#idk if those pairs are tagged often but they will be now

[the-heron]

his cheer squad

[astonmartinii]

day six: not so home for christmas | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem reader

oscar and y/n are having their first christmas in monaco because of a snow storm, unfortunately this also means they're now hosting most of the grid as well.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 137,094 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: thanks a lot snow storm :( i guess it's our first ever christmas here in monaco

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user1: yall global warming might just be real

user2: you're only just realising it now ?

charles_leclerc: you kids and your complaining - a white christmas in monaco, what more could you want?

yourusername: a christmas at home with our families?

charles_leclerc: families? when you're in your adopted father-in-law's home city, i'd watch your tone if i were you

oscarpiastri: if you think of your kids as often as you say then you should be worried that your aussie son is going to FREEZE to death :(

charles_leclerc: if it's the bbq you crave, you can still do that?

yourusername: it's snowing? and he is NOT bringing our bbq inside

charles_leclerc: okay jeez, not much christmas spirit here i see

oscarpiastri: we miss our families, sue us

user3: wait... if they couldn't get out of nice... who else couldn't

user4: the storm kicked in like a day ago right?

user5: based on instagram activity, my guess is that max, lando, ollie (idk why he was in monaco anyway), kimi (i think he's attached to ollie), alex (and lily) and george

user6: i know it would never happen but wouldn't it be so cute if we got a grid christmas dinner

yourusername: please don't give them any ideas

oscarpiastri: i only just got rid of them 😩

landonorris: so, just out of interest, is y/n still free to maybe wrap my presents for me?

yourusername: do i look like the christmas fairy to you?

landonorris: well i know for a fact that oscar's ass was not wrapping those presents

oscarpiastri: well y/n actually likes doing things for me soooooo

landonorris: PLEASE Y/N I'LL HAVE TO RESORT TO USING TIN FOIL

yourusername: tin foil... please you are a 25 year old man

landonorris: does it look like i'm a man who has sellotape in his house?

yourusername: no.

user7: y/n is like a full time mum to a load of men all older than her

user8: she better get ready to cook for them at christmas because none of these men can cook for themselves

oscarpiastri

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 692,108 others

tagged: yourusername & landonorris

oscarpiastri: i'm not sure how this went from our lonely christmas away from both of our families to babysitting half of the grid but what the hell, sure

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user10: i personally blame all of you for this

user11: and what??? i'm so excited

user12: i hope they post nothing more just to spite your ass

charles_leclerc: i’m kinda offended no one thought of coming to mine :/

maxverstappen1: you’re shit at cooking

charles_leclerc: how would you know?

maxverstappen1: i saw it in your vlog

charles_leclerc: you watch my vlogs???

maxverstappen1: NO?

yourusername: okay queens stop flirting and get back to your stations in the kitchen

charles_leclerc: can we flirt there?

yourusername: if you're still peeling - knock yourselves out

user13: y/n basically confirming lestappen? wow christmas DID come early this year

user14: the real question is why she would let those menaces in the kitchen?

yourusername: i have seen how much these people eat, i need help even from the useless

yourusername: also if they want certain dishes from home they have to help

maxverstappen1: i am CORING AS MANY APPLES AS I CAN I PROMISE THE APPLE BEIGNETS WILL BE WORTH IT

oscarpiastri: i know they will be, y/n is making them

maxverstappen1: okay buddy, i don't see you helping

oscarpiastri: i am keeping everyone else in line, that's a full time job as well

user15: who made the youngest couple in charge of these fools?

user16: a comedic genius

yourusername: they're annoying but i'll deal with them for you

oscarpiastri: you make such sacrifices for me, i love you

yourusername: i love you more

alexalbon: we're really not that bad you guys are being dramatic

yourusername: george walked up to our mantle piece, pointed at my baby picture and said "ugly. my condolences" ?

alexalbon: that's george ? he's mean to everyone

yourusername: HE'S IN THAT BABY'S HOUSE

olliebearman

liked by charles_leclerc, estebanocon and 418,934 others

tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri & kimiantonelli

olliebearman: first christmas with my big brother :))))

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user17: yall be on oscar about him holding onto the leclerc family joke but the real enemy is ollie

olliebearman: i think it's cute

olliebearman: and it's NOT a joke

user18: you know what? yeah i'd also keep going with the joke i need to get in that leclerc family

olliebearman: the real catch here is y/n she's going to teach me to crochet :)

yourusername: we can make little bear mans !!!

user19: the grid dad stuff was cringey... but grid brother well that's hitting like crack i fear

charles_leclerc: grid dads are cringey ??? count your days

user19: sorry?

charles_leclerc: i (and my family) will NOT tolerate sebastian vettel slander. not now not EVER

fernandoalo_oficial: and me?

charles_leclerc: i couldn't give a fuck about you old man

fernandoalo_oficial: excuse me

fernandoalo_oficial: i'll have you know i am just as much oscar's father as you are

charles_leclerc: and how have you come to that OBVIOUSLY WRONG conclusion

fernandoalo_oficial: WELL i don't know maybe his REAL grid dad is actually mark webber who i have a well documented homoerotic relationship with and therefore oscar and most importantly Y/N are my children

charles_leclerc: what a load of bullshit

charles_leclerc: if grid children were based on homoerotic tension then i'd be father to all of the red bull juniors and max would have custody of the FDA

maxverstappen1: well....

pepemarti: hi !!!

dinobeganovic: hey.....

yourusername: what happened to the original plot of the movie

user20: i think the cabin fever is getting to them

lilymunhe: no they're like this all of the time it's exhausting

yourusername: tell me about it

olliebearman: but not me :(

yourusername: no we love you

oscarpiastri: you are the least annoying one

olliebearman: omg thank you :3

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 163,207 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc & landonorris

yourusername: not so home for christmas but with family nonetheless

view all comments

user22: what was the dress code here?

landonorris: what we had left? all the dry cleaners are closed because of the storm

yourusername: you take ALL of your clothes to the dry cleaners?

landonorris: why wouldn't i do that...

yourusername: yk what, whatever !

user23: omg of course leo was there as well

yourusername: we only invited charles for him

charles_leclerc: excuse me?

landonorris: he was invited ????

oscarpiastri: well he was staying in monaco anyway and you guys all invoked your squatters rights in my house so what was one more

landonorris: i am not squatting? my ass is already big enough as it is

yourusername: i know your ass is big because YOU'RE ALWAYS SAT ON IT

oscarpiastri: god i love you

yourusername: i love you even more

oscarpiastri: nuh uh not possible

yourusername: i love you so much i'm not even that angry about half of the grid crashing our christmas

oscarpiastri: i love you so much that i personally barged a child out of the way to get you your eras tour merch

yourusername: i do love my merch.... but not as much as i love you

oscarpiastri: you're so romantic

georgerussell63: right that's it, i am SICK of you people pretending you are not enjoying our presence

yourusername: did i or did i not say family ???

oscarpiastri: george i'd appreciate if you didn't talk to y/n this way

maxverstappen1: yeah back the fuck off

georgerussell63: why is max here?

maxverstappen1: ummmm y/n busted her ass to make apple beignets for me so i had some netherlands with me at christmas so i would die for her. i am somwhat fond of oscar as well

maxverstappen1: so fuck with them, you fuck with me

maxverstappen1: and you seem to like doing that recently

yourusername: awwww thanks max!

oscarpiastri: we are fond of you too buddy

georgerussell63: how did i lose this?

user24: max out here getting wags on his side

maxverstappen1: that's my ma

maxverstappen1: wait that makes my homoerotic tension with charles incest

maxverstappen1: that's my home girl

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, jackdoohan and 1,094,577 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: y/n absolutely smashed our makeshift grid christmas and she said she'll accept thanks in qualifying tows or easy passes on track 👍

view all comments

user25: oh they want me dead

user26: i would do questionable things to get a slice of that cake

user27: drop the recipe please xxx

yourusername: oh babe i be following the tiktoks like the rest of yall - i'll repost it

user28: woman of the people

yourusername: babe i don't really remember saying those exact words...

oscarpiastri: PLEASE ! they don't say no to you now you've filled their stomachs

landonorris: he's not wrong

maxverstappen1: you're in my will now

charles_leclerc: you're now my favourite daughter in law

yourusername: i'm your only daughter in law?

charles_leclerc: idk kimi and ollie are pretty attached with their weird tension

landonorris: like father like son

charles_leclerc: huh?

landonorris: huh?

oscarpiastri: ^^ see !!!! y/n please !!!

yourusername: fine.

yourusername: thank you all for coming, i hope you enjoyed dinner and your time with us. i loved spending time with you all but if you wish, i will be accepting thanks in the form of qualifying tows and easy passes for oscar or pornstar martinis from any hospitality

yourusername: happy?

oscarpiastri: yes

oscarpiastri: YOU HEARD THE WOMAN GUYS

maxverstappen1: oh i love y/n but i'd rather put you in the wall than let that ugly orange car past without a fight

georgerussell63: @fia i told yall

yourusername: are you ever gonna give that up ?

georgerussell63: no? and i KNOW IT WAS YOU WHO SAT ME NEXT TO HIM AT DINNER

yourusername: you'll never prove it :P

user29: oscar is such a sassy man

yourusername: he gets it from his momma

oscarpiastri: and you :)

yourusername: i will say your ability to watch my reality tv with you is a big factor in how much i love you

landonorris: is that why oscar once woke me up the night before a race by shouting "get her ass lisa" ???

oscarpiastri: we watch real housewives together on facetime :)

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55 and 1,130,672 others

tagged: yourusername & oscarpiastri

charles_leclerc: i made the right choice in son and most importantly daughter in law

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user31: okay the cinnamon buns have thrown me over the edge now

user32: i NEED to know who asked for them

alexalbon: guilty 💅 and they slapped thanks y/m

oscarpiastri: we've been dating for years? like when i was still in f3?

charles_leclerc: semantics

oscarpiastri: no i met and charmed y/n all on my own thank you very much

charles_leclerc: because she saw the future and the potential of our prosperous family !!!

oscarpiastri: at this point, whatever you wanna hear old man

charles_leclerc: relegated below ollie

olliebearman: score !!!

user33: oh these people are never letting this joke die are they

user34: i think we're stuck with it

charles_leclerc: are you people sick of whimsy ???

charles_leclerc: i am ALLOWED to flex my son's amazing choice in women, especially a woman who will make me a swiss roll on demand

yourusername: he does have amazing taste

oscarpiastri: thank you :3

yourusername: as much as you guys were somewhat annoying, we had an amazing christmas xx

oscarpiastri: please do not bother us until march

charles_leclerc: fine. but we're still on for the double date in melbourne?

charles_leclerc: (maybe triple? idk ollie can just bring kimi)

kimiantonelli: score !!!

yourusername: we would love to !

oscarpiastri: i guess you could meet my actual family ?

charles_leclerc: not now oscar, let me enjoy chritmas with you all before you remind me of that

oscarpiastri: okay?

user35: y/n and oscar actually have the patience of saints because if these clowns crashed my christmas i'd be on the news

yourusername: any christmas is perfect with him

oscarpiastri: with y/n, i can get through even the most annoying people

user35: okay yall didn't have to flex on me that hard damn

fin.

note: here's day six! i'm not sure if you guys saw my update post but this series won't be done by christmas day but will stretch to NYE because unfortunately my cat has to be put down :( i've had him for nearly 19 years and it's really hard to think about him being gone so i'm just spending as much time as possible with him atm. anyway, i hope you enjoyed !! xx

[spatialwave]

Jayce Talis as a Husband & Father | Headcanons

➸ ask: "hiii i was wondering if you could do post s2 arcane headcanons for Jayce?? like jayce x wife!reader that have a newborn baby??" ➸ pairing: jayce talis x wife!reader ➸ word count: 923 words ➸ tags: mdni! sfw, fluff, comfort, mentions of jayce’s trauma, pregnancy, headcanons, childbirth, parenthood, canon-divergent ending. ➸ notes: i went really poetic with this idk why. also this definitely heightened my already terrible baby fever……. please for the love of god send me more asks about girldad jayce, i am begging you. i love writing these.

When you met Jayce Talis, you fell madly in love with him almost instantly—as did he with you. Within the first six months of your relationship, he proposed to you with a ring that he’d smithed himself, adorned with a hextech gemstone that sparkled unlike anything you’d ever seen. Of course, you said yes… and moved in within that same week.

Living with Jayce Talis meant dealing with the aftershocks of what he’d gone through during his time in the arcane and subsequent war. With a permanently injured leg and mental wounds that left him cursed by night terrors, you were they by his side to help him overcome his past. You were the rock he hadn’t known he needed, the one who encouraged him to keep fixing what he’d broken (and not without his partner, Viktor.)

Although he’d gone through hell and back, he found joy and happiness in you again. No longer was he filled with anger and guilt for allowing his naivety to take control of what was right—all Jayce wanted was to be happy. With you. 

When you found out you were pregnant, Jayce was over the moon, excited and horribly nervous. He constantly worried whether or not he’d be a good father, and the absence of his own in his life made him uncertain. He would spend countless evenings with his mother, asking her hundreds of questions about parenthood, which either made it better or worse depending on what he wanted to know.

However, the worry washed away when he held his little girl in his arms—weighing shy of six pounds and so tiny in his arms. It was a beautiful sight, a rugged man with messy hair, scarred arms, and calloused hands holding the love of his life.

Your daughter brings out a side of Jayce that Viktor told you is reminiscent of his life when they first met all those years ago: gentle, curious, nervous and much too excited. 

Jayce is messy and clumsy in his parenting, learning as he goes, but he is so dedicated. He’s used to being covered in stains but no longer in oil and soot from his work. Now it’s spit-up and dried milk… among other things. And to you, he’s never looked sexier than when he’s a mess.

Even though he’s still a councillor and working with Viktor on restabilizing hextech, he makes time for his family. The days of late-night tinkering in the lab or long council meetings are in the past because there is nothing more important to him than you two.

He is a very overprotective dad, constantly worrying about the little things and often getting sleepless nights because he checks on her one too many times to make sure sleeping soundly in her crib. He baby-proofs your home with everything he can make—doorstops, locks for the cabinets and removing any of his work from his home to the lab so there are no accidents. It’s cute, but considering that your daughter is shy of two months old, the baby-proofing tends to get in the way, but you let him. ‘Father knows best’ is a term he coins and uses, much to your annoyance.

Jayce always splits the tasks of parenting between you two but is never opposed to taking on more than you if you need the rest. As you slowly transition to include bottle feeding in your routine, he takes on nightly shifts for you. You find him asleep a few times, sitting up against the crib with a blanket covered in spit-up draped over his shoulder and an empty bottle in his hand.

He is a sentimental man. He makes a locket that he wears as a necklace every day, tucked beneath his clothing, and shows it off to anyone that he can—a photo of you and your daughter inside it.

You swear you’ve never been more in love with Jayce than you are now. A loving father and husband who doesn’t let his new role as a parent overshadow his love for you.

He’s just as romantic as he was the first time he took you on a date. A month after you gave birth and were far too stir-crazy to be at home any longer, Ximena watched your daughter, and he took you out on a date that reminded you of simpler times. Showering you with gentle touches and kisses that set your heart on fire and reignited your passion.

Jayce noticed how your confidence dropped since the pregnancy. He finds you looking at yourself in the mirror and trying to love the body that grew your daughter, hands over your still-rounded stomach and tracing the stretchmarks. Changes that look so large in your eyes go unnoticed by him, and he makes sure to cherish your body as a reminder that his love for you hasn’t changed.

Every night in bed, he kisses your stomach, your hips, your thighs—peppering your body with kisses and massaging you as he worships your strength and beauty, silently thanking you for bringing your daughter into the world. 

As with any relationship, there are good days and bad. Some days go so smoothly that you wonder if you both were naturally inclined to be the perfect parents. Then come the days when all you can do is argue, overcome with the stress, fears and worries of marriage and parenthood.

But you make it through because to be loved by Jayce Talis is to feel love unlike anything you have experienced before, and that is worth the hardships.

[ohgodthevoices]

bokuto koutato headcanons because i love him more than myself <3

tags : your relationship progress with bokuto, pure fluff, pure teeth rotting sweetness , sweet lil bokuto , this is very much x reader, i never wrote bokuto before so im sorry if this is ooc :(

note : i tried changing my writing style a bit :3 idk if i like it yet or not

bokuto , who as your classmate , lit up the classroom with his bright “ good morningg !” no matter how quiet the class was , or how late he was. a greeting that did bother teachers at first but quickly became a morning essential for everyone.

he sat in front of you in class, often distracting you with his fidgeting but never directly spoke to you until— “hey do you think i could throw this in the bin from here?” he held a crumbled up paper in his hand with an almost goofy grin on his face “uhm- sure..?” why would he ask you that ?

bokuto who heard your stomach grumble once and committed to always bring a second snack. you did refuse at first but the dude brought more snacks than textbooks so you assumed accepting them every now and then wouldn’t be so bad…

bokuto who tested the sharpness of his pencil by poking himself in the arm , he who tried catching a bee that snuck in class to look cool but almost ended up getting hurt, he who blinks a lot in class because he insisted he had “photographic memory” , he who became more than a simple hyperactive classmate…

bokuto , who as your friend , started by wanting to be paired with you in projects , then waved at you when you crossed paths in the hallway , he who invited himself to your study sessions because he challenged himself to at least get half of the grade you’re getting.

bokuto who did a full 180 as soon as the teacher said something complex , and looked at you with those big confused eyes waiting for what he called a “translation”.

he who drew on your hand once, and did not notice how flustered that made you.

“bokuto what are you doing..” he was sitting on his chair in a way that he was completely facing you , his arms resting on the back of the chair , his head slightly titling and his eyes squinting “im trying to focus on your face”.

his way of “flirting” was very weird, he’s a good flirt don’t get me wrong , but only if he’s not aware that he’s flirting : for example he doesn’t realize that it make your heart skip a beat when he pushed your hair to the side because he wanted to look directly in your eyes when he spoke to you.

he then realized he actually liked you and tried to flirt (key word : tried). he would constantly try to “accidentally” brush his hand against yours as a kind of “hey look at me” type of thing.

bokuto who seemed to “stretch” his arms way more often now , basically flexing them to show off how strong he was.

bokuto , who as your boyfriend would nag you into scratching his back since he sat in front of you

he tried being cute by playing with your hair but just ended up apologizing on his knees cus he tangled it badly.

he was super happy to introduce you to everyone he knew as his partner , his teammates, his coach , his friends from other schools, his cool uncle, the lady selling fish at the supermarket.

bokuto loves to nuzzle into to crook of your neck , especially if he’s holding you from the back , he just likes to hold you waist and watch whatever you were watching on your phone with you

he’s cheesy asf , he’ll search for “cool pickup lines” every morning to greet you in a different way.

he , the huge show off that he is, performs way better if you’re watching him play. however it does have its downsides as he’s so focused on looking “cool and sexy” he just… forgets to play ?

he could sit for hours (and he has done it) listening to you talk about a very niche interest, without getting bored or trying to change the subject— we love a supportive bf

he succeeded on getting you to join on his morning jog from time to time and i swear he goes “neeooow 🏎️” when he runs past you

bonus : when you both graduated , he finally introduced you to his parents and you found out then that he has two moms.

[satorulovebot]

CURSED SEAS CHAPTER ONE | the rouge captain

pairing — gojou satoru x fem!reader

genre —heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

summary — all your life you’ve been taught to hate pirates and the sins they have committed against god. you've always strived to be a good citizen upholding the law and avoiding the lawless, but when you meet the infamous captain gojou, known to be dangerous and cunning, you realize that survival in this world often requires sacrifices. sometimes, that sacrifice is your sanity.

tags/warnings. alcohol, religious themes, death, themes of depression, and criminal activity, it's a pretty tame chapter tbh.

notes. 6.2k wc. yeah we’re back baby with another series because i can’t sit still. i saw fan art (image 1) and (image 2) of pirate gojo and said yk what i’m gonna do a pirates of the caribbean inspired series. idk enjoy some brain rot. also know just like my introductory paragraphs my first chapters are ass and fast-paced.

next. HELP WANTED!

general masterlist -> series masterlist

Captain Satoru Gojou.

You had heard whispers of the infamous Captain Gojou for years. His name was spoken with fear in every port town along the coast. Some say he is invincible, that his ship, the Infinity, is the fastest to ever sail the seas. Others claimed he was dangerous, ruthless, and cunning—a man who showed no mercy to those he deemed too weak to survive in his world.

A few years back, a body washed up on the shore of Saltstone Port. The man, who was no older than twenty-five, had his eyes gouged out of his skull, and the number six was carved into the pale skin of his back. 

The discovery shocked the quiet little town, but it would not be the last time a mutilated body washed up on the shores of Saltstone Port.

You don’t miss the stagnant air at Saltstone Port. The salty breeze, tinged with the scent of rotting fish and seaweed, clung to everything it touched. It was a place where tales of Captain Gojou’s cruelty were whispered in darkened alleys and over dimly lit tavern tables, the memory of that unfortunate soul with the number six forever haunting the minds of those who dared to speak of it.

As you stood at the edge of the small dock in Elysport, you stared out at the vast ocean. You had always wondered if there was something more beyond the horizon at Saltsone and Elysport. You had only moved to Elysport in the last few years; your father claimed that it was God’s will for you to move after the death of your beloved mother.

You were just ten years old when your mother vanished without a trace, disappearing one night after her shift at the tavern. It was as if the earth had swallowed her whole, leaving no sign of where she had gone or what might have happened. The days that followed were a blur of confusion and fear, the house feeling emptier than ever without her warm presence.

Your father was a broken man during the weeks your mother was missing. Each night, he would fall to his knees, clasping his hands in desperate prayer. His voice, once strong and filled with faith, now trembled as he pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening to bring his beloved wife back to him and his young daughter. He prayed until his voice was hoarse, until tears stained his cheeks until the candles had burned down to their wicks. He sought solace in his faith, but with each passing day, the weight of uncertainty grew heavier, casting a shadow over your home.

He searched tirelessly for answers, combing the streets and questioning anyone who might have seen her. But no matter how hard he looked or how many prayers he whispered, the silence was deafening. Your mother, the heart of your small family, had simply vanished, leaving behind only questions and a growing sense of dread.

Nine agonizing weeks later, your mother’s body was discovered in a small, rotting, long-abandoned boat that had been stranded on the beach for years. You only caught a brief, heart-wrenching glimpse of her before the smallfolk, who had loved her dearly, carried her away. The once beautiful features of her face had decayed beyond recognition, maggots crawling across what little flesh remained.

Your father was utterly broken by the loss. He couldn’t understand why God would allow such cruelty to befall his family. The woman he had vowed to cherish and grow old with was gone, leaving him consumed by grief and bitterness. He became distant, his once-steady faith shaken to its core. He could not understand who would do this to his wife—a kind-hearted tavern worker known for offering a warm meal to anyone in need. The only conclusion that made sense to him was that pirates were to blame. In his mind, they were the only people capable of such barbarism, convinced that only they would commit such a gruesome act against the mother of his child.

Your father has always been a devout Christian. He was a pastor at the local church when you lived in Saltstone Port. His sermons were filled with messages of mercy and compassion. He always insisted that no one was beyond salvation, preaching that even pirates can be redeemed in the eyes of God.

But after your mother’s death, everything changed. His grief and anger warped his perspective, changing his view of life and love. The man who once preached forgiveness now called for the public execution of pirates, believing their crimes deserved the worst punishment hell could offer. An obsession now consumed him—a kind man who once spoke of compassion whose life was forever darkened by the loss of the woman he loved.

You now found yourself in Elysport, a bustling coastal city where the line between law and lawlessness begins to blur. The city's horizon is filled with the estates of wealthy merchants and the Governor’s home, a stark contrast to the docks below. The docks are always crowded, constantly filled with ships from all around the world, their sails billowing in the wind as they unload goods from distant lands. The scent of exotic spices and the sounds of vibrant marketplaces fill the air, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby sea.

In Elysport, you worked as a clerk for a small merchant. Your days were spent tallying registries, managing shipments, and handling mundane trade details. But your nights were different. They were filled with dreams of adventure, of sailing beyond the horizon where the sea meets the sky. Stories of legendary pirates and hidden treasures had always fascinated you, sparking a curiosity you kept hidden behind your daily life. Yet, you never imagined that those stories might come crashing into your own life one day.

One evening, as you were closing up shop, an old man stumbled into the store. His appearance was startling, to say the least—his clothes were tattered, his face weathered, and his hair a tangled mess. 

“Hello? Can I help you?” you called out from behind the counter, your voice slightly muffled by the shelves that obstructed you from view.

The man didn’t answer your question. Instead, his gaze darted around the shop, as if he was searching for anything suspicious that could get him in trouble. 

“You there!” he rasped, his voice rough. “I need a place to hide this.”

Your curiosity piqued at his words, you stepped out from behind the counter and faced the strange man who had entered just before closing. You assumed he was another last-minute customer, probably looking to buy something or bargain for a better price, knowing how tired workers down by the docks could be at this hour. 

You were curious but hesitant as you took the box from him. To your surprise, It was heavy for its size. The surface was adorned with intricate carvings, worn in places over time.

“What is this?” you asked, turning the box over to examine it more closely. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but there was something about it—something almost sinister.

The man watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face. "It’s a map.” he said, "But not just any map. This map leads to something... powerful. Something that has been lost for centuries, tales of it told through generations of pirates, hidden away from those who would abuse its power."

You looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with curiosity. Why are you giving this to me?" you asked again, your voice trembling.

The man’s expression softened, a look of something almost like pity crossing his face. "Because you’re the one meant to find it," he said simply. "You’re the one who has been chosen."

"Chosen?" you whispered. "Chosen by whom? For what?"

The man smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in his eyes that made you uneasy. "You’ll understand in time," he said. "But know this: you must keep the map safe. Others would do anything to get their hands on it—dangerous people who won’t hesitate to kill for it."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You had always dreamed of sailing the seas looking for adeventure, but this... this… this was something else entirely. This was real, and it was dangerous.

You stared at him blankly, your mind racing as you tried to process the words the strange man had been saying. This was no ordinary treasure map. This was something that was hidden away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why would you trust me with something like this?"

The man’s eyes softened again, and he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Because you’re different," he said quietly. "You have a strength in you that others don’t. You have a heart that won’t be easily swayed by greed or power. And most importantly... you have a destiny to fulfill."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning that you couldn’t fully grasp. You wanted to ask the strange man more, to demand answers to the questions swirling in your mind, but something in the man’s eyes told you that he had already said all he could.

"Keep the map safe," he repeated, his voice firm. "And trust your instincts."

Before you could say anything else, the man turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the darkness of the night. You stood there for a pregnant moment, the map clutched in your hands, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened.

You looked down at the map again, the tips of your fingers trace the markings, as if trying to unlock the secrets they hold. This was it. This was what you had always dreamed of, but it was also something far more dangerous, something that could get you killed.

You knew you couldn’t do this alone. You needed help, and there was only one place you could think of where you might find it.

The merchant’s ball.

It was an event you had never been invited to before—a grand affair where the city’s most powerful and influential figures gathered. But now, with the map, you knew you had to find a way in. You needed to find someone who could help you decipher it, someone who had the knowledge and connections to help you.

As the night of the ball approached, you found yourself growing more and more restless with each passing day. The very idea of the map’s existence gnawed at the back of your mind, its mysteries out of reach. The old man’s warning lingered in your mind, too—a treasure beyond your wildest dreams, but cursed. It was a puzzle you couldn’t solve on your own, and it only fueled your determination to get an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.

But getting an invitation was easier said than done. The ball was exclusive, and the guest list was closely guarded. You knew you couldn’t simply walk in off the street, no matter how determined you were. You needed connections, and though you had some, they were weak connections at best. Your mind raced as you considered your options, running through the names of merchants and traders you had helped over the years. Some owed you favors, but whether those favors were enough to get you into the ball was another matter entirely.

You decided to start with a merchant you knew well—a grizzly man named Marcus, who had been in Elysport for decades. You had helped him with his inventory more than once, making sure that certain shipments went unnoticed by the authorities, and he had always been grateful for your help. You found him in his usual place, a small tavern near the docks.

“Marcus!” you greeted him with a smile as you approached his table.

He looked up, his weathered face breaking into a grin. “Ah, it’s you. Come to save me from my spending again?”

“Not this time,” you replied, taking a seat across from him. “I need a favor.”

His smile faded slightly, and he set down his flagon of ale. “A favor, eh? What kind of favor?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I need an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. “The ball? That’s a big favor, lass. Those invitations are hard to come by.”

“I know,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face. “What’s this about? You’re not one for fancy parties.”

You looked around the tavern, ensuring no one was listening, then leaned in closer. “I’ve come across something… valuable. But I need help deciphering it. The ball is my best chance to find someone who can.”

Marcus’s expression turned serious. “Something valuable, you say? What kind of valuable?”

“I can’t say too much,” you said, lowering your voice. “But it’s big, Marcus. If I can figure it out, it could change everything.”

He was silent for a moment, considering your words. Finally, he nodded. “All right. I can get you in. But you’ll owe me for this, understand?”

You nodded, a smile present on your face. “Thank you, Marcus. I won’t forget it.”

True to his word, Marcus got you an invitation, and the day of the ball soon arrived. You spent hours preparing, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach. The dress you chose was simple yet elegant, a deep blue silk that flowed like water as you moved. You had never worn anything so fine before, and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the woman staring back at you. But tonight wasn’t about appearances—it was about seizing an opportunity, about finding answers to the questions that had been plaguing your mind since that fateful night in the shop.

When the carriage finally arrived to take you to the Governor’s Palace, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear. The city seemed more alive than usual as you made your way through the cobblestone streets, the sounds of laughter and music drifting on the night air. As the palace came into view, its tall columns were bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of lanterns. The grandeur of it all was overwhelming and it was a far cry from the rough and weathered streets of Elysport that you were used to.

You clutched your invitation tight as you approached the entrance, the doorman barely glancing at it before stepping aside to let you pass. The moment you stepped inside, you were encompassed in a world of luxury, unlike anything you had ever seen. The foyer was vast with marble floors gleaming under the light of large crystal chandeliers. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grand battles and lavish feasts. Servants moved about with precision, carrying trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres, while the guests—dressed in their finest silks and satins—murmuring amongst themselves, their laughter filling the air.

You followed the flow of people into the main ballroom, your heart pounding as you took in the sight before you. The room was massive, with tall, arched windows that offered a view of the moonlit gardens outside. The walls were painted in rich, warm tones, and the floor was a mosaic of polished marble that reflected the golden light of the chandeliers. Musicians played soft melodies in one corner, their music blending in seamlessly with the murmur of conversation.

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling out of place. You had never been in a setting like this, surrounded by wealth and power. But you squared your shoulders, reminding yourself of the reason you were here. You weren’t just a simple clerk from the docks anymore; tonight, you were a woman with a purpose, a secret map, and a mission.

The ballroom was extravagant, to say the least. It made you feel sick that only a select few could enjoy things like this without worrying when their next meal would be or if they would be able to afford basic necessities. But were you any better than these people? After all the only reason you’re here is because you have good connections, just like the people in this room.

As you look to your left, you notice the couples dancing around the floor, their conversations blending in with the soft music. It was all very odd, like a dream you didn't want to wake up from.

“Enjoying the festivities?” A smooth and confident voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a tall figure standing just a few feet away, his face obscured by a mask similar to yours.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, though you couldn’t quite figure out why. There was something about him, something unsettling in the way he carried himself, in the way he seemed to command the space around him. His mask was pale, almost ghostly, with intricate blue patterns that drew your gaze.

“I suppose,” you replied, keeping your voice light, though the unease you felt was seeping into your words. “These sorts of events are always a bit... overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and smooth, “Yes, they can be,” he agreed, taking a step closer, his eyes—bright and unnervingly blue—locked onto yours through the slits in his mask. “But they can also be... enlightening if you know where to look.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your mind racing as you tried to understand his words. Was he just making conversation, or was there something more to his statement? You couldn’t tell, and that made you more on edge.

“Is that so?” you asked, forcing a smile as you took another sip of your champagne, trying to calm your nerves.

He nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Indeed. You’d be surprised what you can learn at a gathering like this, especially if you keep your eyes and ears open.”

There was something in the tone of his voice, something that made you think he wasn’t just talking about useless gossip or civil conversation, at something deeper, something more dangerous, and it set you on edge.

The two of you sat in silence for a brief moment.

“Do you come to these kinds of events often?” you asked, trying to change the topic of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that this man was anything but safe.

“From time to time,” he said with a shrug. “But tonight is special. Tonight, I’m here for something—someone—quite specific.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a chill run down your spine. It was the way he said it, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you like daggers, it was as if he knew exactly who you were and what you were here for.

But, that was impossible, you thought to yourself. You were just a clerk, a regular person caught up in something far beyond your understanding. There was no way he could know about the map, about the treasure. No one knew. No one except—

“Do I know you?” you asked, the question slipping out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said vaguely, his voice a low murmur that sent another shiver down your spine. “Or perhaps you’ll get to know me soon enough.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process his words, the doors to the ballroom burst open with a deafening boom. The music stopped abruptly, the room falling into shocked silence as everyone turned to see what happened.

A group of masked men stormed into the room, their swords drawn as they advanced on the crowd. Panic erupted, the guests screaming and scrambling to get away as the intruders began tearing through the ballroom, overturning tables, smashing glass, and sending the wealthy world of the Elysport elite into chaos.

You barely had time to react before you felt the man’s hand on your arm, pulling you toward the nearest exit. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable beneath the mask as he guided you through the panicked crowd, dodging the chaos that surrounded you.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice calm despite the madness. “We’re not done yet.”

And with that, you were swept away into the night, the sound of the destruction behind you fading as the mysterious man led you away from the scene, leaving you to wonder who he really was—and what he wanted with you.

The cool night air hit your face as you were pulled out of the grand ballroom and into the dimly lit streets of Elysport. The contrast between the noise and chaos of the ball and the quiet moonlit streets was jarring. You were still reeling from the events that had unfolded, your heart pounding in your chest, and your mind racing with questions.

The man holding your hand was strong, his grip firm but not painful, leading you through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways that twisted and turned through the dark city like a maze. The commotion of the party faded into the background, replaced by the distant sounds of the sea and the occasional creak of a ship down at the docks. The city was alive with the whispers of its nightlife, but you felt completely alone, alone with this stranger who seemed to know everything about you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowed his pace and came to a stop in a small and secluded courtyard. The stone walls of the surrounding buildings loom above you and the walls cast deep shadows that obscured your surroundings. The man released your hand, leaving you standing in the center of the courtyard.

As you took a moment to catch your breath, thoughts reeled through your mind. Who was this man? What did he want with you? And why had he chosen to rescue you from the ball? You looked around, trying to get a sense of where you were, but the courtyard was unfamiliar, and the darkness made it almost impossible to see anything.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the man stepped forward again, more calculated and more predatory. His movements were fluid as if he were completely at ease in the darkness. He reached up, and with a swift motion, removed the mask that had concealed his face.

You gasped, taking a step back as the light of the moon revealed his features. The man standing before you was impossibly handsome, his striking blue eyes piercing through the shadows with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His white hair, which had been partially hidden beneath the mask, now fell loosely around his face, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. But it was the look in his eyes that truly unsettled you—as if he could see right through you.

"You're a difficult person to track down," he said, his voice smooth and confident, with a hint of amusement.

You took another step back, your mind racing. "Who are you?" you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, almost playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Who I am isn't important," he replied his tone light, almost amused. "What matters is what I know."

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You felt like a cornered animal, trapped with no way out. "W-what do you want from me?" you stuttered, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

His smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. "You know what I want," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have something that belongs to me."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your thoughts immediately jumped to the map. How did he know about that? The old man had warned you that it was cursed, that it would bring you nothing but trouble, but you didn't think it would be anything like this.

The man's smile faded, and his expression grew more serious. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Don't play games with me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I know you have the map. And I know you've been looking into it."

"I don't have it," you insisted. "I got rid of it."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "Is that so?" he took a step forward, "Because from what I've heard, you've been asking around about certain landmarks. Places that just so happen to match the ones on the map."

Your heart sank. He knew too much. There was no point in lying anymore. But you couldn't just hand the map over to him—not without knowing who he was and what he planned to do with it.

"Why do you want it?" you asked, trying to buy yourself some time. "What's so important about this treasure?"

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "That's none of your concern," he said finally, his tone dismissive. "All you need to know is that it's mine. And I intend to get it back."

"And if I don't give it to you?" you challenged.

He smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. "Then I'll take it from you," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. There was something about him—something dangerous and unpredictable—that made you believe he wasn't bluffing. But at the same time, you couldn't just give up the map. Not without knowing what it was all about, and what it could lead to.

"I need more time," you said finally, hoping to stall him. "Let me think about it."

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. "Very well," he said. "But don't take too long. I'm not a patient man."

He turned to leave, but then paused mid-way, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing," he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Don't try to run. I'll find you. No matter where you go."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the courtyard. You stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Who was this man? How did he know so much about you? And what was he planning to do with the map?

You knew you had to be careful. Whatever this treasure was, it was clearly important enough for someone like him to go to great lengths to get it. But at the same time, you couldn't just hand it over without knowing more. You had to find out what this was about—before it was too late.

You quickly made your way back to your small house, your mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. You weren't going to let anyone intimidate you—not even someone as dangerous as him.

As you reached your door, you paused, glancing around nervously. The man's warning echoed in your mind—he would find you, no matter where you went. But you couldn't let that stop you. You had to find out the truth, no matter the cost.

With a deep breath, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The map was hidden in a small, secret compartment in the floorboards—a place you thought no one would think to look. You retrieved it, carefully unfolding the worn parchment and studying the markings on it.

You had to figure out what this map was leading to, and why it was so important. As you stared at the map, a new plan began to form in your mind. You would find someone new who could help you decipher it—someone who knew the legends of the sea better than anyone else. And then, you would find the treasure before anyone else could.

But even as you made your plans, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The man's piercing blue eyes seemed to haunt your every thought, his warning lingering in the back of your mind.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game. But you had no choice.

And so, with the map clutched tightly in your hands, you made your decision. You would find the treasure—no matter what it took.

The city was bustling when you stepped out onto the streets, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone road. You knew where you needed to go—there was a tavern on the edge of the city, where sailors and pirates would gather to share stories. It was a risky move, venturing into such a place, but you were running out of options.

As you made your way through the streets, you kept an eye out for any sign of the man from the night before. You couldn’t afford to be caught off guard again.

Finally, you reached the tavern, it was a weathered building with a creaky old sign hanging above the door. The scent of salt and ale greeted you as you stepped inside, the dimly lit interior filled with the low hum of conversation. You spotted a few rough-looking sailors at the bar, their eyes looking toward you with curiosity as you made your way to a secluded corner.

You ordered a drink as you tried to blend in, waiting for the right moment. You needed to be careful about who you approached—trust was a rare occurrence in a place like this.

As the minutes ticked by, you watched the patrons of the tavern by studying their movements and listening to parts of their conversations. You were looking for someone who seemed knowledgeable, someone who might have heard of the map or the treasure it led to.

Finally, your patience was rewarded. An old sailor whose face had been weathered by years at sea, sat down at the table next to yours. He wore a tattered grey coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He seemed like the kind of man who had seen his fair share of the world, the kind of man who might know more than he let on.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and leaned toward him. "Excuse me," you said quietly, your voice steady. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something."

The sailor turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Depends on what you’re asking.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to the man before you. But you had to take a chance. "I’m looking for information about a map," choosing your words with care. "A map that leads to a treasure. But I don’t know where to start."

The sailor’s eyes flickered with a hint of interest, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "A treasure map, you say?" he repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Well, now, that’s a dangerous thing to be looking for, especially in a place like this."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know it’s risky," you admitted. "But I need to find out what this map leads to. And I was hoping you might know something about it."

The sailor stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. "There’s a lot of talk about treasures and maps in these parts," he said slowly. "Most of it’s just nonsense, stories made up to entertain drunk sailors. But every now and then, you hear about something real—something worth risking your life for."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you’ve got a map, and it’s real, you’d better be careful who you share it with. There are people out there who would do anything to get their hands on a treasure like that."

You swallowed hard with the weight of his words sinking in. "I understand," you said quietly. "That’s why I’m being careful. But I need to know more about what I’m dealing with."

The sailor nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "Alright," he said finally. "I’ll tell you what I know. But it won’t come cheap."

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. "Will this be enough?" you asked, hoping it would suffice.

The sailor took the pouch, weighing it in his hand before nodding in approval. "It’ll do," he said, tucking the pouch into his coat. "Now, let me see that map of yours."

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out the map. You unfolded it carefully, laying it out on the table between you. The sailor leaned over, his eyes scanning the markings and symbols.

After a few moments, he let out a low whistle. "Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "This is the real deal."

You leaned forward eagerly, your heart racing. "What does it say?"

The sailor glanced up at you, his expression serious. "This map," he said slowly, "leads to a place that’s been whispered about for generations. A place where a great pirate captain supposedly buried his most valuable treasures. But it’s not just gold and jewels we’re talking about. There are stories of powerful artifacts."

"But it’s not going to be easy," the sailor continued. "The path to that treasure is full of danger. There are traps, curses, and worse things that guard it. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like the others who’ve tried and failed to find it."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. "What do you mean, 'the others'?" your voice barely above a whisper.

The sailor’s expression darkened. "There have been others before you," he said quietly. "People who thought they could outsmart the dangers and claim the treasure for themselves. But none of them ever made it back. Their ships were found wrecked, their crews dead or missing. And those who survived were driven mad by what they found."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "So, what do I do?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The sailor looked at you for a long moment before speaking. "If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to prepare yourself," he said. "Find a crew you can trust, people who know how to handle themselves in a fight. And most importantly, keep that map close. There are others who would kill to get their hands on it."

You nodded, "I’ll do whatever it takes."

The sailor nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that," he said. "Just be careful. This world is full of dangers, and not all of them are as obvious as a pirate’s blade."

With that, he stood up, tipping his hat to you before turning to leave. "Good luck, lass," he said over his shoulder. "You’re going to need it."

You watched him go, your mind racing with everything he had told you. The treasure was real, and it was more dangerous than you could have ever imagined. But you were determined to find it, no matter what it took.

You took the map and carefully folded it and tucked it back into your bag. With a deep breath, you stood up and left the tavern, your heart pounding in your chest. You had a lot of work to do, and there was no time to waste.

As you walked back through the city streets, the weight of the map seemed heavier than ever. You knew you were about to embark on a journey that would change your life forever, one that would test your courage, your resolve, and your very soul.

But despite the fear that lingered in the back of your mind, there was also a sense of excitement—a thrill at the thought of uncovering something that had been hidden away for centuries that not even the best pirates could find.

You had the map and you had the determination, now all you needed was the right people. And once you had that, there would be nothing stopping you from finding the treasure and claiming it for yourself.

The night was still young as you made your way back to your small home. You were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, to risk everything for the chance to uncover the secrets of the map.

And as you reached your door, the words of the mysterious man from the ball echoed in your mind: "I’ll find you, no matter where you go."

You knew he was out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. But you weren’t afraid. You were ready for whatever came next.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— BEING DEAN’S WIFE

REQUEST : “Hey, can i request a hcs of be Dean Winchester or Jensen ackles wife? and be super sweet and pure girl that is younger than them” — anonymous

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : fluff, angst (if you squeeze your eyes together, til you make a crescent moon shape), a little bit of nsfw at the very end bc it’s hilarious

A/N : uh, yeah, here’s a little gift! I didn’t wanna do university work so i did this instead ☺️ anyway, i think this is just a list of things i love about dean… LMAO XXXX

he will just stare at you for no reason

well, the reason is actually that he thinks your lovely to look at LOL

all those chick flicks he secretly loves to watch? yeah, he’ll recite the romantic stuff because he’s literally down bad for you

… he’s cringing on the inside but also knows he means every word

he’s so pathetic for you and he doesn’t even care

he loves to give you forehead kisses

and he wants them, too, but your lips need to linger a bit, and he’ll close his eyes and just release all the tension in his body because he’s touch starved

he plays with your wedding ring when your hand is right there in his line of sight

he will hold your hand and just stare at the way the ring shines in the sunlight and he will grin like a gigantic dork

ex : if your talking to him or someone else, he’ll just take your hand and gently run his fingers over the ring

he likes when you hold his head against your stomach

when he’s sitting and you’re standing and you move between his legs just to hold his adorable little face close to you, HE LOVES THAT

you’ll let him talk for hours about things he likes, things he wants to share with you

and when you admit you have no idea what he’s talking about when he makes references to old pop culture stuff, he’ll show you everything

.. if all that stuff he references was associated with something else, now it’s all associated with you and him

it’s like THERAPY, to redo stuff with you, to make it his again, and yours

teaching him how to use technology because he’s an old man (affectionate), and he learns fast bc he’s SMART

LOL, witnessing firsthand how genius and resourceful dean is when something breaks [yeah, I can’t stop thinking about him making his own EMF and Sammy being a complete NIPPLEHEAD (affectionate) about it ! as a STEM girly that was so sexy of dean]

HELLO HE SINGS, TO YOU. HE WILL SING YOU ALL THE LOVE SONGS OMG

or he’ll just sing randomly and not even notice that you’re listening to him

silence, comfortable silence, not sad, just.. peaceful

he likes not having to say anything sometimes, just being there with you

he plays with your hair A LOT, he’ll take strands and just feel the texture of it between his fingertips, he’ll even try to do your hair if you let him, if it’s long enough

CUDDLES, he needs that, too.

but he’d rather be on top when you cuddle, with his cute face on your chest, listening to your heartbeat, to your breathing, falling asleep if you run your fingers gently along his back or if you play with his hair

Dean starts mumbling a lot against your chest or shoulder when you’re just relaxing and having lazy conversation as you cuddle

how about KISSING HIS LITTLE DIMPLES??? idk about you but I just wanna kiss his little dimples when he does that specific SMILE or POUT, ya know what I mean! •ᴗ•?? or •~• ???

he flirts with you because you blush so easily

he gets flustered when you flirt back, BC HE’S NOT USED TO IT

he looks like a strawberry, just eatable, with the tips of his ears all red, then the pinkish hue pouring across his freckled cheeks and down his neck in cute little splotches 😭 ALRIGHT YEAH I THINK ABOUT THIS OFTEN

teasing him ABOUT EVERYTHING because that’s hilarious, and he’s indignant but also knows you’re so right and he’ll roll his eyes at you and pretend he’s mad

he can never be mad at you, only playfully!

UHHH ! KISSING THE LITTLE WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS PRETTY EYES !!!

squeezing him very tightly when you hug and just holding him until he’s practically putting all his weight over you like a willow tree

he’ll bother you on purpose, especially if you’re serious

ex : he takes strands of your hair and will put it in your ear LMAOO or tickle your face with it bc he’s never gonna let a single moment be boring

he grins like the cutest idiot in the world and you can’t be mad at him because he looks LIKE THAT, like the cutest idiot in the whole universe

wearing his clothes and pretending to be him, he thinks it’s cute and funny

he’ll hold your face a lot

and kiss you all over bc you’re cute and pure and deserve all the affection he can offer

and his hands are big and calloused, but he’s so tender and gentle, and warm

hugs from behind

smashing your face into his back and taking in the smell of his body (Mrs Butters lied, Dean smells good)

he’ll love the smell of your hair when he nuzzles into your neck, or the smell of your skin, or the softness of it

going on cute dates, like picnics, watching movies, going to the cinema, going to comic book stores

watching Disney movies together and he can recite the Dory movie by heart because HE LOVES THAT FISH FR

he’ll make you playlists of songs that remind him of you

He takes lots of photos, Polaroids are his favourite because he gets to put them anywhere and everywhere so he can smile and see you if you’re ever busy

you’ll always dress up on Halloween or just for fun whenever he wants

✨healing his inner child✨

grocery shopping together, he pouts when you don’t let him be unhealthy

if you’re short, he’s making fun of you for being shorter than him when he has to reach for stuff on shelves that you can’t reach even on your toes

he teaches you how to cook if you don’t know how to

and you eat the crazy food combinations he comes up with, like those marshmallow mac and cheese he said he made for Sam when they were kids , I NEED TO KNOW WHAT THAT TASTES LIKE

he teaches you how to fix cars! he’ll stare at you when you’re being silly ANYWAY PLS TEACH ME DEAN PLS

HAHAHAHAH but like hahahahah as in, 👀 the cute little names he calls you, and you thought they were cringe when couples said them to each other but actually when HE says it to YOU it makes you swoon and you blush, but you pretend you hate it at first because you’re not used to it but he can see through you, you love it

(I’m convinced that if he calls me darlin’, I will die on the spot, or my illnesses will be cured idk idk, I just know something spontaneous or magical will happen)

sharing everything, as in food

he’ll eat your leftovers, if there are any

or if he likes your stuff better than what he’s got, he’ll eat it when he think you’re not looking, but you are definitely aware, you’re just pretending because he’s so cute

trying all the Starbucks drinks together

having to deal with his grumpiness in the morning

even better, you’re not a morning person either so you’re both grumpy

he’s so cute when he’s had his first cup of coffee in the morning :’)

when you shower together, you both play with the shampoo on you heads LMAO

he gives really good massages, like MIND-BLOWINGLY GOOD, I know them hands are magical

BUYING EACH OTHER JEWELLERY, he’s too pretty to not wear jewellery

kissing his freckles BC HES CUTE AND he blushes

kissing his scars (flashback of emo memes) NO, not saying anything about them, just gently pressing your lips on his sensitive skin so he’s not insecure about all of them

reading all sorts of magazines together BC THERES NO TOXIC MASCULINITY IN MY HOUSEHOLD AND MY BOY IS ALLOWED TO DO WHAT HE WANTS YA DUMB— right, anyway

he throws you over his shoulder and then walks around to bother you

butt smacking, that’s it, imagine the possibilities

pretending he’s picking you up at bars (like Claire and Phil from Modern Family 😭)

he’ll throw out his best pick up lines and you have to hold in your laughter at the faces he makes ALSO it works bc that’s your husband

being the best husband when you’re sick

making the yummiest foods and making sure your taking natural vitamins along with medicine

hanging out with you the whole time, not caring that you’re sick even though he’s kind of a germaphobe

whining a lot when he’s sick, but he’s partially just messing with you bc he wasn’t allowed to whine about anything as a kid (I’m right behind you, John)

he’s holding your boobs for comfort LMAO

I feel like he likes to bite, so he bites you a lot for no reason, and then goes about his day

pretending to have accents

more importantly, Dean knows how to speak Spanish, supernatural lied (all that porn and all those novelas and nothing stuck? nah, he’s very good at Spanish)

so he’ll try to seduce you with his Spanish speaking skills (and if you’re Latina/hispanic like me, you think it’s so sexy or it’s just plain cute, idk yet)

playing video games together and being very competitive

he’s very clean and very neat so you never have to tell him to clean up after himself !

he’s very protective of you, but never oversteps bc he knows you can handle yourself

he likes introducing you as his wife

it’s probably not even necessary but he’ll say it very loud and with a gigantic smile and he’ll embarrass you but it’s okay bc it’s Dean

he lies and says he’s your sugar daddy when people comment about the age gap

dude, dude, he’ll tease you a lot like… 🤣 he’ll copy your moans, or repeat stuff you said to him during sex. he’ll tell you very descriptively about how it all went down and the faces you made and the sounds you made.. you know, like in rock and a hard place [09.08]

especially if you’re shy

you wanna strangle him, but you don’t bc he’s the love of your life !

did I do this right? :( doesn’t matter, add some headcannons in the tags or comments 😭 i love husband!dean

taglist

@rominaszh @lanassmarty @murdockscumsock @zepskies @candy-coated-misery0731 @lyarr24 @spnfamily-j2 @globetrotter28

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DEANBRAINROTWRITINGS 

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

Mon I think Aaron got a pair of old man (dilf) style reading glasses and at first he’s embarrassed to wear them with the team bc he knows Morgan or Dave will tell him he’s getting old BUT when he wears them at work he notices you get unable to focus in the team meeting and you’re all dazed basically until he takes them off and tucks them away but bonus point that this interaction makes him feel very desired and wanted 😵‍💫 and maybe he’ll show them off to you in private later 🤫

The Glasses

Warnings: Pining?? Sort of?? Maybe idk. Nothing smutty but there are some implications. This is like borderline nsfw? Maybe??

Word count: 1.1k

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!bau!reader

A/n: Omg yes. We love dilf glasses on Hotch. He already looks so pretty and desirable but something about glasses on him is different and I need it. I wouldn't say this fic is necessarily nsfw. But I might be willing to write a part two where it becomes smutty. I'll leave this as sfw unless I come to the conclusion that it should be marked otherwise.

Tags: @criminalskies

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle

You're completely distracted and it's all his fault. Him and his downright slutty glasses. The first time you saw him wearing them it was a very brief sighting as he had taken them off after just a few seconds of you being in the room. And ever since then you craved to see him wearing those glasses again. They often made an appearance in some of the very inappropriate fantasies you have about your boss. They'd even worked their way into your dreams at night.

The case the team is currently working has been dragging on for a couple of days now and you've gotten basically nowhere with it. The fact that you're sitting across from Hotch as he reads a file with his glasses on is not helping you concentrate on the case in the slightest. And it's stirring something up deep inside you the more you stare at him. Aaron wearing those glasses and looking all serious as he reads is making you very horny if you're being totally honest.

"Y/l/n? Y/l/n. Y/n." You hear Hotch speak your name in a stern tone and you feel his hand grasp yours and he squeezes it. You snap out of your trance. "Hmm? Yeah, what is it, Hotch?" He furrows his brows as he looks at you and pulls his hand away now that he has your attention. "Are you okay? You've been distracted. Every time we sit here looking through files, you seem to be distracted. Is something going on? Are you alright?" Concern is clear in his voice.

What you want to say is "No, I'm not alright. I'm horny and it's your fault because you're wearing dilf glasses that make me want you more than ever. You're very distracting and if you don't put them away right now I'll launch myself over this table and kiss you before dragging you to my hotel room." But you figure that's not really the best thing to say to your boss right now. So you settle for giving him a smile and a nod before looking back down at the file in front of you as you try to force yourself not to look at the beautiful man sitting across from you.

You stare down at the papers but even though you're not looking at him anymore, you still aren't actually focusing on the words on the page because you're so concentrated on not looking back up at Hotch to steal another glance at those glasses. Though eventually you can't help it and do it anyway. You can't really stop yourself as you look back to him.

The glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scowles down at his papers. You sigh out loudly by accident. No one else is really paying attention to you aside from Emily and Derek sending each other smirks when they notice just why you're so out of it. But the loud sigh makes Aaron look at you again. His glasses are down far enough that he's looking over the top of them to make eye contact with you.

"Y/n, are you sure you're fine?" He asks, sounding even more concerned now.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired is all."

He stays silent as he observes you for a moment before nodding and going back to his reading.

This continues as the team starts throwing ideas around. Aaron keeps an eye on you throughout it and he knows your excuse of being tired, while partially true, is definitely not the main reason for your behaviour and he just can't pinpoint exactly what it is. But he realises it must have something to do with him as you can't keep your eyes off of him, and only him. You're not having this problem with any of the other team members. Not Derek, not JJ, not anyone but him.

He goes back to your previous statement about being tired once everyone goes back to sifting through the numerous number of old reports and files from the precinct as you all try to come up with a group of suspects.

Hotch speaks up when he feels your eyes on him again. "Would you like me to get you a coffee? I know what they have here isn't very good, but it might wake you up a bit." He glances up at you as he waits for your response. "Yeah, sure. That's probably just what I need."

He nods and stands, in the process he removes his glasses and sets them down on the table. He notices how your eyes follow the glasses and that's when pieces start coming together in his mind. He figures he'll test it out when he comes back.

He leaves and comes back a few minutes later with your cup of coffee and sets it down in front of you. You thank him and he nods then sitting back down. This time, leaving his glasses off. In fact, he actually puts them away so they're out of sight entirely.

This seems to change things. You're more focused on the work. You still give him the occasional glance but you're not full on staring at him with drool practically spilling out of your mouth like you had been earlier.

He leaves the glasses put away and he tries his best to read without them like he used to. He'd known he had needed glasses long ago but he refused to wear them because he didn't want his age to show. He knew he would get some teasing remarks about it from Dave and Morgan. But eventually, it got to the point where he could hardly do the reading part of his job. So he reluctantly had his eyes checked and soon he was wearing glasses that made it far easier to read.

He didn't like the glasses in the slightest. They made him feel old and he didn't like that. But the way you looked at him when he was wearing them, that did something to him. It made him want to wear them.

Unable to work without them, he gets them back out and puts them on. It's hard not to notice the way you immediately look back up from your work. He pretends not to see it.

Over the next half hour you can't help but watch him like he's the most interesting thing you've ever seen. You're fixated on him. And now he is sure it's the glasses that are doing it. He has to bite back a smile. Knowing you apparently find him so attractive with them on makes him feel good inside. He doesn't understand why you would like it, but it's extremely clear that it's doing something for you. He's tempted to show up at your hotel room later to explore this further and see just how much you like them.

[devixxish]

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x gn! Reader

Word Count: 644

Tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, already existing problems in the relationship, reader doesn't hate the ex, they just hurt,, nothing heavy tbh

A/N: (honestly, idk what this is) I wrote this with Gojo in my mind, but you can imagine anyone tbh, nothing is specified. Uhh take this as you will :D Aight, enjoy ♡

The rain hadn't stopped all night. It hit the windshield in heavy drops, blurring the passing city lights into colorful streaks. You sat in the passenger's seat, legs curled up, fingers lazily tracing invisible shapes on the fogged-up glass of the window. He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other idly drumming against the gear shift, music playing low through the speakers.

Neither of you said much. You never really did on nights like this.

You turned your head, your gaze landing on him; watching him in the dim glow of the dashboard. He looked tired- he always did. Eyes fixed on the road, lips pressed together and jaw tight like he was chewing on something he couldn't quite voice. You knew that look all too well. You always knew. It always came when he was thinking about him.

It had been long. How long exactly, you couldn't be sure. Maybe too long. Too long since you had comforted him through the worst of it, since you had picked up his pieces, since you had crossed the line from friends to.. whatever this was. Too long since you had last told yourself it didn't matter, that the past was the past. But the past always had a way of lingering, heavy, unrelenting. And no matter how often or how hard he tried, you could feel it; you weren't the only one lingering. And, perhaps, he knew it too.

"I think about him sometimes," you suddenly spoke up, voice quiet, almost drowned out by the angry thuds of the rain.

His grip on the wheel tightened. "What?"

It took a moment for you to answer. "I see him. In my head.", you clarified, head now turned to the other side as you traced a raindrop down the window. "Like he's still here."

You didn't have to explain further. He knew exactly what you meant.

A deep breath, then a soft sigh. "He's not."

You almost hated how broken he sounded when he said that. Almost.

"Do you see him, though?", you pressed, voice timid as you turned again to face him. "When you look at me, do you ever wish it was him?"

The pause was just a second too long.

The light ahead turned red, and he slowed the car to a stop. The rain only got worse, hammering against the roof of the car, filling the silence he wouldn't.

The air between you had thickened with unspoken truths and unshed tears. You wanted to ask more- Did he love you better? Did he know you more? Am I just a replacement of what you lost? -but you feared you already knew the answers to each and everyone of those questions. And you weren't so sure you would be able to handle hearing the words from his mouth.

You looked down at your hands on your lap, curling and flexing your fingers as if you could shake the feeling away that way.

"Forget it. It doesn't matter," you muttered, reaching for the door handle. You wanted to get out of there. You needed to get away.

But his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist. Warm and steady against your cold skin.

"Don't.", he said, voice low, tired. "Don't do that."

You exhaled shakily through your nose, eyes glued down on where his fingers pressed into your skin.

"Then tell me," you whispered, voice equally as broken and tired as his own, as you lifted your gaze to meet his. "Tell me I'm not a replacement. Tell me I'm not here just 'cause you miss what you lost."

The light turned green. He didn't move. Didn't let go. Didn't speak.

Outside, life kept going. Cars sped past, people hurried under their umbrellas and life kept moving forward like nothing had changed.

But in the small space of that car, everything had.

Devixxish© All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload or modify my work in any way.

[guiltysungho]

— Mona lisa

genre : tags. fluff, childhood crush, class clown x class president

pairing. high school classmate!woonhak x gn!reader

wordcount. 1110

a/n. we are so back!! i hope y’all like this. idk how often ill be writing here cause school but feedback is always appreciated as usual.

@onedoornet

It was time for english class, one of the few classes you enjoyed, and yet you weren’t rushing in the same direction as your classmates. The echoing siren of the school bell resounded through the halls around you as you stared at your hand firmly locked in his grip, letting the force pulling you forward drag you along further.

With the sudden silence in the air, you brought your feet to a stop and pulled your hand out of his. Honestly, you wanted to yell at him but that would only put you in more trouble. You stood face to face in the stairwell, while you kept your eyebrows furrowed with a slight pout in your lips, he couldn’t help but smile at his accomplishment.

Before you could turn your back to make your way back to your class, his hand met yours once again. Now all your face reflected was worry. You glanced at your hands watching as his fingers slipped in between your fingers, holding onto you.

“Trust me” you looked up at him with the sound of those words, he smiled softly, the same smile you had seen throughout your school years, and somehow this time it felt different.

You gave him a quick nod, pushing all your anxious thoughts behind and letting him guide you into his world, the same way you had done for him.

Once you finally reached the storage room you felt his grip loosen, and through it seemed like the normal thing to do, you felt it in your chest like a stab in your heart. The more you tried to act like you weren’t thinking about it, as you watched him move things around, trying to unlock the window as quickly as possible, the more you found yourself realizing that you didn’t just like the feeling of his hand squeezing your knuckles.

Tutoring the Kim Woonhak wasn’t a good nor a bad thing, he wasn’t a lost cause but he wasn’t interested either. Most days you’d stay behind in class together, he’d have his seat backwards while facing you, then he’d ask about your day, and it never stopped there. With all the preparations you had done, mentally and concretely, he would always find a way to make you talk, and you never really wanted to stop because you never really got to talk anywhere else.

“You know, you have a really soothing voice. Like whenever you’re called up to read out I try to stay awake just to listen to you.” he said that once, while you were lecturing him on pronunciation. You stared at him for a while after that, a mix of embarrassment and relief bubbling in your belly.

The only constant would be the work you would give him to have done for the next session, which he always did, you would let him talk to you while you corrected his answers. You weren’t sure how you got to the point of skipping class with him but that was where you were now.

Did it even make sense to fall for your classmate on the last day of high school? You shook the idea out of your head, you lost your chance, if you ever had one to begin with.

“I’m going to go first, it’ll be easier to help you out from outside.” he told you as you stood by the half open window, he could see your weariness and placed a hand on your head patting gently.

“Do we have to do this?”

“Of course not, but where’s the fun in that?” You hadn’t realized you were holding on to the corner of his shirt till he took your hand off gently, holding onto it carefully, “I promise you’ll feel better once this part is over.”

So you watched him climb out the window, keeping guard incase of any trouble. Before you knew it he was out and it was your turn.

“Be careful y/n. Don’t worry too much if you fall I’ll catch you.” He tried to keep his voice down while yelling these words at you, somewhat reassuring words that helped you put your foot out.

You were a lot slower than he was and he was a lot more patient than you were, the wall wasn’t incredibly tall but you couldn’t shake your fears away so easily. His voice kept you grounded, indications on where you could put your hands to get lower. Soon enough you felt his hand on your leg guiding you and you were able to relax.

“I got you, you can let go.” He held on to the back on your knees and your back, you followed his instructions, keeping your eyes shut, and ended up in his arms.

The moment you opened your eyes, you were met with his face, closer than you expected, closer than he has ever been to you. You turned your gaze away hoping he would put you down, and you could just ignore it, but he doesn’t so you look at him again.

Your wide eyes, lips slightly open, eyebrows confusedly furrowed only made him amused, while your heart pounded louder in your chest each time his eyes would land on your lips.

It was embarrassing. You turned your head away, tapping on his arm for him to put you down.

As soon as you felt your feet on the ground, you created some distance between the two of you walking a few steps further from him. You let him hand you your bag while maintaining the space, trying to avoid his obvious staring at the same time.

His hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back to his side. You tried to release yourself from his grip, struggling to break the bind.

“What are you doing?” He laughed watching you try to shake his hand off.

“…You’re too close.” You looked up at him hesitantly, you hated that his smile had any effects on you, but the more he looked at you flashing his perfectly shaped teeth, the more you wanted to just give in.

“You don’t want me close?” He titled his head, seeming almost offended.

You stared at him confused, he was teasing you, you thought as you glanced at the corner of his lips, curved up as it usually was whenever he made fun of you.

“Should I make it more obvious?” He asked as he leaned in closer. You felt an urge to back up, to look away, you were scared because you knew nothing of this. As his hand found it’s place at the back of your neck, you wondered to yourself. Had it been obvious this whole time?

[shadowdarlings]

Blood Will Rain II

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis : After emerging victorious in the war with Hybern, you are learning to be a part of a family again. Your recovery after being captive is slow, but a certain shadowsinger makes it his responsibility to see that you get well again.

part one

Pairings : AzrielxReader , ReaderxInnerCircle!Platonic , ReaderxRhysand!Siblings

A/N : part two of idk. if you’d like to be tagged in any other series updates please comment!

Warnings : slight angst, mentions of captivity, az being sweetie pie hehe

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It had been weeks since you and your family had returned to the Night Court. After half a millennia you were thrilled to be back in the city of starlight. Velaris, your home, finally. You had taken up a semi-permanent residence in the House of Wind alongside Cassian and Azriel. Although the elation of returning woke something that had been long asleep within you, the scars of your captivity rang throughout your very bones. Rhysand made a habit of coming to check on you frequently. Sometimes under the guise of wanting to meet with his general or shadowsinger, but it was all to see you. You noted his efforts and appreciated his call to be your older brother, but you did not know how to be a sister anymore. You did not know how to be a friend. These titles had been forgotten, the only thing you knew how to do was be prisoner. You often caught yourself falling into old habits that had been developed during the 500 years you were Hybern’s pet. The chambers in which he kept you at the grey stone palace had changed throughout the years. The first 200 you spent confined to a small dungeon with little light or air. After much beguiling the King saw fit to move you into a room similar to what their servants were housed in. It was nothing compared to the space and lavishness of your quarters in the House.

This did not stop you from remaining mostly confined to that room. It was rare that you strode the halls or explored the libraries or training ring. Interactions with the rest of your brother’s court were kept short and polite. You did not want them to see that you now felt stranger to them, this world. Although you had grown up with the three Illyrian males they had become something you did not recognize. They too had gone through extensive changes during these years. Rhysand had become High Lord. Cassian a commanding General to the Night Court’s armies. Azriel had become something completely different than what you knew before. He was the same in some regards, still reserved and watchful, but his presence held a more powerful purpose than it did during those years in Illyria. These people were your family, yes, but they were also strangers. The Archeron sisters were also completely foreign to you. Feyre visited as Rhys did and made efforts to give you any comfort you requested. The other two sisters you hardly spoke to or saw at all. Strangers. They were all strangers. Except that this was their House, their family. There was a sickening realization that it was not them but you who was the stranger. So you kept to yourself, to your abominably large quarters, and to the small tasks you gave yourself each day.

You were up before dawn as you practiced each morning. The power that the Cauldron had bestowed on you was something that needed an outlet. These last hours of night were perfect, you would not disturb anyone as you released waves of magic. The stars winked at you from the lightening sky as you levitated each item in your room several inches then gently placed them back down. It was simple magic, not anything that could be used productively, but it was something to quell the ocean inside. One floor above you felt movement coming from Cassian’s rooms. The General was often awake early but typically not for at least another hour. The shock of it was enough that your bed landed with a dull thud instead of silent ease. Panic struck through you and it was an effort to control your breaths. “Relax,” you said to yourself, “he is not your enemy.” The footsteps and noises that came from the two Illyrians often sent your survival instincts into hyperdrive until you reminded yourself that they were not the guards. You were not prisoner. You were home. Loosing a calm breath you considered. His steps were no longer solitary but accompanied by a lighter pair, and they were making their way down to your floor. Then seconds later a soft knock sounded on the large wooden door to your sitting room just outside your sleeping quarters. You shouldered on the floor length robe that hung on your bedpost and pulled your midnight hair back from your face. Padding over gently you opened the door slightly to reveal a towering Azriel waiting to greet you.

“There’s breakfast,” he offered observing your entire figure. He seemed to note the thin sheen of sweat that adorned your forehead from your morning magic. He did not comment, but raised his palm slightly in invitation. “Let me change into something more appropriate and I’ll be ready,” you said assessing him in a similar manner. The shadowsinger was not in his usual Illyrian leathers, but instead he donned casual black pants and a loose fitting long black shirt. The swirls of ink on his chest peeking just above the neckline. Whispers of autumn were upon the northern territory, a slight chill had claimed the mornings while the sun still heated the afternoons. He bowed slightly, “Of course,” was all he said before you shut the door and turned to get yourself ready. The outfits you’d worn at the House had all been casual. Rhys did not deem it fit for you to take up any sort of fighting anytime soon, and you were inclined to agree with him. “Recovery,” is what he had said, “that is all I want you to focus on. If you need anything at all please let any one of us know.” You smiled slightly at the thought while pulling on a lightweight sweater that matched your violet eyes and a pair of black leggings accompanied by woolen socks. It had been longer than you could remember since such kindness had been extended to you. It was so foreign, but you welcomed it nonetheless. After tying your hair into a loose bun at the nape of your neck you strode to the double doors that entered the hallway. Upon opening them you were surprised to see Azriel still standing there waiting for you.

“You didn’t have to wait,” you said, willing the slight blush that threatened to climb up your cheeks to dissipate. “I know,” was all he said before gesturing towards the hall that led to the dining room. The two of you took the short walk in silence. Whether Azriel knew the silence was born by feeling like a stranger he did not let on, but silence with him felt different than with the others. With the rest of your family you were always searching for something to say, something to fill the emptiness that gave away your alienation from them. With Azriel the quiet did not seem so desperate. Perhaps it was just the nature of a shadowsinger, you thought.

The two of you entered into the grand dining room and the silence was broken by Cassian’s bellowing laughter and Mor’s palm thwacking against his bicep. Surely you did not want to know the words they had exchanged before your arrival. Rhysand and Feyre swooped into the main room not a second later, the two of them giving knowing glances as they strode in and joined the rabble. You were happy for your brother, and it was then you made a mental note to try and get to know his new mate better. When you halted a few feet from the group, Azriel stopped with you. Rhysand turned his attention from Feyre and his eyes landed on you and the towering Illyrian standing just to your side. “Good morning, Y/N. Good morning, Az,” he purred. Cassian and Mor paused their bickering to gaze over to you both as well. The sets of eyes that all laid upon you now had you toying with the sleeve of your sweater, but you simply replied “Good morning, everyone.” Feyre approached and wrapped her slender arms around your shoulders. “I hope you slept well,” she said pulling back after her short embrace. You nodded and plastered a cheery smile on your face. This was your family. They love you. “Good,” Rhysand stated, “because we have a long day ahead of us.” At your confused look Azriel leaned down to say gently “We’re going to celebrate your birthday.”

Taglist : @annamariereads16 @lilah-asteria @sidthedollface2 @todaywasafairytale07 @doodlebugg16-blog

[jasntodds]

Ok but the gifs you just posted of jay... Mmmmm yum. He looks too good, could you imagine him coming in late at night from patrol taking off the red hood gear and laying with you and him talk about how much he loves you in that voice and look like that. Then he's like can i make you feel good?? Ughhhh Just a thot.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason comes home from patrol with only one thing on his mind: you

Warnings: Swearing, 18+, oral (f!receiving), idk I wrote this at 4am lmao

Words: 2,006

A/n: Anon is talking about these gifs and I, too, have some thoughts™️

masterlist | request info | tag list

Jason has two moods when patrol gets a little messy. Sometimes, it’s like it triggers something he begs so desperately to forget. It’s as if all the memories and fears kick down his front door and barge in without ever asking for an invite.

They intrude on his space of peace and calm like a disease wreaking havoc through his nervous system. It’s not usually pretty when that happens. But, other times, it’s as if those memories knock. The fears knock softly and look at him with hope that one day things get better. It’s as if they’re just looking for a way out and Jason is the helpful type. Those nights, he’s not angry or worried or scared, instead, he’s caring. And the only thing left on his mind as he walks through the door, is you.

Jason is always caring towards you. But, on those nights, nights like tonight, it’s always a little more. Nights like tonight are harsh and cruel reminders of what he faces and what the victims face. They are harsh reminders, not that he ever needs one, that in a second, everything can change. Everything he cares about can disappear again. He can disappear from you again. And all he wants to do is be near you.

You stir awake as Jason walks into your bedroom. You can see the shiny, reflective red of the helmet coming from the hallway. A sweet and tired smile tugs at your lips because he’s home. You never really sleep well when he’s out.

“Sorry, baby, didn’t mean to wake you.” Jason mutters as he takes the helmet off.

“‘S okay.” You mumble, watching him strip the rest of the suit off. “Come to bed.” You stretch out an arm as you watch Jason smile.

It's something warm and tender pulling at the corners of his lips as he glances to the floor and then back to you. A twisting and pulling, gnaws at the bottom of his stomach and all he wants is you.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Jason’s chuckle is low and quiet in the room as he comes into bed, sliding right up behind you as he wraps his arms tightly around you.

Jason presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder…and then another one….and another one. He can hear you hum in front of him. Jason’s arms are strong around you, keeping your back pinned to his chest as he places a kiss to your neck. Goosebumps erupt down your spine.

“I love you.” Jason’s voice is groveled and thick against your skin.

“I love you, too, Jay.” You whisper back and Jason swears he can hear the smile on your face a he places more lazy and gentle kisses along your shoulder and neck.

You remember the first time he told you. The thundering and banging of Jason’s heart had come to a stop like it hit a wall straight on going 100mph as the words left his throat. You swore it was as if it had pained him to actually say them. But it didn’t.

It didn’t hurt to say them, it just terrified him to let those words exist anywhere outside of the dark and paranoid corners of his mind. But he said them anyway because you always told him so casually, effortlessly in such a way he was almost jealous of how effortless it was for you to say it. You said it often and softly, never even expecting him to be able to say it back but then he did because he does love you. He had always loved you and he needed you to know.

Since then, since he said those words and you gave him this wild and eager grin before catching his lips in a kiss, he says it freely now. The words fall from his lips as he’s never known any others. He tells you often, regularly, and lazily. It's become effortless for him, too.

“I love you.” Jason mutters again. “So much.” He keeps pressing kisses over your shoulders. “Ya know that, right?” Jason asks.

“Of course, Jay.” You hum softly and tenderly. “I love you, too.” You say it again because you always say it back. You swear you’ll never let him forget that you do. You know how he thinks and sometimes, those dark and twisted voices are cruel to him

Jason’s grip over your middle loosens as he slides a hand under your tank top and you shudder against him. The pads of his fingers run along your stomach gently. He traces his way up until his fingers almost dance right under your breast, just close enough to tease you as his lips are still pressing kisses along your shoulders and neck.

“Can I make you feel good?” Jason’s voice is rough against your ear, his fingers tracing below your breasts so softly you almost miss the touch.

Warmth spreads to your pussy, contracting around nothing as he asks. It’s a realization of how empty you feel without him. You'd be lying if you said watching him strip from the Red Hood gear didn't always do something to you. The suit is fitted so well and it always makes his muscles look perfect. The black and red compliments his skin in such a way it always sends a fire bubbling through your stomach.

But it’s so early, and you have work a few hours.

“It’s four in the morning and I have to work in a few hours.” You want your voice to come out sterner than it does, a betrayal from your own vocal chords. 

“Please.” Jason asks, this time the pads of his fingers trace along the top of your breast as you close your eyes, pushing your ass into him. Jason nearly growls into your neck. “Then we can sleep. Just wanna make you feel good, princess.” His words are absolutely drenched with lust as they hit your ears.

His cock is trapped in his boxes but you can feel his length, hot against your ass. Jason is careful with his fingers, nimble and gentle over your breast, nearly just hovering. He thinks of every way he can make you feel good, completely ruin you right here and right now. He’s almost desperate to hear you moaning out his name in a way that always gets his cock twitching and pulsing.

You hum softly, running over just how much sleep you can get. It’ll never be enough but your mind starts swimming as Jason bucks his hips against you. Your pussy throbs and aches, the tiredness slowly fading away from your mind. He always knows how to get you to unravel, though it’s rarely much effort on his part.

“If I’m late again, I’m blaming you.” You mumble.

You can feel the rumble of Jason’s chest as he chuckles. “That’s fine.” Jason peels himself away from your back and you groan at the sudden cold that rushes over you.

Jason pulls the blanket back before he turns you onto your back as you let out a squeal. His chuckle reverberates around the room as he slides down to position himself between your legs.

Hunger grows in the pit of your stomach as Jason presses soft and gentle kisses along your knee, pulling your legs apart. His mouth moves down your inner thigh and you squirm against him. You can feel him smirk against your skin as he pins your hips in place to keep you still.

"Thought you were tired?" Jason mocks, offering a quick glance your way and you can see the green of his eyes turn into something dark and eclectic, fueled with cockiness.

"Shut up." You mutter, hitting your head back against your pillow.

Jason kisses his way to your underwear. He presses a kiss to your cloth-covered clit and you have to bite back a moan as your hips buck desperately towards him. His chuckle is low and is followed by something you can only describe as a growl.

"Look at you, princess." His eyes flicker up towards you and you want to dive into his eyes and let yourself drown into him. "Soaking already."

You roll your eyes, hands coming to grip his hair in a desperate plea for him to shut up and get to work. It's a snicker this time that leaves his lips as he slides his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down and off in a quick motion.

He goes back to placing kisses to the mound of your leaking pussy and then to your hips. The burning sensation grows in your stomach as your eyes start to burn. He knows what he's doing. He always knows what he's doing and he's good at it.

"Jay." You whine, looking down at him. His eyes meet yours and you think you might burst into flames. "C'mon, please."

A flash of a smirk comes to his lips as he slides a finger through your folds, just teasing your pussy, never taking his eyes off you. He watches your mouth part as a soft and sweet gasp leaves your lips. Your grip on his hair tightens and he loves to watch you fall apart, come completely unraveled with the smallest of touches.

“Think you’ve been waiting for me like this all night.” Jason coos, effortlessly teasing your leaking pussy. Jason breaks eye contact to kiss your swollen clit before sucking it into his mouth. A jolt close to lightning shoots through your body as you let out a raspy moan. “That right, baby?” He flashes that signature grin of cockiness your way and if he weren't so good at it, you might actually want to bite it off of his face.

Jason is cocky and it's not something you'd normally find attractive but there's something in the way he executes it that he sends you into a spin. Jason makes the cockiness attractive and he always backs it up. He's not cocky for no reason and he knows it.

He presses the flat of his long along your pussy, licking all the way up before sucking your clit back into his mouth. It twitches against his lips and your head starts to spin. Your hips buck up but Jason pins them back down, his hand strong and sterny against your flesh.

“Gonna make you feel so good, princess.” Jason coos against you, his breath against your sends a chill down your spine.

Jason moves his tongue, tracing letters against your clit, finding the rythym he knows will get you to unravel into a mess beneath him. He slots two fingers into your pussy, curling them up to the second knuckle until he feels the spongey patch inside of you.

Your head spins and you think gravity might cease to exist if he lets go of you. Your fingers grip and tug his hair, trying to bring him closer to you as the pressure fills your stomach.

Jason's ears collect every gasp and pretty moan that leaves your lips, his name sounding like the closest thing to heaven he's ever heard. His fingers soak up your juices until the pressure finally becomes too much as you're calling out his name in quick succession, your thighs trying to clamp around his head until Jason presses them back down into the mattress.

He works you through your orgasm and only comes up for air as you nearly beg him, your clit pulsing against his tongue.

"Told you I'd make you feel good, baby." Jason's toothy grin glistens in the low light.

You shake your head, your eyes lust-blown. But, he catches the hint of a grin pulling at your lips. "My turn." You gesture your hands lazily at him for him to up towards you.

Jason tilts his head back as a chuckle rumbles through his chest. His eyes lock with yours, his pupils blown but there's something soft in them. "I love you." Jason mutters, climbing his way back up to you.

[luvvictoria]

The Illness of Us

+ pairings. sukuna x f!reader

+ tags. romance, heavy (?) angst, cheating, betrayal, dark romance themes, love triangle (more like a square), secrets and lies, eventual smut, Heian era Sukuna, age gap , idk bro

+ a/n. BASSED OFF A ROMANIAN SONG I CRIED ON.

The rain was falling hard, but you barely noticed it anymore. It was just another storm, just another distraction from the silence that had settled between the two of you. You sat on the cold floor of the empty temple where you often found him — alone, brooding, but always watching.

Sukuna stood across from you, his gaze fixed on something you couldn’t see. He was always like this — distant, even when you were right there next to him. His silence had a weight that pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe.

And maybe that was the problem.

He had always been a curse — something twisted and dark that you couldn’t stay away from, no matter how much you tried. He had drawn you in like a moth to flame, and you had burned for him. You still did.

But now… now it felt like the fire was slowly dying.

“Și boala lor era că nu se potriveau…” (and their illness was that they weren’t right for each other)

The illness of your love was that you were never meant for each other. Sukuna was chaos incarnate, a god of destruction who thrived on pain and violence. And you — you were human, fragile in comparison. The two of you had clashed from the very beginning, your love and arguments interwoven into a cycle of hurt and passion, never finding a balance.

“We don’t fit together,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. He didn’t look at you, but his words hit you harder than anything else ever had.

Your heart clenched painfully. You had heard these words before, but this time, they felt final.

“I don’t care,” you whispered, though your voice shook. “I don’t care if we don’t fit. I still—”

“Still what?” he snapped, finally turning to face you, his eyes dark and filled with something you couldn’t name. Anger? Pain? It was always so hard to tell with him. “Still love me?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

You did. You always had.

But that wasn’t enough, and deep down, you knew that. Sukuna was like a poison that had seeped into your veins, corrupting everything good, everything safe. And yet, even now, you couldn’t let him go. No matter how many times he pushed you away, no matter how many times you fought, you always came back to him.

And he let you. He always let you.

“Și se certau și se iubeau…” (and they argued and they loved each other)

You and Sukuna had never had peace. Every moment of tenderness between you was followed by arguments, by rage. He would kiss you like he was devouring you, pulling you close as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered — only to push you away moments later, his words cutting like knives, reminding you that you were human, mortal, something beneath him.

And yet, despite it all, despite the fire and the fury, there were moments — small, fleeting moments — where it felt like you truly saw him. Not the King of Curses, but the man behind the curse. A man who could love, who could feel, even if he would never admit it.

But those moments never lasted. They couldn’t.

“You need to leave,” Sukuna said, his voice softer now, but no less firm. He stepped closer, towering over you, his eyes never leaving yours. “You need to walk away from this.”

You shook your head, tears burning behind your eyes. “I can’t. I won’t.”

His hand reached out, brushing against your cheek in a rare moment of gentleness. His touch was cold, but it was still Sukuna — still the man you had given everything for.

“You’re a fool,” he whispered, though there was no venom in his words this time. “You’re a fool to love me.”

“I know,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I do. I always will.”

His expression tightened, something unreadable passing across his face. There was a part of him, buried deep beneath centuries of cruelty, that wanted to love you the way you deserved. But he couldn’t. He never could.

“I don’t deserve you,” Sukuna murmured, his hand falling away from your face. “You’ll only get hurt if you stay.”

He had never said anything like this before. Sukuna had always been proud, never admitting weakness, never admitting that there was anything wrong with the way he was. But now, as he stood in front of you, it was as if the weight of everything — the battles, the blood, the destruction — was finally pressing down on him.

“Then why don’t you let me go?” you asked, your voice breaking.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, in a voice so low you almost didn’t hear him, he whispered, “Because I can’t.”

“Se iubeau, dar nu se potriveau.” (they loved each other but weren’t right for each other)

That was the truth of it. He loved you, in his own twisted way, but it would never be enough. He would never change. You would always clash, always fight, always fall apart only to come back together again, trapped in a cycle that neither of you could escape from.

Sukuna’s eyes softened, just for a moment, as he took a step back. “I want you to move on,” he said, his voice strained. “I want you to live without me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him that you didn’t care, that you would rather be with him, broken as it was, than live without him. But the words died in your throat as you saw the pain in his eyes — the real, raw pain that he never let anyone see.

“I’ll only ruin you,” he continued, his gaze hardening. “You deserve more than this.”

You wanted to scream at him, to tell him that you didn’t care. But deep down, you knew he was right. You had always known. This was a love that would destroy you in the end.

But how could you leave him, when every part of you still loved him?

Sukuna turned away from you, his form dissolving into the shadows as the storm outside raged on. He didn’t say goodbye — he never did. But this time, something told you it was different.

This time, he was letting you go.

And as the rain pounded against the temple walls, you realized with a heavy heart that he had never been the one keeping you trapped.

It had always been you.

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[wonnieluvr]

bells

pairing -> xander hawthorne x fem!reader

summary -> you buy xander a charm bracelet for your anniversary. now you can’t help the smile on your face when you hear those bells.

warnings -> you may die of cuteness, a little bit of financial um brokeness? mentioned 😭

a/n -> my first xander fic omg i love him so so so much :((( this sort of went off the rails but i think its still cute! (i'm nervous writing xander idk if i got his character right ahhhh)

in your defence, you hadn't realised when you'd bought the bracelet just how loud it was.

xander was a hard person to buy presents for. not because you didn't know him, you knew everything there was to know about him, he was your boyfriend after all, there was no one else you wanted to remember the little details about. it was more so that, well.. he was rich.

he had all that he could possibly ask for- material wise anyways- and it never took long for him to get his hands on anything. admittedly, you knew that it didn't always come from money (something you had heard about stolen car pieces) but it sure helped if anyone ever came looking for their belongings. you hadn't approved of that method but what could you do now? the current problem was something a little different..

you had taken avery shopping, in desperate need of the perfect present for your boyfriend. it was your 1 year anniversary and you had been stressing yourself out. it had to be the best present ever.

but when you had seen the bracelet.. oh god, he had to have it. you had your heart set on it, it was absolutely perfect for him. avery had tried to dissuade you when you had seen the price tag (you hadn't let her even offer to pay despite her recently acquired riches), suggesting you could find something else just as good for xander. but you couldn't tear your eyes away from bracelet. what absolutely sold you, however, was the accompanying charms, ready to be added year after year. your eyes were glued to the one of little robot and one of a heart, already imagining it on his wrist.

"i have to get it, ave" she had frowned, concerned, as you stayed pressed to the glass, staring longingly at the present. you were trying to convince yourself more than her, she knew that, you were fighting against yourself (and your bank account probably), trying to justify the purchase.

"its perfect" avery didn't know about that but she took your word for it, internally debating for herself if it was the best option.

"just get it, y/n/n" she finally sighed, shaking her head as your eyes lit up. "if you think it's worth it, get it"

and so you had, robot charms and all. and how glad you were you did.

he had even teared up when you beamed at him, so wide and looking as happy as you had ever felt. you were so sweet to him, he had sniffled, flushing and looking away as he asked you to put it on for him. he was never one to lose his confidence but you made the words escape him, he couldn't think straight when you stared at him like that, like he was your whole world.

not only had xander loved it- as you knew he would- he wore it everywhere. he never took it off, not that you knew of.

not even when the teasing started.

the teasing, you grinned at the thought. jameson had been the first to notice. every single time your boyfriend entered the room, jameson had smirked, chuckling and loudly exclaiming "y/n! your cat's here!"

you hadn't understood at first, sharing a confused look with xander as his tall form flopped beside you on the couch. it had taken you precisely two more comments to realise. he was ringing. you could hear him from rooms away, his entrance announced before he even made it into sight.

xander was an expressive person, he often used his hand when he talked, something you loved as he was so passionate and happy to share things with you. you had loved his rants before but you loved them even more now.

grayson had been the one to raise an eyebrow this time. you had been coming down to eat dinner when he had asked where xander was. before you could answer, you heard it. the ringing. it was high pitched and cute, sounding exactly like the bells on a cat's collar, alerting you of their presence immediately. seconds later, xander had bounded around the corner, a smile on his face. grayson had offered you an amused look as you both turned to each other, wide eyed.

"what was that?" xander frowned, a cheeky pout that never stuck long around you. "oh! are you conspiring against me? how dare you?!" he finished his dramatic cry with a poke to your ribs, beginning to tickle you. you laughed loudly, surprised and quickly pulling your arms down to cover your stomach from his onslaught.

"stop!" you cried out, grinning. "xander" you whined, stepping away from him and quickly moving to take a seat. he merely smiled after you, following diligently. your attention was caught again by the ringing on his wrist as he pulled out the chair beside you.

you tried to bite down the amused smile on your lips, not wanting him to notice in case he hated it (not that he ever would). xander had eyed you a moment longer, pondering and his gaze intense as he tried to work you out. he had given up when everyone begun eating, quickly becoming more interested in the food in front of him that whatever mischief you may have been up to.

there was always time to interrogate you later. and he had, just not until your own comments started.

you had been waiting for him to realise, it never usually took him long to work out what you were talking about. like jameson had, you begun to call out to him when he rounded the corner. he could no longer surprise you in hallways and scare you around corners, you could hear him coming.

for a few days he had only pouted and claimed you had some sort of sudden superpowered sense. you had laughed, in disbelief that he still hadn't realised. had he really not heard how loud the charms on his wrist were? you found it hard to believe with all of his genius that he couldn't work it out.

"here, kitty kitty" you called, wandering the hallways in search of your boyfriend. he had raised an eyebrow at the nickname at first but quickly got used to it.

he tended to disappear sometimes in the vast house. finding him was all part of the fun. when you did find him, it was in his room. you felt a little silly for not thinking of there first but it wasn't often he was in here when he could be anywhere else.

he froze as you opened the door, already suspicious.

"xander?" you cautiously eyed him, stepping into the room. you both watched each other for a moment, in a stalemate before your eyes drifted to his hands. he was in the middle of hiding a box, looking much like the one you had gifted him a few weeks ago. "what are you doing? is that-?"

he straightened up immediately, slightly embarrassed at being caught, he was usually good at distractions but there was not much he could do now that he had been caught. he held the box behind his back, mouth opening to come up with something to draw away your attention but you knew him.

"don't you dare distract me right now" you held up a finger in warning, eyes narrowing playfully. "why do you have a bracelet box?"

you paused, mind running wild with thoughts, one sticking out painfully. it jabbed at your chest and you lost all teasing in an instant, expression dropping.

"do you.. are you-" you begun, throat tightening.

he caught on almost as quickly as the thought came to you. "no!"

he jumped, closing the distance in quick strides. his hands came up to hold your upper arms, forcing you to look at him. you could feel the box press into your skin, hear the faint jingle of the bracelet. "it's for you" he held it out to you, hesitant.

your gaze was drawn to his wrist where your gift rested, unmoving since you had given it to him. you heart filled with warmth again, shining eyes meeting his.

"for me?" you whispered quietly, hands taking the box from him and gently lifting the lid to find a bracelet, once almost identical to one adorning his skin. he chewed on his lip, a grin threatening to spread across his lips in excitement.

"do you like it?" despite how sure of himself he was, you could always hear the underlying uncertainty, the worry you may not approve. you could feel tears slightly welling up, blinking harshly to hold them back as you took note of the scone charm.

"to remind you of me" he clarified, beginning to ramble the longer you took to say something. he was nervous. "i suppose i could have gotten you a better charm, i should have gotten one to suit you. but you mean as much to me as scones! not to compare you to food, but you know what i mean! i love you more than scones. you're so pretty and sometimes i just don't know what to say-"

"xander" you couldn't help the tears in your eyes this time. you loved him so much. "thank you" you whispered softly, nothing could take away the smile on your face right now.

"i love it. i love you" you held out your hand to let him put it on for you. when he had done the clasp up, you took his hand in yours, shaking them to hear the matching ringing. "two cats" you offhandedly joked, still basking in your glee.

his eyes widened, shaking your intertwined hands again. "cat collars"

"you actually didn't get that?" your own eyes widened, staring at him in shock. you both stared at each for a moment longer before dissolving into giggles.

[tamurilofrivendell]

Deadly Blush | Thranduil x Reader

Pairing Thranduil/Reader

Read on AO3

Content: idk teasing, smut.

Word Count: 3,840

Prompt: (#2 from this list). It’s in bold in the text below.

Requested by anon.

tags: (if you’ve filled in a form for my taglist and you’re not here it’s because your settings are probably set to hide you from search engines so it will not allow me to tag you!) @firelightinferno​, @coopsgirl​, @birbixo0912​, @desert-fern​, @weepingdreammarvel​

The only thing that you could focus on, as the Elvenking's deep voice reverberated around the room, was his mouth. You tried not to be so blatant but you could not stop your gaze from dropping to those perfectly shaped lips every time he spoke. The rest of the room seemed unaffected by your staring and by your, truly, quite sinful thoughts. Thranduil himself seemed to not notice and you decided that was a small mercy because you were pretty certain that if he did, you might die.

However, the King was not as clueless as you believed him to be. He could see you quite clearly and, truthfully, you were not very subtle about it. The rest of the council were far too focused upon the words the king was speaking to pay attention, nodding and murmuring their agreement every so often or voicing a question of their own.

When this happened next, an important member of his council drawing everyone else's attention while they brought up a very good point, Thranduil took his chance to play with you a little.

He did not turn his head, he could see you clearly enough without even needing to. His attention appeared to be on the discussion even as his tongue flicked out of his mouth and ran along the length of his lower lip.

He saw the way you shifted in your seat and inwardly smirked, though nothing showed on his face. He remained as stoic as always, his expression a mask of dignity and calm. Inside, he was most amused. The council members all turned back to him and he was quick to snap his mind back into professional mode, answering the question with ease and authority.

The next time everyone's attention was drawn elsewhere, he took his bottom lip between his teeth.

Your face had to be on fire by now, you could feel it, and you desperately hoped that nobody so much as glanced your way. You were only ever in these meetings to take notes and so thankfully it was quite common that nobody paid any attention to you. Sometimes the ignorance bothered you but today you desperately hoped and wished for it.

Just when you thought you'd gotten yourself under control again, heat rushed straight back into your cheeks at the sight of Thranduil lifting his hand to his face and running his finger over his mouth. The gesture was merely thoughtful but your mind took it to an entirely different place.

You ducked your head and then, thankfully, a halt was called to the proceedings and everybody began to stand and leave the room. You decided to stay right where you were with your hair a curtain either side of your face, acting busy with the parchment on your lap, until they had all left the room so there was little chance of them seeing your no doubt ridiculously flushed face.

“You know, I like it when your face is all red.” Thranduil's voice suddenly purred in your ear and you shivered, wondering how he had moved so quickly.  

“My lord... please.” You murmured, though you had no idea if you were pleading for him to stop teasing you or for him to make the uncomfortable knotted feeling in your stomach go away.

“Please what?” He leaned in a little closer, ghosting those sinfully soft lips over the shell of your ear before he was gone again, pacing back over to the wine decanter in the corner of the room.

Your heart stuttered in your chest and you finally lifted your head to look at him, wondering if that had even happened at all or if you had imagined it entirely.

"Nothing, I..."

However, Thranduil was talking again and you went quiet. "You know, you seem so awfully interested in my mouth, yet I do not believe you truly heard most of the words that actually left it. I dread to imagine how useless today’s notes must be." He said it so matter-of-factly that you quite literally couldn’t understand how you did not die on the spot.

He had seen you staring at him? Oh, how horrifyingly embarrassing!

You opened your mouth to let out a stream of apologies but he was already talking again, having now turned back around to face you with his wine in his hand. "Perhaps you should rid yourself of such distracting thoughts.”

You blinked and your heart sank, nodding as you lowered your gaze shamefully. He was reprimanding you and you had never felt so low in your whole life. “I... I am so sorry, Aran nin, I...” You could not speak another word. You felt so ashamed, so embarrassed. You fiddled with the corner of the parchment and waited for him to sweep out and leave you here alone while he joined the others for their quick lunch.

A deep chuckle left him as he stared at you, watching you intently. “You misunderstand me.” He said. When you looked up, he lifted the wine chalice to his lips and drank the entire thing down, making you squirm as you waited in confusion for him to explain what it is you have misunderstood.

“My lord?” You had to prompt eventually, when he lowered the now empty glass to the table and licked his lips, his eyes burning holes in your face. Your gaze slipped involuntarily back to his mouth as he did this and your face burned as you forced them back up to his face. He was grinning.

“What I meant,” he finally spoke again. “Was you should rid yourself of these thoughts... by indulging them.”

You blinked dumbly up at him for a long moment. He stared unblinkingly back at you, the hint of a smirk on his face. You swallowed hard. “I, uh... what?” How eloquent, you thought bitterly.

Thranduil chuckled again and he moved across the room towards you. “Well.” He shrugged, reaching out a hand towards you. You took it and he pulled you up onto your feet so you were now standing right in front of him. He was still quite a lot taller than you were and you had to tilt your head. He was quiet a moment longer, studying you, and you could have sworn you saw his eyes soften. “Do you not think,” he continued, his voice soft, seductive, as he lifted his hand and traced his thumb slowly across your bottom lip. Your breath caught in your throat. “That if you were to have what you were so obsessing over that your thoughts might cease...?” His smirk widened. “Hm? You might actually get some work done. I might even be able to use those notes as intended...”

You felt as if the very breath had been stolen from you and your skin felt hot and the knot in your stomach only felt like it was getting more tangled up. You had to be dreaming or hallucinating... but could a hallucination feel quite this solid, you wondered, as his thumb continued to rub gently at your lower lip. His skin was so soft...

Without warning, because you did not move away or show disinterest, he dipped his head and his mouth came down on yours, and you squeaked in surprise. You could feel his amusement as he began to kiss you and for a moment you thought your heart might have stopped altogether before you gathered enough wits to kiss him back, a little timidly. You were kissing the king. Before you could fully get used to this thought, his tongue touched your lips, asking for access, and your mouth opened slightly as if you were about to gasp. Thranduil took the chance immediately and his tongue plunged into your mouth. The sensation, coupled with the taste of him, was overwhelming. He kissed you like this, for a little while, waiting patiently for you to grow less tense as your mind fought to catch up with what was happening here. How your secret, quite lascivious fantasy had somehow become a reality.

Eventually, you managed to get over your intense shock and you began to kiss him with the enthusiasm you had imagined in your mind, and Thranduil hummed a sound of appreciation into your mouth as his tongue battled against your own. He moved his arms and his hands took firm hold of your waist. You made a slightly strangled sound and he made a noise in response that sounded like a laugh.

When he finally broke the kiss, pulling back for air, you gasped in a deep breath and opened your eyes. As you focused in on him, you realised he hadn't moved very far away, his nose still only inches from your own, his hands still grasping at your waist. He was breathing quite heavily and his pupils were dilated as he stared back at you, making his gaze seem dark... and hungry.

There was a long silence and you thought he was going to pull away. He tore his gaze from you long enough to glance at the closed door of the room. You didn't know it but he was trying to figure out if he had enough time before everybody returned to continue the meeting. Enough time for what? You found out a moment later when his lips came crashing back down on your own, his tongue no longer asking as he shoved it into your mouth. You had absolutely no complaints about that, immediately returning to kissing him back, however it was different. There was a greater urgency to his kisses this time and in the next second he had moved you over the floor at lightning speed and your back hit the wall.

He continued to kiss you as one hand moved from your waist and began to slide up under your shirt. You shivered and made an embarrassing squeaking sound that had him pulling back to look at you. He paused, as if realising what he'd done. Thranduil licked his lips, his breathing ragged, and you were certain you had never seen the Elvenking look quite so... out of control.

"Is..." He started but then he stopped, his eyes flicking downward briefly, as if he was unsure of what to say. That couldn't be right. Thranduil was never unsure of what to say. You watched his gaze turn to the door again and then move back to your face and you suddenly understood the question he was trying to ask you. Is this okay? Do you want this? Do you want more? It was absolutely absurd, of course, and you were certain this had to be a sick joke. But the desire in his eyes told a different story and Thranduil may be a lot of things but a liar he isn't.

"Yes." You said, nodding your immediate consent as you stared up at him, your head spinning at the mere idea. "Yes... please." You wanted more, you always did, always had. Now he was... offering it? You could not fathom it but you were not about to say no!

Thranduil studied you for a very long moment, searching your eyes for any hint of uncertainty, but he found none. He growled slightly and his grip on you tightened as he hoisted you up by the waist and pressed you firmly against the wall. Your legs wrapped around him on instinct and your body felt like it was on fire as he attacked your mouth with his once more. He kissed you deeply, thoroughly, though urgently, as if there was not enough time and you realised then why he had kept looking at the door and you understood this would need to be quick. Your heart fluttered in anticipation.

Thranduil kept you pressed to the wall as he slid a hand between your bodies and moved it up under the skirt you’d put on that morning. Luckily, your choice of garments only made this process easier. You moaned into his mouth when, without hesitation, his fingers found that delicious spot between your legs and began to massage, gently at first but his touch became more vigorous. He needn't have really bothered, because you were wet enough already, embarrassingly. Though it only seemed to excite him when he discovered this. All you could do in this moment was keep making muffled sounds of pleasure into his mouth.

Thranduil wished that he could touch you longer, that he had the time to please you properly as he had always longed to do. He had not expected his little game to go quite this far, of course, but he told himself that next time... he would take all the time he wished and pay attention to every inch of you.

He grunted as he reached down and tugged at the laces keeping his trousers in place, pulling himself out and lining up between your legs. A gasp left you as you felt the tip of him against you and you had to pull away from his mouth to process that this was actually happening. He didn’t stop, breathing laboured as he held eye contact with you the entire time he pushed himself inside, watching the way your eyes almost rolled back and your body shuddered with delight.

Then he was moving and you were pretty certain that you had entered heaven. He moved with determination as he took you right there against the wall of the conference room and soon he was practically panting in your ear. You had never thought yourself to be turned on by sounds before but the ones you heard leave him, quiet as they may be as he controlled himself, changed your mind. He moved quickly but not selfishly, his large body pinning you between him and the wall, one hand still between your legs trying to make certain you felt pleasure too. Your legs, which had once been firmly about his waist, began to lose their grip on him.

You were a mess.

There was no other way to put it.

One particularly well aimed thrust caused a loud moan to rip itself from your throat and one of Thranduil’s large hands immediately clamped down over your mouth. You couldn’t help it! You were not as good at controlling yourself as he appeared to be and it felt... so... good.

He smirked as he looked back into your eyes and started to move his hips just that little bit faster, as if reading your thoughts, his hand still firmly over your mouth as you moaned again, the sound muffled, the back of your head tilting back and hitting the wall as your legs began to feel useless around him and your fingers dug into the fabric of his doublet.

Thranduil’s smug expression soon disappeared from his face as he realised that he was getting closer and closer to release. His hand slipped from your mouth, his palm pressing hard against the wall as his thrusts increased slightly, his pace becoming desperate as he drove himself closer, aware that time was running out. You were, of course, much closer and you tensed around him as a great wave crashed over you, your blood rushing in your ears as you screamed out your satisfaction. Thranduil tried to cover your mouth again but he wasn’t quick enough and the feeling of you contracting around him made him forget everything else as he was pushed over the edge of his own orgasm.

As the ecstasy rolled over him, he dropped his head and pressed his face into the crook of your neck and he let out a deep, almost primal groan against your skin. The heat and the sound of him made you shiver. The feeling of him releasing deep inside you made you moan again, but you did bite your lip this time to try and stifle the sound. Thranduil went still and, for a short while, the only sound in the room was both of your heavy breathing mixing together.

Slowly, Thranduil came back to himself. He sighed, his breath hot on your neck, and he kissed your flushed skin, his lips soft and tender. You hummed, keeping your eyes closed as he gently began to suck on your neck, losing himself for a moment, and then unfortunately he pulled his face away to look you in the eye again. He took a deep breath, looking at you for a long moment as if he was studying you. “You are so beautiful...” He breathed, and your heart practically melted. Thranduil leaned in and he kissed you once more, the touch of his lips soft and gentle, as your legs trembled and threatened to stop working. Thranduil’s hands found your waist again and he helped your feet find the floor again, still kissing you.

Sudden, loud voices from the hall outside caused him to jump back from you quite suddenly, his hands immediately moving to adjust his trousers and smooth down his clothing. He stared at the door for a moment before he turned his eyes back on you, watching as you adjusted yourself, the long skirt sliding easily back into place. He reached out and he combed his fingers through your hair, smoothing some stray pieces back down. You stared up at him, captivated. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something but at that very instant the door opened and everybody began to file back into the room, their voices loud and cheerful as they moved to take their seats.

Thranduil moved away from you back to the front of the room, his shoulders straight, his hands clasped behind his back, and his expression once more his normal neutral mask.

You, on the other hand, were certain that your legs were shaking so much that if you took a step you would fall flat on your face in front of everybody. You stayed where you were for a long moment until everybody was seated and then you realised you had no other choice because it was you who needed to take the notes for the final half of this meeting. You forced one foot in front of the other, certain you could feel Thranduil’s seed starting to run down your leg. You bit your lip and you squeezed your thighs together as you finally reached your seat, taking up your parchment and quill once more, and letting out a very shaky breath. You were sure your face was flushed but, as usual, nobody paid you any attention. Small mercies.

The rest of the meeting seemed to drag on for eternity as you did your utmost to take coherent notes of what was being discussed. Unlike how Thranduil had made it sound earlier on, your mind had certainly not let up after getting what it wanted (more than it wanted, even!) No, in fact it was probably worse as your thoughts were full of Thranduil’s firm body pressing you against that wall, the feeling of him moving inside you, his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth...

“...are you even listening?”

You blinked, lifting your head. Your eyes met Thranduil’s and the knowing smirk on his face looked so self-congratulatory you could have actually smacked him for it.

“Sorry?”

“Apology accepted.” He said, his smirk only growing as you blinked up at him.  Your eyes narrowed and he chuckled. “Forgive me, I am only teasing you.”

It was only then that you realised the room was empty. You had not even noticed everybody leaving and you glanced down at the paper in a panic to see if you had even registered the end of the meeting. Apparently you had, in a few almost incomprehensible scribbles that you must have written on autopilot.

Cringing slightly, you turned your attention back to Thranduil. “Have you not teased me enough, my lord?” You asked, a slight smirk of your own visible on your face as you met his gaze.

He let out another laugh, this one brighter, and he seemed pleased. “You will call me Thranduil.” He said firmly and then he shook his head. “And no. I do not believe I have.” 

You would call him... by his name? Without any titles at all? You were too busy trying to figure that one out that you did not catch his next words straight away. When you did, you frowned and tilted your head at him. “No?”

Thranduil shook his head, holding your gaze as he shifted and bent down at the waist so he was eye level with where you were sitting. “No.” He repeated, his eyes studying your own. He looked a little lost for a moment before he gathered himself once more. “Do you have plans this eve?”

The question took you off guard and you could only stare for a long few seconds, probably looking like a complete fool... but Thranduil merely stood patiently and waited. “No...” You said eventually.

Thranduil immediately straightened and turned on his heel. “Good. Come.” He said, gesturing over his shoulder for you to follow him. You scrambled out of the seat as fast as you could manage, snatching up your things as you hurried to follow him from the room. He did not lead you out of the main door but the one near the back of the room, that connected to one of the many passageways that were reserved just for the king, which would eventually lead... to his chambers.

When he pushed the door open, it hit you like a ton of bricks, though you must have already known on some level. Your brain was just a little slow from what had happened between the two of you earlier. 

He turned in the doorway and looked at you very seriously. “I do not want...” As before, the Elvenking seemed to not quite know what to say. “I mean, I would not wish to presume...” Again, he stopped, his mouth a thin line and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he tried to figure out what it was exactly he wanted to say to you. Such uncertainty frustrated him.

You smiled. Somehow, despite how surprising it was to see him in such a way, it relaxed your nerves. You reached for his hand and you gazed up at him, watching the surprise register on his face as he felt your fingers thread into the gaps between his own. “You do not presume, Thranduil...” You said simply, your soft smile turning into another tiny smirk. “You guess correctly.”

His uncertainty and frustration melted away, reassured by your words. You expected his perfect mouth to turn into yet another smug smirk but instead he gave you the softest, most relieved smile you had ever seen on him. “In that case...” He said, tightening his grip on your hand and pulling you back into the room with him, kicking the door shut with his boot and lifting you into his arms in one swift movement.

You squealed a laugh and then he did smirk, his lips finding yours once more, as he walked you across the room and threw you down on his large, extravagant bed.

[residenthughes]

square one

pairing: leon kennedy x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.6K

tags/warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, some angst, leon's dealing with some insecurities (acne) :(

summary: leon's always struggled with acne. a recent flareup brings up more than he bargained for.

notes: think i saw a post about the texture of leon's skin in the re4r, as well as a headcannon that he sometimes picks at his skin and idk, just felt compelled to write this. i struggled (still do) with hyperpigmentation from acne, so this was low-key self-indulgent (and me projecting, sorry leon 😭) so enjoy(?) the fruits of that! one more exam and i'll be active again (in between celebrating any chance that i get that exams are over) hope you enjoy! :)

He feels like a teenager again.

Full of angst and riddled with insecurity. There’s so much curiosity in his eyes, fingers gingerly grazing against the scarlet surface of his cheek with inflamed pimples. Leon thought he outgrew this. Despite the occasional picking at his skin when submerged in the anxieties that live rent free in his mind, his skin remained relatively calm rain or shine. It’s worst was when he was in high school, so awkward and unsure of everything. Redness dotted against his face, he felt like puberty brought out the worst in him, forced him to grow in a body now foreign to him, navigate the unknown territory that were his new feelings. It’s a time that isn’t all that nostalgic for him and when he stands in your shared bathroom, long into his adulthood - 27 years old - staring into his reflection, his life flashes before his eyes. He’s right back where he was. Nerdy and hesitant. 

He feels so small.

“Hey,” your call for his attention is soft, doused in all gentleness you can muster as you quietly observe your partner from the door frame. “You ok? Tea’s getting cold.”

Leon huffs in annoyance, not meaning to but when his eyes catch sight of how inflamed his skin is, it takes him gnawing inside his cheek to stop himself from spiralling. It’s so silly, insignificant even. Leon never really cared much for his appearance as an adult. Reminded fairly neutral in regards to himself, stance never swayed despite those that fell to his feet bewitched by his devastatingly good looks. His stance shifted when you two met. Suddenly, he was a teenager again, but in a good way. Do I smell good? Is my hair ok? Am I overdressed? All these little curiosities combated by the love you embrace him in. He doesn’t become confident - your love is not a fix-all remedy for years of trauma and insecurity. But he becomes more sure of himself, reassured and loved wholly. He picks up his own pieces, slowly but surely. You simply steer him in the right direction. A beautiful thing, a lovely thing.

In spite of this beautiful thing, Leon can get in his own way sometimes. Stares at his reflection too long when he’s been spiralling and simply meets your gaze with a vulnerability reserved only for you. “Skin’s been acting up.”

“Honey,” you approach him cautiously, like he’s made of porcelain and Leon leans into the gentleness without a care in the world. Your hands never make contact with him, knowing any touch might open the floodgates of emotional turmoil that slowly seep into his bloodstream, poisonous and harrowing in nature. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

He grimaces, eyes avoiding yours as he shrinks into himself. “Been a stressful week is all.”

Leon flashes an unconvincing smile, puffing out a beat of laughter that is all but amused. “Guess this is the result of it, huh?”

Your heart sinks. You remember when this came up early in your relationship. You were often seeing each other, whether it was to go out on the town dressed to the nines or lounge around and snack on whatever junk food (of which there was very little in Leon’s apartment) you two could find. He refused to see you, citing long work days and the lack of energy they left him with as his reasons. You respected his wishes, giving him his space and all the time he needed before finding his way back to you. However, you couldn’t ignore the voice at the back of your head, nudging you towards him with pleas of assurance. Reassurance that he was ok and wasn’t deserting you for reasons you could help with.

You bumped into him on his way back from the grocery store.

Against his better judgement, Leon needed to restock his shelves with leafy greens to rid himself quickly of the acne against his cheeks. He knew you were at work, so he took his chance and sped ran through the isles, mask pulled up to his eyes as he simply went about his business. Packing his grocery bags quickly and making big steps towards his car, only to run into you in the parking lot.

He expects you to drop your belongings. Dramatises the whole scene in his head, imagines your face twisting in disgust and murmuring a half-hearted excuse to leave the conversation early to block his number because his insecurities have gotten the best of him and he can’t think any worse of himself than he is now. 

It’s all fiction, the tragic story he paints in his head. Sees you give a small smile, cautious and coy.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he muses, the awkwardness of his predicament leaving him with nothing but the desire for the ground to swallow him whole. “Would have dressed up a bit.”

You laugh a bit, easing the pain but Leon still wants to leave regardless, foot pointed away from you with his body slightly turning towards the direction of his car.

You take note of his body language and make the conversation flow as casually as possible. “Yeah, I got off work early and was actually gonna pick up some things to come see you.”

“See me?” 

“Yeah, think it’s to be expected to want to see your partner.” you joke lightheartedly, eying the tension that leaves Leon’s shoulders as they relax back from his ears. 

“That’s sweet of you,” Leon starts. “But, I’ve gotta head back to the office…printer’s jammed.”

“Again?”

It ‘jammed�� last week. Along with some other atrocities that left Leon MIA all last week and this week too. It’s not too long to question, but the distance between you is growing unlike times before. It unsettles you.

“Can’t work that thing to save my life. So, it’s my obligation to fix it.”

“Leon,” you’re seeing through his act, calling for the denouement to the charade Leon orchestrates. He feels sickly doing this - this isn’t what you deserve, he knows that. But, during one of scarce times in his life that he’s self-conscious, is it so horrible to want to be left alone? “You’ve been a bit MIA recently. You sure you’re holding up alright?”

He questions for a moment telling you. Disclosing his recent flare up because he knows it isn’t a bad deal, especially with you who nurtures a safe space for him to call home. And he does, he goes to tell you, but in a desperate attempt for closeness, you step forwards and he’s stepping back and suddenly there’s a deafening silence between the two of you.

“I didn’t mean-”

“It’s ok,” you reassure, time and time again. His heart hurts from the constant push and pull that plagues your relationship. It wasn’t something you had to deal with. “Just talk to me. Please?”

It’s different seeing you like this. Over text, it’s easier (but not impossible) to tap away at the screen and desert his phone, submerging himself in work to fend off any thoughts that attempt to crawl into his brain. But you’re here, right in front of him. Eyes soft and so unbearably honest with your state of being. It tears him up inside. Makes him acknowledge every attempt to distance himself from you and never do it again if the same circumstances arose.

Leon makes the situation right. Approaches you despite the screams at the back of his head and heads back to his apartment with you sitting in the passenger seat, describing the acne flare ups that in spite of the demons he faces on his missions, makes him react like no other. You comfort him as best as possible, listening to every word he says and not bothering with unsolicited advice or shallow comments that won’t help the situation. You simply craft an evening filled with distractions, all his favourite in-home activities whilst showering him with all the affection he’s missed. And when it comes time to wash up and settle into bed, you make light of the situation, giving him one of the Sanrio headbands you had left in his apartment as you two clean up for the night, the space and comfort you give him enough for him to crawl into your arms under the covers and never let go. It’s an act of service, a day, that he’ll never forget. One that allows him to bare himself to you, years later, and let you take the reins because this, on top of the travesties he’s encountered far too often lately, have made him feel like a shell of himself. 

“It’s hard to keep up with everything when you’re so busy, isn’t it?” He nods. “You’ve been working hard, always have. Saving the world isn’t an easy feat, you know?”

He laughs, this time around humoured. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Well, whatever you do,” he laughs again and you can see him slowly coming back to you. You flash him a smile, a smile that holds timeless tales of your love story and his heart begins to warm. “It’s perfectly normal to get some R&R afterwards. It’s well deserved, especially in your case.”

He simpers, now having worked up the nerve to look into your eyes and in them, sees that dazzle. The same dazzle from your first glance, from your first confession. Even at his lowest, the dazzle remains. Your love, unwavering. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you, all of which he does when he feels like himself again. Showers you in abundance and more because that’s what you deserve and more.

“How about I run us a hot bath? You can tell me all about the printer jamming whilst I wash your hair, yeah?” 

He feels like a teenager again. This time, abundant in all the love he has for you.

[hier--soir]

under the night | six

pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] language, being held captive, angst, serious violence, torture, injury, blood, discussions of murder, threat of sexual assault [DOES NOT HAPPEN], very brief discussion of religion/the bible, idk if you think i missed anything please let me know word count: 6k part five | series masterlist | main masterlist

Clink, clink.

Maria was drinking a cup of earl grey tea. The bergamot has a calming effect, she’d said, would you like a cup? Her spoon swirled in the teacup, bumping against the china every so often as she mixed in a sugar cube. The cup was pretty, a cream colour with pale pink gerbera flowers painted along the porcelain. Clink, clink; the spoon knocked the side of it again, the woman still unsatisfied by the granules of sugar visible in the dark liquid. It was the only sound in the room, bar the soft pattering of rain on the roof, as the four of them sat silently around Maria and Tommy’s dinner table.

Joel huffed in frustration as she finally lifted the spoon from the liquid and placed it gingerly on the saucer, before raising the cup to her mouth and taking her first sip. She sighed happily, relaxing in her chair as she savoured the taste.

“Okay,” she murmured, looking around the table.

“Oh, we can talk now?” Joel snapped, his exhaustion getting the better of him. “You’ve got your fuckin’ tea and now you’re ready?”

“Joel,” Tommy warned his brother quietly. “We’re all on the same side here.”

“Well, she could’ve fuckin’ fooled me,” he said spitefully in the woman’s direction. “It’s been days, and you haven’t ordered any searches, haven’t questioned anyone.”

Maria raised her hand to stop him, “It’s a delicate situation.”

“No, Joel’s right,” Cal spoke up. The bags under his eyes were heavy, hair greasy and slicked back off his forehead; the appearance of a man who hadn’t slept in days. “You run things here, and I always thought you did a damn good job of it too. But she’s gone missing, and you’re just sitting back and waiting? For what?” 

“Things are returning to normal here,” she said lowly. “People are calming down, and I don’t want to raise any alarm bells if I don’t need to.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Joel all but snarled.

“It means that I wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to leave,” she levelled at him, one eyebrow raised accusatorially. Clink, clink. He flinched as she dipped her spoon back into the cup, tapping it against the rim. “Ellie told me.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, his hand forming a fist below the table. “Told you what exactly?” 

Maria gave him a conspiratorial look. “She told me about being strangled, Joel. She came here a few days ago, upset after hearing the news, and we talked. Ellie worries that she might have left out of guilt… and I must admit, I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true.”

“Wait,” Cal’s eyebrows raised in alarm, eyes darting between Maria and Joel. “What the fuck are you talki-“

“No one was fuckin’ strangled,” Joel ground out, doing his best to stay calm. “Ellie wasn’t hurt. And she wouldn’t fuckin’ leave us; there’s no god damn way she’d even think to go outside those gates alone.”

Joel’s mouth twisted into a pained grimace at Maria’s insinuation, shaking his head jerkily. The last conversation he’d had with you played on his head in a constant loop, the image of your face distorted in despair, the feeling of your guilty tears on his neck – it tormented him. Kept him awake all night, and on edge all day. The idea that you might have decided to leave, out of a misplaced sense of guilt, or fear, or… or because of something he’d said. His chest tightened at the thought. He’d told you not to stay at the house if he wasn’t there, hadn’t he? That’s why you’d gone home alone that night, instead of coming back to him. It won’t happen again, is what you said. Joel mulled the words over in his mind endlessly, searching for a hidden meaning in your tone that he might have missed; a plan to leave him.

Tommy watched the three of them silently, the corners of his mouth downturned in dismay. To see Joel be so distraught was hard for him. Ellie had confided in Tommy that Joel had hardly spoken for the past three days. That he wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating. She kept a close eye on him and didn’t pry; simply sat quietly in whatever room he resided in, and just kept a watchful eye on him. Tommy couldn’t thank her enough for it. He’d watched his brother experience so much loss, so much heartache, and he cringed to realise they were witnessing it happen to him all over again.

“She wouldn’t leave me,” Cal broke the silence, his voice cracking on the last word. He reached up hastily to wipe the corner of his eye. “We made an agreement when we first got here. If either one of us decides we aren’t happy, then we leave – together. No questions asked. She wouldn’t break a promise.”

Joel glanced at the younger man, absorbing his words with a blank expression. It still unnerved him sometimes; to gain further insights into the tightknit bond between you and Cal, but he pushed all negative feelings down, knowing the he was right.

“She’s still in Jackson,” Joel said with a tone of finality, straightening his shoulders.

“So what do you suggest we do?” Maria asked. “I’ve already asked so much of our community, I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here.”

“Some fuckin’ community it is,” he muttered. “Women gettin’ stolen out of their god damn homes.”

Tommy gave him a look that said, not helpful. Joel ignored him.

“We question them – all of them,” he asserted. “Ransack every fuckin’ house in this town if we have to. She’s here somewhere – whoever’s doin’ this can’t keep her hidden for long.”

Maria nodded slowly, sparing a short glance in her husband’s direction. “We’ll question people then. If we go to the right ones, someone is bound to spill something.”

Tommy stared at his brother, taking in the way he stared intensely at the woman. “You can’t be a part of it though,” he said softly. Joel’s head snapped in his direction, eyes narrowing.

“Tommy,” he glared, only to be quickly interrupted.

“You’re too high strung, both of you are,” Tommy said, glancing between Joel and Cal. “If you’re out there knockin’ down doors, you’re just gonna scare people off, and somebody will get hurt. We can’t risk you two causing a scene.”

“We can’t just sit around and do nothing,” Cal grunted, hand smacking down on the table.

“You won’t be,” Maria said firmly. “Someone needs to be waiting if she shows up. So wait. If she shows up at either of your homes, you’ll be there.”

“You’re fuckin’ delusional if you thin-“

“Stop,” Maria interrupted softly. “Have either of you taken a moment to consider it might already be too late? It’s been three days… Do you really want to be the ones to find her if she’s…. I’m trying to keep you both separated from this, for your sakes.”

“I’m not fuckin’ listenin’ to this,” Joel grunted, pushing his chair from the table and stalking towards the front door. With his hand gripping the doorknob, he turned his head to the side, staring back at them from the corner of a tear-filled eye.

“She is out there somewhere, alive, puttin’ up a goddamn fight. And when I find her,” he spoke with his back to them, voice dangerously quiet. “I’m going to kill everyone who had anything to do with this. And you two won’t be able to stop me.”

Joel didn’t need to look at him to know that Cal agreed.

The curtains were always the first thing you saw. When your eyelids managed to crack open, to break through the dried blood that crusted over your eyelashes, you would always notice them first. Large, bundled drapes that reached the floor, covering the walls, concealing the windows and any potential natural light. It was so dark all of the time, and so time had lost meaning. You couldn’t tell how many hours, or days, had passed. All you knew was that the curtains, made from a dark fabric, with pictures of small birds sewn onto them, were the first thing you saw every time you opened your eyes.

Sparrows, the thought whispered through your mind. Little sparrows sewn into the curtains.

A small metal table was positioned in the corner opposite to where you laid on a thin mattress, arms tied to a pipe protruding from the wall. Sometimes your eyes flickered to it, trying to glean what was on it, but it was futile because of the distance. Candles were placed sporadically around the edges of the room, providing a vague yellow light to the space which allowed you see these things. But no natural light meant not knowing when the sun rose and fell., so you learned to rely on a different schedule. Twice a day he would bring a meal into the room, and you did your best to note the time passing, but even that provided little relief. Dehydration and pain had you dropping in and out of consciousness, and you rejoiced in the respite that sleep brought. Sleep brought quiet. Waking, however, brought with it a stark reminder of where you were.

An unpleasant stretching sensation resided in your arms. The muscles burned from hyperextension from constantly stretching behind you to the wall, your hands numb from a lack of blood flow due to how taught the rope around your wrist was pulled. But no matter how uncomfortable, you never turned your back to the door. That way he couldn’t enter the room without you seeing him immediately.

The throbbing in your foot, and the smell of metal was always what you noticed next. Blood stained the lower half of the mattress, and you did your best not to look down. But the smell was overwhelming, and you knew you had to see how much blood you’d lost. Your right foot was caked in dried blood, and the sight of one of your toes missing was enough to make your stomach curl every time, as waves of violent nausea rolled through you.

“That’s fine,” you whispered hoarsely, attempting to convince yourself. “Never used that one anyway, can live without it.”

Talking to yourself helped. Although your thoughts were often delirious and half-baked, hearing your own voice out loud brought a certain sense of calm.

And you’d formed a routine. Where every time you woke, you calmed your breathing, and forced yourself to decide how you were going to behave. How to survive another encounter with him. You’d chosen violence the first time, and you came to sorely regret it.

He’d been watching you that first day; waiting for you to stir. It had been dark, but you still saw him instantly. Cross-legged on the floor beside the mattress you laid on, dark beady eyes bearing down on your skin like weights. The itchy burn of rope against your wrists wasn’t as noticeable at first, for you were distracted by the thick wad of material in your mouth, placed there to keep you silent. When your brain had fully woken up, you’d glared at him in a wide-eyed panic, moaning urgently against the cloth between your teeth, tears brimming in your eyes. No, no, no, no.

“Shh,” Lincoln had murmured, brushing the hair out of your eyes. “It’s okay, shh.”

Tentatively, he reached down and tugged the cloth out of your mouth. You sucked in sharp panicked breaths, staring up at him as the feeling of white-hot terror spread through your veins, all the way from your neck down to your feet. It was him. All along, all the women, it had been him. This embarrassing, weak man, who’d had you fucking fooled. You’d thought him a creep, but not this. Never this.

“Breathe,” he’d whispered, stroking your cheek with his fingers. Heaving sighs tore out of your mouth, and you turned your head in his hold, brushing your nose along the palm of his hand. His eyes shone with appreciation at the gesture, and he smiled. “You’re here with me now. It’s just you and me.”

Holding his gaze for a split second longer, you sank your teeth into the flesh of his hand. He shouted in pain, attempted to pull back, but you bit him harder, deeper. The taste of metal filled hit your tongue, but you didn’t let go until his other hand struck you across the face, knocking you back.

He'd hit your left side, and the all-too-familiar buzzing soared through your ear, exacerbating the pounding in your skull. “You cunt,” he spat, rising to his feet. He glared down at you, cradling his wounded hand against his chest.

And then his foot was slamming into your ribcage. “You stupid,” kick “fucking” kick “cunt” kick. The breath left your body, and you curled in on yourself on the thin mattress, wheezing, until he gave up.

“You won’t do that again,” his reedy voice called out from behind you. “Do you understand?”

Your back was to him, eyes clamped shut as you tried desperately to regulate your breathing. A stabbing pain burned in your right side, flaring every time your chest expanded with a breath. His hand came down on your shoulder, flattening you on the mattress.

“Speak,” he had snarled. “You will answer me when I talk to you, SPEAK.”

Your bloody lips stayed sealed in defiance, glaring up at him. Slowly, the corners of his mouth began to turn upward, lips stretching open to reveal a faded set of crooked teeth until he was grinning down at you. “Okay,” he nodded, reaching into his pocket and walking to the end of the mattress. “You want to see what happens when you disobey me in my house? I’ll show you what happens.”

It had been quick.

Flashes of it were burnt into your memory, but the feeling of the moment evaded you when you thought back on it. Him kneeling on your shins, saying “Do as I say, or I’ll clip your wings, little bird.” Pliers in his hand. The feeling of the cold metal on your foot. The smell of iron. A pinkie toe on the floor, by the mattress, in a crimson puddle.

Your hoarse, tormented wails had filled the room so suddenly that Lincoln was cursing while he stuffed the rag back between your lips, muttering something about people hearing you.

He had loomed over you, torso pressed against yours, gritting his teeth and laughing. Put his hands around your neck and whispered of the stories he’d heard about you, that he’d wondered about you since the day Tommy introduced him to you. “I think that was the moment I decided,” he said. “The moment I knew you were going to be mine – it was the very first time I saw you.”

“I wanted to know what he saw in you,” he’d jeered, breath hot against your neck. His hand gripped your throat, squeezing your windpipe intermittently, only ever letting up when your eyes started to roll back and the pressure inside your skull from a lack of oxygen started to become unbearable, only to increase the pressure again once you’d had a few seconds to breathe. “I’d always thought you must be a good lay, if you’ve got big bad Joel Miller whipped like a dog. Realised pretty damn quick I’d have to find out for myself.” Your arms fought tirelessly against the ropes that bound you to the wall, limbs thrashing beneath him, trying to inflict any sort of pain on him.

You frantically mouthed the word no around the rag, lungs heaving in search of oxygen. The last thing you saw before you passed out was his haunting grin.

And you were smarter after that.

Lincoln was hard to read. When he came to the room next, he acted as though the altercation had never happened. And so you followed suit. You listened when he spoke, and answered accordingly. You ate the food he slid across the floor to you. You held in a disgusted reaction when he gestured to the candles around the room one time, and said, “Romantic isn’t it? Candlelit dinner for two?”  

In the quiet moments, your mind would float away, and you’d allow yourself brief moments of respite, imagining that you were somewhere, anywhere, else. In your dreams, you were with Joel. Safe in his home, in his bed, playing scrabble with Ellie on his porch while he kept score. You tried to remember the way his laugh sounded, or the way his hands felt on your skin. But everything was warped, the memories unclear. Your brain lacked clarity, and the pain distracted you. And Lincoln could tell where your thoughts went in those moments; you almost feared he could read your mind. As if your brain was splayed open before him, and he was pecking at it in curiosity.

“No one will find you,” he’d say softly. Never nastily, but in a tone that was matter of fact. “They aren’t coming for you. It’s just you and me now, sweet girl.”

You would blink away the tears in your eyes and try not to let him see how afraid you were that he was right. Your memories with Joel felt so hazy, and the last time you’d seen him he had been devastated. He feared what you’d almost done to Ellie, feared how out of his control it had been. Maybe it’s for the best, the thought raced through your brain. Maybe they’ll be happier without you.

Those thoughts were the hardest to shake. And they cut deeper than any injury Lincoln could ever inflict.

One night, when it felt like almost a week had passed, Lincoln entered the room holding two plates.

“Dinner time,” his thin voiced called, and a chill ran down your spine. Slowly, you pushed yourself into a seated position, cringing as pain shot through your side.

He placed a plate beside the mattress before tenderly undoing the rope around your left wrist.

“Eat up,” he murmured, taking a few steps back before settling onto the ground and picking up his fork.

You gazed down at the raw red marks around your wrist, basking in your favourite moment of the day – just a few sweet minutes of ‘freedom’. With an aching chest, you saw what rested on the plate. A kind of dark meat, and a small serving of parsnips.

Oh, Joel.

Sucking your lips into you mouth, you willed the tears in your eyes to dry up, desperate not to let him see any sign of weakness.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Lincoln reaching out across the space between you, and then he placed his thumb and forefinger over the big toe on your right foot, squeezing it once in a silent threat. Your throat tightened, and you resisted the urge to pull away. Speak.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered hoarsely, staring at the food.

“It’s dinner time, when else would I feed you?” he attempted to joke, hand leaving your foot to pick his fork up again. When you didn’t respond the smile slipped off his face. “You’re in a bad mood today,” he decided. “I suppose I understand.”

He watched you like a hawk, eyes raking over your features, your bloodstained clothes, the way you gazed despondently at the plate before you. “Surely you can appreciate though… I mean, it’s just… delightful, don’t you see? To see someone be brought down to their basest human form. No sunlight, minimal human interaction. You rely on me for water, for food, for company. I am all you have anymore, and it is simply… delicious.”

“You’re a fucking sadist,” you shuddered involuntarily, his words making goosebumps break out across your skin. 

“I think so,” Lincoln nodded contemplatively. “It’s not inherently sexual though, I’ll have you know.” You stared, and he let out a low chuckle, hands raising defensively. “Not entirely, at least.”

“You’ll get caught,” you sneered, ignoring the way a cut on your upper lip reopened when your mouth pulled open to reveal your teeth. “You’ll slip up and someone will notice. Joel will notice.”

“Only time will tell,” he mused around a mouthful of food. “Never been caught before though, have I? Not with Milena, or any of the others before you. Not even with my wife; although it was certainly easier to get away with it in those days. The world had gone to shit – everyone was going missing; assumed to be dead or infected. It was so easy. Our girls never had a clue. They trusted me, you see? My beautiful little birds. Believed me when I told them she was lost, that she must’ve been infected. I think that’s what I adore the most – the trust. It was hard to come by here, in Jackson. People were so wary, I had to build up their confidence in me. Really ease into things, you know? But some of these women, they just saw what they wanted to see. A few kind smiles, some silly jokes, and they were mine.” Lincoln sighed wistfully, gazing absentmindedly at the curtains. “Do you like them?” he changed the subject suddenly. “They’re sparrows. Sewed them on myself.” Good God, he was still so fucking chatty.

Nausea twisted in your abdomen. Acidic bile burned in the back of your throat, threatening to bring up the pathetic contents of your stomach. “And your daughters?” you hesitated, wary of angering him. “I… I remember you saying they died.”

He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, and you noticed one of his eyebrows twitch at the mention of his late children. “I let them go quickly,” he exhaled with a shrug. “Painlessly. It didn’t make sense to make them endure this world anymore. It was a mercy, if anything.”

“Fresh out of mercy then?” you asked bitterly. “If you’re so kind, and so fucking merciful, then why the are you dragging this out? Why won’t you just fucking end it?”

Fork dropping onto his plate with a loud clang, Lincoln murmured your name kindly. “Please understand,” he said. “I don’t know when I’ll get the chance again. You might be my last for a few months… so I’m trying to savour every minute I have with you.”

You stared at him, blinking slowly as you absorbed his words. How long could you possibly survive down here in these conditions? But the truth was, you knew the answer to that. You knew because you’d survived for years out in the open, with less food and less water than this. Here you had shelter, warmth, food, and water. He could keep you alive for as long as he wanted you.

Realising it had been some time since you responded to him you offered a meek smile and said, “Tell me more about the sparrows.”

Lincoln looked at you curiously. Trying not to appear uncertain, you reached forward and scooped some food from the plate with your free hand and began to eat. The action alone reminded you of Cal. Of dark nights, huddled together in dusty broken-down buildings, eating whatever food you’d been able to find out of the palms of your hands. You sniffled pathetically and tried not to think about him again.

“Good girl,” he murmured almost inaudibly, and you fought off a shiver. Swallowing made your chest ache. Based on the swelling around the middle of your torso, you assumed at least one of your ribs was broken. Even inhaling brought a sharp pain to your right side, but swallowing? That was a whole other world of pain.

Lincoln spoke about the birds, told you how they symbolised joy and simplicity, and your eyes flitted around the room, taking in as much as you could in the dim yellow light. And then suddenly, he was turning his head fully to stare at the curtains. His back was almost entirely to you, and your heart stuttered painfully at the opportunity that had presented itself. From this angle, you were sure he wouldn’t be able to see you in his peripheral vision. Was this on purpose? Was it a test? Heart pounding, you worked silently to push the remaining food off your ceramic plate and onto the floor. Eyes focused on him, you waited for him to turn back, to check in on you, to do anything – but he didn’t.

“You know in the bible,” he said thoughtfully. “Sparrows represented God’s love and care for his creations.”

You hummed in response, gripping the plate in your hand and edging forward. Sweat tickled your forward, made your skin itch. You wanted to wipe away the fresh blood that had oozed from your lip onto your chin, but you refrained. No sudden movements. He was so close now, and this chance would not be wasted on you.

Do not be afraid, you thought.

Blood rushed in your ears as you propelled yourself forward, smashing the plate down upon the crown of his skull.

Lincoln pitched forward, his face knocking against the cold ground with a sickening thwack. He howled a ragged, guttural noise of pain, but his movements were sluggish, his reaction time too slow. A fiery pain roared in your side from the movement and you whimpered, dropping the jagged shard of the plate that remained in your hand. Gripping his ankle, you cried out at the strength required to tug his body toward you. He was writhing on the ground, trying to fight against the fog in his brain no doubt, but you pulled him still, until he was perfectly close.

He mumbled your name, and you brought your fist down over his nose, effectively shutting him up.

“Stop fucking saying my name,” you growled, angrily swiping perspiration off your upper lip. This was it. If this didn’t work out, if he regained the upper hand, you’d be dead, no questions asked. You’d started this, and now would certainly be your only chance to finish it. God, your ribs were on fire. You hastily dragged a fragment of the plate in a sawing movement across the rope keeping your other wrist tied, and when it broke away, you heaved a painful sigh of relief.

Planting your knees on either side of his body, you straddled his chest, trapping his arms to his torso. You patted down his body, searching his pockets until you found what you were looking for. The pliers were cold and heavy in your hand. Lincoln blinked lazily, gazing past your shoulder at the roof.

You reached down and gripped the sides of his head. “Look at me,” you seethed, before slamming his head back into the ground. He groaned loudly, but his eyes focused on your face. Blood poured from his nose, spilling into his open mouth and filling the gaps between tooth and gum.

“You won’t kill me,” he garbled out around the crimson liquid. “My little bird… I know you wouldn’t kill me.”

“Stop talking,” you moved to be beside his body and pressed your knee onto his left arm.

“You won’t,” he was speaking incessantly now, rambling. “I know you, you’re good. You’re so good, you sweet girl. You wouldn’t kill, and that’s why I like you. I could see it in you. You’re too good for this world, I’m trying to help you, don’t you see?”

“Shut up,” you snarled, pushing the pliers down until they were positioned around his pinkie finger. “You think you fucking know me? You have no idea of the things I’ve done.”

His eyes blinked lazily, trying listlessly to focus. His free hand reached sluggishly towards your face, and you batted it down roughly. Gripping the pliers in both hands, you pressed down. The sound of his screams filled the room as his pinkie finger rolled across the floor.

“You want me to come into my home,” you sneered. “Take me, hide me away, and then kill me?” Positioning the tool over his ring finger, you cut him slowly, revelling in the pained sounds leaving his body, the way his blood spilled onto your hands as you worked. “Oh, Lincoln. You’ll have to try harder than this.”

Again and again, you worked with a gruellingly slow pace, removing all five digits. You didn’t notice that his free hand was gripping your arm so tightly that his nails had drawn blood. Bile rose in your throat, but you swallowed it down. Do not be afraid.

“Please,” he was sobbing, his mouth wide open like a sore on his face, jagged teeth exposed through thin bloody lips.

And yet as he begged, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel remorse, because through the tears, and the snot, and the blood, it wasn’t just Lincoln that you saw. It was that boy, from a decade ago. That boy that climbed on top of you and laughed. Who enjoyed your fear. Who held you down that night, and every night after, plaguing you in your sleep for years. The boy you couldn’t fight. The boy you couldn’t kill. You wouldn’t let it happen again. Never again.

A memory flitted through your mind so quickly it almost didn’t register. But his voice was clear in your head. Joel, and the words you’d shared in front of the fireplace at your home so many weeks beforehand.

“I want to be strong, Joel.”

“You are strong.”

You refocused on Lincoln’s face.

“You want to be in control?” you sputtered, vaguely aware of how deranged your shrill voice sounded. “You want women to be quiet little toys for you to play with in this sick game you’ve created? I’m a fucking person! I’m real!” your voice cracked. “You want to kill me, Lincoln? Let’s see you do it without your fucking fingers.” You realised then that you were crying. Soundless tears streaked down your cheeks, leaving clear trails in the dirt and blood that stained your face.  

He looked on the verge of passing out, and you tore his hand off your arm, stumbling away from his body. You stepped awkwardly on your right foot and yelped in pain, grimacing at the bloody footprint that followed behind you when you walked. Wrapping an arm around your torso, against your ribs, you struggled to breathe. Running on pure adrenaline, your eyes drifted toward the table in the corner. A pocketknife and a lighter laid serenely on the top of it, and you stumbled toward it slowly.  

But a heavy blow landed on the back of your knee, stopping you in your tracks. Your arms flailed as you fell forward, and when you hit the ground, the table came toppling down with you.

“S-stop,” Lincoln was speaking, his speech slurred and disjointed. His bloodied hands clawed at your legs, pulling your body towards him while you thrashed against his hold. Your leg kicked backward desperately and connected with his face, and you screamed at the throbbing pain that shot through your foot.

Neither of you noticed how the table had knocked over multiple candles, or the way fire blazed along the bottom of the curtains. Little sparrows, turning to ash as flames snaked their way up the drapes, slowly engulfing the walls of the room in vibrant red.

You fumbled for the pocketknife on the floor, rolling onto your back just as his weight landed on top of you. His heavy breaths hit your face, blood dripping from his nose and splashing onto your skin.

“Little bird,” he whimpered brokenly. “Why would you ruin this?”

The temperature in the room had risen exponentially, and the pair of you were so close to the wall that it was impossible to ignore now. Wild flames licked at the bare skin of your arm, but you paid the burn no mind, pushing against his face, his neck, trying to get as much distance between you as possible.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” he howled, landing a heavy blow across your face. You coughed roughly, blood spitting up from your mouth onto your chin.

You gave up on pushing him back, instead using your hands to fumble with the knife. Lincoln’s good hand gripped your throat, his remaining fingers pressing down on your windpipe. Blood roared in your ears, and you were sweating, and god it was so hot. The air thickened with smoke, making it harder to breathe than it already was. Your hands were so slick with blood that it was difficult to unhook the small blade, but after a few moments you did it. Gasping for air as he bore his entire weight against your neck, you plunged the knife into his side.

A choked sound of surprise fell from his mouth, and then air was rushing into your lungs, and you were coughing harshly, watching as his body collapsed to the side of you.

He was still alive when you crawled on top of him, eyes bulging as he gripped the handle of the blade lodged in his side. You slammed your fist against his broken nose, and both of you cried out in pain. By this point, the fire was roaring through the room, the four walls covered in a beautiful mix of orange and red flames. The heat was sweltering, and so so close that sweat dripped from your nose and chin.

A deafening bang reverberated through the room and you covered your face instinctively. Shattered glass from the windows rained through the air and covered the ground, and moonlight streamed into the room.

Distantly, you thought you could hear voices, or the sound of a door opening, but you ignored it. Impossible. Your fingers wrapped around Lincoln’s spindly neck, and you positioned your thumbs over his windpipe, before pressing downward with all of the strength in your body. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, but you pushed through it, gathering blood and spit in your mouth and releasing it in a spray onto his face. He flinched back at the sensation, and you grinned messily.

You imagined briefly what you must look like; covered in a mix of blood and dirt, hair matted to your head, straddling this man, and grinning down at him.

“Are you afraid?” you whispered.

You could see the light slowly fading from his eyes, and you pressed harder, arms burning with the effort. A burning sensation exploded in your left thigh, but you ignored it, digging your elbows into his chest for leverage and pushing. In the second you realised it was about to be over, there were hands on you. Gripping you, wrapping around your waist, wrenching you away from him.

The foreign hands were pulling you back, tugging you towards the door, but your eyes were trained on Lincoln, as he gasped for air on the floor, alive. You could hear shouting, male voices yelling so closely, but the words were indecipherable. And then suddenly, you were enveloped by cold, winter air. You were outside.

Hyperventilating, you dropped to your knees on the ground, burying your red hands in the wet grass, and wailed. Thick tears blurred your vision and rolled down your face in hot rivulets.

The relief was short lived though, as those hands returned to your body. Gliding over your back, squeezing your shoulders, touching your face. Your stomach rolled violently.

“Don’t touch me,” you begged, your voice an unfamiliar shriek as it ripped from somewhere deep inside your body. “Get your fucking hands off me, don’t fucking touch me, don-“

“Darlin’, it’s me, it’s me,” you could hear, but you just fought harder, beating against the solid wall of brick in front of you, pounding your fists against his chest.

“I’ll fucking,” you gasped for air, eyes clamped tightly shut. “I’ll fucking kill you, get away from me.”

But familiar hands were gripping your face, holding you tightly, forcing you to look, and when you did, it’s like your body went limp. All the fight in you disappeared.

You mumbled his name, and he nodded furiously, those brown eyes you loved gazing into yours, panic and concern evident in the harsh lines across his forehead, in that deep frown you knew so well.

“It’s me, baby, I’ve got you,” his voice was like a song in your ears, and you closed your eyes and let him hold you, listening to the desperate apologies he whispered into your ear. “You’re safe, I’m so sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I’ve got you now, it’s over, it’s over.”

part seven

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