#texturing the table was a nightmare

[grumbobulon]

i made this lil diorama piece a liiittle over a year ago, still very very happy with it!! this goober will always have my heart

[mycological-mariner]

Actually caught myself saying out loud today upon going to clear and clean a table “ANIMALS! The lot of you, absolute animals!!”

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

A Gilded Cage

The penthouse you're in is beautiful, the closet filled with the finest clothes, the kitchen stocked with your favorite foods, the only problem is; you never asked for this. The Arkham Knight doesn't seem to care. Part One of this series. CW: kidnapping ~1.5k words

You don't know who the Arkham Knight is. You don't know why he kidnapped you from your apartment and locked you away in some penthouse far too fancy for someone with no sway in Gotham.

None of it makes sense. You wouldn't even know his name if you didn't overhear the men dropping off food and necessitates for you talk about him.

They never get too close to you, which eases some of the panic in your throat, but they've only ever spoken to you once. One of the men had dropped a notepad on the marble counter and grumbled something about writing down whatever you need before leaving you to yourself. Being so alone in a gilded cage almost makes you wish they'd say more.

It's not like you haven't tried escaping, but you're on the top floor of some building you only recognized as being in the Diamond District because you can see the glowing symbol of Wayne Tower in the distance. The one time you did try to break down the door, you found out there are in fact guards stationed outside your prison.

You've never been hurt. Never gone hungry or cold. There's a television and more books than you'll ever have time to read. (You try to ignore how many of them are your favorites. It has to be a coincidence.) The kitchen is always stocked and the apartment is always cleaned. (You haven't quite figured out when that happens.) Anything you've ever asked for is delivered and sitting on the glass table when you wake up.

You had only asked for diamonds and pearls once. Curiosity and frustration had gotten the better of you, and when sets of shiny jewels greeted you in the morning, you wanted to faint.

They sit stuffed in a drawer now, and your hands shake when you check to see if they're still there. They sit alongside a note written in messy script, the one asking if you'd prefer a dress or a suit to match the choker made of sapphires. Or perhaps something to match the headpiece encrusted with rubies?

You're starting to think being alone for so long is making you crazy. You wake up sometimes at night, shifting against the soft sheets and feathered pillows and your heart neatly stops at the glowing eyes in the doorway.

Fear stops your voice from coming out and by the time you've worked up the courage to hit the lamp, whatever it was is gone. He's gone. The first time, you told yourself it was a nightmare. The second, a trick of the light. But the third, when you woke to the rough texture of gloves tracing the curve of your jaw, that was real.

You had frozen. Eyes shut tight and heart racing. The touch was gentle, almost non-existent, and if the near silent, rhythmic breathing hadn't reached your ears, you would have believed it to be a dream.

You don't know how long you stayed like that, your kidnappers' fingers brushing your face while you pretended to sleep. The feeling disappears eventually, and you fall back asleep. You lie to yourself when morning comes, that it was something you imagined.

You've lost count of the days, the weeks, it's been like this. You're not even sure what to call the situation. You're not a pet. You're not a hostage. A prisoner? Yes. But prisoners are never treated so lavishly without a reason.

Curiosity gets the better of you. How could it not when 'why' always haunts your thoughts? You pretend to be asleep. Night after night, you wait for him to come again. But it's like he knows. He's aware that you're waiting.

So, you write on the pristine notepad. You ask to be let go.

There's nothing on the glass table when you wake up, but the notepad is empty of words. The day seems to pass in a haze.

By the time night comes again, you're livid. You'd throw things at the glass enclosing the balcony if it wasn't something you tried already.

You stalk your way out of the bedroom, intent on making coffee and staying up until you can finally face the person who's trapped you here.

Your bravado disappears at the sight of the figure standing in the middle of the room.

The glowing lights of the city illuminates his silhouette. The military style gear, the eerily familiar glowing eyes, the guns holstered at his thighs. All your words and curses and questions stick to your tongue.

"You can't go home," a modulated voice tells you.

"Why?" You breathe out, eyes darting over his figure. You're not scared. You can't explain it, but as frightening as he should be, as terrifying as this situation should be, he doesn't feel unsafe.

He doesn't answer, doesn't move. If it wasn't for the slight rise and fall of his shoulders, you'd think he wasn't human. Silence falls for a longer than you know what to do with, "This your home," he says, voice even and factual.

"This isn't a home," your protest, anger flaring, "this is a prison cell!"

He steps towards you, menacing and threatening as he hisses, "This is nothing like a cell. You know nothing. You're safe here. Provided for. I've given you everything you could need."

"I'm alone here!" You snap out, despite your better judgment.

"I'll get you a pet," he says firmly.

"I don't have anyone to talk to," You respond harshly.

"I'll send someone to keep you company," he responds easily, like placating a child. But you don't miss his hands clench and unclench.

"I want to go outside," You answer, and you hate how your voice pitches into a whine, a plea, "I want fresh air."

He pauses, studying you, "I'll figure something out."

"Why are you doing this?" You finally ask, tears pricking your eyes. You don't want to cry, don't want to show him any weakness, but you're so tired and he's the first person you've talked to in ages. "I'm not anyone special. You don't gain anything by keeping me here. Please. Please, I wanna go home."

He tenses, then steps towards you steadily. You flinch when he stops just in front of you, turning and ducking your head. He takes your chin in his hand and guides your face back up, carefully wiping the tears that drip down your cheeks.

"You are special. More than you could know," he says quietly, like it's a secret. He says your name softly, like it's important, "You're going to stay here."

"I don't want to," You choke out between tears. He just doesn't acknowledge it, just keeps soaking up your cries with the pads of his glove.

You stay like that until your tears dry up and your body feels shaky. He exhales softly and tilts his head down, resting his helmet against your forehead. You would be eye to eye, you realize, if not for the mask.

"You're going to stay here," he repeats gently.

"Why?" You ask, voice weak.

He pulls back, his hand hesitating against your face before reaching for his helmet. He removes it with a practiced motion, and your whole world freezes.

Your breath catches in your lungs and your heart screams JasonJasonJason.

He doesn't try to explain. You don't have the words to ask. "You're going to stay here," he tells you again, voice low and careful.

"But-" You start, eyes darting over his face, the 'J' branded into his cheek.

He says your name, demanding and firm, "You're staying."

You swallow the rest of your words, and he nods in approval, "I'll get you what you asked for, okay?"

The helmet is back on before you even finished your bewildered nod, gaze locked on him. "Good," he murmurs, voice unrecognizable behind the mask. He's moving away, walking towards the door, leaving you.

You grab his arm, panicked, "Wait–"

He pulls your hand from his arm gently, "I'll come back."

"You haven't explained anything–" You try again, desperate and confused.

"You don't need to understand anything. You just need to stay here, tell me what you want, and let me take care of everything else, alright?" The Arkham Knight– Jason tells you.

You nod weakly, letting your hand drop back to your side.

"Good. Get some sleep," his voice sounds empty through the modulator.

"Will you come back tomorrow?" You ask, voice breaking.

He wavers by the door, "I come back everyday," he admits eventually and sees himself out the door of your prison.

You all but stumble to the plush couch and collapse as the door locks behind him. Jason is alive. Jason kidnapped you. Jason's held you in this luxury apartment for weeks. Jason left you jewels worth more than your entire savings account. Jason is alive. Jason visits you every night. Jason is alive.

Jason is alive. But you're still trapped. Still stuck in a cage with no explanation why and no matter how pretty it is, he's still locked you in here. But it's Jason. Jason wouldn't hurt you. He has to have a good reason.

The thought haunts you until you drift off, drawn to sleep by the soft velvet against your skin. You miss it, when the door cracks open again, and a down blanket is drawn over your body. You don't even twitch, when scarred hands start to trace a familiar path over your face.

Part Two

[oddheadd]

Perfect Husband

You didn't have that much experience with guys, and the little things you did experience weren't good at all. Everything felt so... Empty. The "Wyd" texts and shallow conversations at the bar didn't satisfy you. You knew what you wanted, and you decided to go for it.

So when you met him it felt so real and unreal at the same time.. He felt real as in he understood you, he engaged in interesting conversations and knew just what was the best for you.

...And he felt unreal as in he wasn't... Human? Like a man from 19th century novels, he was gentle, polite, relatable but mysterious enough to keep you wanting him. The problem before was everybody acting same, now you were weirded out with how unique he was? You started thinking you were the problem.

Therefore, after a few months of dating, when he set up a beautiful dinner table for you two, with candles, flowers, perfectly cooked delicacies and asked you to marry him, you said yes.

You cut the steak and...

"Oh... This seems raw..?"

"It's medium rare, dear. But I won't feel bad if you don't want to eat it." - he smiled.

You felt lucky. So, you cut a piece of it, and put the red, moist and almost slimy piece of meat in your mouth. His smile widened as he watched you do so. You chewed and chewed, trying not to think too much about the texture or the taste, instead washing it down with red wine and forcing a smile.

The night ended with him gently holding and kissing you, while not so gently fucking into you. It felt almost like a reward for accepting his proposal, and the amount of times he made you cum only supported that theory.

The wedding happened shortly after, him making sure it was as big or as small as you wanted.

Everything after that felt like a dream... In a literal sense. You found yourself derealizating on more occasions than you can remember. Feeling dizzy, out of the place and unreal was then a daily accurance for you. And you didn't quite feel comfortable with talking about it with your husband.

But it didn't matter... Not as long as at the end of the day you laid in his arms.

However, even that comfort was broken when only weeks after your marriage, he started staying at his job later and later... As soon as he got home he'd take a shower, too.

Suspecting that your husband was cheating, you decided to follow him one day.

The day went on fine, he stayed at his job til 8, but then he left. You quietly followed, wanting to catch him in the act. He... Went into the woods..? Was he actually fucking someone in the woods? Then you saw another person... But they seemed to not be aware of your husband being there. In fact, he was watching them... Stalking them like a predator would to a prey. The person was obviously wasted, having come in the woods to relieve themself.

Your dear husband got up from his hiding spot, and approached the person... And so you watched in horror as his limbs started twisting unnaturally, making popping and cracking sounds as, his skin changing it's color into a dark red, almost a bloody color. He turned into something incomprehensible... A monster.

His now inhumane looking jaw unclenched, opening so wide he could swallow a man whole, and he took a generous bite out of the person, their bloodcurdling screams not loud enough to bury the sound of your ears ringing.

Despite the scenery being hard to look at, you turned around to leave, but stumbled and fell down with a loud noise.

Your husband's head turned towards you slowly, and his smile fell.

The dream turned into a nightmare.

Man I just love creepy, cannibalistic, eldrich monsters/gods and not in an only ha they're sexy way (I blame the movie Ritual)

[ghosty-writes-23]

Just Can't Let Him Go. - Leon S Kennedy.

!TAGS!: NSFW Content, Needy!Leon, Desperate Sex, CONSENT IS KEY, Cheating (With Y/n), Sweet Ending, !WRAP IT, BEFORE YOU TAP IT!, Unprotected Sex, Soft!Dom!Leon, P in V, Creampie, Eating Out, Slight Anal, Spit Kink, Slight Choking, Praise, Aftercare.

Pairing: Vendetta!Leon + Mistress!Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature.

Summary: “I Know I Need To Put A Stop To This Before Its Too Late, But I Can’t He Makes Me Weak.”

Leon knew coming here was a mistake, he just needed to get back onto his motorbike and leave, to not be sitting outside your apartment at night waiting for you to reply to his message, to not be hoping you will open your apartment door and welcome him with open arms. He knew this was wrong to crave the touch and affection from one person while being with another, but he couldn’t stop himself. He needed you like oxygen even if it meant going behind his girlfriend’s back.

Word Count: 4.4k

Ghosty's Notes: Hello my lovelies, yes I have finally done it, I have written Vendetta!Leon finally, I know I have been promising it for months and I am sorry that it has taken this long to get around too, but I do hope you find it worth it, this is probley some of the filthiest smut I have written in a long time, so please enjoy.

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Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

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Tonight, you were finally enjoying a cozy night in after last night’s nightmare of a shift at the bar you work at, you hated spending your night’s serving asshole customers, unnecessary flirty comments or remarks from drunken men and woman trying to get in your pants or a free drink, minor’s trying to buy alcohol with clearly fake ID’s and the list goes on, from catching couples fucking in the bathrooms to breaking up fight’s that break out in the bar and having to get the police involved, these are never fun when you have to clean up the mess afterwards, who knew cleaning up blood would be such a mission.

But even with all the negatives you have for your work place, there are some positives like the friends you have made there, a boss that isn’t a complete prick and let’s you have free drinks when your working your shift just as long as they aren’t alcoholic ones.

Some of the customers can be sweethearts like a regular you have that comes in every Friday night just before closing and like’s to give the staff any left over food from his takeaway store that didn’t sell, but he didn’t want to throw it out. You and your work besties are always grateful and take it with a smile and give him a discount on his drinks since it was only fair.

You were sitting on your couch panting your finger nails while the opening credits to Buffy The Vampire Slayer season two started playing, you were humming along to the theme song and trying to focus on not getting black nail polish all over your hand.

It always annoyed you that you needed to do more then one coat to get the desired darkness that you liked, but you carefully applied the polish and waited for it to dry, which took forever. You planned on having a self-care night with painting your nails and doing a face mask that you will have to dig around in your bathroom to find.

Your friend Claire was always tell you needed to take some you time and relax, so she gave you a little self-care pack with some face masks, eyes patches that felt like slimy jelly in your hands and made you cringe at the texture, but she seemed so excited for you to try, so for her you would try and use some of the things she had gifted.

When the first coat of nail polish finally dried you went to grab the little brush handle to start the second coat when your phone buzzed, indicating a new message which made you frown because who would be messaging you this late, reaching over the table you grabbed your phone and unlocked it and went to look at the message.

Leon: I miss you Y/n…

You froze as you stared at the message on your phone screen, your heart rate picked up slightly as conflicting feelings and emotions started swelling in both your head and heart. You and Leon have a complicated friendship if that’s what you could call it.

You and Leon meet many years ago while you were working in a hotel bar, one of his missions went longer than anticipated and he stayed at the hotel you were working at and came down to the hotel bar just before you were closing.

He looked exhausted but not the kind that sleep could fix so you decided to keep the bar open for a little bit longer, so he could have his drink in peace and you could take your time closing the bar down for the night.

But one thing you couldn’t have predicted about that night was being bent over the bar counter and being railed with his gloved hand around your throat as he used your body like his own personal stress relief toy, you had never been fucked like that ever before, he made you see stars.

The following morning you had to sneak out of his hotel room, even after he tried to ‘convince’ you come back to bed with neck kisses and soft growls and as much as you wanted to stay in bed with him, you had to go to work downstairs or you would be fired.

You had showered at gotten to work only for your boss of the hotel bar calling you into her office and pulling up CCTV footage of you and Leon in the bar last night, you remember all the color draining from your face and trying to figure out an excuses you could make, but she just smirked at you and gave you a warning but also high fived you for finally getting laid.

She was one of the best bosses you had while working there, she was roughly around the same age as you and was the boss of the whole hotel’s daughter so she let some people get away with small things every now and then, but when you left to go to the job you currently have the city It broke your heart, because you would miss her a lot but you would always stay in contact and try and see each other when you could. It made you remember that time you told her Leon had a girlfriend.

*Flashback*

You and Iris were sitting in your apartment sipping on wine glasses and catching up, it has been months since you last seen her, you had missed her dearly. “So, wait let me get this straight, Leon as in the guy that gave you the most mind-blowing sex of your life, has a girlfriend.” Iris says before she took a sip of her whine, just then sentence made you want to curl up into a ball and hide forever. “he doesn’t call her his girlfriend, more like friends with benefits, but she see’s him as her boyfriend.” You tried to explain it to her the way Leon has explained it to you a few nights ago. “Still if he is involved with somebody else then he shouldn’t be trying to get into your pants.” Iris said before she sets her glass down on the coffee table and grabs your hands.

“Y/n honey, just because he is good for your hole, doesn’t mean he is good for your soul.” Iris says with a straight face, causing a very heated blush to come onto your face at her crude words. “IRIS.” You say with a soft embarrassed squeal in your voice. “You know I’m right.” Iris says matter of factily and deep down you knew she was right, going down this road would only lead to disappointment and heartbreak but that doesn’t stop you from melting every time he calls you darling, doll or his good girl, or the pure bliss you feel when you feel his muscular arms wrap around you making you feel safe.

*End of Flashback.*

Shaking your head you focused on the present, you still hadn’t replied to the message leaving it on read, you know what you needed to do, to ignore the message or even delete it and pretend it doesn’t even exist no matter how much it hurts your heart. This was wrong on so many levels, yes Leon didn’t love his girlfriend and it only seemed to be a situationship that they both benefited from and it’s not like they in an actual relationship but that didn’t stop you from feeling any less guilty, you wanted so badly to put an end to this before somebody got really hurt but deep down you knew he made you weak he always had, ever since he purred you were his doll as he took you from behind, you heart had never same since that night.

Leon: I know you said last time was the last time, but please Yn I need you even if it’s only just for tonight, she isn’t you, she doesn’t understand me the way you do, Please doll.

Y/n: Leon…

You didn’t know what to reply with, it has been months since you last saw him, all you could manage to send was his name because you knew deep down what was going to happen, you would welcome him into your apartment with open arms and open legs, you would let him ravish your body any way he wanted, marking you his until the bruises and bite marks faded a few days later, it made you feel weak and pathetic but you couldn’t help yourself, you loved him even if you weren’t meant too.

Y/n: I’ll leave the front door unlocked.

Leon: Just left the DSO, on my way now, be there in 10 minutes.

You sighed softy as you threw your phone onto the couch before placing your hands over your face, guilt was bubbling in your stomach, but so were butterflies. After tonight you had to put a stop to this no just for your sake but also Leon’s before things got to deep and complicated. Soon you heard the familiar rumble of a motorbike causing your heart to pick up and your thighs to clench subconsciously

When you heard you apartment door open you ran over to Leon in a hurried pace, your feet carrying your body towards him, Leon’s bag fell to the ground with a heavy thud before he opened his arms to catch you, your legs wrapping around his thin torso as his muscular arms wrapped around your body holding you securely to his body, you guys fit together like puzzle pieces, two halves of a whole, Leon has caught you effortlessly, his large gloved hands held you by your ass as he walked into your apartment and then pressed you against the front door.

Your mouths crashed together in a hunger and desperate filled kiss, your tongues intertwining and lapping at each other’s as your bodies grinded against each other’s. Moans and groans leaving both of your lips. Leon pulled away only for a few seconds, his forehead resting on yours as his blue eyes meet yours, desperation, hunger, lust and warmth clouded his eyes, his warm breath was hitting your face, you could see the tips of his ears were red.

“I need to be inside you doll.” He groaned softly, there was a soft growl in his voice that made you clench around nothing. “Condom?” you say softly, you knew you had some upstairs but something told you weren’t going to be making it upstairs. “Don’t have one on me this time sweetheart.” Leon says with a frustrated groan, you knew he had just gotten back from a mission, you didn’t think he would be taking a condom with him.

Biting your lip you knew the other option, you had gotten tested not that long ago and knew you were clean, you made it a priority that you get checked at least every 2 weeks to 4 weeks or whenever you sleep with somebody different, because you can’t be sure sometimes. Looking up at Leon he nodded his head. “I’m clean as well, got tested last week.” He tells you and you nod your head, you knew the risks of not using a condom, but you took your birth control this morning and you trusted Leon.

“Okay.” You say to him and he nodded his head and helped you out of your shorts and panties, they fell down your ankles pooling on the floor, you kept you hoodie on as Leon opened his pants, he got them half way down his thighs before he was grinding against you, you could feel his soft length grinding against you, causing you to bite your bottom lip soft sounds leaving your lips.

“Please Leon.” You soft whined as you tightened your arms around his neck as you pressed your body closer to his, there was no distance between your bodies, you could feel his warm breath on your neck panting softly, the scent of his cologne, gunpowder filled your nose it was a scent that brought you a sense of comfort and warmth, as well as made your body feel hot and bothered.

“I know doll, I know.” Leon says against your neck as he adjusted his position, soon Leon spat on his hand and used his saliva as lubricant as he gave his cock a few pumps before he brought it to your entrance, he tapped his tip a few times causing sweet whines to leave your lips before he pressed his hips forward causing his length slide inside smoothly causing sweet whines and cries to leave your lips as he filled you up, you could feel him growing inside you stretching you could perfectly.

One of his gloved hands came up to the door behind your head, to balance himself and use his other hand on your ass to keep you in place as he began to thrust at a steady but slow pace, burying his face in your neck, his stubble scratching the soft skin of your neck and shoulder but in this moment you didn’t care, all thoughts left your mind as you focused on the pleasure this man was giving you.

“Fuck, been waiting for long on for this.” Leon groans in your ear as you feel his grip on your ass tightens slightly, his gloved fingers digging into the soft flesh knowing there will be a bruise there tomorrow, you could feel his cock twitch as he kneaded your ass as he thrusted into you rhythmically, sweet moans and cries fell from your lips uncontrollably as you moved your hips to meet his thrusts, you leaned back against the door as you tightened your legs around his waist.

You could hear the door creak and rattle with every thrust, you felt Leon pick up the pace slightly, the tip of his cock hitting that sweetspot that made your eyes roll to the back of your head, you felt his hand that was on the door was now in your hair, tugging your head back slightly exposing your throat, you could feel his lips and teeth attack the soft skin, leaving marks on your skin that you will have to cover up tomorrow before you go into work. Sweat started to cover your body, your hair was sticking to your forehead, your body becoming slick.

“Leon.” You babbled his name out as you could feel your thighs behind to shake, you knew you were close, your body felt as if it was tightening, at the sounds of your cries Leon steady up his thrusts, he was now pounding into you could hear his grunts and praises.

“I know sweetheart, cum for me.” Leon grunted against your neck that his teeth were currently sunken into, soon he buried himself to the hilt inside you, that pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name with a loud whine and dug your nails into his shoulder as you felt your body come undone around him.

He soon followed and you felt his cock twitch inside you before he filled you up, causing pleasure to ripple though your body causing you to mew softly. You both stay like this for a few minutes, both breathing heavily and waiting for the trembling of your body to stop, but there was a smile on your lips. But soon you were lifted up and taken to your couch, where you were laid over the arm chair, you could feel Leon’s cum dripping down your thighs making a mess and your cheek flush bright red, you needed to clean yourself up.

Looking over your shoulder at Leon, you could see him admiring the sight of you bent over the couch arm, watching his cum run down your thighs, you saw him kneel down between your legs from behind, then he took off his gloves and put them on the ground before you felt his fingers run up the back of your thighs, your combined juices coating his fingers before he caught them up to his mouth and clean them a growl leaving his lips causing you to clench around nothing.

“You’re going to make such a pretty mess for me doll.” Leon says gruffy as you felt his hungry eyes on your puffy pussy. You felt him move the bottom of your hoodie up to the middle of your waist, leaving your behind exposed to him and the cool breeze. “Look at you, so perfect and dirty just for me.” He praises you causing a soft embarrassed whine to leave your lips before without warning he dived in, burying his face in between your thighs from behind feasting on you like a starving man.

A sharp hitch pitched moan leaves your lips as you pushed your hips into the couch, you buried your face into one of your couch pillows as you could hear the wet and sucking noises coming from behind you could hear Leon grunting also animalistically behind you devouring you, He carefully spread your legs more and buried face deeper, his tongue gently lapping at your sensitive bud, before taking it in between his lips and suckled softly.

“Leon.” His name fell from your lips in a hitch pitch slur, your brain was so hazy and blissed out that you couldn’t focus on anything expect him and the pleasure that was flowing through your body. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you.” Leon groaned against your pussy as you started to grind on his nose, as you were moving your hips you felt his thumb gently tease your asshole, before he slowly pushed it in.

You tensed at first since it was your first time having something back there, but slowly you adjusted your hands where now gripping the pillow your face was buried in as you felt your eyes roll into the back of your head. You could feel another orgasm approaching, your slick was now running down your thighs as Leon’s mouth and fingers worked you, as if he knew your body like the back of his hand.

“That’s its baby, cum all over my face, I wanna drink every drop.” Leon growled against your pussy encouraging you as he increased the intensity of his ministrations. You couldn’t hold on anymore your body feeling as if it was on fire as it trembled under his touch, you squeezed your eyes shut as your body came undone but then you felt it, a gush left your body causing a squeak like moan to leave your lips as your body spasmed.

You felt his grip on your thighs tighten slightly as well as a soft suckling noise, you reached your hand back and tried to push his head away. “to sensitive.” You whined softly before you felt his fingers intertwin with your as he placed one last kiss on your pussy and ass before he got up.

“told you I would make a mess of you.” Leon says with a deep chuckle then you felt his hand around your neck, the same one that was just inside you a couple seconds ago, you could see the front of his shirt was drench in your juice’s causing an embarrassed blush to color your cheeks.

You looked up at him, your eyes glazed over with a hazy and dazed look of lust before you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, you felt a drop of his saliva drop on your tounge and you swallowed it immediately, you could taste yourself which caused your cheeks to burn brighter and a grin to come onto his face as he slightly tightened his grip on your neck.

“Such a good girl, always taking everything, I give you.” Leon praises you, his voice low and husky before he leans down and captures your lips in a gentle kiss, that made your heart leap into your chest.

Soon Leon helped you to your feet, he put his arm around your waist to keep you steady as your legs were like jelly and shaking, you both made your way to your bathroom upstairs. “Do you want to shower together or separately.” Leon asks as he guides you into the bathroom and places you on the toilet seat, before going over to your shower and turning on the hot tap. “Together.” You said not trusting your legs to be able to keep you steady in the shower, Leon nodded his head and walked over to you and gently tugged your hoodie off and placed it on the sink before he started to strip himself.

You could see new wounds and scars on his body, but you don’t say anything, you knew his work was private or he couldn’t say anything, but you knew his work drained him both physically, mentally and emotionally and that is what made you worry the most.

Stepping inside the now warm shower water you both felt out a hum as the warm water cascaded over your bodies, relieving the knots and tight muscles in both your bodies, Leon wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closely to his body. Leaning against his body you went up on your tippy toes and pressed and gentle kiss to his lips, this wasn’t sexually driven or rough as before but more tender and softer as if you were trying to savor this moment of soft intimacy in your own little bubble.

Leon returned the kiss also immediately, his callous hands running down your curves before they settled on your ass and give it a small squeeze. “this.” He mumbles against your lips as he gave you soft pecks. “this is why I can’t let you go.” he whispers softly before his blue eyes meet yours. “You’re not just sex to me y/n, but something more.” He says as he cradles your head in his hands before his lips meet yours again in a soft and passionate kiss.

“but we can’t keep sneaking around Leon, it isn’t fair to your girlfriend, even if you’re in a relationship or situationship it still isn’t fair on her.” You say as you gently pressed on his bare chest breaking the kiss softly. “I know.” He admits quietly as he rested his forehead on yours, his damp hair was pressing against your forehead and for a moment you forgot that you were in the shower as his eyes looked into yours, you could see the guilt in them but also a look you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“you know how I feel about you y/n, I’ll figure something out somehow I promise.” Leon promises you as he places a kiss on the top of your head, despite the uncertainty and guilt hanging over them, all you wanted to do was be closer to Leon, he made you feel a way that no other man has ever made you before, he makes your heart flutter and skip a beat with just a look, his arms feel like home, making you feel safe and protected when they are around you, but you knew things were going to be easy for either of you.

After your shower and putting both of your clothes into your washing machine, you were laying on your bed just in a pair of panties, your hair was still a little damp but you knew it would dry overnight, only your bedside table lamp was on giving your bedroom a more relaxed vibe as you could hear the rain outside hitting your windows.

Leon came in a couple moments later, only wearing a pair of briefs, lucky he had left some of his clothes from last time he was here, He soon joined you on the bed and pulled you closely to bare chest as his hand started to run through your dam hair, causing a soft hum to leave your lips.

“Beautiful.” You heard Leon mumble before he leaned capturing your lips in a soft and passionate kiss, like you shared in the shower, you hummed softly against his lips and kissed him back the same, your hands resting on his bare chest, your eyes fluttering closed as you let yourself be lost in this man that you know has capture your heart despite everything.

The dim lighting in the room and the rain outside gave your bedroom an almost intimate and sensual atmosphere as you moved closer to Leon, straddling one of his thick thighs, you could feel the emotions in the kiss, the unsaid words you couldn’t say out loud, the promises and hope. You both explored each other’s mouths languidly, taking the time to savor the taste and feel of each other, not knowing when the next time you would be able to see each other.

You felt him break a hand up and gently stroke your cheek with his thumb as he broke the kiss, he rested his forehead on yours, gazing into your eyes with warmth and adoration. “I love you y/n so damn much.” He confesses softly, his tone was tinged with desperation and longing, as if it was a slient plea for you to always be his and only his.

Reaching up you intertwined your fingers with the hand that was on his cheek and leaned up and softly kissed him, you didn’t say the three words back to him but your actions showed it, slowly you pulled away causing a groan to leave his lips as he tried to chase after your lips, but you place one of your fingers on his lips.

“If your serious about this then leave her, I’m sick and tired of sneaking around behind everybody’s back and feeling as if I am walking on eggshells.” You say to Leon hoping he would understand where you were coming from, you felt him lean forward and soft peck your lips as he gave the soft flesh of your ass a small squeeze.

“I promise I will y/n, you’re the only one I want.” He mumbled against your lips as if he was sealing a promise, you didn’t know what the future held for the both of you, but you knew if Leon kept to his promise then you wouldn’t let him slip through your fingers not again.

“Okay.” You say to him as a smile came across your lips. “Okay.” He repeated back to you echoing your sentiment, he pulled you closer so now there was no space between you as you laid on top of him, you settle in for the night, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm ambiance over your entwined bodies. Even if this was to only last just for tonight you were going to savor every single moment until the sun raised in the morning…

----------

©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

That's quite cliche oh the boss and his nanny

Barbie dolls: hotch x gn! Nanny! Reader

Word: 2.6k

Summary: hotch asks you stay at his house bc it late and shenanigans happen oh my god holy shit read it please and thank you

Warning: hotch points gun at you, you're a nanny, you have nightmares, mentioned that your hair stands up from sleeping on it weird but it doesn't mention texture I pinkie promise, hotch touches your hair once, jack really loves lightning McQueen, shots (metaphorical) at throw blankets and suburban houses, you say oh my god, that's it I think

It was usual for the team to go out to a restaurant after a long case. So just like usual after the team was off the jet and standing in the hallway, Penelope asked if anybody wanted food. The team answered with different forms of yes. Then after a moment of silence, all eyes turned to Hotch. He looked up from his phone, glancing around. 

“So you coming or what?” Emily asked. Hotch shook his head sending you a message telling you he was on his way. He heard a few groans in response. His lips tipped a smidge. 

“I have to get home and tell my nanny to go home,” Hotch said, frowning at your lack of a response. It wasn’t too late, you were usually awake at this time. Morgan hummed in a taunting tone. 

”Workaholic? You have to shoo them out with a broom?” Morgan asked. Hotch glared at Morgan and stepped into the elevator. Rossi made a sad sound. 

“I think you hurt his feelings,” Rossi said, tilting his head at Morgan. Morgan let out a laugh. Hotch rolled his eyes as the elevator doors closed, leaving him alone. He stared down at his message, still with no response. He felt a wave of worry wash over him. He considered calling you but thought maybe he was just being parnoid. Hotch let it slide and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He still let his worry simmer in the back of his head on the ride home. When he unlocked his front door and pushed it open, he felt another wave of worry add to his shoulders. 

The lights were off which meant one of two things. You both went to bed early or there was a break-in. He dropped his keys into the bowl next to the door, setting his case down next to his shoes. Hotch quietly walked through the house finding more and more lights off. When he reached the living room he caught on. 

The big light was off but the lamp was on. The tv was still playing the credits of a Scooby Doo movie. Hotch hummed now understanding. He looked over the edge of the couch and saw you asleep on the couch. Your sweater was balled up and shoved under your head. Your phone was sitting on the coffee table. Your arm was slung over the edge of the couch, resting on the floor. Hotch saw the remote sitting just barely in your hand. Jack was no where to be seen but he saw a juice box and a halfway-eaten bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. Hotch hummed, assuming Jack already left for his bed. He leaned over the edge of the couch and gently shook your arm. 

You didn’t budge, you were out cold. Hotch looked up when he heard movement behind him. He looked behind him to see Jack standing frozen three steps behind Hotch. Jack was holding a bowl of ice cream with a spoon sticking out the top. He was in his pajamas still, and his slippers that lit up when he took a step on his feet. Hotch raised an eyebrow at Jack. Jack stared at Hotch, knowing he was caught breaking the ‘no sweets after 8’ rule. 

“Hello, Father,” Jack said, obviously nervous. Hotch hummed and leaned against the couch. 

“Whatcha doing bud?” Jack glanced down at the bowl of ice cream with his favorite lighting McQueen spoon. 

“Just getting them some ice cream,” Jack said, gesturing to you. You let out a snore that made Hotch sure you’d been out for most of the movie. Hotch hummed. 

“How about this, how about you go put that bowl in the freezer? We’ll pretend this didn’t happen and you can have that ice cream tomorrow night?” Hotch said. Jack looked down at the bowl, pouting. His shoulders sank and he turned on his heel, heading back to the kitchen. Jack came back a few minutes later and hugged Hotch’s legs. Hotch pulled him off the ground and hugged him tighter. Jack laughed and Hotch groaned as he set him back down. 

“Go get ready for bed and I’ll be in to read you a story,” Hotch said. After a few grumpy mumbles from Jack he left for the bathroom, getting ready to brush his teeth. Hotch turned back to you. He shook you a little rougher making your eyes peel open. He called your name to lead you back to real life through your slumber. You squinted and sat up on your elbow. Hotch heard the remote clatter to the ground. You looked around. Taking in your surroundings. You looked up at him, looking even more confused. 

“Aaron?” Hotch hummed in response. You sat up all the way. Hotch reached out to tame the back of your hair. Apparently, sweaters made your hair stand up when sleeping on them. You furrowed your eyebrows and rubbed at your eye. 

“What time is it?” You asked. Hotch stayed leaned over the back of the couch, watching you with a smile. Even with your sleep and confusion lacing your every word, you were still breathtaking. Hotch hummed. 

“Little past nine.” You groaned, flopping back onto the couch. You tucked your sweater back under your head. 

“Five more minutes.” You huffed. Hotch snorted and pulled on your arm. 

“Come on, I can’t let you sleep on the couch. It won’t be very comfortable.” You peeked one eye at him. 

“Then carry me home.” Hotch rolled his eyes. 

“Oh I would, but I have to tuck Jack in,” Hotch said, pointing over at Jack’s bedroom. You sat up and looked at his door. You looked back to Hotch with a frown and twitch in your eye that made Hotch want to massage your concern away. He didn’t, keeping his hands on the couch. 

“He’s not already asleep?” Hotch shook his head. “Oh, I'm sorry. I just passed out. I didn’t mean to, it was a long day, and I-“ Hotch shushed you, reaching over to rub your upper arm. 

“I don’t mind. You’re an amazing nanny. I don’t think Jack cared either, her was making himself a bowl of ice cream when I got here.” Hotch said, letting his hand linger on your arm even though he knew it was inappropriate professional behavior. You frowned harder. 

“Oh damn it, he knows the no sweets after 8 rule.” Hotch let his hand drag up to your shoulder and rub it. Your frown dissapearred and you hummed. You shut your eyes as Hotch added his other hand to your free shoulder. 

“You don’t have to go home. It is pretty late. I could set up the guest bedroom for you.” Hotch whispered, staring over your head to watch the credits. You hummed and leaned your head back. 

“I can’t do that. I don’t want to impede.” You said, keeping your eyes closed as Hotch massaged your shoulders. 

“You’re not impeding. I’m offering. I don’t want you to drive tired. Just stay, you can leave in the morning before Jack wakes up.” Hotch said, glancing over at the bathroom. Jack’s Lightning McQueen's toothbrush was still singing. You picked your head up, peeling your eyes open. 

“Are you sure?” Hotch clicked his tongue, pulling his hands away. You glared at him, following him with your eyes as he joined you on the couch. 

“I want you here. You’re not a burden or impeding. Stay, please.” Hotch said, reaching out to hold onto your hand. You pressed your lips together, humming sadly. 

“Right well, I’m stealing a throw blanket or something.” You said, standing from the couch. Hotch nodded and gave you a soft smile. 

“Okay. Sleep tight, I’ll make sure Jake doesn’t wake you up.” Hotch said before heading towards Jack’s bedroom to tuck him in. You drifted off to the guest bedroom. 

You didn’t sleep well. It started nicely, the room was pretty. The sheets were nice. The pillows were soft, and yet you still had a horrific nightmare. It left you clammy and breathless. You were shooting out of the bed that was not yours and checking the bedroom windows to make sure they were locked. Which settled your stomach for a moment but then you thought of all the windows and doors in the house. It was a little strange to be paranoid over a nightmare but maybe it was a reminder to be extra safe. 

You pulled the stupid throw blanket sitting on the edge of the bed over your shoulders and quietly made your way to the nearest window. As you checked the locks, you wondered why suburban homes seemed to always have pointless throw blankets as decor. No one used them, they all felt like sandpaper. Why’d they do that? Furthermore, why did Aaron have them? Is he using the throw blankets? You moved through the kitchen, the window above the sink was unlocked. You stepped into the living room, checking the sliding patio door. It ws locked. You moved to the windows next to it behind the small desk for Jack. You heard a gun cock. 

“Don’t move.” 

Your surroundings were shed in a light from behind you. You froze and wondered if it was Jack’s nightlight. You slowly held your hands up. You heard Aaron mutter your name. You slowly turned around to face him, the dumb throw blanket falling to the floor. Aaron lowered his gun, clicking the safety back on and setting it down on the nearby kitchen counter. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Aaron asked. You felt slightly taken aback at the fact he just cursed at you. 

“Checking the locks.” You whispered, glancing back at the window. Aaron threw his hands out, placing them on his hips. 

“And you have to do that in the middle of the night while sounding like a burgalar? I thought you were a murderer or something.” Aaron said, glancing around the room. 

“I just got anxious-you pointed a gun at me.” You said. Your brain was catching up with the fact that Aaron could’ve killed you. Aaron glanced over at his gun resting on the counter. He looked back at you apologetically. 

“I did, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I overreacted, that’s my fault. Did I scare you?” Aaron asked, taking a step closer to you. 

“I had a nightmare that someone broke in and took Jack so I wanted to check the locks.” You said, staring at the floor. Aaron cooed and you felt a tear slip past your waterline. You weren’t entirely sure why you were crying. It could’ve been your fear that Jack would get hurt or it could’ve been the fact you were just faced with your own mortality even if it was just for a second. Aaron closed the distance, wrapping you in a hug. You gripped the back of his pajama shirt, pretending your boots weren’t totally, fully, absolutely shaken. 

Eventually, you stopped crying and Aaron dragged your shaken form to his bedroom. He took the gun with him. Aaron sat you on the edge of the bed as he set his gun away in his safe. He sat next to you once it locked. 

“Are you alright?” You kept your eyes on the floor, seeing that he picked a really strange carpet that was a strange mix of blue, green, and white. Aaron reached out and patted your shoulder, whispering your name. 

“Did you pick this carpet?” You asked, keeping your eyes on it. Aaron scoffed. 

“What?” You stayed silent, giving him time to think over his answer. “No. It was-“ 

“Good, ‘cause it’s hideous.” You said, kicking your foot on the carpet. Dishelved it was even uglier. You thought you might get nauseous if you kept looking at it. Aaron squeezed your shoulder. 

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked. You shrugged. 

“Fine, you just have ugly carpet in here. And untrustworthy locks. And scary guns.” You said, sighing at the memory of Aaron’s gun aimed at your back. Aaron sighed next to you. 

“I really am sorry.” You mocked his tone. Aaron pulled his hand away from your shoulder. 

“I thought it was funny.” You whispered. Aaron shook his head. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” Aaron asked. You scoffed. 

“Um excuse me? Who was it that packed your son’s lunch and picked him up from school today? Oh, that’s right, me! You ought to watch who you’re talking to.” You said. Aaron had a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he opened his mouth to retort. 

“Oh is that how we’re playing it?” You nodded. “Right and who determines your paycheck? Oh, that’s right, me!” Aaron said, pointing to himself. 

“Maybe we drop it. I’m good with my job as it is, thank you.” You said, looking back at the ugly carpet. Aaron pulled you into a side hug, shaking you lightly for a moment. 

“I’m sorry for tonight. It won’t happen again, I swear it.” Aaron whispered against your temple. 

“You’re absolutely positive you had no hand in this carpet decision?” You asked, pointing at the ground. Aaron pulled away from you, letting out a scoffing laugh. 

“Why are you so set on this?” You ignored him, really focused on the stupid almost teal. 

“I mean it’s so hideous. If you did have anything to do with this, I don’t think we could be friends anymore.” You said, laughing through your words. Aaron didn’t laugh though and you felt a pang of regret strike your heart. 

“We’re just friends?” Aaron asked, staring at you with his freaky constantly serious face. You paused, keeping your eyes off the floor so you’d stay focused. 

“Just?” You repeated, squinted at him. Aaron shook his head and looked down at the carpet. 

“Well I was just-“ 

“Oh. My. God.” You pulled yourself off the bed, pacing in front of Aaron. “You totally fell for the nanny. Do you realize how cliche that is? You’re so lucky I’m a freelancer. If I was a part of an organization, they’d have my head.” 

“Why would your hypotetical organization have your head? I’m the one that’s attracted to my employee, not the other-“ Aaron paused as he seemed to piece it together. 

“you totally fell for your boss, Nanny. Do you realize how cliche that is?” You glared at him for throwing your words back in your face. 

“Just for that, I’m stealing a throw blanket and a pillow.”  You said, shoving his arm. Hotch rocked for a second,  before stalliing and giving you a small smile. He sucked in a breath. 

“You know,” Aaron paused. “If that nightmare is still bothering you, you could stay in here tonight.” You paused your pacing, quirking a smile at him. You stepped closer to him, slipping your arms over his shoulders. Aaron’s hand ventured from his lap to the back of your thighs, warming your legs. 

“Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You asked, though you already knew the answer. Aaron nodded his head, pulling you closer to him. He stared up at you with a glint in his eye that made you grin. He squeezed your thighs. You let your arms slide further on his shoulder, moving your faces closer together. Aaron tilted his head back, looking up at you. You knocked your nose with him, pressing your lips against his. Aaron hummed into your mouth, letting his hands on the back of your thighs travel up. You pulled back just a smidge, a breath filling the space between you too. 

“I’m staying in here tonight.” You whispered. Aaron nodded, tilting his head back up. 

“Good plan. Kiss me again?” You obliged his demands, meeting his lips again. 

[alyrasturnz]

i know u probably have alot of requests rn but im in need of a fluffy chris x reader abt the song "jump then fall" by taylor swift

JUMP THEN FALL {{ chris sturniolo }}

summary — in a quaint little town, y/n and chris have been best friends since childhood. their bond has always been strong, but recently, y/n has started to notice the little things about chris that make her heart flutter. she loves the way he sounds in the morning when they talk on the phone, the way his laugh is the best sound she's ever heard, and how she can't keep her focus when he's around. this oneshot follows the sweet, tender moments leading up to their realization that they are meant to be together.

warnings :: mentions of burning food??

— purely fluff

as the shrill ringtone pierces the veil of your slumber, your eyes flutter open reluctantly, the remnants of dreams dissipating like mist in the morning light.

a groan escapes your lips, a sound of both frustration and resignation, as you bury your face into your palms, seeking a brief refuge from the unwelcome intrusion.

the world outside your cocoon of blankets feels distant and harsh, a stark contrast to the warmth and comfort you had been enveloped in.

with a resigned sigh, you roll over, the motion slow and deliberate, as though moving through molasses.

you shift to lay on your stomach, the coolness of the sheets a fleeting comfort against your skin.

your hand gropes blindly for the phone on your side table, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the device before finally closing around it.

the screen’s glow is almost blinding in the early morning dimness, but you brace yourself, preparing to face whatever awaits on the other side of that persistent ringtone.

“chris??” you croak, your voice laden with the remnants of sleep, each syllable a struggle against the grogginess that clings to you.

your eyes, still heavy with the vestiges of dreams, squint against the harsh intrusion of light, which feels like needles piercing through the tender veil of your slumber.

the brightness assaults your senses, each ray a sharp reminder of the waking world you have been reluctantly pulled into.

"morning!" chris exclaimed with a cheerfulness that seemed to dance in the air, a stark contrast to the grogginess enveloping you.

the sizzle of something cooking reached your ears, a symphony of tiny pops and hisses that hinted at a breakfast being prepared with care and enthusiasm.

the sound mingled with chris's bright greeting, creating a tableau of domestic warmth and early morning routine.

"chris—what time is it?" you mutter, your voice a low murmur as you roll back, sinking into the embrace of your mattress.

the familiar contours of the bed offer a fleeting solace as you seek to anchor yourself in the waking world, the question hanging in the air like a fog of uncertainty.

"it's 8," chris replied, adjusting his phone so the camera captured the stove's bustling scene. "making some breakfast," he added with enthusiasm, his voice brimming with the kind of energy that seemed to spill over into the sizzling symphony of the kitchen.

"how are you this energetic at 8 in the morning?" you mutter, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. the incredulity in your voice mingles with amusement, a gentle acknowledgment of chris's boundless morning vigor.

"I don't know," chris chuckled in response. "honestly, I went to bed way earlier than usual last night. I took some melatonin gummies, and I just discovered that melatonin gives me nightmares!" chris continued, his voice trailing off as he walked away from the stove and into the living room.

you loved listening to him just ramble, his words flowing like a gentle stream, each sentence a pebble that you would turn over in your mind, examining its texture and shape.

you would hang on to every word, absorbing the cadence of his voice, the subtle inflections that hinted at deeper emotions.

sometimes, though, your mind would wander, and you'd find yourself lost in the quiet admiration of his face, tracing the contours of his features with your eyes, as if committing every detail to memory.

his presence was a balm, and whether you were fully engaged in his stories or simply basking in the serenity of his company, you cherished those moments deeply.

"oh, really?" you mumbled, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern. "you had a nightmare?" you inquired, the question hanging in the air, laden with the weight of genuine interest.

chris nods, sinking into the couch with a casual grace. "yeah, but it wasn’t that bad," he says, his tone reassuring. "it wasn’t about monsters or anything like that."

"y’wanna talk about it?" you ask, your voice still heavy with sleep as you groggily rise from your bed. you place your phone down on the vanity, the soft clink barely audible, and make your way over to the closet, your steps slow and deliberate.

"no... well, actually, yes," chris said, a tentative smile playing on his lips. "alright, so here's the gist of it—it was me and nick in the nightmare," he began, his words spilling forth in a torrent as he delved into the details, his ramble stretching on like an unending tapestry woven from the threads of his restless mind.

chris was rambling about the nightmare, his thoughts darting from one topic to another like a restless butterfly.

he frequently veered off course, diving into tangents that seemed only loosely connected to his original tale, creating a tapestry of disjointed musings and fragmented stories.

and the entire time, you listened with a gentle smile gracing your lips, your hands deftly applying makeup, each brushstroke a silent testament to your patience and attentiveness.

chris lets out a soft giggle, a sound so delicate and enchanting that it immediately sends your stomach into spirals, a whirlwind of emotions ignited by that simple, yet profound, expression of joy.

you never noticed how gentle his laughter was, a subtle melody that seemed to caress the air. You never realized it was the most enchanting sound you had ever heard, a symphony of softness that resonated deeply within you.

you tried to listen again, but his words started to blur, becoming a distant and indistinct murmur in the background of your thoughts.

the only thing that occupied your mind was an intricate tapestry of dreams and possibilities, where you envisioned the two of you as a perfect couple.

you imagined how your lives would intertwine seamlessly, each moment a testament to the harmony and understanding that seemed almost fated.

the more you pondered, the more the notion grew, overshadowing everything else in the room.

but then, the smoke detector suddenly pierced the air with its shrill alarm, an abrupt intrusion that made both you and chris flinch.

the moment shattered like fragile glass, pulling you both back to the stark reality of the present with a jarring intensity.

"chris! what is that?" nick's voice echoed from upstairs, urgency lacing his tone as he descended the stairs, his eyes immediately drawn to the stove. "you left the stove on again?" nick groaned, frustration evident in his voice as he surveyed the scene.

"I gotta go!" chris exclaimed, swiftly rising from his seat and casting a fleeting smile towards his phone. "bye!" he added, before abruptly ending the call.

»--•--«

chris

I burnt my food :(

y/n

yeah i figured 😭

thats like the third time this month

chris

I know 😕

Man those eggs looked so buss too

y/n

mhm i bet they did

chris

Im so upset

😔

If only a professional listener that barely speaks could take me out and bring me to dennys

😔

y/n

seriously

chris

Yes

y/n

…

would you like to go to dennys with me

chris

Never thought you’d ask!

y/n

😭

ill pick you up around 10

chris

Ok 😁

See you n/n

y/n

see you later chris!

»--•--«

you watch as chris talks animatedly about something he's passionate about, his gestures lively and his eyes alight with enthusiasm.

each word he speaks seems to weave a tapestry of his dreams and aspirations, drawing you into his world.

yet, despite his captivating narrative, your thoughts drift, becoming ensnared in the depths of his gaze.

you can't help but lose yourself in those eyes, a sea of unspoken emotions and possibilities, imagining a future where the two of you are inseparably intertwined, each moment a testament to the bond you believe you are destined to share.

your bond with chris has been unwavering since the days when both of you first learned to talk, a connection forged in the earliest moments of your shared existence.

however, a shift has begun to stir within you, a subtle yet profound change in the nature of your feelings.

the laughter you once shared, once so familiar and effortless, now carries a different weight. not in the bad way, but rather one that sends a flutter through your stomach and a rush of warmth to your cheeks, transforming each shared moment into something deeply exhilarating and new.

everything he once did, actions that would have previously passed by unnoticed, now evokes a whirlwind of emotions within you, making you feel everything with an intensity you never anticipated.

but how could you not? He embodies a rare combination of beauty, vivacity, and humor, surpassing anyone you have ever encountered.

you find yourself captivated by the way his hair cascades effortlessly across his face, and how each freckle, like a constellation, makes him uniquely him.

there are moments when you find yourself meticulously counting the freckles scattered across his face, each one a delicate mark that adds to the intricate mosaic of his being.

never before have you been so utterly enraptured, finding within him the very embodiment of everything you have ever desired.

each moment spent in his presence feels like a dream woven from your deepest longings, where every glance, every word, and every gesture seems to fulfill a part of your soul that you never knew was yearning.

"y/n?" chris's voice pierces through the veil of your reverie, pulling you abruptly from the depths of your contemplative trance.

“yeah?” you say softly, taking a sip of your coffee, your lipgloss staining the white mug

“you listening?” chris asks, taking a bite of his waffle

"yes!" you respond enthusiastically, "you were elaborating on the phenomenon of jumping and falling from a towering cliff."

"exactly!" chris exclaimed, "it's such a bizarre concept, isn't it? i can barely manage the thrill of a rollercoaster, let alone muster the courage to leap and plummet from a cliff!" chris chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

chris savored another mouthful of his waffle, the rich flavors dancing on his palate as he continued to ponder the conversation.

"you can jump then fall into me," you murmur softly, almost to yourself, as you take a contemplative sip of your coffee, hoping the words remain unheard.

"what was that?" chris inquired, his voice tinged with curiosity. You glanced up, catching the sight of his cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink.

"oh, nothing!" you quickly replied. "just—maybe we should try jumping and falling off a cliff one day," you stammered, a nervous smile playing on your lips.

chris's eyes widened, his eyebrows arching in surprise. "are you serious?" he laughed, incredulity coloring his tone. "you couldn't even dangle my firstborn off a building to get me on a rollercoaster! just the sensation of a car going downhill is more than enough for me. there's no way you actually want to jump off a cliff," he declared.

you pressed your lips together, a delicate dance of restraint and anticipation, as if your smile was a secret too precious to reveal just yet.

chris takes a generous bite of his waffle, the moment steeped in a tranquil silence that wraps around you both like a comforting embrace.

chris shakes his head, hastily swallowing his waffle. "you know what? I'm so grateful to have you in my life," he says, a genuine smile illuminating his face.

you return his smile, gently setting your mug back on the table. “me too, chris,” you reply, your voice carrying the weight of unspoken sentiments.

"like genuinely! I don't say it enough, but I love you," he declares, his words sending a rush of warmth to your cheeks, painting them with a delicate blush.

"y’know? It's like you hold the keys to the deepest parts of my soul. Whenever I'm engulfed in sadness, you stay by my side, holding me through the entire night until the shadows lift and a smile returns to my face," he says, his grin widening. "in today's world, it's incredibly hard to find such unwavering support and understanding. I genuinely appreciate you more than words can express."

you chuckle softly, a knowing smile playing on your lips as you gently shake your head, a gesture filled with a blend of amusement and affection.

beyond his playful personality, chris had a tendency to fill the quiet moments with heartfelt expressions of gratitude. Every time silence fell between you, he would seize the opportunity to voice his appreciation, and that was a quality you had always cherished deeply.

"you’re so sweet, chris. without a doubt, you are the most compassionate person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting," you say, a genuine smile spreading across your face.

»--•--«

you and chris stepped out of denny's, the warm glow of the diner fading behind you, and made your way into the serene embrace of the nearby park.

you frequented this park with a sense of familiarity and fondness, often referring to it affectionately as "your spot," a sanctuary amidst the bustling world.

as the golden hues of the setting sun bathed the park in a warm, ethereal glow, you and chris meandered leisurely along the winding path, enveloped by the tranquil beauty of the moment.

the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds created a serene symphony that mirrored the calm before a storm brewing in your hearts.

your thoughts raced like wild horses as you stole furtive glances at Chris, each look laden with unspoken words and hidden emotions.

his presence was both comforting and exhilarating, like the first sip of hot cocoa on a cold winter's day.

you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes sparkled with passion as he spoke, or how his laughter seemed to chase away your worries.

suddenly, chris stopped walking and turned to face you, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability.

your heart skipped a beat as you met his gaze, your breath hitching in anticipation.

"y/n," chris began, his voice soft yet steady, "there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while now."

you felt your pulse quicken, your mind racing with possibilities. you nodded, urging him to continue.

chris took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "I've been feeling something more than friendship, and I can't keep it to myself any longer. every time I see you, every time we talk, I realize just how much you mean to me. you're the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing on my mind before I fall asleep. y/n, you are my anchor, my guiding star. I promise I'll always be there for you, to catch you when you fall, and to hold you through the tough times. I want to be the one who makes you smile, who shares your burdens, and who dreams with you. I guess what I’m trying to say is that, I love the way you make me laugh, the way you understand me like no one else does. I love you, y/n."

your eyes widened in surprise, your heart swelling with a mixture of joy and relief. You took a step closer, your hand reaching out to gently touch his.

"chris," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion, "I've been afraid to say anything, but I can't deny it anymore. every moment we spend together feels like a dream I never want to wake up from. I feel the same way. I've been falling for you, too. I love the way you make me feel safe, the way you bring out the best in me. I love you."

a radiant smile spread across chris's face as he pulled you into a tight embrace. you felt the warmth of his love envelop you, and you knew that this was where you belonged.

as you pulled back slightly, your eyes met once more.

chris leaned in, and you closed the distance, your lips meeting in a sweet, tender kiss. it was a kiss filled with promise, a silent vow to always be there for each other, to cherish and support one another through whatever life might bring.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, you and chris sat on a nearby bench, hand in hand, watching the sky transform into a canvas of stars. jou knew that this was just the beginning of your beautiful journey together, and you were ready to face it side by side.

"i really did jump then fell into you, didn't i?"

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝗮 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱? ⦒ ✶.*

pairing(s): ethan winters x afab gn reader synopsis: ethan can't sleep again. as his doting partner, you reach under the sheets, giving him temporary solace to his nightmares at the village. content: smut 18+ only mdni, soft dom ethan, hand & finger kink, sensual, oral (m! receiving), deepthroat, finger fucking, body worship, pet names, hurt/comfort, events in re8, mentions of trauma, nightmares, scars, stitches & prosthetics. a/n 2: please check out my friend @emilzke's ethan winters x reader work called 'rebuilding' which i absolutely love (she got shadowba-nned so give her some love thanks!) a/n: belated birthday gift to @obsolescent, one of my favourite people on this app! sorry this took so long! ! even if its not your bday anymore, hope you still had a good night lovely! enjoy! also inspired by this art of ethan. « 2.2 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

It all started from a little small talk, quiet reassurances of ‘how was your day’ shared intimately under the privacy of the moonlight and each other’s eyes until both of you drift into slumber. The bed, in which you rest together when night falls. Two bedside tables, lived in, and for a moment, a sense of normality has returned.

Ethan was restless in his sleep—a side effect from full-day’s work of software debugs and upgrades that he maintains on the daily. Or perhaps, something more. Something that happened in the village that he spends every minute trying to forget. And despite the passing of seasons, the memory lingers like persistent heat.

His hand fidgets under the covers, shifting fingers up and down in desperation to find yours, as if you might disappear, kidnapped by the shadows of his nightmares and he’s back there again, finding missing flasks, patching you together piece by piece like a detached puzzle. But what he’s actually looking for are parts of himself, that seem to still sit underneath the crumble and debris of the buried village.

“R-Ro…” Ethan’s voice hitches out—frantic, weak.

Through muffled strings of your sleepy breath, you rummage under the sheets to find his hand.

“My dear… It’s me. I’m here.” You turn around to lean into the column between his neck and shoulders, made perfect for you. The moment your hands meet, Ethan clasps them tightly, before relieving, loosening in your reassurance. “You’re okay now. Rose is okay.”

Ethan’s eyes open lightly and just like you promised, Rose is in the cot by your side, gentle baby's breath floating through the air. He brings you closer to his chest, just to nestle into your warmth as he peppers kisses on the crown of your head.

“Did you sleep?” You coo, hands running up his naked torso just to feel them against you.

“A little. I’ll go back to sleep soon. Just need a second.” His chest heaves in front of you, and from what you know about Ethan, his quickened heartbeat will only take a while for him to calm down.

You look up to see him, and find that his eyes are wide awake, simply staring at the ceiling, as if counting sheep to hypnotise him back to sleep. Through lidded eyes, Ethan sees you; and smiles at how you look. His hands move unthinkingly, bringing them to your face before he even realises he’s caressing it, sending a gentle shiver of warmth through your spine.

“Ah.” Ethan puts his hand in the air to stop him, chuckling bashfully. “Sorry for keeping you up. Get some sleep. You have work tomorrow.”

“I’m awake now.” You grumble, catching his hand in the air back to your face, like a toy stolen from a child. You press his hand on your cheek, keeping him there, which Ethan has no problems with.

His hands are different now, you thought as you run your fingers down his hand, feeling every stitch, bump, and rough texture that ran along the back of his palms before hitting you with the cold knuckle of his metal prosthetic fingers along where his ring and pinky finger should have been.

What used to be the compliment getter for Ethan, through the bruise and burns had lost its natural shine, not even his superhuman healing speed is immune to the scars. But to you, the rugginess simply enhances his beauty. Stitches tracing like a map to a treasure, red patches of scar like cherry kisses gracing along the soft plush of his palms. You love it all.

Those are proof of Ethan's survival—That was all you wanted. To hear and feel his presence in the mundane. Side by side with the man you love. But to him, he lost something that day. A part of his soul ripped apart, still underneath the crumble and debris of that buried village.

“Do you need help sleeping?” Your half-lidded eyes can’t obscure your devilish glint in your eyes, hand rustling underneath the sheet, obscure him from the view of what you’re about to do to him. His eyes meet yours, staring right back in disbelief, but simultaneously unable to resist what you have to offer for him in this quiet night.

“Now?” He seems to be genuinely considering the idea. “What if Rose wakes up?”

“She won't if you keep quiet.” You bring his hand to your lips to pepper kisses on his hands, slowing as you’re licking the length of each finger. The pain goes away, replaced by lust, but only ever so slightly.

“Can you do that for me?” You pause, waiting for his answer, and he nods surely. “Good boy.”

Wasting no time to help to get comfortable, you dive your head under the covers just to resurface as a lump under the sheet. Ethan clears his throat in anticipation as you tuck your fingers into boxers, removing just enough for his cock to spring up and meet you in the face.

You run your tongue at the tip of his crest, swirling in small circles to tease his precum out of him, in which he squirms, pushing in his legs slightly before relaxing. It was difficult to see where you are in the darkness of the sheets, but you make do, finding where his crest meets his shaft and following it down the rest of his dick to find the prominent vein on the underside of his cock.

When his cock is wet enough to your liking, you meet his tip with the soft seam of your lips, taking his length inch and inch at a time as you tongue around his hardening cock. A low grunt escapes his lips, and you can hear his thoughts fading him as you play with him some more.

He places his hand on your head, blood surging down his body, not quite wanting to hurt you, or accidentally snag on your hair to make it painful.

That’s who your husband is, even when he’s enjoying, he would never want to hurt you. Or at least tries not to.

“O-Oh... m’ god, so fuckin’ goo- Nnh.” That is your cue to move in deeper, hopefully to catch him between words and leave him hitching his breath as you finish him under your nose. Your tongue clashes against his dick that only fills your mouth, eventually leaving no room for your tongue to explore him. The bobs of your head become more messy and difficult, and his whimpers only make you even more excited.

“L-Let m’ see you, babe.” Ethan stifles the words out, lifting the covers up, and you’re embraced by the light of the bedside lamp. A glimpse of Ethan’s silhouette and his round beady eyes staring right into your position that exposes you and the hunger you have for him.

With you now able to see, you catch how his eyes snap shut, brows twist in, feeling every single pulse climbing through his body. His hand that rests on your head grows tighter, one that is neither rough or gentle, just a reassurance and consolance of what you are going through. You feel yourself pooling from how lewd it all sounds.

“Fuck, how did I get married to someone like you?” Ethan whines, bumping his head into the headboard behind with a light thump, but he doesn’t care. You are right in front of him, and he’s taking in the sight of you in with every glimpse of attention he can offer.

The tip of the dick is at the back of your throat. Only now you feel the gag reflex—but you shut your eyes tightly, holding in a little longer until the feeling surely goes away. This is when you feel his hips jerk up against you, thighs widening to welcome you as he whimpers bitten pieces of your name until his spine shakes from the fervour of affection you have been pouring into him.

“G-Get off… I’m fuckin’ gon-gonna…” Ethan’s raspy groan erupts through the room, melodious to you, as his hand struggles to push you off, made weak for any movement from how your skilled lips have treated him.

Ethan falls back to the sheets, with one final grunt, unloads himself directly onto your tongue. And you accept, letting your sore jawline hang wide to receive the fruits of your labour. His hand untenses from your head, abandon to the side of him in order to recollect his thoughts.

You reach over the bedside table to retrieve the tissue box in order to spit out his cum for disposal. You roll back to your side of the bed, checking at Rose's slumber, and when you did you bring the sheets upwards, preparing for your sleep.

“Good night, Ethan.” Are your final words creeping a yawn before turning the lamp off.

Ethan pauses to catch his breath for a moment, then wraps his hands around you, coaxing warm kisses into your neck: “How’d you expect I sleep without tasting you first?”

“I’m on morning shift tomorrow. Need my eight hours.”

“You sure?” There it was. That sweet voice lined with a hint of mischievous tone. The one you can’t resist.

“I’m very sure.” You don’t hesitate, because you know it will give yourself an opening.

He runs his hand up your belly, slightly exposed from your lifted shirt, pressing strokes that almost feels like a massage. Ethan seems to know where to touch you every time to untense you. “By the time I’m done, you’ll sleep like a baby.”

You can be convinced. You can be convinced very much. Especially with how he reaches down to tease you, and knows how your body betrays mind, with how you have wet a patch in your underwear.

“Not very honest, aren’t you?” Ethan lets out an amused grin, as if returning the favour of what you’ve done to him at his barely awake state. “You’ll still get your eight hours. I’ll make you come in five minutes. Guarantee it.”

You roll your eyes and wave at him to go ahead, but secretly, your clit is pulsing at his forwardness, increasingly eager to let him please you. In which Ethan helps himself, running a teasing finger up the length of your cunt just to stop at your clit, swirling lazy circles which only earn a groan from you that Ethan has been desperate to hear all night.

“Etha-an… Hnng… B-Babe…” The feeling run into your veins, growing in need, knotting itself low in your stomach. He delivers as he promises with only his nimble fingers, through slick and slurp, explores the depths of you, finding the spot you desire with skilful ease. You let out a soft moan, closing your eyes to feel him filling you with his fingers alone, and encourages him to continue.

He spreads you, adding his second finger now, the cold metal of his ring finger, lacing them on the length of your cunt with practiced ease. The contrast between cold and warm only excites you more. Ethan dotes on your sweet voice, slipping the two curled fingers in and out through a perfect angle that pushes a muffled groan between clenched teeth.

“God, baby.” He takes that as a sign to continue faster and harder, jamming his fingers until the sound of your slick permeates the air, every muscle clenching at him. “You like it when my finger fucks you, huh?”

You let the sensation continue, allow yourself to completely give away control to the man you love. Let him take care of you, like you always do to him. Ethan is merely returning the favour. A slight pain enters through his sensitive finger that still aches from a past wound, in which he winces, and you catch on almost immediately.

“Y-Your hand…”

“Shh… Just be quiet and feel good.” He smiles, not intending to stop anytime soon. Ethan quickens his pace, before you start squeezing into his fingers, demanding urgency, speed through how your thighs close in, as if that would allow more friction on your naked skin.

You open your eyes now, and all you see is sincerity in his eyes, fixed upon you this whole time to make sure you are indeed enjoying what he’s doing to you. And somehow, that is the one action that tips you over the edge, rippling high moans through the back of your throat as you chase your own high directly between his fingers.

“Wow.” Ethan whistles, a bemused grin hanging by his lips as he feels your juices release, spilling on his fingers. “You came so much.”

Ethan brings his fingers up his lips, admiring his handiwork, dripped in your sweet juices, before putting them into his mouth. He runs his tongue around the sides of his slender fingers, savouring every part of his reward.

“Heh. Told you I just need five minutes.”

“That was ten minutes, Mr. Winters.”

“Maybe I can beat my record?” Ethan winks, quite terribly, frankly, and despite how his silly charms would normally convince you, this time, you are functioning with five hours of sleep.

“Don’t even try, Ethan.” He shrugs, slightly defeated, as he joins you into the cosy embrace of your shared bed.

...

“In the morning?”

“Are you serious right now, Ethan?”

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. god i'm so feral for him, every night i'm plagued by the thoughts of ethan cradling me to sleep and whispering into my ear (yes this is a marriage proposal). tags: @valsthea @httpsuguru @emilzke @daydreamrot @navstuffs @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted @obsolescent © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

[pretzel-box]

Tags: Romance, Therapist Reader x Patient Sebastian, Human AU where Sebastian escaped as human from urbanshade, fluff.

Cordelia from @splatting-stampede mentioned

Words: 6,4k

Authors Note: May be strangely written since this was supposed to be a series as well that I scraped a while ago.

Sebastian Solace sat in the comfortable seat of a neat black car, his hand absently tracing the soft cotton surface beneath him, the pads of his fingers brushing lightly, almost reverently over the expensive looking fabric. His nails scratched it, ever so softly, just enough to catch on the threads but not enough to tear.

Touch was a simple act for the human kind—so instinctual, so innate. We touch without thinking, without meaning. It’s the most natural thing, something we do constantly, yet we seldom stop to consider it. For Sebastian, though, touch had become something different—something both grounding and disorienting.

He had the habit of touching things. Simple things, ordinary objects, as if by running his hands over them he could tether himself to the present, remind himself that he still existed in this world. His fingers would brush the cold, metallic pole of a street sign on his daily walks, savoring the biting chill of steel beneath his skin. Or they would glide over the rough wood of the cutting board he pulled from the shelf each evening, preparing another meal for his dear mother, feeling the grains of the wood press into his palms—a familiar sensation, comforting in its mundanity.

But the soft cotton of the car seat, the way it yielded so easily to his touch, triggered something deeper within him. His mind began to drift, the memories rising unbidden like ghosts in the corners of his thoughts. At first, it was harmless—the recollection of his childhood, the warmth of home, the innocent textures that filled his world back then. The feel of his mother’s worn apron when he hugged her after school, the smooth glass of the windows he’d press his face against, watching the rain slide down in endless rivers.

Yet those memories, so pure, began to twist. They bled into something darker, tainted by the nightmares that Urbanshade had burned into his soul. The soft brush of skin against skin due the contact with the urbanshade soldiers, once a sign of comfort, now carried the weight of fear. He could still feel the slick warmth of human flesh under his nails, the sensation of digging into it—not out of malice, but out of desperation. The way it gave way beneath pressure, soft at first, then firm, until you hit the bone, that unforgiving barrier beneath the fragile veneer of the body. The rush of terror that coursed through him, through them.

His fingers trembled slightly, still tracing the seat, but now his mind was elsewhere. It wasn’t the soft fabric beneath his fingertips anymore—it was the cold, sterile metal of the surgery table. The way it pressed into his back, hard and unyielding, the chill seeping into his bones as they strapped him down, the harsh, sterile scent of disinfectant invading his nostrils. He could feel the restraints on his wrists, tight and unrelenting, the cold bite of the metal cuffs against his skin. He remembered how the lights overhead blazed down on him, so bright they seemed to sear through his skull, and the shadowy figures that moved around him, faceless, voiceless. He felt the cold steel instruments in their hands, the sharp sting of needles, the pull of something beneath his skin.

Urbanshade.

It wasn’t just a place. It was a sensation, a lingering imprint on his very soul. To feel Urbanshade was to feel a violation of everything human. It was the coldness that seeped into your bones, the sterile touch of hands that viewed you as nothing more than an experiment. The loss of warmth, the loss of identity, the loss of control.

He dug his nails slightly harder into the car seat, as if testing its reality, trying to convince himself that he was no longer there. That this was just a seat in a car, a simple object, unthreatening. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling. The memories clung to him, crawling beneath his skin like parasites, making even the softest of touches a reminder of what had been taken from him.

He closed his eyes, taking a slow, shaky breath. The car seat was soft—too soft. He needed something real, something solid, something that wouldn’t blur the line between past and present. His fingers ached for the sharp cold of metal, the rough grain of wood—anything that could remind him he was still alive, still here. Still human.

But even now, in the silence of the car, in the comfort of safety, Urbanshade lingered.

It always would.

Sebastian kept his eyes closed, trying to block out the world around him with a newfound mental force. The gentle hum of the engine was the only thing keeping him tethered to the present, though even that felt surreal, like a lull between nightmares. He shifted in his seat, feeling the faint resistance of the belt around his waist—another restraint, softer than the ones at Urbanshade, but a restraint that he despised nonetheless. The walls of the car, though padded with comfort, felt like a cage. No matter where he looked, it all felt so unbelievably suffocating as the memories kept replaying all over again.

The road stretched out ahead, dark and winding, and the faint glow of the asylum’s lights appeared in the distance. It loomed there like a monument to everything he feared. His heart quickened, not because he didn’t know what waited for him there, but because he did.

It wasn’t freedom. It wasn’t safe. It was just another kind of prison, one where they wouldn’t peek into his body but rather into his mind like some museum only to label him with a bunch of wrong things.

The two men in the front seats spoke in low voices, barely audible over the sound of the car, but Sebastian wasn’t listening. He didn’t need to. He knew what they thought of him—what everyone thought of him now. Broken. Dangerous. A man twisted by whatever horrors Urbanshade had inflicted. An experiment gone wrong instead of being an escaped survivor.

They didn’t understand. No one did.

His fingers continued tracing the seat, seeking that thin line between control and collapse. He could still feel the cold metal table beneath him, the surgical instruments, the way his skin had been pulled and prodded as though it wasn’t his own. The memories tangled together, one bleeding into the next, and he felt his breath hitch, his body growing tense.

The car jolted to a stop, and Sebastian’s eyes snapped open. They were there.

Outside the window, the asylum stood in the pale glow of the overhead lights, its high stone walls casting long, ominous shadows across the pavement. Barbed wire curled along the perimeter, a silent reminder that no one left without permission. The building itself was old, the kind of place that wore its history in the cracks of its foundation, the air thick with the memories of all the broken minds that had passed through its halls.

“Alright, let’s get him out,” one of the men said, his voice gruff and mechanical, as though Sebastian was just another case file to be processed.

The back door swung open, and cool night air flooded the car. Sebastian felt a hand grab his arm—firm, but not rough—and pull him out of the seat. His legs were shaky beneath him, the world swaying slightly as his feet touched the ground. He blinked, adjusting to the dim light, but his senses felt dulled, disconnected.

They moved him toward the entrance, the crunch of gravel beneath their feet echoing like a death march. His wrists were bound in front of him, not tightly, but enough to remind him of where he was headed. The large iron doors of the asylum creaked open, and the moment he stepped inside, the sterile smell hit him. It was different from Urbanshade—less clinical, more… institutional. But it was the same coldness, the same emptiness.

A receptionist sat behind a glass panel, barely looking up as the men escorted Sebastian through the main hallway. He passed doors, closed and locked, leading to rooms he’d soon know intimately. A faint flickering from the overhead lights made shadows dance on the walls, and for a moment, he thought he saw something—someone—lurking in the corner of his vision. He flinched, pulling back instinctively, but it was gone in an instant. Just his mind, playing tricks again.

“Room 314,” one of the men muttered as they rounded a corner. “That’s where he’s staying.”

The door to 314 stood ahead, solid and unremarkable, but to Sebastian, it felt like another cell, another space where his mind would be left to unravel in the silence. They unshackled his wrists before pushing him gently into the room, the door closing with a heavy, metallic thud behind him.

The room was small and drenched in gray, drowned from all colors. The bed was plain, the sheets folded with mechanical precision. A single window allowed a sliver of moonlight to pour in, casting faint shadows on the cold floor. Everything was sterile, untouched, and devoid of warmth. He stood in the center of it all, feeling the walls close in. It was like the movies he saw as a teen, where he giggled about the silliness of the gray walls, the gummy cells and those weird white jackets.

The men outside exchanged a few words with the nurse stationed in the hallway, but Sebastian didn’t care. He walked slowly toward the window, pressing his fingertips against the cool glass, feeling the barrier between himself and the world beyond. His breath fogged up the window as he leaned in closer, staring out into the night.

The asylum was quiet, peaceful in a way that felt suffocating. But inside his head, there was no peace. Only chaos. Only memories of what had been done to him. His mind flickered back to Urbanshade—the cold touch of steel, the searing pain that followed each experiment, the faceless shadows that haunted him still. The worst part wasn’t even the pain, though. It was the way they looked at him, like he was less than human. Like he was a thing.

He clenched his fists, nails digging into the palms of his hands, but the pain did nothing to ground him. His mind still spun, spiraling into memories he wished he could forget. Faces blurred together—his own reflection warped into something he no longer recognized.

He stepped back from the window, turning to face the empty room. The walls were bare, the furniture sparse, but it wasn’t the simplicity that unnerved him. It was the silence, the lack of life. There were no beeping machines, no harsh lights, no whispers of doctors making notes in the corner.

Yet somehow, that was worse.

For all its sterile emptiness, Urbanshade had felt alive—like it pulsed with the dark, unspoken secrets of the things that happened there. The asylum, on the other hand, felt like a void, waiting to swallow him whole.

And here he was. Trapped again.

Sebastian closed his eyes, sinking onto the stiff mattress, his head falling into his hands. They told him this place would help. That it would make the nightmares stop, make the memories fade. But he knew better.

This was just another place to lose himself.

And deep down, he wasn’t sure there was anything left to save.

On the next day, a woman with bright cyan hair came to his room, ripping the door open. She was clothed in pristine white, holding a clipboard and a pen while she scanned the room. The she glanced over at him. “My name is Sasha, I am the head nurse. And this wonderful young lady is Cordelia, your personal nurse. We will now begin to escort you to your first therapy session with the doctor. Please do not resist. Another woman stepped in front, probably Cordelia, she pulled the blanket from his body and let the cold air hit his limbs. He knew better than to resist, so he followed the lead of the two women.

The therapy room was sparse but comfortable, designed with a muted palette of soft blues and grays to soothe the nerves of its occupants. There was a large window with a view of the asylum's manicured garden, but the bars over the glass reminded everyone where they were. You sat relaxed in a chair across from Sebastian, clipboard resting lightly on your lap, pen poised but not moving.

Sebastian sat across from you, his body stiff in the armchair as though the cushion beneath him were made of nails. He hadn’t said a word since entering the room, hadn’t even made eye contact. His posture screamed defiance, with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his legs locked at sharp angles. The air between you two was thick, charged with his silence. It was a barrier, one he had no intention of letting you cross.

“Sebastian,” You began, keeping your tone professional, calm. “We don’t have to talk about anything too difficult today. This is just an introduction, a way for us to get to know each other.”

Silence.

You resisted the urge to glance at their watch. The first session was always the hardest, especially with someone like Sebastian, someone who had been through horrors no one should ever have to experience. Urbanshade. The name alone sent shivers down your spine, even though you didn’t know the full extent of what had happened there. But you had read the reports, the endless files filled with medical jargon, lists of procedures, and psychological damage that painted a grim picture.

But reports were just words on paper. They didn’t show what was really inside a person’s mind, didn’t reveal the layers of trauma, fear, and anger that might be hiding behind the walls someone like Sebastian had built.

“You don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready,” You continued, trying to fill the silence without making it feel pressured. “This room is a space for you to express whatever you feel comfortable with. Or, if you’re not ready to talk, that’s okay too. We can just sit here.”

Sebastian’s eyes flickered, but not toward you. They remained fixed on a spot just beyond your shoulder, as if staring through you, beyond you. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his arm, a silent beat that seemed to fill the room, replacing the conversation that should have been happening.

You glanced down at your notes, briefly scanning over the key points they had planned for this session. Establish trust. Create a sense of safety. Encourage small, manageable steps toward communication. But how could you build trust with someone who refused to acknowledge your presence? How could you help someone heal when they wouldn’t even meet your eyes?

“Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” You asked softly, giving Sebastian the space to respond.

Nothing.

Sebastian’s breathing was even, steady, but there was a tightness in his shoulders, a slight tremor in his hands that betrayed his calm exterior. He was a storm, held tightly within the confines of his own body, and you knew that trying to force him to open up would be like trying to pry open a sealed vault.

“Sometimes just being here, being present, can be a start,” You added, not expecting a response but hoping your words might at least reach him. “You don’t have to rush. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

The minutes ticked by in heavy silence. You could feel the weight of Sebastian’s resistance pressing into the room, thickening the air between them. His gaze never wavered, still fixed on that point in the distance, and you had to remind yourself to breathe, to stay grounded, to not let the quiet suffocate the session.

You could see it in him—the walls he had built, the armor he wore to keep the world at bay. And who could blame him? After everything he had been through, everything he had survived, of course he would protect himself. Of course he wouldn’t trust easily, or perhaps ever again. Urbanshade had taken so much from him—his sense of safety, his autonomy, his humanity.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready,” You repeated, more to yourself than to Sebastian at this point.

Sebastian shifted, his foot tapping the floor once before going still again. He was listening, that much was clear, even if he wasn’t engaging. His silence wasn’t apathy—it was something else. Maybe fear. Maybe anger. Maybe both. Your professional detachment reminded you not to push, not to pry too hard, but it was difficult not to feel the sting of rejection. You were here to help, but the wall between you two felt insurmountable.

“I want you to know that whatever happened to you, whatever you’re feeling, is valid,” You said gently, your voice steady but soft. “You don’t have to talk about it now, but when you’re ready, I’m here to listen. And I won’t judge.”

Still, no response. But you hadn’t expected one. Not today.

The session was coming to a close, the hour slipping away in a haze of quiet tension. You made a few notes, documenting the silence, the lack of interaction, but also the subtle tells—Sebastian’s tapping fingers, the tightness in his posture. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A small sign that despite his refusal to engage, Sebastian was present. He was here. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

“Thank you for sitting with me today,” You said as you stood, tucking your clipboard under your arm. “We’ll try again next time.”

Sebastian didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the end of the session, but you didn’t expect him to. You offered a small, professional smile before leaving the room, the door closing softly behind them.

Outside, you let out a slow breath. It was only the first session, and it hadn’t gone anywhere near as you had hoped. But healing took time. Trust took time.

And with Sebastian, they would need all the time in the world. You could see the two women, Sasha and Cordelia, walking down the hall, ready to retrieve Sebastian from the room. And then it finally hit you, Sebastian would need you.

…

Sebastian sat in the chair again, the same one as last time. His fingers drummed against his knee, but this time, the rhythm was slower, more measured. He stared at the floor, at the scuffed tiles beneath his boots, the edges of his vision blurring as he let his mind drift.

He knew the routine. The therapist—you—would walk in, sit across from him with that same calm, professional demeanor, and start talking. You would ask gentle questions, give him space to respond, and when he didn’t, you’d continue, as though his silence didn’t matter.

But it wasn’t that he couldn’t talk. He just didn’t want to. He didn’t want to pull the memories from the dark corners of his mind, didn’t want to speak them into existence, give them life outside his head. Speaking made them real. And he wasn’t ready for that.

He heard the soft click of the door opening and glanced up briefly, just enough to see you walk in. Your movements were graceful, unhurried. You were always calm, always composed. It was almost unnerving how collected you seemed in the presence of someone like him—someone so broken.

You don't know, he thought to himself. You have no idea what I’ve seen.

His eyes followed you as you sat down, the chair across from him creaking slightly under your weight. You smiled, a gentle curve of your lips that never reached your eyes. Not a fake smile, just... professional. Detached, like everything about you. But even then, there was something warm about it. Something that made him feel… different.

“Hello, Sebastian,” You said, your voice soft but steady. You crossed your legs, resting the clipboard lightly on your lap. “How are you feeling today?”

He didn’t answer. Of course, he didn’t answer. But instead of looking away like he normally did, he kept his gaze on you—just for a moment longer than he should have. There was something about the way you spoke, the way you sat there with that calm expression, your brow slightly furrowed in concern. It was different from the others. From the doctors at Urbanshade who treated him like an experiment, or the guards here who watched him with suspicion. You were present, really there, even though he gave you nothing in return.

“Today, I thought we could talk about some grounding techniques,” you continued, not fazed by his silence. “They can help when things feel overwhelming. When the memories come back, or when you start to feel like you’re not in control.”

Your voice was gentle, soothing. Not too soft, but not authoritative either. It was balanced, measured, like you’d practiced every word, every sentence, to avoid triggering a reaction in him. He knew what you were doing—he’d been studied, analyzed enough times to recognize the tactics—but it didn’t irritate him the way it normally would.

He leaned back in the chair, letting his eyes flicker to your hands as you spoke. Your fingers were long, delicate, resting lightly on the clipboard. He imagined what it would feel like if those fingers touched his skin, tracing his scars, the ones Urbanshade had left behind. Would they tremble? Would you recoil? Or would you be steady, unfazed, just like you are now?

A strange warmth spread through him at the thought, something unfamiliar. He pushed it down quickly, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.

“I know it might be difficult to talk about things right now,” you continued, your tone softening even more, “but sometimes, even just being here, in the present moment, can be a small step forward. We don’t have to talk about Urbanshade. We don’t have to talk about anything painful.”

Your voice was like water, soothing the edges of his raw thoughts. He found himself staring at you more openly now, watching the way your lips moved, the slight tilt of your head when you were trying to find the right words. There was something about her, something that drew him in despite himself.

It wasn’t like the clinical, detached therapists he’d seen before. You weren't prodding at him with cold instruments, trying to dig into his mind. You were just there, sitting across from him, giving him space to be whoever he needed to be at that moment.

His gaze wandered up to your eyes. They were soft, focused on him, but without judgment. There was a calmness in them that made him feel… safe. He hadn’t felt that in a long time. Maybe not ever.

Sebastian’s throat tightened, and he quickly looked away, staring back down at the floor. His heart was pounding now, though he couldn’t quite explain why. It was ridiculous. He barely knew you. But something about your presence stirred something deep inside him, something he hadn’t felt in years. Something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel.

Love.

The word hit him like a brick, and he nearly scoffed at himself. A crush? On his therapist? Ridiculous. Pathetic. But the more he tried to push the thought away, the more it clung to him, like a persistent shadow.

He forced his hands to still on his lap, trying to focus on your words again. You were talking about grounding techniques, but he wasn’t listening. Not really. His attention was drawn to the way your hair fell softly around your face, the way your eyes met his with a mixture of curiosity and patience.

Why were you so calm? Why didn’t you flinch like the others had? Why didn’t you look at him like he was a monster?

His chest tightened again, and for a brief moment, he thought about speaking. About telling you that he wasn’t worth your time. That you should stop wasting your energy on someone like him. But the words wouldn’t come. They were stuck, lodged deep in his throat, weighed down by all the things he could never say.

So instead, he stayed silent, watching you as you continued to talk, your voice filling the room like a soft, soothing melody.

He hated that he felt this way. That he was letting himself feel anything at all. But every time he looked at you, every time you smiled that calm, patient smile, something inside him cracked just a little more.

And for the first time in years, he wasn’t sure he wanted to put the pieces back together.

The third session begins like the others—with silence.

You sit in your chair across from Sebastian, clipboard balanced on your knee, pen hovering just above the page. You’re used to this now, the quiet that fills the room whenever he walks in, his eyes refusing to meet yours. He’s always so distant, so closed off, as if the world outside him doesn’t exist. But today, something feels different. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you notice it—an energy, a shift in the air that wasn’t there before.

Sebastian sits there, his body tense, arms folded tightly across his chest. His gaze is, as usual, trained on the floor. His fingers, though—those are what catch your attention. They’re tapping rhythmically against his arm, a slow, steady beat that mirrors something deeper. His hands are large, strong, but there’s a kind of fragility in the way his fingers curl in, like he’s holding himself back from reaching for something just out of sight.

You try to focus, to stay professional. You’ve been here before, with patients who wouldn’t—or couldn’t—speak. You’ve spent hours in silence, waiting for them to take that first step. This is no different. Or at least, it shouldn’t be.

But Sebastian is different.

You don’t know when you first started feeling it—the slow pull, the magnetic draw that seemed to emanate from him despite his silence. Maybe it was the way his eyes flickered ever so slightly when you spoke, or the tension in his body when you mentioned Urbanshade. But it’s more than that now. There’s a heaviness in your chest that wasn’t there before. A tension that tightens around your heart whenever you look at him.

And then, something changes.

His fingers stop their tapping. For a moment, everything is still. You sense it before you see it—the way the air shifts between you. Slowly, almost cautiously, Sebastian lifts his head. His gaze meets yours.

It’s the first time he’s looked at you—really looked at you. His eyes, dark and intense, are fixed on yours, and for a moment, the room feels smaller. The space between you shrinks, though neither of you move. The weight of his stare presses against you, heavy with something unsaid. He doesn’t speak, but the silence between you is charged, humming with an unspoken connection.

Your breath catches. There’s something in his eyes that wasn’t there before. It’s not just pain or anger or the shadows of his past. It’s something else. Something that feels dangerously close to interest, to curiosity. And for the first time, you realize that he’s watching you, studying you just as you’ve been studying him.

You swallow, trying to push down the warmth rising in your chest. You’ve always been careful, always kept a professional distance. But with Sebastian, it’s harder. It’s harder than you ever thought it would be.

“Sebastian,” you begin, your voice softer than you intended, “I know it’s difficult for you to talk. And that’s okay. We don’t have to rush anything. I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

You’re trying to sound calm, collected, but his eyes haven’t left yours. The weight of his gaze is unrelenting, as if he’s seeing through the layers of professionalism you’ve carefully built around yourself.

He doesn’t speak—he’s not ready for that—but there’s a flicker of something in his expression. Something vulnerable, something that makes your heart ache in a way you weren’t prepared for.

The tension in the room grows, thick and heavy, and yet neither of you move to break it. He doesn’t turn away this time, doesn’t retreat into his silence like before. He just… watches you, and you watch him, both of you suspended in this moment, like two people standing at the edge of something neither of you can fully understand yet.

You take a slow breath, forcing yourself to look down at your clipboard, your hand trembling slightly as you pretend to write something down. But you can still feel his gaze on you, lingering, like a touch that hasn’t quite happened yet.

This isn’t just another session anymore.

It’s something more.

And it terrifies you just as much as it draws you in.

And then he moved. Sebastian stood up from his seat, as if he was ready to leave. His actions held an unfamiliar confidence but instead of walking to the door, he took a step towards your direction, walking around the small table that seperated you.

And then he moved.

Sebastian stood up from his seat, as if he was ready to leave. His actions held an unfamiliar confidence, but instead of walking to the door, he took a step toward you, moving around the small table that separated the two of you. The room seemed to shrink as he came closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the confined space.

Your heart raced, confusion swirling in your chest. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the words lodged in your throat. He wasn’t supposed to get up—he wasn’t supposed to break the unspoken boundaries that existed between patient and therapist, between the quiet safety of this room and the darkness you both carried inside. But here he was, crossing a line, drawing nearer with each slow, deliberate step.

His eyes were locked onto yours, still dark, still unreadable, but now there was something beneath them—something that made your skin prickle with both fear and an odd sense of anticipation. Every muscle in your body tensed, as if preparing for something you couldn’t quite understand yet.

The space between you disappeared as he stood directly in front of your chair. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands flexed at his sides. His movements were slow, calculated, and there was a strange gleam in his eyes—something dangerous.

"Sebastian…" you whispered, unsure of what was about to happen.

He didn't respond, not with words. Instead, he reached out, his hand lifting slightly as if he were about to touch you, but then paused, hovering inches from your cheek. Your breath hitched in your throat, the proximity making your pulse quicken.

For a brief moment, a flicker of fear shot through you. The way his eyes darkened, the way his fingers twitched… It felt like something was wrong, like this moment was teetering on the edge of something you couldn't control. You wondered if, maybe, he was about to lash out, to hurt you, to let the trauma and anger he carried inside finally spill over.

But then, instead of striking, his hand gently cupped your face.

The touch was startlingly tender, a stark contrast to the intensity in his gaze. His fingers brushed your skin softly, almost reverently, as if he was testing the reality of you being there, in front of him. His thumb traced the curve of your jaw, and despite yourself, you leaned into the warmth of his palm.

Your breath caught again as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. His eyes, though still intense, had softened, and the tension in the room changed. The danger, the anticipation, melted into something else entirely—something even more frightening in its vulnerability.

Sebastian’s gaze flickered to your lips, and for the briefest of moments, you saw the battle raging within him—the conflict between everything he’d endured and this sudden, raw connection with you. He wasn’t supposed to do this. Neither of you were. But the pull between you was undeniable, the boundaries crumbling beneath the weight of it.

And then, without a word, he kissed you.

It was slow, hesitant at first, as if he were afraid you might pull away. His lips were soft against yours, his hand still cradling your face with that same unexpected tenderness. The kiss deepened, and something in the room shifted again—whatever line had existed between you two was now gone, lost in that moment.

Your hands, almost instinctively, reached up to grip his shirt, pulling him closer as you kissed him back. Every ounce of fear, every question that had been running through your mind, disappeared as the kiss grew more intense. There was no need for words now, no need to explain what this meant.

In this moment, the silence between you wasn’t empty anymore—it was filled with something deeper, something far more dangerous than you’d ever imagined.

But you couldn’t pull away. Neither of you could.

For a moment, the world outside the two of you ceased to exist. The heat of his mouth, the weight of his hand on your face, the warmth of his body pressing closer—all of it consumed your senses, drowning out the rational thoughts that had once kept you grounded. You knew you should stop, knew you should pull back and remind him, remind yourself, of the rules.

But then you felt it—Sebastian’s slight retreat, as if testing the waters, his lips barely parting from yours. The absence of him was like a shock, the cool air rushing between you as he paused, his forehead resting against yours. You both lingered there for a second, just breathing each other in, his breath mingling with yours, the charged space between you humming with something neither of you dared to define.

Your heart thundered in your chest, your fingers still clutching his shirt, as if you feared letting go would shatter the fragile moment. He didn't move, waiting, watching you with those dark eyes that now seemed impossibly soft, full of a vulnerability you’d never seen before. It was in that moment you realized the thin barrier you had built, the one designed to protect your professionalism, had crumbled entirely.

You could hear your own voice inside, pleading for control, urging you to step back, but the whisper was distant and weak. The pull between you was undeniable. The heat of him, the way his body angled ever so slightly toward yours—it was magnetic, irresistible.

And then, as if on cue, you leaned up, closing the space once more, your lips meeting his again. This time, there was no hesitation. The kiss was deeper, more insistent, as if both of you had surrendered to the inevitable. His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer still, and you let him. You wanted him closer, needed him closer.

Your carefully constructed rules dissolved completely, fhe professional detachment you'd clung to for so long disappering in the face of this undeniable connection. You had spend so much time trying to remain objective, distant and now it all seemed foolish. All that mattered was this, the way he held you, the way your bodies moved together as if they were meant to.

As the weeks passed, the stolen moments between you and Sebastian grew more frequent, more intense, yet somehow quieter. The tension that had once simmered beneath the surface had given way to something gentler, something more tender. It wasn’t just about the stolen kisses anymore; it was the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way he would linger at the end of a session, reluctant to leave.

Sebastian had changed.

At first, his walls had been as impenetrable as ever, the therapy sessions filled with the same guarded answers, the same dark silences. But little by little, you noticed a shift. He started talking more—not much, but enough to notice. He would occasionally let slip fragments of the pain he carried, the anger that had always bubbled just beneath the surface. And when he did, his eyes would find yours, as if seeking reassurance that it was okay to let go, even just a little.

The asylum, a place that had once felt like a prison for him, became something else. His steps were lighter, his time with you less of a battle and more of a release. And though neither of you had ever spoken about what was happening between you, there was an unspoken understanding. It was dangerous, yes, but it was also necessary—something that grounded both of you in a way that nothing else could.

Sometimes, after the sessions, when the building was quiet and the dim lights cast long shadows, he would stay behind. You both would sit in the darkened room, no words exchanged, the boundary between patient and therapist blurred beyond recognition. In those moments, when the world outside was distant and the only sound was the ticking of the clock, it felt like everything was on the verge of changing again. And yet, neither of you pressed for it. The uncertainty lingered, hanging between you, a reminder of the rules you’d broken, the risks you were taking.

One evening, as the session ended and you stood by the door, he paused on his way out. He hesitated, his hand gripping the frame, as if unsure of something. He didn’t say goodbye. Instead, he turned back to you, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

"Thank you," he said, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

You didn't ask for what. You didn’t need to. His eyes told you everything—the progress he had made, the comfort he had found, the lines he had dared to cross. For the first time, it felt like he was no longer just surviving, but living, however uncertain that life might be.

And then, as always, he was gone, the door closing softly behind him. You stood there for a moment longer, the echoes of his presence still lingering in the room.

You knew this couldn’t go on forever. Eventually, something would have to give. The relationship you had with Sebastian—whatever it was—was unsustainable in the long term, the delicate balance you’d struck destined to unravel. But for now, in this moment, you allowed yourself to breathe, to accept that things didn’t always need to be defined, that sometimes the most important connections were the ones that defied logic and rules.

The future remained uncertain, but one thing was clear: Sebastian had found something with you—something that had softened the edges of his world, made him feel, even just a little, that he wasn’t alone in the darkness. And in return, you had found something, too—a connection that made you question the boundaries you’d built around your own heart.

Where it would lead, you didn’t know. But for now, you were both willing to wait and see.

[icy-bluez]

Bake Me Some Hearts

Warnings: Established relationship, suggestive (Zayne), lots of fluff.

Synopsis: When you're in the process of baking something for them.

Characters: Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel

A/N: My search history now consists of 'which food explodes' 'can bread explode' 'how to bake' 'how do whiny cats behave'

Zayne:

You were making cookies or at least, trying your best to. Turning up the heat of the oven you waited, humming a song and happily dancing around the kitchen. Zayne had come back from work earlier, tired and exhausted, demanding your presence in the bedroom. He then proceeded to adorably fall asleep on your chest.

You had stroked his hair, rubbed his back and kissed him until you felt sure his nightmares wouldn't bother him, then got up to make cookies for him in an attempt to make him feel better. The 'ting' of the oven alerts you. Taking out the baked, cat-shaped cookies you start piping frosting on them. It wasn't until you started on the second batch that you felt two strong arms snaking around your waist. You giggle as your back comes flush with a solid chest.

"Hello my dearest snowman. Did you sleep well? " You ask. He rests his chin on top of your head before answering.

"I suppose. What are you up to now?" He asks, languidly, voice and octave lower and distinctly sleepy.

"I'm making sure the snowman is well fed."

"Mm. Come back to bed with me." He demands, nuzzling his nose to your neck.

"I'm almost done love, almost." You say, turning slightly and cupping his cheek. He places a kiss on your palm, closing his eyes. Adoration fills your heart looking at the beautiful man towering behind you. You smile, putting a bit of frosting on his lips.

"Just a moment."

Turning back towards the cookies, you started flourishing them with toppings and decorations till you were satisfied. Zayne licked off the frosting on his lips mumbling about it tasting good. Skeptically, you took a bite out of a nearby cookie. Satisfied you turned around to let Zayne take a bite out of it too.

"These are the only cats that won't run away from you."

"Well aren't you playful today?"

He leaned down to capture your lips, licking, sucking and tasting the inside of your mouth till your cheeks turned the darling shade of pink he loved.

"I would say they came out quite well." He comments whilst wiping off a bit of frosting from the corner of your mouth and licking it, never breaking eye contact.

Suffice to say you were fiercely red, dizzy and out of breath when Zayne lifted you up and put you down on the kitchen counter, kissing you silly. The both of you had only a half eaten tray of cookies to keep you company as the night got darker and the moans louder.

Xavier:

"Xavier stop that!" You exclaim, laughing as he tried his level best to bake a singular piece of bread. The one he had tried to make earlier had exploded, dramatically. He just added too much yeast.

"I don't understand...what did I do wrong?"

You just proceed to laugh harder, grabbing the corner of the kitchen table in an attempt to stabilize yourself.

"Your skill in exploding things seems to be getting better everyday." You had tears in your eyes, which you wiped, trying to control your laughter.

"At least one of us is having fun."

"Wait...hehehe, you have to make sure you don't add too much yeast."

You walk in front of Xavier, taking the mixing bowl away from him and adding a good amount of ingredients.

"Didn't I do exactly that?"

"No you dumped the whole packet in." He grabs a remnant of the bread that had exploded and puts it in his mouth.

"It's got a coarse texture but it tastes fine..?"

"Oh my god Xavier don't eat that! Haha!"

You proceed to knead the dough you made for a solid ten minutes, then add butter, knead it again until your hands are tired.

"Now we need to wrap it for a while, then let it rise for a while which might take about...2 hours. Can the sunshine boy's stomach wait that long?"

"Should we just give up on making bread? You have a ton of snacks in those cabinets." He says looking down at you with those beautiful blue eyes of his. You can't help but grab his face, pull him down and kiss his nose.

"Aww baby. Why don't you go get something for yourself and I'll make us some croissants in the meantime?"

"But I want to help as well..."

"Hmm, you can help by getting yourself the packet of frozen mixed berries from the fridge and eating them plus feeding them to me. I can tell you're hungry."

Xavier giggles softly, in that raspy, permanently sleepy voice of his. "You know me so well."

If there was anyone who knew exactly how touchy Xavier was, it was you. He never stopped touching you, grabbing your waist, kissing your neck and shoulders, pecking your lips and then running away. The golden sunrays infiltrated the room, as if drawn to Xavier. It highlighted your features and the both of you laughed at each other's shenanigans. Baking with Xavier was a bit too wholesome.

Rafayel:

"Hello Linkoln Police? This is your neighborhood famous artist, Rafayel. Yes...yes, I'm calling to complain about something."

You listen to your dearest, needy Rafayel whine on the remote-turned-phone as he sits on the couch in the living room that is adjacent to the kitchen. All you can do as you bake pastries is try your level best to suppress the smile threatening to split across your face.

"Hmm, the woman who stole my heart has been ignoring me the entire day! Callously might I add! I am so close to being admitted in the hospital for the disease-you-get-when-you-have-no-heart-syndrome!"

You burst out laughing.

"Hear that officer? That's her laughing! Menacingly! She has no sympathy for this poor, amazing artist!"

You walk up to Rafayel who was sat on the couch with a prominent pout on his face. He was definitely sulking.

"Really Rafayel?" You ask, still smiling. You sit down beside him, wiping your hands on a clean towel before touching his face.

"No..." He turns away. "I'm mad at you." (Sorry this reminded me of that lil cat picture with the caption 'no talk me i angy' I had to say it.)

"Babe I was just making pastries for us to enjoy later tonight."

"I know and I have successfully lured you away from the ferocious pastries with my charm." He says before tackling you onto the couch with him. You lie below him smiling and giggling at his antics. You look up through smiling eyes to see a grin on Rafayel's face.

"I missed you...I really did not want to go on that overseas trip..." He says and buries his face in the crook of your neck. You bring your hands onto his hair and start running your fingers through it.

"I know love, I know. But you're back now."

"Yeah and you're ignoring me..." He says, softly kissing the side of your face.

"I did not haha..." You turn your face to meet his lips in a gentle kiss.

"Well, would you like to help me out then? I'm only left with the decoration part."

"Only if I get to keep my arms around you the entire time."

You laugh again before kissing his forehead.

"Don't assume you were the only one who was suffering. I missed you too."

Rafayel smiles.

ANTHOLOGY LIST

[horrorisunknowntoyou]

STRESS FILLED NIGHTS

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem-Reader

TW: Anxiety/ paranoid, Stress cleaning, biting nails.

Summary: You were used to Simon's night terrors and anxiety, but what happens when your the one struggling without even knowing?

A/n: I wrote this, because I'm having a really hard time sleeping so this is a self comfort thing for me. I'm tired man. Also Ghost is OOC . And this is unedited or whatever.

Tick...Tick...Tick...

You starred up at the ceiling, the clock on the wall continuing to tick on the wall. You peer over to your left, picking up your phone from the nightstand. At this point taking off the charger as it's full battery at this point. The light illuminating from the phone slightly blinding you as you check the time.

2:13 am

Sighing, you put your phone aside, it's been hours already and your still not asleep yet. Your husband by now is peacefully asleep, but your still awake. You turn to your side, facing the now sleeping Ghost. He looked so...peaceful you just stared at him slowly breathing, looking pretty in the blue mood light on him. Something only you and you alone can see, no one else can. Your hand gently reaches out as gently push and piece of hair aside, smiling at how cute he is.

Eventually you layed back on your back, staring at the ceiling once again. After 20 minutes of looking at the ceilings texture to see if you can see any images from it for fun. Or messing around with your hand in the blue light you eventually got sick of it.

Quietly sitting up from the bed, making sure to not make any sounds to wake your husband up. You put your house slippers on and left the room. Once in the hallway, you let out a relaxed breath. Since your awake, might as well make yourself useful.

" Think y/n, what can I do currently?..." You thought as you take a left turn reaching the living room. You flick the lights on " Oh, I can tidy up the house abit, as long I don't vacuum or do anything loud, it should be fine." At this point you were getting shaky because you were exhausted. But you ignored it as you started to sweep the floor, humming to yourself quietly.

You swept.

You wiped the tables and counters clean.

You moped the tile floor.

You clean the dust off souvenirs and photo frames and more.

You left the kitchen spotless.

You even clean your fucking gun.

After all of that, you just sat on the couch silently with out a word. You were biting your nails, trying to figure out what else to do before being alerted to Simon's panicked voice.

"Y/n?! Y/n where are you? Y/-"

He immediately rushed over to the living room panicked. He soon relaxed once he saw you just sitting on the couch.

"Y/n, it's 6am...what the hell are you doing this early?"

"Cleaning."

"Cleaning?" He gave you an almost dumbfounded look. " You know what time it is, right now?"

"6:25 am."

"How long have you been cleaning love?"

You were starting to avoid his eye contact, biting you nail more. "I-i..I don't know."

Ghost just stood there sighing, "why didn't you ask for my help?" He says, almost hurt. " Your going to get a migraine. "

"I know...I don't know...I just.." you starred down at your carpet rug. " I was scared, I couldn't sleep. And I thought it was better if I'm awake that I should make myself useful..."

Ghost, walks over to you, kneeling in front of you, his calloused hands gently forcing you to look at him. " Y/n, y/n look at me. Your hurting yourself doing this. "

"I don't understand." You said truthfully, your hand gently laying on top of his.

"love, your exhausted, your literally shaking right now....Listen, I may not be good at the whole comfort thing compared to you. But since you watch over me during my night terrors it's only fair I do the same with you."

"But...I don't have nightmares like you do though, I'm just...a little scared to go to sleep."

"Even so, you still need sleep."

You thought about it, and slowly nod. You then gently leaned into his arms and laid your head on his shoulder.

Ghost then stood up, and wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up. Carrying you back to bed, flicking the lights off.

He walks into your shared bedroom, closing the door behind him. Getting in bed with you, now that he can see your face closely, your eyes were bloodshot and exhausted.

You quietly spoked to him, as he now gently moves a strain of your hair aside. " Did I really scare you? I'm sorry if I did..." You yawn softly, " I thought...me leaving would protect you...or something."

"Protect me? Ha. But you did startle me. "

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't intend to. I was just... surprised to not see you beside me. "

"hmm." Your eyes fluttered abit. Less talkative.

Ghost noticed, that him quietly talking to you was finally making you relax.

" I would appreciate if next time this happens, you tell me. Alright?"

You nodded.

Ghost continue to talk to you, sometimes telling you his awful jokes. And once you finally stop responding to him. He looked over to see you finally asleep. Haft your face hidden away in the pillow, taking soft slow breaths.

He pulled the blanket over his shoulders, gently pulling you close to him , wrapping his arms around you protectively falling suit and falling asleep with you.

Both of you peacefully asleep.

A/n: IM SO TIRED UGH

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

Inspired by the latest Reductive Audio:

Lil useless facts about my fav boys/listeners. No hate if I didn’t include your fave, I was making my list off memory and am just now realizing I missed like… three entirely series worth of people.

Vincent

He prefers silver jewelry over gold, but doesn’t care if styles are meant for men or women. He likes what he likes and will wear it. He’s a particular fan of dainty necklaces and women’s wrist watches, but likes men’s rings better.

Sam

He smoked when he was human. Lucky Stripes, since they’re cheap. It was a bad habit he picked up when he was eight or so to cope with his home life. He lost the ability to be chemically addicted to nicotine when he was turned, but he still itches for a cigarette when he’s particularly stressed.

Alexis

She’s very jealous of Will’s attention. She gets twitchy when he’s paying attention to anybody else for too long. This results in spikes of her reckless and bad behavior. It started when Vincent was turned, then when he took in Porter, then when she turned Sam. The most recent was after the Inversion.

William

He cannot paint or draw to save his life. He’s followed five or six Bob Ross paintings, but they never turn out right. He can draw stick figures, but that’s about it. His penmanship is beautiful, though.

Porter

Will made him testify against his maker since Porter’s treatment was particularly brutal amongst Felix’s progeny. Porter didn’t want to, but he recounted every moment of Felix’s torture while being stared down by the man himself in front of the whole council. It was so damming that Felix invoked him to stop. That’s the moment that Porter still has nightmares about.

Lovely

Lovely is incredibly anxious around their human friends. They’re scared that they’ll lose control and hurt someone, even though they’re very well fed and haven’t shown any lack of control in the past. This results in a few months after the inversion that Freelancer thought they were dead, since they showed up on the casualty list.

Treasure

Their older brother is a humanborn freelancer. He’s an enforcer for the Department. They think that fits him well, since he was always sort of a bully growing up. Treasure themself is an investigative journalist who writes for an empowered newspaper. They were trying to get a table at the Monarchal Summit even before they met Porter, but that didn’t pan out.

Freddy

He played french horn in high school. He was pretty good, and was drum major in marching band his senior year. He threw up before every game because he was so nervous.

Bright Eyes

Singer/song writer. Y’all ever listened to the Mountain Goats??? That’s their shit. Slow moving acoustic guitar, songs about the most disturbing and distressing emotions humans are capable of surviving recorded on cassette. Singing at dead coffee shop open mics in the wee hours of the morning. Their voice is raspy and rough, but the texture just draws you into their even timber and perfect pitch. They’re a minor celebrity in Dahlia’s sad boy live music scene.

David

His hips and back hurt So Much all of the time. He figures out that it’s because he’s incredibly strong but not flexible in the slightest. An imbalance in those two factors can lead to a lot of pain. He starts doing yoga after the Inversion when it got really bad and it’s helped a ton. Plus, Angel does it with him, and he likes watching them bend into all of those poses in their tiny, skin tight shorts.

Asher

He keeps track of how much David weighs and makes sure he can comfortably lift and carry that much weight at the drop of a hat. At the end of every work out, he deadlifts David’s weight to make sure he can do it when already spent. He should have been carrying David after the Inversion, but he didn’t have the strength to do it even when not fucked up. He won’t let that happen again.

Milo

He needs reading glasses but refuses to wear them. He tried contacts but he can’t stand to put anything in his eye. So he just squints and struggles through. His phone’s text is blown up like a grandpa’s. David is so bothered that Milo won’t just… get glasses. He keeps passive aggressively offering to add Milo to their vision insurance plan.

Christian

He had a little crush on Asher in middle school that translated to teasing the shit out of him. Which, Asher being Asher, put him off and hurt his feelings. He’s well moved on but sometimes, when the sun catches Ash just right or he smiles that stupid, toothy smile, Christian mourns his own stupidity.

Arden

Desperately protective of Christian, especially after the Inversion. The first time Ash makes a light-hearted joke about Christian’s limp, Arden put his ass on the ground, despite Christian laughing at it.

Gabe

He drove a white Chevy Cameo with a red interior for most of his life. It was lovingly maintained, and since it’s such a rare model, he did all of the maintenance himself. After the crash, the truck was totaled. David still spent a few years trying to put it back together. He called it quits when he was working on the interior and found dried blood under the leather of the seats.

Angel

They have a small stuffed lamb that they’ve had since they were a baby. It’s beaten up, falling apart, and no longer the stark white it started out as. Lambie is kept in their bottom bedside drawer. They only pull him out when they can’t sleep. They were worried David would think it was weird, but he actually finds this more endearing than he can put into words.

Babe

They didn’t start talking until they were three. Their parents thought that they were nonverbal, and had started teaching them ASL as an alternative. Then one day at the breakfast table, they opened their mouth and started spouting full sentences. They taught Asher ASL and the two of them use it when they want a private moment in public/when Ash is overstimulated. (Side note; David also knows ASL, he took courses in high school. Very useful, he loves it. He does not love it when watching them flirt nastily in front of him.)

Sweetheart

They’ve had anxiety since they were a very young child, and it’s always been an internally-sourced thing rather than externally motivated. They recall the first time they ever got in trouble at school (first grade, for pushing a boy who had been tugging on their hair all through recess). They remember the first time they got a B (fifth grade, on a math test they studied for for hours). Their parents had high expectations, but Sweetheart was having panic attacks from the age of three. Definitely something ~chemical~ going on there.

Darlin

They feel pack bonds incredibly strongly. Their body reacts physically when someone in the pack is threatened or hurt, without them even having to think. They shiver when Sam calls them ‘mate.’ When David says something in his lovingly dubbed ‘alpha voice,’ they can’t help but listen. They knew Gabe was dead before they got the call. They thought Ash was dead during the Inversion because they felt David’s dread through the bond so strongly.

Avior

He’s unnerved by human’s tactile nature. Being in a body is strange for him, and he prefers Aria to Elegy (at least before meeting Starlight), so touch is an extreme sensation for him. Humans touch so much. He’s not opposed to it when it’s someone he knows, but handshakes are the bane of his existence.

Starlight

Halloween is their favorite holiday. They start decorating for it in August. They plan elaborate, complex costumes and parties. They desperately want to move into a house so that they can set up scary decorations and shit in their yard and hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Avid lover of the Spirit Halloween animatronics. They go to Halloween Horror Nights every year.

Camelopardalis

He’s trained himself to use the human terms for things (ex: terra or earth instead of elegy) since some in the Department don’t like it when daemons use their terms. It means that he gets weird looks from other daemons when he talks to them. It’s an alienating feeling for sure.

Vega

He’s never tried human food. He never saw the appeal. What he doesn’t know is that he would absolutely Love dark chocolate if he tried it. He likely will never know.

Warden

Avid reader of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle comics. Just the comics, though. They don’t have an apartment in Elegy, but they do have a small storage unit where they keep their comics. They coalesced a few years before the comics starting their run, and for some reason, they just fell in love. Vega thinks this is silly and that they should be embarrassed, but they refuse to be.

Hush

He loves Popeye’s fried chicken sandwiches. Doc fed him one once and it blew his fucking mind. He won’t make them with magic, either, he insists that they don’t taste the same. Doc has started just getting gift cards for him to keep so he can get one whenever and doesn’t have to wait for them to give him money. He’s ravenous for those things.

Doc

They’re actually a warder, not a healer. Hush’s presence has encouraged them to refresh their healing knowledge, however. Even if he himself is difficult to hurt, he sort of invites chaos.

Morgan

He uses his foresight to see what the owner of his favorite little bodega down the street is going to have for breakfast every morning. It’s his little morning ritual and practice for his magic. He feels weird all day if he doesn’t do it.

Seer listener

Their sight is more potent and more clear than Morgan’s. They can give stark details, see full landscapes, and turn 360 deg in their vision and see the whole space. They also can hear what’s happening consistently, something that goes in and out for Morgan. He figures that they’re just more powerful than he is, something that makes them just the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Damien

Gets incredibly stressed on election days, whether for local, state, or national elections. He forces everyone he knows to vote, volunteers to shuttle people without cars, and has at times volunteered to be a poll worker. But elections make him anxious. He cares so much about the results. Huxley has recently instated a post 9pm ban on watching the news on election nights so that Dames will actually sleep and not stay up all night stressing.

Huxley

Does not eat beef. Not for religious reasons, but because of the impact of beef consumption on the environment. He’s about one step away from a full vegetarian, he just likes chicken and is concerned for his protein and vitamin intake. This is difficult for Damien, who loves nothing quite so much as a rare steak.

Lasko

He was forced to take piano lessons as a child. He hated it, but took them up to the point he left home. He’s still very good, and did get peer pressured into showing off at a random guitar center once while out with the D.A.M.N. crew. He nearly died of embarrassment.

Gavin

He has a collection of very pretty rosaries that he uses as jewelry. He is not religious, and if asked, cannot describe what a Catholic is to you. He likes to wear them around his neck, dipping over his body since his shirts always cut down to his navel. It makes people gasp and blush, which is his favorite effect to have on somebody. His fav one has beads made of mother of pearl and a little, golden crucifix on the end.

Freelancer

They love cheap Chinese buffets. They claim that, the lower the health rating, the better the taste. Their desire for krab rangoons is strong enough to pull them from the comfort of their home at 2 in the morning if the fancy strikes. Damien in particular is horrified by this, and keeps offering to cook them some actual Chinese food.

Dear (Lasko’s listener)

An all star volleyball player in high school and college. They were a setter, and took their team to nationals all four years of high school. They are on the starting line up all through college. When it gets brought up in their trip that Damien plays casually, they said they did too. And then absolutely creamed him.

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

A Dream From Another Universe

Pairing: Itachi x f!Reader

Summary: Itachi from the canon universe has a dream, about how things could've been if other things were different.

W/c: 1.9k

Warnings: Swearing? Lil touch of angst? Nm.

A/n: given kakashi and itachi tied and won that lil vote i did, here's this! anyway, lmk how y'all feel, it's supposed to be bittersweet.

Masterlist💿

And, suddenly, it was the early evening.

Dark oak furniture was scattered around the living room, accompanied by a mix-matched variety of sitting pieces. A purple, crushed velvet arm chair sat on one side, while a pink-green-and-white recliner resided on the other. They framed a plaid couch that faced a roaring fire. From somewhere in the room, probably from one of the overflowing bookshelves, a sickly soft piano melody drifted through the air; such a vivid sound, Itachi could nearly see the soundwaves as they came.

He didn't question the homely scene; simply, he enjoyed the warmth, and thanked every star he knew the name of.

Nightmares tortured Itachi, too horrifying and heart-wrenching for the true level of the feelings to ever be conveyed by any verbiage. They carried on to his waking hours - though his world had become a blur, the memories came back clear as day. Itachi deserved it, every terrible feeling, and he knew it well.

But, this was not a nightmare.

And Itachi hoped to imprint this scene into his mind - even if it was only a hazy dream, and he had never seen that furniture nor heard that music before in his life.

However, he wasn't entirely sure he deserved... this.

Especially when your fuzzy figure materialized in the middle of the plaid couch, your head tucked down. Glistening in the firelight's reflection, your hair curtained your face, a little longer than Itachi remembered it to have been.

His heart stuttered within his chest, clenching with the force of a thousand lonely nights.

Just as he began to begrudge you for hiding your face from him, your head turned so casually, but with such a remarkable grace that this was surely you.

"Come 'ere, Itachi," you purred, your voice just as melodic as he remembered.

Hearing his name from your lips brought him to life within the dream.

Without speaking, he swept over to you, making long strides across the foreign living room. As he moved, he drank in every feature of yours, the features that made his heart pound, those that he hadn't seen in years, but could never, ever, forget.

Stars above, you were beautiful.

So, very beautiful.

He sat on the couch, taking the cushion to your right, still silent, while a deep frown carved onto his face. You let Itachi stare at you, doing so with such a gentle smile.

As he looked into your eyes, he noticed every star he had longed to see, within them, twinkling with adoration.

Itachi's heart ached within it's prison. How badly he missed making you smile, how awfully he yearned to watch the glimmer in your eye. The slopes of your cheeks were so perfectly defined by the firelight, while it also smoothed your skin to a marble texture. You resembled a statue, a carving; something that an artist poured hundreds of hours into to render entirely perfect.

"What's the matter, sweet boy?" You chuckled after an unknown amount of time had passed.

That... cripes, Itachi felt like he could cry. He would do anything just to hear that little pet name on his conscious ear.

What a fool, Itachi was. He claimed to hate that name, way back when; but, now, he was dreaming about those words. A strange brand of self-hatred came over him, tinged with guilt. Why could he not have made more time for you? Why-

"I-ta-chi," you enunciated in a sing-song voice, bringing Itachi's eyes to your lips. "Talk to me - you seem totally spaced."

"I'm okay," he whispered. "Don't worry about me."

You shook your head and reached over your lap, grabbing the bookmark that rested on the coffee table. As you slotted it between your pages, you chuckled, "I always worry about you, my sweet, sweet boy."

Were you dreaming about him? Was that why he was having this dream?

No, Itachi thought. That sounded too hopeful. 

Besides, this could still turn into a nightmare, the other shoe could still drop.

"Are you... is it happening again?" You asked with a certain compassion in your cadence that made Itachi's shoulders relax.

He shook his head, "Is what happening again?"

With a slight huff, you heaved the book onto the coffee table, then turned yourself to face Itachi fully, crossing your legs on the couch.

"Which nocturne is playing, right now?"

The question caught him off guard.

Hesitantly, he shrugged, "The... third... nocturne?"

You sighed, and he knew he answered wrong, "What about yesterday? Do you remember what we did?"

"No," he answered honestly, but so very intrigued. "What did we do yesterday?"

"Well," you started with a smile. "You won three tickets for a baseball game, so you, Shisui, and Sasuke went to the ballpark, yesterday." As you drew breath, Itachi's lips quirked. "You hell-raisers came back here, post-game, and I made dinner. A nice okonomiyaki for everyone."

"Oh, yeah?" Itachi murmured, no edge in his voice at all, just sheer tantalization.

You grinned, capturing his eyes with yours, full of stars, "Yeah."

"Then, what happened?" Itachi asked, though he didn't even recognize the gentleness in his tone.

"Then, we played a few rounds of dice," you laughed lightly, shaking your head as if you couldn't believe Itachi was having you revise the night. "I stole the pot twice, and Shisui declared that I was cheating. I wasn't, of course, but I dropped out and came over here, anyway, until the boys left. After that-" You shrugged, "-we shared a nightcap, before we got nice and cuddled-up for the night."

Fuck, this really was a dream.

Itachi was left to merely wonder how his mind could possibly conjure up something so...

"That sounds..." He searched for the word, but the one he wished for didn't exist. Shaking his head with a small smile, Itachi sighed, "Perfect."

"I bet," you mumbled, looking over his face carefully, your gaze as light as a feather. "I think my Itachi and I have the best lives of any of us, and that's why this always happens to him. Do you speak to your me?"

What?

"I beg your pardon?" Itachi said, voice confused and almost child-like as his brain fizzed.

You just smiled, and simply told him, "It's like a gift, to you, I suppose... Sometimes, when my Itachi gets too tired, too stressed, too whatever, one of you comes to me. You, like, switch places."

Okay, now his brain was really starting to lose the plot of the dream. It was going so well-

"I'll have you, for a little while," you went on. "And you'll have me, for a little while. It's like the stars are giving you a taste of the good life - one of you called it a reprieve, I think."

"I'm sorry," Itachi huffed, a short laugh in his breath. He shook his head, "I really don't understand."

"That's quite alright, sweetheart, you don't need to. All you need to know is that I love you, and your me loves you - and an infinite number of other versions of us love each other, too."

Perhaps untrue, hopefully not - Itachi was just happy to hear you speak, and to hear such foreign words of adoration.

You grinned peacefully, "So, what do you think?"

"Think about what?" He asked.

Motioning around the living room, you laughed, "What do you think of our place? What do you think of me? How does all of this compare to you and your Y/n?"

"I think you have a lovely home," Itachi started slowly, looking around the room. "And I think... you are lovely." His eyes returned to yours and Itachi couldn't help but smile as he said, "But I can't bring myself to compare our situations."

"Probably for the best," you sighed contentedly. Then, looking at Itachi with a cocked brow, you asked, "What do you want to do, Itachi?"

A hundred- no, a thousand things flitted through his mind.

What did he want to do? With you, anything.

"I- I don't..." Fool, this is a golden opportunity. "I just... I want to hear you speak, that's all."

"What do you want me to speak about?"

"Tell me about us, about our lives, together."

"Well, tomorrow, we're..."

It was spectacular.

Itachi was amazed.

He doubted the overall verity of the situation, as one should - but, there was no doubt in his mind that this was the most splendid gift he had ever received. If there were other universes, with other Itachi's and other Y/n's, he was glad that at least some of them seemed to be living the way he wished. Not everything in every universe could be a bowl of peaches and cream, but it was a real motherfucker that this Itachi had to go through the muck and back, and to still be one of the ones who lost you along the way.

For what felt like both six hours, and six minutes, you verbally illustrated the grand adventures the two of you had gone on, and about the adventures you had planned.

It truly was everything he had dreamed about, and a strange jealousy had crept it's way up Itachi's neck.

"And, guess what," you prompted, legs stretched out over Itachi's lap as you spoke on and on.

"What?" He acquiesced, his fingers lightly drawing obscure shapes on the thin skin of your shin, letting his eyes trace every line in your smile.

With an extension of your left hand, Itachi ripped his eyes away from your face to see a rather large, diamond ring on your fourth finger. It glimmered and shone, seemingly polished to the exact standard of blinding reflection. Upon your hand, the ring almost seemed heavy, and numbers started flying through Itachi's mind as he assessed the piece of jewelry, pondering the monetary and karat worth of the rock alone.

"We're getting married in the Autumn," you told him as he gently took your hand in his to get an even closer look at the ring. "You proposed here, at home - then, we went on a proposal tour."

Allowing himself to laugh lightly, Itachi repeated, "Proposal tour?"

"Yeah," you beamed. "We went around to our favourite places and you proposed to me again and again. We got a bunch of free desserts out of it, and a lots of our favourite shopkeepers are regularly giving us discounts, now."

"Who thought that up?" He asked, letting the lopsided smile rest on his face.

Taking your hand back, you motioned to yourself from head to toe and claimed, "Yours truly."

Itachi laughed again, though the vibrations almost felt as foreign as this living room. You smiled, eyes dancing around his face like he was the one who possessed a priceless beauty. The two of you stayed like that for a little while, yet - merely staring at each other, with gentle grins plastered on both of your faces.

Until...

"You have to wake up, now, Itachi," you hummed, sitting up properly as you looked at him with such a gorgeous, bittersweet smile. He never wanted to forget your smile, nor the way your lips wrapped around his name so softly, again, "Itachi."

"Why?" He asked, forlorn.

Meekly, you giggled and told him, "I miss my Itachi."

"I don't want to leave you," he said, almost petulant, but with a candied voice, thick with a heavy array of emotion. "I don't... I don't even see my Y/n, I just... I miss her."

You chuckled warmly, "I wish you had more time with her, sweet boy."

"Me too," he murmured in defeat. "I love you."

"I'm sure I love you, too."

Before he could offer any further farewell, his vision went white, then suddenly black.

He could smell a wet metallic tinge in the air, and he sighed quietly as he laid in the cave, not wanting to open his eyes, for fear of losing the image of you that was seared into the insides of his eyelids.

Itachi missed you terribly.

[littlest-w01f]

Chapter Four

Series Masterlist

Cw: None

The day he had started to dread was upon him, the day he and his family would visit the Court of Nightmares, he had no idea what he was to expect in Hewn City, the home to the horrible folks who loved being there.

Nyx sat up in his bed, removing his covers and looking out to the darkness of the Night Court, his room in the Riverhouse was gigantic, beautiful and every inch of it held a homey warmth. It was a massive expanse filled with rich hues of purple and blue, glittery shimmer on the room's roof, mimicking the night sky outside, painted by her mother when he was just a babe, preserved in his ceiling forever.

He slipped off from his bed, a large window overlooks the city below, casting a soft glow of moonlight onto the plush carpet beneath his feet, he groaned as he stretched his wings behind his back, letting them flex, he curled his wings around himself to shield the expansion of his chest from the cold air in his room.

His bedroom had its walls adorned with paintings depicting different landscapes and mythical creatures from various cultures. There was also a grand canopy bed draped in luxurious silk sheets that matched perfectly with the room, royal blues and purples with silver accents. On one side stood a full-length mirror framed elegantly in gold leaf while opposite to this stood another door leading further into the house.

In front of the window was a sitting area furnished comfortably with couches covered in velvet fabric and scattered throw pillows embroidered intricately in black threadwork patterns reminiscent of stars against night skies. Atop an ornate mahogany table sat several books about astronomy and mythology and sketches depicting various celestial bodies and creatures from folklore.

Nyx gazed out at the shadowed expanse of the Night Court beyond his window as he walked into the balcony, faerie lights lighting up The Rainbow and the streets leading to it, the Sidra rippling gently under the moonlight filtering through the beautiful city. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he contemplated the unsettling encounter that awaited him and his family later that morning. He had heard nothing but the worst of Kier and the people like him who resided there.

As Nyx stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air enveloped him, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming jasmine and the distant aroma of the Sidra river. The faerie lights lining the streets cast an ethereal glow over the city, making it seem almost magical despite the ominous tales surrounding the Night Court. The gentle lapping of the water against the riverbank created a soothing melody that contrasted sharply with the unease churning in Nyx's stomach.

His skin glowed with a natural luminescence, highlighting the intricate tattoos that snaked across his shoulders and arms, telling tales quite similar to what his father and uncles had experienced. Each line and curve of the markings added depth to his already imposing physique.

His wings, folded neatly against his back, shimmered subtly under the faerie lights illuminating the balcony. They were large and powerful, the leathery texture of them not hard to see with how polished they were.

As he pondered the unknown terrors of Hewn City, Nyx's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his mother's soft voice calling up from downstairs, making him lean over the balcony to see her. "Nyx, dear! We have a big day ahead of us, come have something to eat."

"Coming, Ma!" With a heavy sigh, Nyx reluctantly pulled himself away from watching the sun rise in the Night Court over the Illyrian mountains and threw on a shirt.

Diving from the balcony, wings spread completely to land headfirst in the dining room. "Mornin'."

"Cauldron, Nyx!" Mor yelped as Nyx appeared in front of his aunt, his uncle Azriel's shadows hiding him well, the male in question was watching in amusement, taking a finger-full from a bowl of melted chocolate she would be adding to some pastries. "Get back here you horrible child!"

"But I'm such an innocent babe," Nyx pouted and made a run for it around the room as he licked his fingers clean, his mother and father laughing at Mor throwing her apron at his face then glaring at the couple, while Cassian carried Nesta bridal style to another of the little chaoses Nyx had been causing since before he was born.

After breakfast, the sun had risen up, and Nyx stood outside his giant wardrobe, thinking about what to wear, he certainly didn't want to be too comfortable.

Nyx opened the massive wardrobe doors, revealing rows upon rows of clothing tailored specifically for his physique. Leathers of armour designed to accommodate his wings, tunics suited for nothing less than the Heir of Night, and trousers reinforced with magic to withstand the flexibility he needed to move and fight.

He scanned the options, and finally, after much deliberation, he settled on a set of dark grey leather breeches that hugged his muscular legs tightly. Over this, he donned a snug vest of Illyrian leathers that did little to hide the toned muscles of his chest and abdomen through the fabric.

A belt adorned with an intricate pattern encircled his waist, holding up both his trousers and a pair of knee-high boots crafted from supple black leather, on the leathers of the back of his hands sat two twin black Siphons. They were symbols of his lineage and his heritage, the power of distruction.

He heard a knock on his door and made his way to open it, seeing his father outside, "Da?"

"No." Rhysand said instantly seeing Nyx's attire, the Illyrian leathers, the Siphon, "You're not wearing that."

Nyx crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "It’s appropriate for the place, is it not?"

"I know that look," Rhysand muttered under his breath, stepping past his son and into the room. His gaze swept over Nyx's outfit critically before landing on the siphons etched into the leather at the back of his hand. Rhysand sighed heavily, running a hand through his onxy hair. "But you're my heir, not my warrior."

"You’re going to be meeting some very important people today, Nyx. You need to make a good impression," He explained patiently.

Rhysand went through Nyx's clothes and pulled out a fitted black tunic with intricate silver embroidery at the collar and hem. The ensemble struck a balance between practicality and elegance, suitable for the formal yet unpredictable nature of the occasion ahead.

Nyx watched his father's actions silently, though inwardly he was bristling at being treated like a child. Still, he knew better than to argue further, especially when it came to matters of etiquette and presentation. He let out a sigh of resignation as he allowed his father to give him a change to a more appropriate attire.

He selected a pair of knee-high black leather boots with silver buckles and fastened them securely to his legs. He then donned a wide belt adorned with a silver buckle in the shape of a crescent moon.

The fitted black tunic felt strange against his skin at first, the silver embroidery at the collar and hem added an elegant touch without detracting from the overall simplicity of the outfit. His wings melting into himself, not suited for the tunic he wore before slipping his feet into the knee-high boots with silver buckles.

Rhysand watched his son, dressed in clothes appropriate for an Heir, and gave him a smile, "Now you look like the Heir, remember, the people in the Court of Nightmares will be expecting you, you can not show them any weakness."

Nyx nodded, with a deep breath, his features sharpened, his eyes void of emotion as Rhysand motioned to his door, just as cold, "Come now, your mother is waiting."

The moment Nyx stepped foot into the Court of Nightmares, he was immediately struck by the biting cold that seeped into his bones. It was as if the very essence of the realm itself was designed to chill one to the marrow. The air was heavy with an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional creak of ancient stone beneath their feet as they navigated the twisting corridors.

Glowing orbs of an unearthly blue hue, suspended mid-air by magic, provided the only illumination, casting an otherworldly pallor across the scene. The walls, constructed from a labyrinthine network of obsidian and jet-black marble, seemed to absorb what little light managed to penetrate, leaving everything shrouded in an impenetrable darkness that pressed in from all sides.

As Nyx followed his family deeper into the Court of Nightmares, they approached the imposing gates that marked the entrance to the castle. Carved from a single block of black stone, the massive doors depicted a scene of primordial chaos, great, scaled beasts coiled together in a nest of claws and fangs, locked in a perpetual cycle of combat. The creatures appeared to be devouring each other even as they slept, their forms blurring together in a macabre dance of death.

Yet, amidst this tableau of darkness and destruction, there was an unexpected beauty. Vines of jasmine and moonflowers wound their way through the coils of the beasts, their delicate petals glowing softly in the dim light.

His aunt Morrigan entered first, the throne room falling silent, his uncles and aunt Nesta, all of them had a coldness that he could feel in his bones, he'd be with his parents, with a deep breath he walked by his father's side, both of his parents had a crown made of starts on their heads, his father's features were distant, like he was a different person, like his mother was too.

Nyx's heart pounded in his chest as he followed his parents into the grand throne room. His gaze darted around, taking in every detail of the courtiers gathered there. Despite the palpable tension hanging in the air, he noticed a certain kind of reverence in their demeanour towards his parents, a respect born out of fear.

Morrigan, clad in a gown of deepest red, strode in first, her presence commanding the immediate attention of everyone present. Her eyes met Nyx's briefly, and he felt a chill run down his spine. All of them had a regal bearing about them, exuding an aura of authority that was almost tangible.

Nyx zoned out as his parents sat on their throne and he stood beside them, the people of the Hewn City kneeling to them, his eyes landed on a young female among the crown, porcelain skin that seemed almost translucent in its paleness, too pale to be healthy, with black hair down her back, the dress she wore was the same raven black as her hair, the dress was nothing fancy, at least not compared to the silver he wore, but he couldn't help keep his eyes off her.

As the kneeling courtiers rose, there was something hauntingly captivating about her, something that drew Nyx in despite himself. Her eyes met his, and he felt a jolt of recognition. It was as if he knew her somehow, despite never having laid eyes on her before. A curious sensation stirred within him, a feeling he couldn't quite place. But amid the sea of faces, hers was the only one that held his interest.

As his father ordered them to relax and mingle, he turned to his parents, mostly his mother, "May I go too?" He asked, his uncaring look not wavering.

His mother gave him a soft smile, "Of course you may, Nyx," she nodded, people were drinking, dancing, talking, and his uncle Azriel had disappeared into the room, Cassian and Nesta dancing to themselves, Mor talking with Kier with a look of boredom clear on her face as they walked to his parents with another male beside them.

He knocked into someone far smaller than him while he was distracted by the males around his parents and aunt, his hands shot out instinctively, "Oh, apologies, I didn't know where I was..." His gaze met the dark blackhole-like eyes of the female he had been looking at, her hand gripping onto his, slightly tilted from tripping half way. "Hello." He smiled.

"Hi..." The female watched his face, probably gauging his reaction Nyx thought.

"I'm Nyx," He offered a smile hoping it would make him come off as friendly.

"I know who you are, my lord," The female put some distance between them, giving him a little courtesy.

Nyx's eyes went as she saw her bow for him, "Oh, none of that please," He couldn't hide his cringe and looked away. "You don't need to do... That."

"It's just a smile courtesy," She laughed and he was sure he had heard it before somewhere, "I'm no fool to not show respect to the Heir of Night."

"Well, then, would you like a dance?" Nyx asked, turning to face her. "Just to one song." He offered her his hand and gave her a cheeky grin, "To respect me, of course."

The female paused to think for a moment, and then her eyeliner went by him, probably to the diaz where a conversation Nyx couldn't find in himself to care about was going.

"Of course," She rested her hand on his, the corner of her lip tilted up just slightly and Nyx counted that as a smile.

{General - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

{Meeting in Grey - @sleepylunarwolf @achaotichuman @sarawritestories @bakananya @sheblogs @anuttellaa}

[blue--ingenue]

Autistic!Scorpius Headcanons [Part 4]

Albus asked his Aunt Hermione to charm a pair of muggle noise-canceling headphones for Scorpius. They can still function in the presence of magic without going haywire. Draco was initially afraid that students would tease Scorpius for wearing them, but most students are just genuinely curious (or envious). Muggle students envy the fact that he has working technology within the castle, while others have never seen a pair of headphones before and are fascinated. Most of the students have started being kind to Albus and Scorpius after the events with the time-turner, but there are still a handful of students who are just as cruel as they were before.

Dining in the Great Hall can be a sensory nightmare. Things he hates about it (an incomplete list): sometimes-unbearable brightness from hundreds of floating candles, being jostled and shoved on the crowded tables, the roar of a hundred different conversations happening simultaneously, all the different tastes and smells of the different dishes.

The tables are sometimes sticky from the previous meal’s mess (sticky maple syrup from breakfast, crumbs from the lunchtime sandwich platter). He’d never dream of blaming the house elves for missing a spot, but he doesn’t enjoy the unexpected sensations. 

The food just appears on the table, so most of the time he can’t anticipate what they’ll be serving. A few of the same desserts are served every night, without fail (treacle tart, jammy biscuits), so if nothing feels appetizing he’ll just snack on sweets. 

Albus’ concern peeks once Scorpius has had jammy biscuits and tea for dinner for the fourth night in a row. He chats with the kitchen elves the very next day, and they’re glad to help. Scorpius is always kind to the house elves - even going so far as to hold entire conversations with them when he spots them about the castle. Now, every night, there’s a plate of his safe foods along with fruits and vegetables they know he loves.

Speaking of safe foods, some of these include dino nuggets (we all saw this one coming), garlic bread, Chocolate Frogs, Pepper Imps, pasta with alfredo, grapes, and apples with peanut butter. For some foods the taste alone makes him happy (alfredo, garlic bread). For others it’s the texture (popping or peeling the grapes, the way the peanut butter contrasts with the crispness of the apples). And the rest are an experience (the fun of having smoke pour from his ears after swallowing a Pepper Imp, watching a Chocolate Frog hop about and excitedly adding the witch/wizard card to his collection, arranging his nuggets in order of his favorite dinosaurs before munching on them.)

The food he hates the most is fish. I headcanon that this is why he says “Fish doesn’t agree with me. Never has, never will” before drinking the polyjuice potion as the trio sneak into the Ministry. The taste, the consistency, the smell, and the fact that there’s always a chance of encountering a surprise fish bone (or two) in every bite render it nightmare food.

He ends up taking food back to the dorms or eating outside (or in Hagrid’s hut) with Albus. The charmed headphones cancel out the din of the Great Hall, but that also means he can’t hear Albus. So they’ll wrap up their meals and head to wherever’s comfortable. 

He has a purple plush stegosaurus named Hector (after his childhood imaginary friend). Astoria and Draco bought it for him the first time they visited the Natural History Museum in muggle London.

He has a charmed tote bag with an Undetectable Extension Charm to hold all of his books. The constellation print is bewitched to show the constellation Scorpius as it appears at the time. It was a back-to-Hogwarts gift from Draco.

He has a pair of  reading glasses that filter out blue light to help with his sensory issues and migraines. He’s shy about wearing them, but Albus loses his mind every time he slips them on. (He secretly feels guilty for hoping that Scorpius will get a headache so that he’ll have to put on the glasses.)

When he’s feeling particularly nonverbal, he’ll communicate through physical contact. Casually bumping his head against Albus’ shoulder during long lectures. Fiddling with Albus’ hoodie sleeve if he needs to stim. Occasionally, simply picking up Albus’ hand and biting it (gently!) while they’re studying.

[herundone-prince]

@beabeebeee @fayrie24

The stars were silent in the north as a piercing scream tore through them. It was an almost human girl, crying and shaking as she struggled to reach the body of the body that lay on the ground in front of her, an arrow through his heart.

The same girl with the blonde pink tinted locks, the same one that screamed and cried and shook like nothing else, she was the one that held the bow. A not quite human man, with blue eyes and blonde hair held her back as a woman with pink locks tried to soothe her. 

It was no help. 

The Ballad of the Archer and the Fox would continue on for as long as a person that carried it lived. 

The girl had killed her love, and no amount of crying would bring him back.

Even the stars wept, as they had done the first time.

I tucked my final lock of blonde hair into my updo, looking at myself in the mirror. Pale grey eyes stared back at me, still showing the pain that I could never actually keep hidden. 

My hair still constantly had that pink tint to it, raising a few looks, but it didn’t bother me. Mum gets them too, much more often. I had on my favourite top and bottoms, a silk top and black bottoms.

I looked astonishing.

My foots creaked against the wood floors of the hollow, my home. I ignored my bags on my bed, not wanting to think about it. I didn’t want to think about the fact that I was leaving. I had no choice, but that played no part in that.

A glance to a clock showed it said 9:30. Mum would be up then. Dad and Lyric would not. The clock also said ‘Orange Juice and French Toast’. Mum must have bribed the hollow. 

It was my favourite meals, one of the less common occurrences to appear on the clock. My hand runs down the cracked staircase that leads downstairs, the glossed handrails a texture so familiar.

A head peeks out from the open doorway that leads to the kitchen, Rose gold hair shining through accompanied by one of my favourite smiles. 

“Angela!” She said happily, walking out to greet me. “How did you sleep?” She asked. 

I smiled back at her, my pale freckled skin creasing.

“Morning Mum. It was fine. Did Lyric wake you up again?” I asked. Lyric was my love. He was my younger brother, and I would die for him.

His nightmares never ceased.

Mum did not reply, letting out a low hum as I stared at the eye bags under her eyes. It wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t have stopped it. 

I knew it. I knew it wasn’t my fault but I was sure there could be something I could do to help. Maybe if i win this.

I took a step past my mother, away from her and the book she had been hiding. She didn’t want me to see it, that I knew. A book on psychology, ptsd and nightmares. Me and Lyric combined in one. Splendid. 

The wooden chairs, hand painted, foxes and stories carved into them slid out for me as I approached. I slid into the seat, picking up the envelope on the table.

I knew what it was, of course I knew. Didn’t make it anymore fun to open.

“Dear Miss Prince,

Below you will find enclosed the ticket for your entrance to Caraval, in celebration of the Crown Princess’ 18th birthday and search for a partner. We hope to see you there. 

And remember, 

     It’s only a game.”

That was all the letter contained, save for a slip of paper that was my entrance ticket. I knew practically nothing about the Crown Princess of the Meridian Empire, only that her uncle was Legend himself. 

Dad had soured up whenever I asked, and Mum knew no more about Legend than I did. She was telling the truth when she said she had met with Princess Donatella and Empress Dragna-Santos, but I doubt she had ever had the chance to meet their husbands.

That was a long time ago, regardless. She said she had not spoken with them since she came to live in the North. 

She didn’t speak much of her time before Dad, before the North except for stories of my grandparents, who I was partially named after. 

Mum leaned on the back of my chair, peering over, looking at the letter and ticket. 

She didn’t say I was lucky, didn’t spout any nonsense that the one girl from the town had done when she found out I was going.

She knew just as much as I did that I was going to find a way to break my curse, to stop Lyric from inheriting it further, not for fun. 

“I’ll miss you.” She said instead.

She turned away from me, grabbing two cups of orange juice as I placed the letter down, taking one from her.

“I’ll miss you too.” I replied. 

She smiled again, though it never really faded. I rarely saw her have a reason not to smile. 

I moved my arm, reaching across the table for some of the French toast as two small arms grabbed my leg, holding on tight.

My mum smiled again, knowing it was Lyric without looking, reaching to grab the French toast herself.

“Hey Lyric!” I picked him up gently, placing him on my leg. His blue eyes were rimmed with bags larger than my mothers, his pink hair ruffled. 

My smile dampened. 

“Another bad dream?”

He nodded. For an 8 year old, he didn’t speak much. He never really has. He just nodded and hugged. That's alright. We can speak enough for him. 

“Are you leaving today?” He said, his voice very quiet.

Mum placed a plate on the seat next to me, food for lyric. 

“Yes..” I trailed off, a large frown appearing on his face. “I’ll be back soon okay? You won’t even notice I’m gone.” 

He didn’t say anything more. He crawled off my lap and sat in the seat next to me, grabbing a fork to start eating.

My smile fell as I stared at my mother. How was I the cause of so many issues in the family?

‘It’s not your fault.’ The voice of my father echoed in my mind. I turned around, seeing him leaning against the wood where my mother had said hello to me earlier. 

He yawned, not having bothered to change out of what he slept in, making his way towards Mum. 

“Morning Little Fox. Morning, my angels.” He ran his hands through mum’s hair, sitting down next to her. He didn’t reach for any food, just the letter. 

He read it briefly, then simply flipped it over in his fingers. Over and Over, like a child plays with a pen. I’d imagine he would ask if I had to go, if I could stay, but he knows better than anyone else that I must.

He knows that there’s only one way to break this curse. That the one person left capable of curing it, of wishing it away was Legend.

“Are you all ready to leave?” My mother spoke, asking quietly. She sounded cheery, but she was no happier than the rest of us.

“Of course.” I paused for a brief moment, debating whether or not I should say it. It wasn’t a terrible question, but it would tiptoe around a sore subject for dad. He felt guilty enough as is. It wasn’t even his fault. It was mine.

“How long did the last Caraval take?” I asked. It wasn’t loud, nor was it quiet. Just there. I could have expected my mother to freeze, the hollow to go quiet had my life been a work of fiction, but it didn’t.

Lyric continued scraping at his food, Dad continued playing with the letter pitifully, and Mum couldn’t decide whether to look at me or Dad sadly.

“It lasts a week, regularly.” 

That wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t excellent, but it wasn’t terrible. I could survive 2 weeks without my family. This was for my family.

“Havelock will be here at 11 to pick you up Angie.” My mother said. It wasn’t an add on to what dad said, but it was there. She knew he didn’t like talking about it.

“Thanks.” I did my best to smile. I really, really, really didn’t want to leave. I ran my hand through Lyric’s hair, combing it over best I could.

I wasn’t in the mood to eat much, regardless of what food it was. 

The chime running through my ears indicated it was 10. 

I stood up, and walked out. I didn’t bother putting my dish away. There was no need, since the hollow was here. Would I have to do that in Caraval? Where would I eat in caraval? Did they provide food? 

I needed to breathe. 

“Is it alright if I go out into the garden?” I asked. Dad didn’t look up, flipping the card over and over. 

“Of course.” 

I felt shaky, for no reason at all. I smiled again, despite not wanting to. My feet needed to go faster. 

The door to the back garden creak a bit as I opened it, unused for a bit. My footsteps sped up, quickening with the pace of my heartbeat.