, and go to sleep. Then we can talk all you want. I need to be alone tonight” I say pushing myself off her as I walk away heading to my room

“Im sorry baby please don’t do this” She says still standing at the door

At least she respects my space

But she doesn’t respect me

“Go to bed Nika” I say before shutting my door

I hear a soft cry before the muffled sound of the door shutting and locking

I hope she does wanna talk in the morning

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Also i dont proofread my writing. I write based off what my angelic soul is telling me so if you see some mistakes or some blank spaces 🦍🦍🦍

[vanya-evergreen]

How to remember (prologue)

Relationship- Batfam x reader (platonic)

Summary: At the age of 11, you woke up in an other world without any guidance and all the money you once lacked. You were left with only your memeories and your other memories.

You tired to remember, their life, but it seemed like they didn't want you too. So when trying to navigate the intricate sides of an elite schoo, but you always got in trouble when it came to faces and names.

Cw- attempted kidnapping, murder (in self defense) guns.

wc: 953

Masterlist

next>

A/n- probably will edit a bit later, but I won't be able to be as active for a little while so just thought that this would be a fun. (I say this, and I'm probably going to end up posting the third chapter by the 15th. )

Your place the last flower into its designated spot. Using your sleeve, you wipe the sweat off of your temple. You had been out here for hours working on rearranging the garden. While it was rare to find something as nice as a community garden in such a crime ridden part of gotham. It wasn't impossible with the right people. You put the last bit of dirt into place, grab your gardening tools and head upstairs. You place tools by the front door, as you take off your shoes. Your mom was standing in the kitchen biting her nails, waiting for you.

“Darling.” You turn on the faucet, wincing at the temperature of the water as you rub your hands together. “Why would you do that?” you look at  your mom, the worry was written all over her face. You look back down to the sink, you couldn’t look at her. The water runs off your hand, now tinted red from the blood. A mix of both your’s and the person who lays underneath the apartment’s community garden. 

“Maybe to save your life,” You grab a few pumps of soap and lather up your hand. You feel your mom giving you the look for your sarcasm. “I am sorry mom, they were trying to take you.” 

You remember the moment, two masked people were carrying your mom into a black van. You didn’t have time to think about your reaction, you just acted. You grabbed the biggest brick near you and jumped onto the person carrying your mom. They were bigger than you, see as they were an adult. Not even thinking twice, you got blood on your hands. You grab the gun off of their limb body and point it at the other person. They pulled out their gun shooting your arm, but you quickly shot their hand, making the gun fall out of their hands. They climbed into the van as you shot again missing. They closed the door and sped off.

“Yes, but you know that I always told you to never do that.” She pulls her hand over her face, then pushes them back into her hair. She paces around the kitchen. The water was now clear, you took hydrogen peroxide and poured it on your hands and over the sink.”please look at me.” You didn’t raise your head. Your mom grabs the bottom of your chin and turns your head to look at her. “You look at me when I talk to you.” black inks out of her irises, completely consuming the white of her eyes. Your eyes widen, you rip your chin out and run into the corner of the room.

“Please don’t” you defensively cornered yourself into the kitchen counters. “Don’t do that please!” You breathe quicken as you stare her down. She furrowed her brows, and she quickly approached. You breathe harder the closer she gets. Your vision narrows. Black slowly creeps into the corner of your eyes. The last thing you remember is your mom rushing toward you.

“Wake up.” A familiar voice calls. Your eyes jolt open, you are met with your own face. They are identical to you in every way. “Hello. Nice to meet you, or well me.” They rest their head on their knees, keeling over your body. You look past them, it was all just white with no edges or ceiling. You try to move, but you are stuck. “Oh yeah, sorry, you can’t speak, it tends to take up too much time.” They smile at you. You are still trying your hardest to speak, blinking rapidly in a weak effort to move. They chuckle a bit.  “Anyways, I'm going to make this quick. You are in the in between and-”  

You are able to pry your mouth open as they speak  “Is it called the in between because we are in between realities?” You blurted out. They lift their head from their knees and tilt their head. 

“Yeah,” They stand up, their face seem to be more continuous than before. They walk around you and your eyes follow them.

“How original.” You poke at them. “Let me guess, you would call your dog ‘dog’ wouldn’t you?” you still couldn’t move the rest of your body but at least you didn’t have to listen to them.

“No, i dont like animals” You were offended, this person claims to be you, and yet they dont like animals, not a single one. “You are much more difficult than I thought you would be.”

“You thought I was going to be easy to deal with?” you laugh out as they give you a nasty look. They kick your side with their feet. 

“You are just as annoying,” You give them a smug smile. “I was just to say thanks for taking my place but never mind” 

“What do you mean by-” They reach their hand out to touch your forehead, you move your head to the side quickly. They let out an aggravated sound and attempt to grab your shoulders, but you rolled away. They chase after you as you continue to roll away from them, until you are able to lift your head and see a hole. You debated about if you should roll into there but they were getting closer so you would rather take your own chance right?

“Hey you better not-” You roll in that hole. They run over trying to grab you but you are too far down. You can hear their scream as you fall deep into the hole. It gets darker the further you go, you tightly close your eyes waiting for the inevitable splat on to the ground.  It never came. 

Taglist: @problematicreblogger

@mileskisser @hoeinthehouse @luminous011

@enjisthings @earth-to-mee @thereeallink

[woniedarlin]

Curry Surprise: Yang Jungwon

pairing: husband! Jungwon x reader

synopsis: You set out to surprise Jungwon, your husband, with a homemade curry, but despite your efforts, the dish didn't meet your expectations.

warnings: kissing, patting your bum (?)

note: Sooo, remember when I said I wouldn't make another story? Well, funny thing... Inspiration hit me like a ton of bricks today, and I just had to share it with you all. Remind that I never cooked or liked curry 😭 I actually hate it but I’m doing this for wonie. This is just a short one. Here's to more adventures together. Happy reading, darlings! 📚✨

Jungwon, your husband, was currently at work, his mind undoubtedly occupied with the day's tasks as the evening slowly crept in. In the warmth of your kitchen, you prepared a pot of curry, the rich aroma of spices filling the air as you stirred the bubbling concoction. Although you felt a slight hint of uncertainty as you performed each step, being your first attempt at making curry, you are determined to make Jungwon’s favorite dish.

"Um...am I doing this right?" you said with uncertainty, the sizzle of the curry being cooked in the pot accompanying your question as you added a bit too much curry powder, the fragrant aroma intensifying with each stir.

"Doing what right?"

Jungwon's voice startled you out of your daze. He looked tired, but his presence alone filled the entire kitchen with warmth. The scent of the curry seemed to be even more delectable to him as he took a deep inhalation and smiled softly.

You flinched at his sudden appearance, your heart skipping a beat, before relief flooded over you. "My love! Don’t scare me like that."

"My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you." With his gaze still glued to the pot in front of you, he took another deep sniff of the cooking aroma before stepping up to you and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. "That smells amazing," he uttered, his love for both you and the dish evident in his words as he buried his face against your neck.

"Wait at the table. I’ll just finish this in a few minutes," you said to him, your voice gentle as you continued to stir the pot.

"Of course, love," Jungwon whispered as he gently patted your bottom as you went to tend to the pot. His touch sent a surge of butterflies through you as he took a seat at the dinner table, admiring the way the dim light danced off of your features, leaving a faint glow of beauty.

Minutes later, you came out of the kitchen, carrying two plates with steaming curry and fluffy rice. With a warm smile, you set them down on the dinner table, the aroma filling the room as you invited him to indulge in the feast you had prepared with love. "Here you go, my love,"

Jungwon couldn't contain his excitement as he studied the dish before him. For such a simple-looking dish, the curry looked absolutely divine. He took a deep inhale through his nose as you set the plates down, and he couldn't help but smile at the way the rice had captured the curry's fragrance, leaving its own distinctively appetizing smell.

"You've outdone yourself again, baby," Jungwon exclaimed, taking a seat and grabbing a spoon to serve himself.

But as Jungwon takes a spoonful of the curry, his taste buds are met with an unexpected and unwelcome surprise—a burnt flavor that overpowers the dish, leaving a bitter aftertaste lingering on his palate.

Jungwon recoiled slightly at the bitter aftertaste, his expression shifting into one of slight disappointment. "Hmm, the curry is a little..."

He stopped himself short, knowing that it would be cruel to openly criticize the meal to your face. Instead, he took another bite, trying his best to hide the frown forming on his lips.

You noticed his expression and began to worry, a slight furrow forming on your brow as you awaited his response. "What is it?" you asked, your voice tinged with concern, hoping that everything was alright and that he would enjoy the meal you had prepared for him.

"Don't be alarmed, love," Jungwon reassured, trying his best to conceal his dismay. He took another spoonful of the dish, hoping the bitterness would pass with time, but sadly, it did not.

You sat down beside him and tried the curry yourself, your anticipation turning to disappointment as the taste failed to meet your expectations. "Oh..." you uttered softly, sadness creeping into your voice as you realized that despite your efforts, the dish hadn't turned out as you had hoped.

Seeing the disappointment on your face, Jungwon felt a twinge of guilt. He couldn't bear to see you sad, especially when it was his own fault. He reached out for your hand and squeezed lightly, hoping that the gesture could offer some comfort.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, meeting his gaze with a mixture of regret and sincerity.

"Please don't apologize," Jungwon said, looking at you gently. The taste of the dish was admittedly a bit disappointing, but his thoughts weren't filled with disdain or frustration; they were filled with love for you. He brushed a gentle kiss against your cheek, squeezing your hand for a moment before letting it go to resume eating. He continued to take sips of the bitter curry, all the while feeling guilty for having to pretend that he was enjoying the dish.

"You don’t have to force yourself to eat it," you said, offering him a reassuring smile despite your underlying sadness. "I’ll just go upstairs and grab my phone so we can order food delivery," you added, mustering up as you excused yourself from the table and made your way upstairs.

"But...my love..." he frowned, watching your figure as you quickly walked upstairs to retrieve your phone. He paused for a moment. The silence of the dining room filled his heart with anguish, a deafening silence that almost seemed to mock his own incompetence. He continued to eat silently after you left, taking small bites as he stared down at his plate.

You were deciding what food to order in the food delivery app on your phone for a few minutes. Once you had made your selection, you went downstairs, intending to inform him of your decision and inquire if the food delivery was acceptable to him. However, as you reached the bottom of the stairs, you were surprised to see him rubbing his stomach, his plate now clean.

Seeing that you had returned was a small relief, but Jungwon's facial expression didn't waver, seeming to still be filled with guilt. He had finished eating the entire dish without complaining, forcing himself to endure the bitterness despite his distaste for the dish. He saw that you had your phone in hand and frowned, assuming that you had decided to order some food from outside.

"Hun...? did you finish the curry?" you called out, a hint of surprise in your voice as you noticed him rubbing his stomach, his plate now completely clean. You widened your eyes in disbelief at the unexpected sight.

"Yes, I did," Jungwon replied, looking at you with a soft smile as he rubbed his stomach from being full. "You did well, baby. Thank you for the meal," he added, his words filled with genuine appreciation and affection for your efforts.

“You didn’t have to,” you said softly as you stepped closer to him, feeling a tinge of embarrassment at the realization that he had managed to stomach the entirety of the dish for your sake.

"I wanted to. You put a lot of effort into it," Jungwon said, reaching out to lightly caress your cheek. The gentle gesture helped to soothe the guilt that had plagued his soul since he had started eating the meal. He wanted to relieve your embarrassment and let you know that his actions were driven solely by love, not by politeness or obligation.

‘’..thank you..’’ you said while looking at him lovingly. Your heart is feeling so warm.

"It's no problem, love." He smiled gently after noticing the loving look you were giving him. He felt the warm sensation return to his heart, slowly alleviating the remorse he had been feeling. He reached for your hand and laced your fingers in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze to offer comfort and reassurance.

"I love you," you said to him, your voice filled with sincerity and affection. Words cannot describe how much you love your husband from the bottom of your heart. You’ll do everything and anything for him.

"I love you too," Jungwon replied softly, feeling the familiar butterflies in his stomach as he gazed at you. He was utterly smitten by you. He gently pulled your hand down, guiding you closer before stealing a tender kiss against your lips, letting his touch linger for a while before pulling away.

“I’m lucky to have a husband like you,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity as you looked at him with eyes full of love.

Jungwon smiled after hearing your compliment, feeling a warm sense of pride well up in his heart. His face showed just how much he relished being praised by you, especially when said praise was in regard to his affection and tenderness towards you.

"And I am lucky to have an amazing wife like you," Jungwon replied, taking your other hand into his own.

  Oh Jungwon, the man you are…

[ventismacchiato]

23 behind the lens — and there’s only one bed !

scaramouche x g!n reader

notes; translations for the japanese will be at the bottom of this chapter!

Since Kuni insisted he carried your bags you took the key card from him and attempted to unlock the door to your hotel room. Instead you were met with the dreaded red light on the scanner.

“Did Jean give us the wrong one?” Kuni asks as you try swiping it again.

“No, the number matches the door. I think I’m just doing it wrong,” you frown.

He sets your bags down and comes up behind you, one hand on your waist and the other on your hand holding the key card. His palm felt cold on yours.

“Let me try,” he murmurs into your ear as he glides the card through the scanner. It turns green.

“Oh,” you lamely let out as he gently pushes you into the room.

You take in your surroundings, slightly surprised at how nicely Jean had set you up. The stream of light sneaking through the curtains with the candle lit in the corner made for a romantic atmosphere. And the sight of the bed looking so inviting made your eyelids feel heavy.

“Are you tired?” Kuni asks, locking the door behind you both.

“A little,” you hum. But you had just landed in Paris, you’d feel bad if you didn’t go out to explore.

“Rest then, we can go out tomorrow,” Kuni says, as if he’s read your mind, “I have to go check in with my manager, will you be okay alone for a while?”

“Yeah,” you nod, watching as he gave your shoulder a soft pat and left the room.

Once he was gone you flipped open your suitcase for something more comfortable and less sweat-drenched from the flight to change into. It was an odd feeling, sharing a room with someone you liked. It made your stomach feel all tingly for the upcoming nights.

You climbed atop the bed, taking a quick picture to send to the Celestia group chat to let them know you’re alive, before sliding underneath the sheets. You didn’t want to fall asleep but with the way the sun was setting on your face and how the mattress sunk beneath you, drifting off was inevitable.

An hour or two later you were in a haze as you heard distant footsteps in your room and a cold hand touched your forehead. The comforter shifted and the mattress beside you sunk as you instinctively turned to face the cause of the weight.

「 kuni’s pov 」

“Hey,” Kuni greeted, his voice low as he gently tapped your cheek. There was no reply as you had passed out from exhaustion.

He peeled back the comforter to join you in bed, trying his best to not cause too much commotion. He settled beside you, turning on his side to face you.

“あなたは私の隣のベッドでとてもきれいに見えます,” Kuni whispers, watching the rise and fall of your chest.

He’s never been able to look directly at you on dates, either due to his nerves or from yours. He never was great at eye contact. But with your defenses down and you being in a weak state, he could finally look at you and take you in. Memorizing every detail you tried to cover up.

“私は嬉しい私はあなたに会った,” he hums, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. You groggily open your eyes for a second, slowly blinking before falling back asleep. You unconsciously shuffle closer and throw an arm around his waist. His heart skips a beat.

“私は嬉しいあなたはこれを読むことができません,” he adds, feeling embarrassed for his words, “おやすみ.”

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev | next

scara is trilingual in this 😴 english, japanese, and french! bro can seduce you in all three

satanic__000 on tiktok as scara

just realized i used the wrong kazuha and venti account in the parent trap gc pleek ignore that!

translations:

(1) あなたは私の隣のベッドでとてもきれいに見えます = you look very pretty in bed beside me

(2) 私は嬉しい私はあなたに会った = i’m glad i met you

(3) 私は嬉しいあなたはこれを読むことができません = i’m glad you don’t know what i am saying

(4) おやすみ = good night

author’s notes — shoutout to my pookie bear amy for helping me translate the japanese for me 🥺 ty!!

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist is closed — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @heehooyeslol @stxrgxzxr @lilneps @uma-umie @goubaia @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @orbitscara @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @satowaluverr @lexlapis @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos [1/3]

[starlight-bread-blog]

Katara is More Patient Then We Give Her Credit for

Katara has been getting a lot of flak for supposedly being hot headed and getting angry at very minor things. Even those who love Katara seem to accept this as the truth. But it's not. In reality, Katara is simply a female character who owns her rage. And I feel like there are two main components that debunk this notion.

Warning: Long, long post.

1. In the instances where Katara is angry it's either justified or makes sense in context.

The Waterbending Scroll

Katara stole, wouldn't you know it, a waterbending scroll. She practices before giving it to Aang, and fails hard. Then Aang who she's supposed to be teaching, gets it right and explains how to do it. Katara has an outburst.

Katara: Will you please shut your air-hole! Believe it or not your infunite wisdom gets a little old sometimes. Why don't we just throw the scroll away since you're so naturally gifted!

Why is Katara that mad here? Why did she have an outburst? Because she was carrying the burden of being the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe her whole life. Because her waterbending is the reason Kya died. Because she have been independently studying waterbending her whole life. And now her student is having it all easy and is trying to teach her.

And wouldn't you know it, she realized what she did immediatly. Literally, a second later.

Katara: Oh my gosh Aang. I am so sorry. I don't know what came over me. But you know what, it won't happen again. Here [the scroll] is yours. I don't wanna have anything to do with it anymore.

She even apologized to Momo. Katara had an isecurity rooted in trauma and pressure. When Aang try to teach her she hit a breaking point and lashed out. And not one second later she's already apologizing.

The Waterbending Master

Katara and Aang are going to see Pakku, the waterbending master. But when Pakku sees she's a girl, he says he won't teach her. This is why Katara gets angry. She flew across seas just to get rejected due Pakku is being a sexist freak. I think we can all agree that being denied something because of sexism is a good reason to get angry. And when Katara realized Pakku won't teach Aang if she'll keep insisting, she drops it abd tells Aang to drop it too.

However, that doesn't mean she won't study in secret. She deserved to learn waterbending and she knew it. She took the consequences into consideration and decided to not make a fuss.

But of course, they both get caught. Pakku says he will no longer teach Aang, the Avatar who absolutly needs to study and still refuses to teach Katara because he's still sexist. Only then Katara challenges him to a duel. Only when they have nothing to lose. She challenged a sexist prick to a duel, one who shamelessly denied her oppretunity because of her gender.

The Chase

At the start of the episode Katara gently hints Toph to help unpack a camp for the night. This is when she's not tired yet, and shows patience.

Katara: So Toph, usually when setting up camp, we try to divide up the work.

Toph: Hey, don't worry about me. I'm good to go.

Katara (still calmly): Well, actually, what I'm trying to say is, some of us might fetch water while someone else might set up the fire pit or put up the tent. *smiles* Even Momo does his fair share.

Toph (slightly irritated): Katara, I'm fine. I can carry my own weight. I don't need a fire. I've already collected my own food. And look. *earth bends a tent* My tent's all set up.

Katara: Well, that's great for you but we still need to finish-

Toph (loudly): I don't understand. What's the problem here??

Katara: Never mind.

Katara then goes to apologize. While also attempting to make sure her and Toph are on good terms by having her acknoledge that she wasn't 100 absolutly in the right.

Katara: Hey Toph, I wanted to apologize for earlier. I think we're all just a little tired and getting on each other's nerves.

Toph: Yeah, you do seem pretty tired.

Katara (slightly irrutated): I meant all of us.

Toph: Well, good night.

Katara: Good night.

By all means, Toph is in the wrong for the sheer refusal for communication. At first Katara calmly explained to her what was needed without even spelling it out. Toph was being passive, so she dropped it. And then she apologizes after doing nothing wrong just so they could be on good terms. Toph was the one being passive agressive. And Katara pretty much let it slide.

This is Katara. The patience she showed right here is her natural, normal self. The rest of the episode is under the context of sleep deprivation and how it's making them all hostile to each other. Including the pacifist Aang. Who's outburst leads Toph to leave. After she does, both Aang and Katara express remorse.

(Side note: I heard people take issue with the line "The stars sure are beautiful tonight, too bad you can't see them, Toph". It's been interpreted as Katara making fun of Toph for being blind, but it's just another instance in the recurring joke of the Gaang forgetting Toph is blind, and listed as such in the official A:TLA Youtube channel).

The Runaway

Update: This section, especially, is majorly outdated.

The episode has a silly opening where Aang is trained by Toph and Katara. Toph misses and accidently hits Katara with a big rock. After Toph doesn't apologize, it leads into a fight which is absolutly not to be taken seriously, that ends with Aang pointing out that it was supposed to be training.

It doesn't work as an exapmle for supposed hot-headedness because the reason this whole thing started because Toph hit Katara with a rock and refused to apologize.

But moving on to the real conflict of these episode, Toph scammed someone and Katara makes it clear that they shouldn't do it again, it'll draw attention to them. Aang promises her it won't happen again but.. um.. you know what happened.

Katara, being responsible, told them to quit because they'd potentially get exposed. Toph didn't reach well, telling her to lighten up. Katara rightfully gets angry, because they really might get exposed and Toph is dismissing her like her concerns are nothing. They have a short argument and Toph storms out.

This is why Katara was angry this episode. Her reasoning for being upset is the Gaang potentially exposing themselves for easy money. That's the conflict.

The Painted Lady

In this episode Katara sees a starving Fire Nation village but Sokka won't allow them to stay due to time limits. So she faked a disease for Appa so they could. Sokka confronts her. At first, she gives up and packs to leave. But since she destroyed the factory that's been polluting the villages water and taking their medicine, the people in charge assumed it was the civilians, and were coming to attack. Sokka and Katara get into a small but intense argument. Important to note, that she doesn't react intensively until Sokka does.

Katara: Well, what was I supposed to do?

Sokka: Leave! Do nothing.

Katara: No! I will never, ever turn my back on people who need me.

Her anger here doesn't highlight hot-headedness, it highlights compassion. Compassion is one of Katara's core traits. She's angry because she's being angrily demanded to see people suffer and stand by. And she will not tolerate it. She will never, ever turn her back on people who need her.

2. In reality, Katara is defined by her patience and compassion.

What I did here was listing off times where Katara did get angry. But Katara is generally a caring, kind person. Rather if it's cheering up Sokka, going shopping with him after he admitted to feeling useless; if it's pulling Aang out of the Avatar state, putting herself at risk when he's out of control; if it's helping deliver a baby of a stranger; or if it's freeing prisoners of the Fire Nation. She demonstrates impressive patience throughout the show.

The Deserter

In this episode Aang was asked to just control fire. Aang gets irrutated himself at this, but Katara assured him that it's probably for a good reaso. But when his master left, he firebent. He was being extremely careless with his new found Fire Bending and burned Katara's hands.

Did she...

A. splashed some water at him.

B. Yelled at him.

C. Ran away crying.

Yeah, she didn't express anger at all. Sokka was who's angry at Aang.

The Desert

The sand benders stole Appa and the Gaang is suck in a desert. Katara demonstrates her patience a lot this episode.

Toph and Aang are arguing about Toph not stopping them.

Aang: You just didn't care! You never liked Appa! You wanted him gone.

Katara: Aang, stop it. You know Toph did all she could. She saved our lives.

Sokka: Who's gonna save our lives now? We'll never make itout of here.

Aang: That's all any of you guys care about, yourselves. You don't care whether Appa is okay or not.

Katara: We're all concerned, but we can't afford to be fighting now.

Aang accused the Gaang of something horrible. Katara told him to stop, but still understood his anger and calmly explained to him that it's important not to fight in a life threatening situation.

Aang then storms out to look for Appa. Katara's response?

Katara: We'd better start walking. We're the only people who know about the solar eclipse. We have to get that information to Ba Sing Se.

She didn't get angry, she was rational and thought about the greater good.

After Aang comes back, Katara suggest they should try sleeping, gives the Gaang all of her bending water without drinking herself. And then finds a way to get to Ba Sing Se using the locations of star systems.

The Gaang spots a cloud and mistakes it for Appa. But Katara realizes the potential in a cloud. She tells Aang to fly and bend the water from the cloud so they could drink.

Katara (disappoibted): Wow, there's hardly any in here.

Aang (intensively): I'm sorry, okay? It's a desert cloud, I did all I could. What's anyone else doing? *Points at Katara* What are you doing?

After dealing with everyone's tireness, Sokka's high nonsense and Aang's attitude, carrying everyone, thinking of possible solutions to ensure they'd all survive, how did she react to Aang accusing her of not doing enough?

Katara: Trying to keep everyone together. Let's just get moving. We need to head this direction.

And after everything she did for everyone, she pulls Aang out of the Avatar state when he's raging, out of control.

Katara is not so hot headed.

She's sweet, nurturing and caring. She demonstrated incredible patience and perhaps even saved the Gang's life in The Desert with her resilience. Katara's compassion is her defining trait.

But that doesn't mean she's not a human being – she's allowed to be flawed, and in the moments where she does, she's very remorseful. And in the moments where she doesn't, people will still hold her accoutable for simply feeling a justified emotion.

Does it make you oh-so-hot headed to stand up to a sexist denying her opportunity? To make sure your friends don't destroy your chances to win a war? To not tolerate being told to see people in need and do nothing in a middle if an argument she didn't start? Of course it doesn't.

And other characters are allowed to express anger, to be flawed, in ways that are way worse than Katara without being labelled annoying hot headed by the fandom.

Katara is widly known to be irrational, letting her anger get the better of her, but it's simply not true.

[sunandflame]

Hey there :) I hope you’re having a great day :) if it’s okay please could I request a fic of muzan. Where the reader comes from a troubled family, and she’s always kind to muzan every time he comes through town and he’s very fond of her but one day when he visits he finds her on the brink of death so he turns her into a demon and she quickly becomes an upper moon. I hope this isn’t too much information 💙💙

Hi there! I actually never ever wrote something for Muzan, but I do like challenges!  And there is never too much information. I hope it's the way you want it and please let me know if not, since I am always looking for a way to improve myself ❤️

Beguiling voice

Warnings: angst, violence, ra.pe attempt

Word Count: 966

Pairing: Muzan x Fem!Reader

Again you had to dry your tears and hide it behind a mask of smiles. Again you had to hide the bruises under your kimono and had to act like nothing happened. It was embarrassing and it became a habit to tug at the sleeve of your own kimono, so nobody saw the evidence of your troubled household. And yet you smiled, remained friendly, because that was your nature. You believed in the good of people even though it's been faltering lately.

You bowed to the pale man in the western suit and white fedora, gave him your friendliest smile. You often saw him here in the tea house and even if he didn't really order anything, you always tried to have a conversation with him as his voice was so beguiling to you and it was always a friendly exchange. He too seemed to be enjoying the conversations. That's how it seemed. Because if it hadn't been like that, he wouldn't be showing up again and again, right? He wasn't always there but as soon he was in the town, he made sure to visit you at least once. His soothing voice and manner were always a blessing on your battered soul and there were often times when you sought for the simplicity in your conversations. He was even in your daydreams when you tried to escape the unpleasant moments with your family. It was your escape of the reality, but the reality can hit hard.

You already had a queasy feeling since you made your way home from work. It was much later than expected and you quickly hurried to get back into your own four walls. You just wanted to be home as soon as possible, but that was denied to you.

With a jerk you were grabbed from behind and pulled into a dark alley and before you even knew what was happening to you your head banged against the wall and you lost consciousness for a moment and something wet flowed down your neck. You heard several male voices

"Fuck, she doesn't have anything valuable on her! Not even worth to rob her."

"Just leave the bitch here"

"Are you sure we shouldn't even have some fun with her? She's quite the beauty, isn't she?"

You opened your eyes in shock and began to whimper and fight. If they try something on you, they shouldn't have it easy at least. You clawed, bit and kicked around, but it only seemed to make the attackers more aggressive until eventually they got tired and just kicked you to the ground. Your consciousness wavered between fainting and trying to suppress the pain.

At some point the pain stopped and you knew that it was not only because they stopped kicking you and went away, but because you felt that you were close to death. It really was like most people said. The pain was gone for the moment and the good memories will flash in front of your eyes. Only that they weren't memories of your family, just the ones you shared with this beautiful pale stranger with the fedora.

You felt movement and someone was gently rocking you in their arms. "Drink this..." A bitter tear ran down your blemished face. You didn't want him to see you like this and yet you were overjoyed in your inner that he was the one to keep you company in your final minutes. You allowed yourself to nuzzle yourself to him or was it him who held you tighter? You couldn't tell "Y/n, drink that" This time the voice was more demanding, not allowing you to resist even as you lay dying.

With your last strength you drank what he gave you and the peaceful death you wished for was undone. Agony tortured you and you twitched in his arms, but he had been so strong that he still had no trouble holding you. Your fingers dug into his shoulder, leaving marks on his perfect jacket. You didn't know what was happening to you, but you knew there was a change and suddenly everything went black around you.

It's been some time, but it was relative for you anyway. You had become a different person. No longer a human, but you were a Demon now. And you became one of the Upper Moon Six after Gyutaro and Daki fell victim to the Demon Slayer Corps. But that wasn't the main cause. Muzan was fond of you and your strength and he regularly enriched you with his potent blood. He wanted to see you strong at his side and in his inner circle. But even so, you had shown an outstanding strength that put a smile on Muzan.

"Y/n..." His beguiling voice reached you as he brought you into the infinity castle.

"Yes, my lord..." Immediately you were on your knees to demonstrate your devotion. You didn't remember your previous life or how you came to 'death'. You knew you owed everything to him. And his voice was always something that caused a pleasant tingle in you. You knew you owed everything to him.

"Come here my beautiful." He gave you his hand and asked you to stand up. His cool hand stroked your cheek and an inner longing spread through you. If only he... You didn't finish the sentence in your head, his lips were on yours, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip while he looked down at you with his red plum eyes. "I thought I would show you how fond I am actually of you... My dear y/n" His fingers rested on your chin as he stole another kiss from you and even if it took you by surprise, you were not complaining as it was exactly what you always wished for.