#wooden relocation

[rvijayakumar]

Wooden Items Relocation Service

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[ozcarr]

The mice are back in my mom's house and she keeps sending me basement trailcam footage of them at all hours.

[chevronshipping1]

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[mide404]

On a plot of farmland near the beach, my family sets up their modest tent. This place has become a shelter for my family after the devastating war forced them out of their warm home. Now, they suffer the hardships of living in a tent, which neither shields them from the heat of summer nor protects them from the harsh cold of winter.

My older brother says that he had to buy a tent for 3,600 shekels ($1,000) after enduring for a long time in a makeshift shelter, made of wooden sticks covered with a piece of nylon, a blanket, or any worn-out fabric. The problem with such a shelter is that it provides little cover, and if you need to move, it’s impossible to take it with you. So, you leave it behind and move to another area. This happened to him at least twice, prompting him to search for a tent that could be easily moved whenever the war forced him to relocate.

After getting the tent, a new struggle begins: finding a place to pitch it. It’s as if life has returned to a primitive state—no kitchen, no bathroom, no water taps. This is how my brother describes the hardship of living in the tent.

A tent is even harsher than the idea of a shared room in a stranger’s house, as it means that the bathroom will be inside the tent itself, set up in a primitive way. Otherwise, you’ll have to use a shared bathroom located half a kilometer away, set up by a charity organization. You have to carry a plastic jug or bottle of water with you. If a woman needs to use the bathroom at night, she can’t leave the tent alone without waking one of the men to accompany her in the embarrassing walk through the tents to reach the makeshift bathroom, which consists of a marble seat surrounded by fabric or rusty tin sheets. And the story doesn’t end there.

This is what my family’s nights in Gaza look like. More pain!

I urge you to look at my displaced and torn family with mercy and give them the chance to continue their lives in peace. I now stand before you with hope, seeking help for what remains of my family to provide them with a better life and to allow them to live in safety and peace.

[heirofnight]

meddling

azriel x reader drabble

word count: 2k - longest drabble ever, i'm so sorry

summary: reader just escaped a horrific past that has left her closed off and in need of isolation. she takes up residence at the house of wind, finding solace in the private library. she's content to keep to herself, but a meddling house and a stray little shadow have other plans.

a/n: i wrote this very quickly, this is more like a stream of consciousness than a well-planned piece of writing lol. also my first time posting so pls be kind 😭 i just felt like writing and then ... this happened. ok enjoy!

azriel was a silent, watchful protector of yours when you initially arrived at the night court. studying you, observing you from afar. you spend most of your time on the third level of the house of wind - shy and in need of isolation. your past was something you were desperate to forget. but, even after your relocation to velaris, your mind was murky. you'd tried sorting through thoughts and emotions that you'd pushed deep down in order to survive, but it all felt akin to wading through waist-deep mud in heavy, laced-up boots. you'd found solace in the private library on the third floor, only doors down from your own chambers. many mornings you awoke, dressed, and shuffled to the warm library that was lit with beams of light from dawn's glow. you'd curl into your favorite chair that overlooked velaris and the glistening sidra far down below, taking in a centering breath. it felt like muscle memory, and the house had learned of your routine. a warm teacup waited for you, right beside your well-loved armchair. your tea was the perfect temperature: the house had learned that too. and every morning, a sly, stray tendril of shadow wove its way through the half-opened library doors. it noted your presence, your general state of well-being, before darting away playfully to relay this information back to its master. yes, rhys had asked azriel to watch over you, but even az knew that this level of attentiveness was overkill - even for him. you'd peek up at the tiny shadow each morning, expecting it now. at first, shortly after arriving at the house, you'd blink up at it - not having the mental energy to delve into its motive. now, a couple of months later, you'd felt more settled. more relaxed. and you almost considered this lone shadow to be a sweet little companion, the only being that dared approach you this frequently. you'd give it a soft grin each morning, and it would swirl happily, lazily, before departing as quickly as it came.

you were always cold. try as you might, you often only felt true, comfortable warmth when bundled beneath the layered blankets that adorned your oversized bed. you knew you shared this hallway with azriel, but rarely ever saw him. you'd hear him arrive late at night every now and then - assuming that he'd just returned from some sort of mission. what you didn't know, however, was that azriel had tried his hardest to silence the thump of his boots against the stone floor every single time he approached the arched door of your room. before, when he only shared this hallway with cassian, he'd make noise on purpose upon arriving home. his own way of letting his brother know that he was home and safe, without having to strike up any sort of conversation. he was drained after most missions, had enough of speaking. but with you occupying the room next to his own now, he wouldn't dare disturb your well-deserved, peaceful slumber. az assumed with the past you'd endured, that you'd trained yourself to sleep light. not a sound, don't fuck this up, he'd think to himself, willing his shadows to silence his footsteps entirely. even with the suppressed steps, he still tightened every single muscle. stepping so slowly, he knew he must look ridiculous. if cassian ever saw this, saw him, he would never live it down. on several occasions, your heavy wooden door had unlatched on its own during the night, leaving just enough of a space between the frame and the door that azriel could see the beige drapes that fluttered lightly against your windows through it. your sweet shadow companion would leave az's silent side to dart through the crack, and return just as quickly to whisper cold, shivering against his master's ear. to deter the draft from chilling your bones any further, azriel would reach a scarred hand out to the doorknob, closing it as silently as possible - making sure to pull until he heard the slight click of the latch.

you'd often opted to eat your meals either in the library or in your room - the house setting out a plate and silverware for you wherever you'd decided to spend your time that evening. you didn't allow yourself to wonder what the members of rhysand's family must have thought of you - a secluded, timid female that went out of her way to avoid the members of a family that had tried so hard to give her a home, a place to heal. you'd always quickly push those thoughts to the back of your mind, wanting to focus on taking care of yourself, and not others for once.

tonight, you'd chosen the library. you'd recently begun a trio of books that you'd found on one of the overflowing shelves, and you were unable to put them down once you'd started. you didn't notice the time, didn't notice the mid-afternoon sun become dusk, making the sidra glow like wildfire. you did, however, notice the grumble of your stomach once it became evening. the light of day was gone - the library now filled with the warm glow of faelights, dim candles sitting in golden candelabras, and a crackling fire within the hearth across from you. you frowned to yourself, noticing now that the house hadn't placed dinner on the mahogany coffee table that sat in front of the fire. you glanced around, the thought of verbally speaking to the house itself feeling a bit silly. you briefly told yourself that asking the house may offend it - that was even more laughable. could you offend a house? while silently mulling over these questions, that sly, sleek little tendril of shadow slowly approached you from the door of the library. it curled and twisted its way to you, stopping at your right hand to weave its way around your wrist. you looked down at it curiously - it had never touched you before, had never gotten this close. you'd deduced at this point that it was one of az's shadows - figured that it was just curious about the new presence in the house. however, it began to twirl, trying its best to get your attention. "yes?," you whispered aloud. speaking of silly interactions, you thought briefly. it weaved through your fingers, as if it were trying to hold your hand, before darting towards the door and stopping in the doorway. it was waiting for you; wanted you to follow. you cocked a curious eyebrow, slowly closing your book to set it on the table before you. gathering your linen dress in your hands, you stood, hesitantly walking towards it. "where are we going, little one?," you whispered towards it. the shadow responded immediately by darting down the hall and to the left, towards the stairs. you quickened your steps to catch up to it, only to find it waiting on the landing of the staircase for you. once you spotted it, it darted away again, down one level. peering over the railing, you noticed it twirling towards the doorway of the dining hall. family dinner was taking place, and judging by the various muffled voices and laughter you were able to hear from the staircase, everyone was present.

you tiptoed quietly down the stairs, which you realized was probably pointless. you were sure at least one of them had already picked up on your approaching scent by now. the patient shadow still waited by the door for you, swirling and twirling happily. inviting you inside to dine with its master and his family. you took a deep breath, watching as the shadow darted back to azriel's shoulder, whispering something against the shell of his ear. immediately, az's head snapped towards the doorway, meeting your own nervous gaze before you had the chance to escape without being noticed. his presence felt grounding - it had since the first time you met him. he didn't speak much, but neither did you. he felt familiar, safe, and you wondered briefly if it was due to the affection you'd grown towards his shadow that checked on you dutifully since your arrival - an act that you assumed was azriel's doing.

your hands were clasped in front of you as you nervously played with your fingers. you surveyed the room, taking everything in: the relaxed family, the spread of delicious food on the table. azriel continued to watch you with a calm, yet indiscernible expression on his face. the corner of his lips turned up just slightly, trying to convey that it was okay, you could come in. rhysand noticed you next - he followed azriel's distracted gaze to the threshold of the door, finding your small frame standing there. "well, look who it is," rhys drawled politely, loud enough to quiet the rest of the family sitting around the table. everyone's gaze found you at once, and you swallowed thickly. your eyes darted back to azriel's in a silent plead, his hazel eyes feeling like a lifeline. az nodded once, gaze soft and kind. "why don't you sit down and join us? we were hoping you would," rhys stated sincerely, gesturing a sweeping hand out over the spread of food. “help yourself, y/n. if you don’t see something you’d like, the house will prepare a more suitable meal," he smiled warmly. as if on cue, a goblet of wine, plates, and silverware appeared in front of an empty chair - courtesy of said house itself. you smiled softly, at the high lord, at the house's display of affection towards you. "thank you," you spoke warmly, perhaps the first time most of them had ever heard you speak at all.

the empty seat that was now prepared for you was right next to azriel, and you slowly made your way towards it. you felt the prying gaze of everyone at the massive dinner table, and silence still encompassed the room. your eyes flitted around nervously, and azriel tracked the movement immediately. he cleared his throat once, a silent, stoic glare tossed to his family. they got the hint, and all fell back into comfortable conversation amongst each other - attention no longer all on you. you took your place next to him, staring down at your empty plate. your hands fell into your lap, your fingers fiddling together once more. azriel watched you from his peripheral, not wanting you to feel balked at.

he leaned over finally, speaking so only you could hear, "would you like to try the potatoes?", his tone was warm and soft - comforting. you darted your gaze over to him, only meeting his eyes for a moment. he was much more intimidating up close, and you were far too shy.

"they're my personal favorite," he continued on, the corners of his mouth curled upward. you let out a small breath of a laugh, playing with a stray thread on your gown. "yes, please," you whispered to him, eyes raking over the large elaborate plates and dishes set in the middle of the table, searching for the potatoes he spoke of. before you could reach towards the gold serving spoon that sat within the buttery dish, his hand had already grasped it, bringing a heaping serving right over to your plate.

"i've got it," he spoke softly, dishing your meal. you nodded once, cheeks heating at the action. it continued this way, azriel asking if you'd like to try each entrée and side, one by one. he'd offer his own personal opinions on each one, and you'd both laughed at the way he'd described the asparagus - "absolutely abysmal," he'd report, nose scrunching dramatically.

after your plate was adequately filled, az went back to his own food. you began to poke at yours. "thank you," you whispered over to him after a moment. he glanced over at you and replied with a friendly smile, and over his shoulder appeared a small tendril of a shadow - your meddling little companion that had also apparently conspired to bring you closer to its master. it twirled your way happily, looping through your fingers and up your arm. you laughed softly, meeting azriel's sparkling hazel eyes. he smiled fondly at his shadow, "i'm sorry, sometimes it feels like they have a mind of their own," he paused for a moment, watching the smoky tendril weave through your hair. "they like you," he whispered, meeting your eyes with a grin.

"don't apologize," you replied softly. "i like them too. i think they knew i needed company," you said pointedly, not dropping his gaze for the first time all evening. he nodded in understanding, plopping another bread roll onto your plate.

"well, welcome to the family, y/n," his words were soft, but the weight you felt in your chest was overwhelming. warmth, true warmth, spread through your limbs, snuffing out the chill that had left you constantly shivering.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi!! requests based on the new episode you say? please let reader, I prefer gn but also fem is fine, give Aegon a big hug, he broke my heart this ep, especially when Alicent didn’t wasn’t there for him. I need to comfort that boy he looked so devastated <33

Request: Maid/servant reader coming in instead of Alicent when he’s crying and hugging him. Maybe they had something before he was king? Him and Helaena still marry and have children

Warnings: mention of a child's death, mention of past cheating

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You usually assisted Otto Hightower in the Tower of the Hand, but there had been a change among personnel who had access to the royal quarters following the tragedy of the young prince Jaehaerys. Many maids and servants were no longer allowed there. Having been working for the Keep since you were five and ten, you were trusted by the crown and had been relocated to the royal quarters. 

With towels in hand, you made your way to the King’s chambers. It felt strange to be back in the royal quarters. You still knew your way around perfectly, though. The dowager Queen’s chambers were at the end of the corridor, next was Princess Helaena, Prince Aegon — now King Aegon, who had relocated to the King’s chambers —, Prince Aemond and lastly the children's chambers. 

As you approached the door, a member of the Kingsguard stood before the wooden door. 

‘’These are for the King’s bath,’’ you informed him, holding up the towels. 

The guard nodded and stepped aside.

You stepped into the King’s chambers, the door closing behind you. The room was dimly lit, with only a few candles casting flickering shadows on the walls. You were about to head toward the bathing room to prepare the bath when you heard a sound that made you pause. It was faint at first, but unmistakable — the sound of someone crying. You turned your head towards the source of the noise, and your heart sank as you saw King Aegon, standing by his desk with his face buried in his hands. He was sobbing, his shoulders shaking with the force of his grief. 

How could his half-sister do something so barbarous? 

In front of people, Aegon always kept his emotions tightly suppressed. He had to hide his vulnerability from his court. They could not see him as weak — he would never allow it. But here, in the privacy of his chambers, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He let out choked, gasping sobs that he had been holding back for hours. 

It wasn’t the first time you saw him cry, but this time the sight was heart-wrenching. Two years ago, you had been Aegon’s personal maid, and you had, on regular occurrences, walked in on the prince in tears, curled up in his bed after arguments with his mother. He had sought solace in your presence, and even took you in his bed. 

You knew it was wrong to have an affair with the prince. He was a husband, a father. But you couldn’t stop. Everytime you would push him away, he would find a way to take you back into his bed. 

At some point, rumors of infidelity inside the castle began to circulate, accompanied by whispers of your relationship with Prince Aegon. You thought you would get fired, but instead, the Queen relocated you to the Tower of the Hand, a discreet way to quell the gossip while keeping you in service to the crown.

You hesitated, unsure if you should approach or leave him in his sorrow. But something compelled you to take a step closer.

‘’Your Grace,’’ you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aegon’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice. He looked at you through red-rimmed eyes, his voice cracking with emotion. ‘’What are you doing here?’’ 

You flinched slightly at the harshness in his voice, but you stood your ground. ‘’I’m here to prepare your bath, your Grace…’’ 

His hands were trembling, and he was anxiously twisting the ring on his pinky finger. ‘’I don’t want a bath! I want…I want my little son back,’’ Aegon whispered. ‘’He was so small, so innocent. What kind of cruel monster does this to a child?’’ He looked up at you, his eyes filled with pain and anger. 

Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. It was far from appropriate, but your feet moved before your brain stopped them. At first, Aegon stiffened, but then he sank into your embrace, his sobs growing louder as he clung to you. You held him tightly, your hand gently stroking his back in an attempt to soothe him, providing him the comfort no one gave him.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard@domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios@lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale@mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron  @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit

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[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Between the Pews

lorraine day x female reader

summary: You recently move to a conservative Texas town, and find yourself drawn to the town’s resident good girl, Lorraine. A struggle between duty and desire, as a forbidden attraction ignites during Sunday church services.

word count: 1.2k

————

The church was bathed in soft, golden light as the afternoon sun filtered through the stained glass windows.  It cast colourful patterns across the worn pews and the bowed heads of the congregation.  You fought to stifle your laughter as you noticed the rainbow pattern projected by the sunlight, dancing across the back of the town mayor.

Your mother gave you a subtle nudge, her way of telling you to keep quiet.  Moving from Silicon Valley to a small conservative town in Texas was the very definition of a downgrade.  Your father's work had forced the relocation, and at first you didn't mind it.  But blending in with the locals and adopting their ways was definitely not part of the deal. Then again, when your dad's job— your family's livelihood, depends on pleasing the townsfolk, that's what you have to expect.

Churches weren't all so bad.  You remember some in the Valley that were all inclusive and didn't care that you were gay, but something about the parking lot full of Fords and the old to young attendee ratio told you that this church was not one of them.  You wondered why your parents would subject you to the torture of a homophobic church, but that was until you saw her.

And torture has never looked so good.

You sat in the back, as you always did, you weren't entirely sure if it was a choice on your end or if it was the church goers not approving your family yet.  Either way you didn't mind. 

Your arms casually draped over the wooden bench. Lorraine was in her usual spot near the front, her hands clasped neatly in her lap. She wore a modest white blouse and a pale blue skirt that ended just below her knees.  Around her neck, a delicate silver cross hung, resting just above the modest neckline of her blouse.

Your eyes were drawn to her, as they had been every Sunday since you first walked into this church almost a month ago. She was the picture of piety, the good Christian girl everyone wanted her to be.  Yet there was something in the way her gaze would flicker back to you, brief and hesitant, like she was afraid of being caught, that told you that she wasn't what this town wanted her to be.

You wondered how important it was to her that she sat in the pews at the front.

The preacher went on and on, his words never reaching you as your focus remained on Lorraine. Her eyes met yours again, and this time, she held it. There was a moment of something—a connection, an understanding that passed between you, electric and undeniable. She looked away as quickly as it happened, her cheeks flushing a soft pink.

You leaned back, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips.  She was trying so hard to maintain her composure, to be the perfect daughter of the church.  But you knew better. You knew there was more to her than the prim and proper exterior she showed the world.

The service ended, and the congregation slowly rose to their feet. Your family remained seated as your father gave smiles to onlookers who wouldn't even spare him a glance.

Lorraine stood up, straightening her skirt with a her careful hands. You watched her, noting the slight shake in her fingers as she gathered her things and made her way towards the door. There was a tension in the air between you two, something unsaid, something waiting to be acknowledged.  But you let it go, for now.

————

Two Weeks Later

The days had passed slowly, each one blending with the next as you replayed that moment over and over in your mind. You hadn't seen Lorraine since the previous Sunday.  You avoided the places you knew she might be, not out of fear, but because you wanted to give her space.  Whatever had happened between you two was intense, too intense for someone who lived in this town their entire life to process quickly.

But now, two weeks later, you were back in the same church, sitting in a different pew, few rows ahead. Not sure if it was due to an increase in your family's social acceptance in the town or your fondness towards a certain girl.

Your eyes inevitably are drawn to the front where Lorraine sat few rows back from her usual pew. Her posture perfect as always, but you noticed the slight stiffness in her shoulders, the way her hands gripped the edge of the pew just a little too tightly. The cross necklace on her neck missing, and you could feel the weight of it in your jacket pocket, heavier with each passing second.

It had been an impulsive move, taking it. You hadn't planned on it, but when she had stood so close to you, her breath warm against your cheek, her voice trembling as she whispered words she wasn't supposed to feel, you couldn't resist.  You'd lifted it from her neck as you kissed her, like all the religious guilt she'd feel for what she's doing with you will vanish with the lack of necklace on her. A kiss that was meant to be quick but had turned into something more—a tangle of lips and emotions that neither of you fully understood.

The memory burned in your mind as you sat there, the necklace hidden away in your pocket, a secret you held close. You could still feel the softness of her lips, the way she had hesitated, then surrendered to you completely. It had been a moment of weakness, or perhaps a moment of truth.  You weren't sure which.

You stood up slowly, the church now nearly empty, and made your way towards the door. Lorraine was still there, her body present by her mind far.  When she noticed you, her breath caught, and she quickly looked away, her hand subconsciously moving to the spot where the necklace used to rest.

Or so you assumed it was subconscious. You considered approaching her, returning the necklace, maybe she wanted it back.

But then you thought better of it. Some things were better left unsaid. As you walked past her, you allowed your fingers to brush lightly against hers, a brief deliberate touch that made her stiffen.

You kept walking, out into the cool afternoon air, the necklace still in your pocket. You didn't look back, but you could feel her eyes on you, watching, wondering. Maybe she would ask for it back. Maybe she wouldn't. Either way, the connection between you, created in that brief moment of stolen intimacy, was something neither of you could deny.

Your parents were talking to you, but you weren't paying attention. Your thoughts were consumed by that necklace, by what it represented, by what it meant that she hadn't asked for it back. Was she waiting for you to make the first move?  Or was she hoping to forget that moment altogether?

But maybe, just maybe, some questions didn't need answers.  Maybe some moments were meant to linger, unresolved, leaving a mark that neither time nor distance could erase.

Some things were better left unsaid, but that didn't make them any less real.  And as you walked away, the cool metal of the cross pressing against your palm, you couldn't help but wonder if Lorraine was thinking about that night too—if she was missing her necklace, or if she was missing something more.

[hoe4hotchner]

Bound by the sea | [A.H]

Pairing: Pirate!Hotch x fem!Reader

CW: Is this maybe enemies to lovers??? Perhaps, I don't know, because Hotch isn’t really an enemy as much as he just kidnapped you. Kidnapping, non-consensual captivity, emotional distress, hints of violence, violence, manipulation, power dynamics, light danger, robbery, plundering, alcohol consumption, mild aggression, emotional tension, hints of romance, weapons. Loneliness, blood. Hotch is a brutal pirate when he steals from people, Y/N used twice, I mention rum a lot, and there’s a moment in the latter half of the story where I really wanted Hotch to say, "Minions, tonight we steal the moon!"—if you can spot it, you're a legend. No sex, but I hint at the possibility of rape twice if you're not careful as a pirate—not mentioned directly, you have to read between the lines. Maybe there’s a wedding, who knows? Pirate talk—is that even a warning

WC: 15.5k

Summary: Hotch is a pirate, he kidnaps you, you adapt to the life and fall in love with him.

A/N: I'm sorry this is so long, but I got carried away and couldn't stop. Enjoy!

Based on this moodboard

           The night was thick with the scent of saltwater and the hum of the ocean beneath you, a blanket of inky darkness stretching over the horizon. Waves rocked the ship gently, a deceptive lull to the chaos you’d been thrown into. You sat in the dimly lit cabin, your wrists bound together with rope rougher than what was necessary, and the memory of how you’d gotten here was still a vivid blur.

           One moment, you had been safe in your bed on your father's estate - untouchable, or so you thought. And the next, you were dragged away from the safety of your home by men who smelled a little too much of rum and sea air, with no explanation other than your value as a hostage.

           Your captor - Captain Aaron Hotchner - was the man behind it all. He had led the raid on your father’s estate, taking you as a prize, a bargaining chip to use against the very people you called family. You had heard of Captain Hotchner before - feared and revered across the seas, known for his cruelty and cunning. But nothing had prepared you for the man himself.

           The door to the cabin creaked open, and your heart raced as the figure of Captain Hotchner stepped inside, his silhouette imposing against the lantern's flickering light. He was tall, dressed in his dark, weather-worn captain's coat, his eyes gleaming with intensity and amusement as they landed on you.

           "Good evening," he said, his voice smooth and unsettlingly calm. "I trust you’re settling in well."

           You glared at him, feeling the fire of anger in your chest rise. “You kidnapped me,” you spat, trying to tug at your bindings though it was no use. "How do you expect me to settle in when you’ve stolen me from my home?"

           Hotch smiled - an infuriating, almost charming smile that didn't belong on the face of a pirate. He stepped closer, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor until he was standing in front of you, towering over you with a confidence that made your skin prickle.

           "Kidnapped, stolen - such harsh words," he mused, crossing his arms casually. "I prefer to think of it as... relocation. You’re safe here, aren’t you?"

           Safe? The very idea made you laugh bitterly. “You’re a pirate. I’m your prisoner. How could I possibly be safe?”

           He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as if considering your words. "You wound me," he said with mock offense. "I’ve taken you from the dangers of the land - away from a world of treachery and deception. Your father has enemies, you know. He’s made more than a few people unhappy. Here, under my care, no harm will come to you."

           You stared at him, incredulous. He truly believed what he was saying - like he had done you a favor by dragging you away in the dead of night.

           “And what do you want in return?” you demanded, your voice sharp. “My father’s ransom?”

           Hotch’s smile widened, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He took another step forward, kneeling before you so he was at your eye level. You tried not to shrink back, but there was something undeniably intimidating about him - something dark and unyielding.

           “Your father’s wealth, his power... perhaps,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “But you, my dear, are far more valuable than any gold or ransom.”

           Your breath hitched at his words, and you stared at him, trying to decipher his intentions. The way he spoke, the way his eyes held yours - it was unnerving. There was a dangerous charm to him, a magnetic pull that made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t understand.

           “I don’t understand,” you whispered, unable to hide the tremor in your voice.

           Captain Hotchner leaned in closer, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. “You will,” he murmured, his voice was dark and teasing as if he held all the cards and you were merely a pawn in his game of chess. “In time, you’ll see that there's a reason for everything I do, that being here, with me, is far better than anything your former life could offer.”

           You shook your head, your chest tight with anger and fear. “You’re mad,” you said with a laugh, your voice was barely above a whisper.

           “Am I?” he asked, his smile never faltering. “Or am I the only person being truly truthful with you, are you just too used to your comfortable, sheltered life to see that there’s more to the world than you’ve been told?”

           You wanted to argue, to tell him that he was wrong, that there was nothing good about being held captive by a pirate who acted as charming as he was dangerous. But the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his fingers brushed against your arm, sent a shiver down your spine. There was something intoxicating about him, something that made your skin tingle under his touch, even though every rational part of you knew you should be terrified, that you should fight.

           “You’ll come around,” he said softly, his voice a promise laced with darkness. “You’ll see that I’m not your enemy, no matter what you’ve been taught to believe.”

           You shook your head again, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened at his proximity. “I’ll never trust you.”

           Captain Hotchner chuckled softly, his hand coming up to tilt your chin so you had no choice but to look into his eyes. “We’ll see about that,” he whispered, his tone soft yet menacing. “For now, I suggest you get some rest. You’ll need your strength in the days to come.”

           And with that, he stood, giving you one last, lingering look before turning to leave the cabin. The door creaked shut behind him, and you were left alone once more, your heart racing and your mind swirling with confusion and anger.

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The quiet after his departure felt heavier than the moments before. Your mind was a storm of conflicting emotions - fear, anger, and something else, something unsettling that lingered in your chest. Aaron Hotchner was no ordinary pirate. He was calm and controlled - far more composed than the brash, ruthless men you had imagined when thinking of the pirates in the stories your father used to tell you about. And that made him infinitely more dangerous.

           You tried to settle into the small cot in the corner of the cabin, though the ropes binding your wrists made it difficult. Sleep seemed impossible, with thoughts of escape and Captain Hotchner's strange charm keeping you on edge. You needed a plan - anything to break free from the hold he seemed to have, not just over your body but your mind as well.

           Hours passed, or perhaps it was minutes - you had lost all sense of time. The creaking of the ship, the distant voices of the crew, and the gentle rocking of the waves became a maddening rhythm that you couldn’t escape. Every sound reminded you of where you were, trapped aboard a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean with no way out.

           Just as your frustration reached its peak, the door creaked open again. You shot up, heart pounding, expecting to see Hotch again. Instead, it was one of his crewmembers, a gruff man with a scar running down his cheek. He held a tray with food and water, setting it down on the small wooden table in the corner without a word. His eyes lingered on you for a moment - an unsettling, assessing look - but he said nothing and left just as quickly as he had come.

           You stared at the tray. The food was simple - bread, cheese, and some sort of dried meat - but your stomach growled in protest at the sight. Still, you hesitated, unsure if eating meant giving in to your captors somehow, letting them win this small battle. But the gnawing hunger eventually overpowered your pride, and you carefully tore a piece of bread, your eyes flicking nervously toward the door as if the captain would appear again.

           Hours seemed to pass like this—alone with your thoughts, pacing the small cabin. The door remained closed, and every creak of the ship made you jump. You knew Captain Hotchner was playing some kind of game with you, keeping you waiting, on edge. It was a test of endurance, and you were determined not to break.

           But when the door finally opened again, your heart still leapt into your throat. This time, it was him.

           Captain Hotchner strode into the room with the same quiet authority as before. He had discarded his heavy coat, revealing a simple white shirt, the top buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, but it did nothing to soften the intensity of his presence. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it as his eyes swept over you.

           “You didn’t eat much,” he observed, his voice casual but with that underlying edge.

           “I’m not hungry,” you lied, crossing your arms over your chest defensively to the best of your ability.

           Captain Hotchner's lips twitched in a smile that was more knowing than amused. He pushed off from the door and crossed the small room in a few strides, standing close enough that you had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. There was something predatory in the way he moved.

           “You’re strong-willed,” he said softly, his voice was almost admiring. “I expected no less from someone like you.”

           Your heart raced at his proximity, but you refused to back down. “Someone like me?” you repeated, your voice shaking slightly despite your efforts to remain steady. “What do you mean by that?”

           He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. You flinched, fearing the worst, but didn’t pull away, determined not to show weakness.

           “Someone raised in luxury,” he murmured, his hand lingering as he spoke. “Used to having things your way. Butlers and maids waiting on your beg and call. It’s fascinating to watch how you adapt, how you try to hold on to that sense of control even when it’s been taken from you.”

           His words were like a challenge, one you couldn’t help but rise to.

           “I won’t adapt,” you snapped at him, your voice sharper now. “I won’t fall into whatever twisted game you’re playing.”

           He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. He withdrew his hand but remained close, his eyes never leaving yours. “Oh, I think you will,” he said, his tone was light but firm as if he had no doubt. “In time, you’ll see that this life - this ship and my crew - is not so different from the world you knew. There are rules, there’s power, and there are choices you'll have to make along the way.”

           “Choices?” you scoffed, incredulous. “You think I have a choice in any of this?”

           Captain Hotchner leaned in closer, so close that you could feel his breath against your cheek. “There’s always a choice,” he whispered, his voice low with a tint of danger to it. “You can choose to fight me, resist, and make this more difficult for yourself. Or... you can choose to see things my way.”

           Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t find words. The weight of his gaze, the intensity of his presence - it was overwhelming. And yet, beneath the fear and anger, there was something else. Something you didn’t want to admit to yourself.

           “I’ll never see things your way,” you managed, your voice barely more than a whisper.

           Captain Hotchner's smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll see about that, now won't we?” he said softly, his fingers brushing your cheek before he pulled away entirely. He straightened, his expression once again unreadable.

           “We’ll be docking soon,” he said, his tone shifting back to something more businesslike. “I suggest you prepare yourself.”

           “Docking? Where are you taking me?” you demanded, panic rising again.

           He didn’t answer immediately. He turned toward the door but paused just before opening it, glancing back at you with that same infuriating smile. “You’ll see soon enough.”

                                 ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           You stared at the door long after it closed, his parting words echoing in your mind like a dark promise. "You'll see soon enough." What did that even mean? Your thoughts churned with anxiety, but behind the fear, there was a wave of simmering anger - anger at Hotch for taking you, for speaking to you like he had all the control, and anger at yourself for the strange pull you felt whenever he was near.

           With a frustrated sigh, you tugged at the ropes around your wrists. They were tightly knotted, the rough fibers digging and burning into your skin, but you knew that getting out of them wasn’t going to be easy. Your eyes darted around the small cabin, searching for anything that could help. There was a chair, a desk, and a small and dull knife on the tray of food. If you could just get to it, maybe you’d have a chance.

           But the thought of escape wasn’t as comforting as it should have been. What would happen after? You were on a ship in the middle of the sea, surrounded by men who followed Captain Hotchner without question. Even if you managed to free yourself, where would you go?

           The door creaked open again before you could formulate a plan. You instinctively straightened, tension rippling through your body, but it wasn’t the captain this time. One of his crewmembers - this time a man with a crooked smile and a rough beard - entered the room, carrying what looked like a set of clothes.

           “The captain said you'd be needing this,” he said, tossing the bundle onto the bed without preamble.

           You eyed the clothes suspiciously, then looked back at the man. “What for?”

           The man grinned, his teeth yellowed and uneven. “For when we dock, missy. Can’t have you wandering around in that fancy dress. Might draw too much attention, y'know?”

           “And where exactly are we docking?” you asked, though you doubted you’d get a straight answer.

           The man just chuckled. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, echoing Captain Hotchner's earlier words. Without another word, he moved toward you, and before you could react, he reached down and began untying the ropes around your wrists.

           You flinched instinctively, unsure of his intentions, but his hands worked deftly, loosening the bindings until they fell away. The relief was immediate, the dull ache in your arms easing as you rubbed your sore wrists, shooting the man a wary glance.

           He stood up, giving you a crooked smile. “Don’t think about runnin’,” he warned, though there was no malice in his voice. “There’s nowhere to go but the sea. The captain will be feedin' ya to the sharks if you do.”

           With that, he turned and left, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

           You glanced down at the clothes - a simple tunic and trousers, nothing like the finely embroidered dress you’d been wearing when you were taken. The material was coarse but practical, the kind of thing someone working on a ship might wear. You supposed they wanted you to blend in, to look like one of them. The thought made your stomach twist, but you realized you didn’t have much choice. Captain Hotchner was right about one thing - you could fight and make this harder for yourself, or you could play along, at least until you figured out a way to turn the tables.

           With a sigh, you slipped off your dress and changed into the clothes, the rough fabric scratching against your skin. You had barely finished adjusting the trousers when you heard footsteps again, and before you could react, the door swung open.

           This time, it was in fact, Captain Hotchner.

           He stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over you, taking in the change of attire with a faint smile. “Much better,” he said, his voice carrying that same quiet authority. “You’ll find it easier to move around like that.”

           “I didn’t exactly have a choice or an opportunity to move around before, did I?” you shot back, crossing your arms defensively.

           His smile deepened, though it was more like a smirk. “No, you didn’t.” He stepped further into the cabin, closing the door behind him, and the tension in the room thickened immediately. His presence was overwhelming, as it always was, but now there was something more - something almost... possessive in the way he looked at you.

           “I’m not your prisoner,” you said, trying to sound strong, though your voice wavered slightly.

           Captain Hotchner's eyes darkened, his smile fading as he took another step toward you. “Aren’t you?” he asked, his voice was low, almost a whisper, although you could sense a hint of amusement in his tone. “You’re on my ship and in my world now. You’ll find that things here don’t work the way they do in yours.”

           His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you took a small step back, your heart racing. “And what exactly do you want from me?” you demanded, your voice firmer this time. “What’s your plan, Captain?”

           Captain Hotchner tilted his head, studying you for a long moment before answering. “I want you to see things my way,” he said simply. “To understand that what happens here - what we do - it’s all for survival. For power. You’re no different from us. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

           You shook your head, incredulous. “You kidnapped me! That’s not survival, that’s-”

           “Necessary,” He interrupted, his tone was cold and final. “Everything I do is necessary.”

           Your jaw clenched in frustration. He wasn’t just a pirate - he was something more dangerous. Someone who believed he was in the right, no matter how twisted his actions were. Someone who everyone feared in some way or the other. And that made him nearly impossible to reason with.

           Before you could retort, the captain stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and despite yourself, your breath hitched.

           “You’ll come to understand in time,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours. “They all did. You’re not my prisoner. You’re part of something much bigger now.”

           Your heart pounded in your chest, and you wanted to push him away, to fight back, but something about his voice, his presence - it made you hesitate.

           “I don’t want to be part of this,” you whispered, though the conviction in your voice had wavered.

           Captain Hotchner's hand lingered near your face, his fingers ghosting over your cheek for just a moment longer before he pulled back. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said softly, turning toward the door. “You already are.”

           You stood frozen, staring at the door long after it closed behind him, your mind racing with a storm of conflicting emotions. The gentle brush of his fingers against your skin lingered, as if the ghost of his touch was still there, seeping into your thoughts. Part of you wanted to scream, to lash out at the unfairness of your situation, at him - for being so impossibly frustrating, so self-assured in his warped view of things. But another part, a quieter part, couldn’t shake the unsettling pull you felt toward him, despite everything.

           You hated that part.

           With a deep breath, you sat down on the bed, your hands gripping the edge of the rough wooden frame, knuckles turning white at the sheer force of your grip. You couldn't let him get into your head. He may have you physically trapped, but you weren’t going to let him manipulate you. You had to find a way out, even if that meant playing along for now.

           As time passed, the ship swayed gently beneath you, the sounds of waves crashing against the hull and the muffled voices of the crew filling the silence of the cabin. Your mind wandered, thoughts drifting back to Captain Hotchner. The man was infuriatingly complex - dangerous and controlling, yet oddly gentle in his actions toward you. He had the power to command an entire crew of ruthless pirates, the power to kill, but something about the way he spoke to you, how he lingered, suggested he wasn’t just a ruthless villain like everyone made him out to be.

           But he was still your captor.

           A soft knock interrupted your thoughts. You tensed, expecting to see Hotch again, but instead, the door creaked open, revealing a younger crewmember. His clothes were worn, his hair tangled, and his face had a nervous energy about it. He stepped inside cautiously, holding a tray of food.

           “Captain’s orders,” he said quietly, placing the tray on the table near the bed with the other barely touched tray of food. “He said you should eat.”

           You didn’t respond, your eyes narrowing as you glanced at the tray. Bread, cheese, and what looked like some sort of stew this time. Simple but more than you expected from pirates. The boy shifted awkwardly under your gaze, looking down at his boots.

           “You don’t talk much, do you?” he asked, offering a nervous smile.

           You shook your head, still suspicious. “Why do you follow him?” you asked abruptly, catching him off guard. “Captain Hotchner. Why do you all listen to him?”

           The boy blinked, surprised by your question. He hesitated before answering, his voice quiet. “Captain Hotchner… he’s not like other pirates i've met. He takes care of us. He protects us. A lot of us wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.” He glanced around the cabin, almost as if making sure Hotch wasn’t listening. “He has his reasons for everything. You may not see it now, but the captain… he’s not as bad as you might think.”

           You bit your lip, his words stirring something inside you. Was it loyalty that kept them all in line? Or fear?

           Before you could respond, the boy gave you a small nod and turned to leave. “Just… eat something, alright? You’re gonna need your strength.”

           Once the door clicked shut, you stared at the tray for a long moment, your stomach growling despite the tension that gripped you. You finally relented, picking up the bread and taking a small bite. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to clear your head, giving you some much-needed focus.

           As you ate, your thoughts circled back to the captain. You couldn’t let him win. If the crew saw him as a protector, as someone to be followed, there had to be a way to use that to your advantage. Maybe you could earn their trust too. Maybe you could find a crack in his armor, something that would give you leverage.

           But first, you had to play along. You had to be smart.

           Later, as the ship rocked gently and the sounds of the crew faded into the evening, you laid down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Captain Hotchner's words echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of the battle ahead.

           “You’re part of this now.”

           Maybe you were. But that didn’t mean you had to accept it.

           With that thought, you drifted off into an uneasy sleep, knowing that tomorrow, you’d have to face the captain again - and somehow, find a way to turn the tides in your favor.

                            ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The next morning, you woke to the faint glow of sunlight filtering through the small cabin window. The sound of footsteps and muted conversations echoed from above deck, reminding you once again of where you were, it had in fact not just been a nightmare that you were trapped on a pirate ship. The reality of it weighed heavily on your chest, but you swallowed the anxiety, forcing yourself to rise and steady your mind.

           You couldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken.

           The door creaked open before you could prepare yourself and Captain Hotchner stepped inside, as if summoned by your thoughts, his presence commanding the room. He didn’t say anything at first, simply letting his eyes sweep over you as if assessing. His dark hair was tousled slightly, the sea breeze having its way - you could only imagine the wind having blown through it as he steered the ship - but he still looked as composed as ever.

           "Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice rich and calm, as though he hadn’t abducted you and was holding you captive onboard his ship.

           You refused to give him the satisfaction of answering him. Instead, you crossed your arms and leveled him with a steady glare, one you hoped conveyed more strength than you felt.

           Captain Hotchner's lips quirked slightly, that infuriating smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Still defiant, I see."

           He stepped closer, but instead of looming over you, he walked past, his fingers brushing along the edge of the table as he observed the mostly empty plate from last night’s meal.

           "You ate," he noted, almost as if pleased. "Good. I need you strong."

           "For what?" you snapped, tired of his vague answers. "What’s your plan? To keep me locked in this cabin forever while you and your crew plunder villages and kill innocent people? Or is there something worse waiting for me? Cause if so, you might as well kill me now."

           He turned then, his expression was unreadable as his eyes bore into yours. "You’ll see soon enough."

           His nonchalance infuriated you. It wasn’t just that he had taken you - it was the way he acted as if you were already part of his world, as if you would eventually bend to him.

           "You’re a monster," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

           To your surprise, Captain Hotchner didn’t seem angered by the accusation. Instead, he tilted his head, watching you closely, his expression softening just slightly.

           "Maybe I am," he said after a pause, his voice was quiet. "But that doesn’t change anything. You belong here now."

           You clenched your fists, your pulse quickening at his words. "I don’t belong to anyone," you shot back, your voice shaking with both rage and defiance.

           Hotch’s eyes darkened, but his expression remained calm. "You’ll change your mind soon enough, just you wait and see."

           With that, he stepped closer, his figure once again towering over you. His presence was suffocating, and yet, there was something in his gaze that drew you in, a strange pull that you hated to acknowledge.

           "I can see the fire in you," the captain murmured, his voice lower now, as if he was telling you a secret, it was almost tender. "It’s what makes you interesting. But if you think you can escape or fight me off, you’ll find yourself sorely mistaken. I'm sure Scully already told you about the sharks."

           Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. He wasn’t threatening you - not in the traditional way and certainly not in the way you’d expect from a pirate. No, this was different. It was as if he truly believed that you would eventually choose to stay, that you’d give in willingly.

           "You’re wrong," you whispered, your voice was barely audible.

           Captain Hotchner's eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face, a gesture that sent a shiver down your spine.

           "Perhaps," he murmured, his thumb grazing your cheek lightly before he pulled away. "But time will tell."

           "And I'm always right," He muttered under his breath. And with that, he turned and left the cabin, leaving you alone once more, your heart racing and your mind spinning. What could all of this mean?

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The days passed slowly aboard the ship. The crew seemed to give you space, not daring to question their captain's decision to keep you. But you noticed the way they looked at you when they thought you weren’t paying attention - they were curious, perhaps even wary of you. You were the captain’s captive, after all, and no one dared question the captain.

           Captain Hotchner visited you often in the cabin, sometimes bringing you meals to ensure you ate something, other times simply sitting in the cabin, watching you in silence. He never pushed you, never forced you into anything - not like you'd heard tales of what pirates usually did to their captives - but his presence was a constant reminder of your imprisonment. He was always calm and always composed around you, as if he was waiting for something - for you to break, perhaps.

           But you refused. You wouldn’t let him win.

           One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow across the cabin, you heard a knock at the door. It wasn’t the captain this time this time. Instead, it was the young boy from a couple of days ago.

           "The captain wants to see you," he said, his voice shaky.

           You stood, your heart pounding. You hadn’t been out of the cabin all day, and the idea of facing Hotch in front of the rest of the crew made your stomach twist with anxiety. But you couldn’t stay hidden forever.

           The boy led you above deck, where the cool sea breeze hit your face, a contrast to the stuffy air in your cabin. The ship was alive with movement - sails being adjusted, ropes being pulled, boards being mopped, and the creaking of the wood beneath your feet. And there, at the helm, stood Captain Hotchner, his hands resting on the wheel as he gazed out at the open sea.

           When he noticed you, he smiled - calm, assured, and maddeningly in control.

           "Come," he called, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves. "There’s something I want you to see."

           Despite your reluctance, you stepped closer, your eyes narrowing as you tried to figure out what he was planning. The captain didn’t speak right away. Instead, he nodded toward the horizon, where a small island was visible in the distance.

           "That’s our destination," he said quietly. "A place where no one will find you."

           Your breath caught in your throat as the full weight of his words settled over you. This wasn’t just about keeping you captive. This was about taking you away, far from anything familiar. Far from escape.

           "You’re mad if you think I'm staying there," you whispered, shaking your head. "I’ll never—"

           "Yes, you will," he interrupted, his voice steady but firm. "Because whether you like it or not, this is your life now. And besides, the elements will take care of you sooner rather than later if you try to escape." He shrugged at the last part.

           You stared at him, your heart pounding as a mixture of fear and anger welled up inside you. You wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to yell. But even as you opened your mouth to argue, you realized something terrifying, no words wanted to come out.

           A part of you didn’t want to leave.

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The journey to the island felt endless, the tension between you and the captain hung like a storm cloud. Every day, you were met with the same dark horizon, the endless expanse of ocean offering no solace. But the island grew larger with each passing moment, and with that came a haunting promise of your new reality.

           When you finally arrived, the crew worked swiftly to anchor the ship just offshore, lowering a small rowboat into the water. Captain Hotchner approached you in the cabin, his expression unreadable as he gestured toward the door.

           “It’s time.”

           You swallowed, your pulse quickening as you stood. There was no escaping this. If you didn't move your own legs, he would have someone move them for you. You were far from anything familiar, and the chances of finding help on this isolated island were slimer than you prefered. Still, you couldn't show your fear - not to him, not to his crew.

           The rowboat swayed slightly as you stepped into it, and the captain followed, settling in beside you as a few men from the crew lowered you down into the water. Two of his men rowed in silence, their eyes downcast, avoiding your gaze as if they knew something you didn’t. Captain Hotchner sat across from you, his arms resting on his knees, his eyes watching you carefully. His calm demeanor only heightened your anxiety, as if he had already anticipated your every move.

           The boat glided smoothly toward the shore, rocking softly with the waves, and when it touched the sand, the captain was the first to stand, offering you his hand. You hesitated, the stubborn part of you wanting to refuse, but the logical side winning, not wanting to fall into the water. You took his hand, letting him help you out of the boat.

           As your feet sank into the soft sand, you took in the sight of the island. It wasn’t large - just enough to support a dense forest and a stretch of beach. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was the only noise, apart from the distant calls of seabirds. It was eerily quiet, an isolated paradise... or a prison.

           Captain Hotchner walked ahead, leading you up the beach toward the treeline. "Come," he called over his shoulder, not waiting for you to catch up. You followed reluctantly, the sand giving way to a narrow path that led through the trees.

           Your heart pounded in your chest as you stepped into the shade of the forest, the thick canopy blocking out most of the sunlight. The path wound deeper into the island, and after what felt like an eternity, you finally emerged into a small clearing.

           In the center of the clearing stood a humble cabin, tucked away in the foliage like a hidden secret. It was rustic, with weathered wood and a thatched roof, but it was clear it had been maintained.

           “You’ll stay here,” the captain said, his voice calm as if he were simply giving a tour. “It’s safe, isolated. No one will find you, not even my men.”

           You stared at him, disbelief and anger swirling within you. “You’re serious?!” you spat. “You plan to keep me here like some kind of... animal in a zoo?”

           He met your gaze, his expression steady. “You’re not an animal,” he said quietly, his tone almost soothing. “You’re protected. No one will harm you here.” You couldn't think of anyone who would harm you, but him.

           The absurdity of his words made you laugh bitterly. “Protected? You took me, and now you’re isolating me on a deserted island. How is that protection? If anything I will go insane.”

           Captain Hotchner didn’t flinch at your accusation. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Because I won’t let anyone take you from me,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You belong to me now.”

           His words sent a chill down your spine, and you took an instinctive step back. The rational part of you screamed that this was insane, that you needed to find a way out, but there was something in his gaze - something dark and possessive - that made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t fully understand.

           He watched you for a moment longer before turning toward the cabin. He pushed open the door, revealing a simple interior: a bed, a small table, and a few shelves stocked with supplies and books. It was far from luxurious, but it was clear he had prepared this place specifically for you.

           “I’ll leave you to settle in,” Captain Hotchner said, his voice softer now. “But don’t think about trying to escape. You won’t get far.”

           Before you could respond, he turned and walked back down the path, leaving you standing in the doorway of the cabin alone with your racing thoughts.

           You stepped inside, glancing around the small space, your mind reeling. It was all too much to process. You were on a deserted island, trapped by a man who believed you belonged to him. And yet, despite the fear and anger simmering inside you, there was a small part of you that wondered what would happen if you stayed. If you stopped fighting.

           That thought terrified you.

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           Days passed, and you fell into an uneasy routine. Captain Hotchner would visit the cabin daily, bringing supplies, checking in on you, always watching you with that same intense gaze. His presence felt suffocating. He seemed to be waiting for something, waiting for you to stop resisting him.

           And the worst part was, you felt yourself weakening. The isolation, the quiet of the island, and the strange charm Hotch carried as he arrived - it all started to wear on you. You hated him for what he’d done, but there was no denying the magnetic pull he had over you. The way he looked at you, the way he spoke - it was impossible to ignore, and you were starting to feel it too.

           One evening, as the sun began to set, the captain arrived at the cabin once more. This time, however, he didn’t bring supplies. Instead, he sat down at the small table, gesturing for you to join him.

           Reluctantly, you sat across from him, your arms crossed as you eyed him warily.

           “You’re adjusting,” he noted.

           “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you replied, your tone sharper than you intended.

           Captain Hotchner's lips quirked slightly. “True. But I can see it in you - in your eyes, you’re beginning to accept this.”

           Your heart skipped a beat at his words. “I’ll never accept this,” you said quietly, though the conviction in your voice wavered.

           Captain Hotchner leaned forward, his eyes locking onto yours. “You will,” he said softly. “And when you do, you’ll realize that this is where you were always meant to be.”

           You stared at him, your pulse quickening as the weight of his words settled over you. There was something terrifying in the way he spoke, as if he truly believed that this was your fate.

                             ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           Days turned into weeks on the island, the crash of waves and the endless whisper of wind through the trees becoming your only companions as Captain Hotchner started visiting less frequently. The small, confined space of the cabin that had once felt like a prison now felt like a strange kind of refuge. The fight inside you, that spark of rebellion, had dulled over time, replaced by a heavy sense of resignation as you'd given into your loneliness. You had started to long for his visits.

           You knew, logically, that this wasn’t right - nothing about this was right. And yet, the more time you spent on the island, the more his words echoed in your mind. “You belong here now.” It was ridiculous, but there was a part of you that started to believe it. You had no way of knowing how long you would remain here, and the idea of constantly fighting him seemed... exhausting. So, bit by bit, you stopped resisting.

           When Hotch visited, you stopped turning your back to him. You no longer flinched when he stood close, and your anger no longer flared when he spoke to you in that infuriatingly calm, slick voice. You even started responding to him, not with defiance, but with quiet conversation, as if the simple exchange of words could anchor you to some semblance of normalcy.

           One evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon and painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, Captain Hotchner arrived at the cabin. He lingered at the doorway, watching you for a moment, before stepping inside.

           You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands folded in your lap. You had stopped fighting your reality. It didn’t mean you had fully accepted it, but it was easier than constantly resisting.

           He took a few steps closer, his gaze never leaving you. “I think it’s time,” he said softly.

           You blinked, looking up at him. “Time for what?”

           He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “To return to the ship.”

           A strange mix of emotions surged through you - fear, uncertainty, but also... relief. The island had felt like a prison, but in truth, it had also been a place of isolation, you felt lonely. Going back to the ship meant returning to the world, in a way, even if it was under the captain's constant control.

           “I thought you were going to leave me here forever,” you said quietly, unable to hide the wariness in your voice.

           His lips curled into a small smile. “I told you before. You’re not a prisoner. You’re with me, I just needed you to realize.”

           His words should have sent a chill down your spine, but instead, they settled over you like a blanket of inevitability. You stood, smoothing your hands over your garments, and nodded once. “Alright.”

           Captain Hotchner seemed pleased with your response. Without another word, he turned and led the way out of the cabin, down the path toward the beach where his men waited with the small rowboat. You followed behind him, your heart pounding in your chest as the sound of the waves grew louder.

          When you reached the shore, the captain turned to face you, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of resistance. But you had none left to offer. You stepped into the rowboat with him, the familiar sway beneath your feet sending a strange sense of déjà vu through your body, although the rocking motion made you feel nauseous after not spending time on the water for so long.

           As the crew rowed you back toward the ship, you couldn’t help but look at Hotch. There was something about him, something dark and powerful, but also compelling. He had taken everything from you - your freedom, your choices - and yet, he made it seem as though he had given you everything, a place, a purpose.

           When the rowboat reached the side of the ship, Hotch climbed up first, offering you his hand as you hesitated on the edge of the boat. You glanced up at him, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. For a brief moment, you thought about refusing, about fighting again. But the fight had long since faded. So, you took his hand.

           The ship felt both familiar and foreign as you stepped aboard. The crew glanced at you, their expressions carefully neutral, but you could sense their curiosity. They had all watched your arrival, your defiance, and now... they saw your surrender. You wondered if they pitied you, or if they admired your resilience for lasting this long. Either way, it didn’t matter anymore.

           Captain Hotchner's hand lingered on your arm as he led you toward the cabin you had first been brought to all those weeks ago. “You’ll stay in here again,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “It’s certainly more comfortable than the island.”

           You didn’t argue. You simply nodded, stepping into the cabin once more. The space hadn’t changed - it was still simple, still confining - but it felt different now. You felt different now.

           As you sat down on the edge of the bed, the captain stood in the doorway, watching you with that same intense gaze. “You’ve made the right choice,” he said softly.

           You met his eyes, feeling a strange mix of emotions churn inside you - fear, anger, but also... something else. Something you couldn’t name.

           “I didn’t have a choice,” you whispered, though the words lacked the bitterness they once carried.

           His lips twitched into a smile. “You always had a choice,” he murmured, turning to leave. But before he stepped out, he glanced back at you one last time. “You’ll understand that soon enough.”

           With that, the door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the cabin once again. This time, however, it felt different. This time, the weight of the situation pressed down on you, but instead of fighting it... you let it settle over you like the setting sun on the horizon.

           Because in your heart, you knew that no matter how much you resisted, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise - you were already his.

                             ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a silvery glow across the deck of the ship. The ocean was calm, the gentle lapping of waves against the hull creating a soothing rhythm that filled the air. You stood at the helm, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and anxiety as Captain Hotchner approached, his silhouette framed by the stars. He had asked you to meet him there as soon as the rest of the crew went to sleep. It was his turn to take the night shift tonight.

           “Tonight, we’re going to learn how to navigate by the stars,” he said, his voice smooth and confident, yet somehow soothing in the stillness of the night.

           “Navigate?” you echoed, looking up at him. The deep blue color of the sea shimmered under the moonlight, and the vast expanse of stars overhead made your head spin - but in a good way.

           He stepped closer, his presence both comforting and commanding. “Yes, it’s essential out here. Come here.”

           You took a hesitant step toward him, drawn by the warmth of his body. Your body stiffened as he wrapped his arm around you - but soon relaxed. He crouched down to your level as he pointed upward, his finger tracing the outline of a constellation. “This is the North Star. It’s your guide,” he explained, his voice low as if he were sharing a secret meant only for you.

           You squinted up at the stars, trying to find the North Star among the vastness. “How do you know which one it is?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of your hesitation.

           “It’s the brightest star in that direction,” he replied, you could feel the heat radiating from him. “Follow me.”

           Captain Hotchner moved with a fluid grace, guiding you as he pointed out more constellations, the big dipper, Cassiopeia, and so on, his finger dancing through the air. You found yourself captivated, not just by the stars but by the way he spoke with passion, his voice steady and filled with knowledge.

           “Each star tells a story,” he continued, gesturing toward a cluster that resembled a ship’s sails. “These stars will help you determine your course.”

           As he spoke, you couldn’t help but admire him - his hair tousled from the slumber he had just awoken from, the way his eyes glinted with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. You felt a strange mix of admiration and something deeper, a connection that seemed to spark in the space between you.

           “Now, grab the helm,” he instructed, pulling you from your thoughts.

           With a deep breath, you stepped up to the wheel, placing your hands on the cool wood. Captain Hotchner stood behind you, close enough that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. “Keep her steady,” he said, his voice low and reassuring.

           You concentrated, focusing on the gentle movements of the waves and the stars above, trying to align everything as he had shown you. The ship swayed softly beneath your hands as the pull from the waves made you steer slightly off course, although you quickly aligned her back up. The sound of the water lapping against the sides created a tranquil atmosphere.

           “Good,” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of approval. The praise made you feel good. “Now, look at the compass. That will help you find your direction.”

           As you navigated, you felt his presence envelop you, a heady mix of mentorship and intimacy that left you breathless. His hand brushed against your arm as he leaned over to adjust your grip, and you felt a warmth radiate through you, the boundaries of your situation blurring with every shared moment.

           “Feel the wind,” he instructed, his voice a soft command that pulled your attention back to the task at hand. “It can also tell you which way to go.”

           You turned your head slightly, the scent of the ocean mingling with his musky cologne and faint hint of rum, intoxicating and overwhelming. The ship felt alive beneath you, the moonlit water stretching endlessly before you.

           As you learned to navigate, Captain Hotchner explained the importance of trusting your instincts. “Out here, it’s not just about what you see; it’s about what you feel,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

           “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

           “There’s a rhythm to the sea,” he replied, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear. “You have to learn to listen.”

           He guided your hands on the wheel, showing you how to respond to the subtle shifts in the wind and water. As the minutes stretched into hours, and the morning sun started to rise, the connection between you deepened, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, feeling a strange sense of safety despite the uncertainty of how you had gotten there.

           “Now, plot a course for Scully when he wakes up to take over,” he instructed, pointing to the next destination on the map. The sunlight illuminated the parchment, and you felt drawn to it, wanting to understand the paths you would take.

           With his finger, Captain Hotchner traced a line across the map, explaining how to navigate from one point to another. His proximity, the warmth of his body brushing against yours, made it hard to focus on anything other than the way he commanded the space around you.

           “Why do you keep teaching me all this?” you asked suddenly, unable to contain your curiosity.

           He paused, glancing at you with a serious expression. “Because I see potential in you,” he said, his voice earnest. “You’re stronger than you think.”

           You met his gaze, feeling a strange flutter in your chest. “And what if I don’t want to be here?”

           His expression softened, but there was an underlying resolve in his eyes. “That we’ll figure it out once we're back at the mainland. You don’t have to stay if you truly don’t want to.”

           His words resonated deep within you, the weight of them heavy with meaning. You realized then that despite everything, despite his earlier words and mysterious ways, he wanted you to find your path, even if it meant leaving him behind.

           As the darkness evaporated completely, you found solace in the rhythm of the waves and the warmth of his presence beside you. The stars that had twinkled overhead now gave room for the clouds, each one a silent witness to your growing connection - a bond forged in the depths of the sea and the mysteries of the night.

           And in that moment, you accepted your fate, not with resignation, but with a tentative hope that perhaps, in navigating these uncharted waters together, you would find a way to reclaim a piece of yourself.

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           As the moon began its ascend, the horizon slowly darkening with the first hints of night, casting a soft glow over the ship. The calm waters were a deceptive facade, and you sensed a change in the air. The closer you got to your destination, the more you noticed the captain's demeanor shift.

           He stood at the helm, eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon, a tension palpable in his stance. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing beneath the surface, a storm of emotions that had nothing to do with the weather.

           “Hotch?” you called, stepping closer to him. “Is everything okay?”

           He turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Just keep an eye out for land,” he said, his voice clipped. The warmth that had lingered between you during the navigation lesson had vanished, replaced by a cold seriousness that sent a shiver down your spine.

           As you stood beside him, the anticipation of what lay ahead settled heavily in your stomach. It was your first plundering, and the thrill mixed with fear was almost intoxicating. Yet, you could see the turmoil in Captain Hotchner's eyes, a flicker of concern that made you question everything you thought you knew about him.

           “Are you sure you want me there?” you asked hesitantly, biting your lip. “I mean, it’s going to be…”

           “Brutal,” he finished, the word hanging in the air like a heavy fog. He turned fully to face you, the intensity in his gaze both captivating and unnerving. “I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

           Your heart sank at his words, feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment. “I can handle it. I’ve been through tough situations before,” you insisted, trying to muster some semblance of confidence.

           He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t like anything you’ve faced before. It’s one thing to learn navigation; it’s another to watch lives being taken.”

           “I need to know what I’m getting into,” you pressed, stepping closer, your voice low. “You can’t keep me sheltered forever. How do you expect me to make a choice?”

           The captain's eyes softened momentarily, but the tension returned as he glanced back at the horizon. “You think you want to see this, but trust me, once you do, you can’t unsee it. You can never return to the calm life you used to live.” His voice was low, filled with a sincerity that tugged at your heart.

           As the ship glided over the water, you watched the way his shoulders tightened and his hands clenched around the wheel. It was clear he was torn between wanting to protect you and letting you tag along, knowing that you deserved to make your own choices.

           “Isn’t that the life we’ve chosen? To be part of this?” you asked, trying to pierce through the protective wall he had erected around himself. “To experience everything, the good and the bad?”

           He turned to you then, his eyes boring into yours, a storm of conflicting emotions swirling within them. “I can’t just leave you behind, not when you mean something to me. But I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt either.”

           His words hung in the air, and you felt a warmth flush through you, surprising and thrilling all at once. “You don’t have to worry about me,” you said, determination hardening your voice. “I can prove myself.”

           Captain Hotchner regarded you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Fine. But you stay close to me. No matter what happens, you follow my lead and don't stray off course.”

           Relief washed over you, and you felt a surge of determination. “I will,” you promised, knowing that this was your chance to show him that you were more than just a pretty face.

           The outlines of land began to emerge on the horizon. Captain Hotchner's posture shifted, his focus sharpening as he prepared the crew for what lay ahead. You could feel the palpable tension in the air as excitement mixed with apprehension among the crew members.

           “Gather round!” He commanded, his voice ringing out, firm and authoritative. “We’re nearing our target. Keep your wits about you. No matter what happens, remember our plan.”

           You stood at his side, your heart pounding in your chest as you took in the sight of the distant shoreline. The anticipation of the unknown filled you with adrenaline, and you felt your resolve strengthening.

           As the ship approached the shore, you caught glimpses of the settlement - a small harbor bustling with activity, unaware of the storm that was about to descend upon it. The excitement among the crew grew, shouts of encouragement and camaraderie ringing out in the crisp air. Yet, you noticed Captain Hotchner's expression darkening, his jaw set tight as he stared at the land ahead.

           “Captain?” you asked quietly, concern creeping into your voice. “Are you okay?”

           He glanced at you, the weight of his worry evident. “Just remember what I said,” he replied, the edge of urgency creeping back into his tone. “Stick close. Do not get separated from me.”

           With a nod, you swallowed your fear, determination solidifying your resolve. You were ready to face whatever came next, and as the ship anchored near the shore, you felt the thrill of the unknown course through you. Captain Hotchner may have been concerned - concerned enough to give you a dagger without proper training, but you were ready to prove your strength - not just to him, but to yourself.

           As the crew prepared to disembark, Captain Hotchner's gaze locked onto yours, a silent communication passing between you.

           With the adrenaline coursing through your veins and the captain by your side, you stepped toward the unknown.

                           ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The ship’s hull creaked gently against the waves as you and the crew gathered at the edge, readying to disembark. A mix of anticipation and anxiety filled the air, creating a charged atmosphere among the men. Captain Hotchner stood at the forefront, his expression sharp and serious as he glanced back at you, ensuring you were close at hand. The tension hung heavy in the salty breeze.

           “Remember what I said,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “Follow my lead, and stay out of trouble.”

           You nodded, determination surging within you. You had made it this far; there was no turning back now. The sound of swords being unsheathed and the chatter of excitement reverberated through the crew, setting your heart racing.

           As the boat hit the dock, the crew leapt off, landing with a soft thud on the cobblestone. You followed closely behind the captain, who took the lead with an ease that was both reassuring and intimidating. The bustling settlement before you was alive with the sounds of daily life - merchants hawking their goods, fishermen repairing nets, and children playing in the streets. It was unaware of the looming darkness of what was about to unfold.

           “Stay close,” Captain Hotchner repeated, his eyes scanning the scene like a hawk. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his hand twitched near the hilt of his sword, ready for anything.

           As you moved deeper into the settlement, the crew fanned out, each member slipping into the chaos of the marketplace, eyes sharp for potential plunder. Hotch led you to a narrow alleyway, away from prying eyes. “We’ll take them by surprise,” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder at you. “You’ll want to stay behind me.”

           Your pulse raced as you nodded, adrenaline flooding your veins. You watched as he signaled to the crew, and the air shifted, becoming thick with anticipation.

           In an instant, a loud crash erupted from the other end of the alley, the sound of swords clashing and shouts echoing off the walls. Your heart raced as Captain Hotchner surged forward, pulling you with him. The scene exploded into chaos; you caught glimpses of the crew engaging with startled townsfolk, swords drawn and commands shouted, the atmosphere charged with urgency.

           “Now!” The captain barked, and without thinking, you followed, your feet moving of their own accord as you rushed into the fray, adrenaline flooding your senses.

           You were surprised by the immediate chaos - people were scrambling, their screams mingling with the sound of clashing steel. Captain Hotchner fought with a precise brutality, each movement calculated and fluid, his strength commanding the attention of everyone around him. You tried to keep up, your heart racing as you glanced around, taking in the frantic scene.

           “Stay behind me!” He shouted again, slicing through an attacker with deft precision, his eyes fierce as they met yours for a brief moment, no reaction to the blood pouring from the wound as he retracted his sword and watched the man fall to the ground.

           You complied, but a part of you ached to contribute more, to prove yourself. You wished you had a sword. You moved to the side, narrowly avoiding a flurry of limbs and chaos. In the distance, you saw a merchant attempting to flee, clutching a leather bag filled with valuables. Instinct - that you didn't know where came from - kicked in, and you made a snap decision.

           With a quick glance at Captain Hotchner, who was engaged in a fierce struggle, you dashed toward the merchant, your heart pounding. You lunged for the bag, grabbing it just as he turned, shock and fear etched across his face.

           “Stop!” he yelled, but your instincts propelled you forward, the thrill of the moment consuming you. You turned to run, adrenaline pushing you faster than you ever thought possible.

           But before you could escape, a hand gripped your arm, pulling you back. You gasped, recognizing Hotch’s voice as he growled, “What are you doing?”

           The world around you seemed to freeze for a heartbeat, your heart racing as you stared into his stormy eyes. “I - I thought I could help,” you stammered, breathless from both fear and exhilaration.

           “Help?” he snapped, shaking his head in frustration. “You need to be careful! You can’t just run off like that! He could've had a revolver.”

           His grip softened slightly, and in that moment, you could see the worry etched across his features. “I didn’t want you getting hurt,” he said, quieter now, urgency still lacing his tone.

           Before you could respond, the sounds of battle erupted around you, the tide of chaos swaying back and forth as the crew pressed forward. Captain Hotchner glanced back at the fray, assessing the situation, his focus sharpening. “Stay close to me,” he commanded again, and you nodded, heart racing as you fell back into step beside him. "This time I mean it!"

           As you moved through the streets, it became clear that the plundering was brutal. Crew members shouted orders and taunts, and the weight of the violence around you pressed down like a heavy fog. You witnessed townsfolk being restrained, their protests muffled, and the fear in their eyes struck a chord deep within you as you watched the crew take a little more than material things.

           Captain Hotchner's gaze flicked back to you frequently, assessing your reaction to the chaos. You could see the conflict in his expression, the internal battle raging beneath the surface. He fought fiercely, but you sensed he was also trying to shield you from the worst of it.

           “Remember, this is survival,” he reminded you, his voice steady but low. “They won’t think twice about defending themselves.”

           As the crew moved forward, your heart sank at the sight of a young boy cowering in the corner, clutching a wooden toy. Something snapped within you, the innocence of the scene starkly juxtaposed against the brutality around it.

           “Hotch, we can’t-” you began, but he shook his head, his expression hardening.

           “It’s too late,” he said, urgency building. “We have to keep moving.”

           You watched helplessly as the crew continued to gather their loot, your heart aching at the destruction of lives and homes. Fires burning and blood pooling. This wasn’t the adventure you had imagined; it was a nightmare, a side of pirate life you hadn’t been prepared for.

           As the battle raged on, you felt the weight of your decisions crushing down on you. You thought you wanted to prove yourself, but now all you wanted was to escape the chaos. You turned back to Hotch, desperation creeping into your voice. “We need to stop this.”

           He glanced at you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “We can’t stop now. If we leave without what we came for, they’ll be ready for us next time. We’re pirates; this is how it works.”

           The truth of his words struck hard, and you nodded, heart heavy with the burden of your choices. You stayed by his side, but as the plundering continued, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the darkness of this life was creeping into your soul.

           With each passing moment, you saw the line between right and wrong blurring, and you realized you were far deeper into this life than you ever expected. As the chaos continued around you, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come.

                            ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The air on the ship was electric with excitement and chaos as the crew celebrated their successful plundering. Laughter and shouts echoed off the wooden planks, the scent of salt and rum mingling in the air as bottles were uncorked and food was hastily laid out. The harmony among the crew members was palpable, their spirits lifted by the thrill of the day’s chaos and victory.

           You stood at the edge of the deck, the festivity swirling around you like a storm. As you watched the crew dance and drink, a knot of unease settled in your stomach. Despite the cheers and laughter, the images of the plundering lingered in your mind - the fear in the eyes of the townsfolk, the innocence of the boy you’d tried to protect. The celebration felt hollow, a facade to mask the darker reality of piracy.

           “Y/N!” one of the crew called out, waving a half-empty bottle of rum in your direction. “Come join us! You’ve earned it!”

           You forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Just as you were about to decline, Captain Hotchner's voice sliced through the noise, sharp and commanding. “Y/N, come to my cabin.”

           Your heart sank as you turned to face him. His expression was serious, an intensity in his eyes that made your stomach flip. The crew’s laughter faded into the background as he stepped closer, his demeanor shifting from the charming pirate you had begun to know to the authoritative captain you had initially encountered.

           “Now!” he commanded, voice low but firm, “we need to talk.”

           Before you could respond, he took your arm and led you away from the raucous celebration, the sounds of the crew fading into a distant hum. You followed him to his cabin, the door creaking ominously as he pushed it open. The space was dimly lit, a flickering lantern casting shadows on the wooden walls, and it felt suddenly suffocating.

           As the door shut behind you, the captain turned to face you, crossing his arms over his chest. “What were you thinking out there?” His voice was calm, but the intensity in his gaze told you he was anything but relaxed.

           “I was trying to help!” you protested, the words spilling out before you could think better of them. “I couldn’t just stand by while that merchant was getting away. I wanted to do something!”

           Captain Hotchner's expression softened for a brief moment, but it quickly hardened again. “Help? You put yourself in danger. Do you have any idea how reckless that was?” His voice rose slightly, frustration seeping through.

           You opened your mouth to argue, but the weight of his words hit you like a cold wave. The truth was, you hadn’t thought it through. The adrenaline of the moment had blinded you to the risks. “I just - I thought I could make a difference,” you admitted, your voice quieter now.

           He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily as he turned away to stare out the small porthole. “This isn’t a game. This life is brutal, and I won’t have you caught in the crossfire. You’re not ready for what we do out there. Maybe you should just stay back on the ship next time?” He raised a brow, waiting for your response

           The disappointment in his voice stung more than you expected. “I can handle myself,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

           He turned back to you, his expression conflicted. “You think so? You think you can just jump in and help without understanding the consequences?”

           A silence fell between you, thick and uncomfortable. You felt the weight of your actions pressing down on you, the fear and chaos of the day crashing over you like a wave. “I’m trying to learn,” you finally said, looking him in the eye, you felt ashamed, only wanting to prove yourself to him. “But I want to be a part of this crew, Hotch. I want to prove myself to you.”

           Captain Hotchner studied you for a long moment. “It’s not just about proving yourself. It’s about survival, both for you and for the crew. If you’re not careful, you could get yourself killed.”

           You felt a spark of defiance. “I can take care of myself. I just want you to trust me!”

           His gaze softened slightly, and for a moment, the pirate captain seemed to fade away, revealing the man you’d begun to connect with. “Trust is earned, not given,” he replied, his voice more gentle now. “And you have to be patient. It takes time to understand this life and the choices we make.”

           You nodded, your heart aching with the weight of his words. “I know that now. I just… I wanted to help you.”

           He stepped closer, his demeanor shifting as he reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I appreciate your spirit. But you need to learn to pick your battles. Next time, trust me to lead. I know what I'm doing.”

           You met his gaze, feeling a rush of emotions swirling between you - fear, admiration, and something deeper. “I will,” you promised, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

           With a sigh, he stepped back, the tension easing slightly. “Good. Now, let’s go rejoin the crew. They’ll be wondering where we’ve gone.”

           As he turned to leave, you felt a flicker of warmth in your chest. Maybe this life wasn’t as bleak as it seemed, not if you had the captain to guide you. You followed him back to the deck, the sounds of celebration filling the air once more, a mix of laughter and music that felt almost comforting now.

           As you stepped back into the chaos, the crew erupted in cheers, raising their bottles in salute as you and Hotch made your way to the makeshift feast. The stress of the scolding faded into the background, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of friendship wash over you as you mingled with the rest of the crew.

           You took your place among the pirates, the day’s events still heavy in your mind but lightened by the shared joy around you. As the rum flowed and stories were exchanged, you caught Captain Hotchner watching you from a distance, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

           You realized that amidst the chaos of piracy, perhaps you had found a place where you could belong, even if the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty. You raised your own mug of rum, joining the crew in their cheers, and for the first time since you’d boarded the ship, you felt a flicker of hope amidst the darkness.

                          ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           Weeks passed since your first plundering, each day blending into the next as you settled into life aboard the ship. Under Captain Hotcher's careful guidance, you began to learn the ropes - both literally and figuratively. Navigating the ship, understanding the intricacies of sailing, and grasping the art of plundering were no longer foreign concepts; they were becoming second nature to you.

           The crew’s initial skepticism had faded and was replaced by grudging respect as they witnessed your transformation. You no longer flinched at the sight of a dagger or the sound of chaos that followed a successful raid. Instead, you embraced the thrill, your heart racing in sync with the beat of the crew’s revelry.

           During plundering missions, you stood shoulder to shoulder with Hotch, no longer a mere bystander but an active participant. You learned to wield a cutlass with a surprising degree of skill, and your instincts sharpened with every encounter. Captain Hotchner would often watch you with a mixture of pride and admiration as you navigated the chaos, striking fear into the hearts of those who crossed your path.

           On one particularly moonlit night, the ship sailed toward a small coastal village rumored to hold a wealth of riches. The anticipation hung in the air like a charged current, electrifying every member of the crew. As the ship anchored just offshore, you gathered with the crew.

           “Tonight, we show them the true meaning of fear,” the captain declared, his voice commanding. The crew cheered in response, and you felt a thrill course through your veins at his words. You were no longer just the captain's captive; you were becoming a pirate in your own right.

           As the rowboats slid through the calm water, the darkness enveloped you, broken only by the glimmering stars above. You sat across from Hotch, the familiar tension between you sparking like static. The rhythmic sound of the oars hitting the water steadied your heartbeat as you prepared yourself for what was to come.

           The village came into view, its thatched roofs and flickering lanterns casting a warm glow that seemed to mock the impending chaos. “Remember,” he whispered, leaning closer so only you could hear, “we strike fast, we strike hard. Don’t hesitate. You kill or be killed.”

           “I won’t,” you replied, determination burning in your chest. You could feel the cutlass at your side, a reminder of how far you’d come from the tiny dagger.

           Once ashore, the crew scattered into the shadows, each member moving with practiced precision. Captain Hotchner led the way, and you followed closely, adrenaline coursing through your veins. As you approached the first house, the faint sound of laughter and music drifted out from within, oblivious to the storm about to be unleashed.

           With a nod from Hotch, you surged forward, bursting through the door with the crew at your back. The revelry inside came to a screeching halt, eyes widening in fear as the sight of armed pirates invaded their celebration.

           “Get what you can! Make it quick!” Captain Hotchner barked, his voice echoing through the room. The crew sprang into action, chaos erupting as they ransacked the place. You moved with purpose, your heart racing, snatching up valuables and shoving them into your bag with surprising efficiency.

           The fear on the villagers' faces no longer haunted you; instead, it fueled a fire within. You could see the respect in the eyes of your crew as you maneuvered through the chaos, your instincts guiding you as you followed the captain's lead.

           As the plundering continued, you found yourself confronting a group of villagers who attempted to fight back. They were desperate, eyes wild with fear and determination. For a fleeting moment, doubt crept into your mind was this what you truly wanted?

           But then you caught sight of Hotch, his fierce presence commanding the room as he skillfully dispatched any who dared to challenge him. The thought of failing him ignited a fierce determination in your heart.

           With a battle cry, you lunged forward, the cutlass slicing through the air as you took down one of the villagers. The rush of adrenaline surged through you - he was your first - a heady mixture of fear and exhilaration. As the fight unfolded, you fought with a newfound ferocity, striking alongside the crew, your name echoing through the streets.

           When the raid came to a close, the crew gathered back at the ship, laden with treasures and stories of glory. You stood among them, panting from the exertion, a wide grin plastered across your face.

           Hotch approached you, his expression a mix of pride and approval. “You handled yourself well tonight,” he said, a glimmer of admiration shining in his eyes.

           “Thanks, Captain,” you replied, your heart swelling at his praise. “I couldn’t have done it without your training.”

           He smirked, the familiar glint of mischief in his gaze. “You’re becoming quite the pirate, I must say. The crew is starting to fear you as much as they do me. Perhaps I should grant you a little more authority around here.”

           You laughed, the sound bubbling up from within. “Maybe we should take over the seas together then.”

           Captain Hotchner's gaze turned serious, and he stepped closer. “You know this life isn’t without its dangers, right? There’s a fine line between fear and respect.”

           “I understand,” you replied, the weight of his words settling in your heart. “But I want to be a part of it, Hotch. I want to stand by your side.”

           His expression softened, and for a moment, the pirate façade slipped away, revealing the man you were beginning to care for deeply. “Then stay sharp. You’ve proven yourself tonight, but there’s always more to learn.”

           As the crew celebrated behind you, the warmth of his gaze lingered, igniting a spark of something more. You realized that in this world of chaos and piracy, you had found a place not only among the crew but also in Hotch’s heart.

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           As the ship sailed back towards mainland, the air was thick with anticipation. You stood at the bow, the salty breeze whipping through your hair as you watched the shoreline come into view. Each passing day had brought you closer to the crew and, unexpectedly, to Hotch. There was an undeniable chemistry between you, a tension that hung in the air like a heavy fog. You were not planning on returning to your old life, although opportunity finally presented itself.

           You often caught him stealing glances in your direction, his expression a mix of admiration and something deeper - something unspoken - he feared what your choice would be. But you were both reluctant to acknowledge it, caught in the tangled web of your new lives as pirates. Each shared laugh and stolen moment made your heart race, but neither of you dared to voice what simmered beneath the surface.

           As the ship docked in the bustling port town, excitement crackled in the air. Merchants called out to passersby, and children chased each other along the docks, laughter ringing like music. But amidst the joyful chaos, something else caught your eye. You spotted wanted posters plastered on the walls, fluttering slightly in the breeze.

           Your heart sank as you approached one of them, your breath hitching in your throat. The top half featured a striking image of Hotch, the sharp lines of his jaw and the fierce determination in his eyes captured perfectly. The poster detailed his crimes - a notorious pirate captain feared and respected on the seas. But it was the second poster, the one hanging just below it, that sent shockwaves through you.

           The drawing depicted you, an artistic rendering that portrayed your fierce spirit and defiance. The bold letters below read, “WANTED: The Queen of pirates. Infamous for her ruthlessness and trickery. Reward: 500 gold pieces.”

           “Pirate Queen?” you whispered, your heart racing. Disbelief washed over you. Was this really what people thought of you. You wondered what your dad would think if he knew. You were a part of this world now - dangerous and exhilarating - your old life was miles away and there was no point in trying to return to it now.

           Captain Hotchner joined you, his gaze drawn to the posters. He chuckled softly, an amused glint in his eyes. “Looks like you’ve made quite the name for yourself.”

           “Yeah, well… I didn’t ask for it,” you said, a half-smile creeping onto your lips. “I just wanted to me and be by your side.”

           The moment hung in the air between you, thick with unspoken feelings. The captain turned to face you fully, his expression serious. “And you’ve proven yourself more than capable. You’re as feared as I am now, and that’s no small feat.”

           You swallowed hard, the weight of his words making your heart race. “Do you think I’m ready for this life, Captain?”

           “More than ready,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “You’ve shown incredible strength and adaptability. But it’s not just about being a pirate; it’s about what comes next.”

           “What do you mean?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

           He hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly. “You have to be careful. With this notoriety comes danger. People will come after you, and not just for the bounty. They’ll want to take what’s yours.” You knew what he was refering to, but didn't mentioned it further.

           “I can handle myself, Hotch,” you insisted, a fire igniting within you. “I’ve learned from the best.”

           His lips curved into a small smile, but his eyes betrayed a hint of concern. “I know you can. But there are still things that can hurt you - more than just blades and guns.”

           As the crowd around you swelled, a wave of excitement and apprehension surged through you. “What if they don’t want me back? What if they only see the bounty?” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the commotion.

           Captain Hotchner's expression softened, and he stepped closer, his presence radiating warmth. “You’re not just a pirate to me. You’re - ” He paused, searching your eyes as if weighing his words carefully. “You’re more than that. You’ve earned your place among us. You belong here.”

           Before you could respond, a loud cheer erupted from the crew, drawing both your attention and your momentary connection to a close. They were celebrating the plunder, reveling in the spoils of victory. Captain Hotchner rolled his eyes at them, plundering the mainland was not part of the plan.

           As you returned to the ship, your thoughts kept drifting back to Hotch. The way he looked at you, the intensity of his gaze, made your heart race. You knew he felt something for you, too. What would happen when the thrill of the chase subsided? What would it mean to fall in love with a pirate captain?

           As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, you caught Hotch’s eye across the deck. He raised his glass toward you, a silent acknowledgment that felt heavy with meaning. You raised your own glass in return, a flicker of hope igniting within you.

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           With each passing day, you found your place among the crew, earning their respect and admiration as you carved out your identity as a pirate. Yet, no matter how fierce you became, Hotch’s teasing nickname for you remained: the Pirate Queen.

           “You know,” he’d say, leaning against the railing, a smirk on his lips, “I think you should start addressing me as your royal captain from now on. You can’t just go around being the Pirate Queen without showing proper respect to your pirate king.”

           You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting at him. “King? Is that what you think you are? Hardly seems fitting for a man who wears so much leather and jewellery and has a sword by his side wherever he goes.”

           “Oh, I’ll show you just how kingly I can be,” he’d respond, laughter dancing in his deep voice, before effortlessly dodging your playful attempts to hit him.

           The banter had become a comforting routine, one that brought you closer to him even as it reminded you of the reality of your situation. But as the days turned into weeks, the lighthearted teasing took on a new depth. You began to wonder if the title of “Pirate Queen” might hold more weight than just a playful jab.

           One night, as the crew settled around a fire on the beach after a successful raid, you watched the captain from across the flames. He was animatedly recounting tales of his past exploits - most of them before any of the men in his current crew knew him - his charisma drawing everyone in. Your heart swelled with affection as you admired him - the way he commanded attention, the strength he exuded, and the genuine care he showed for his crew.

           It was then that you caught his eye. His gaze held yours for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and in that moment, the atmosphere shifted. The laughter around you faded into a dull hum, and the crackling fire was the only sound that echoed in the silence between you.           

           “Hey, Pirate Queen,” he called out, breaking the spell, his tone teasing but laced with sincerity. “You’re not going to let me do all the talking, are you? A good queen needs to share her wisdom, after all.”

           You stood, brushing sand off your clothes as you moved closer to the fire. “Well, my wisdom is to never trust a captain who thinks he’s a king.”

           The captain chuckled, a warm, rich sound that made your stomach flutter. “Maybe you should consider trusting him a little more, then.”

           The banter continued, but the playful tone shifted slightly, and you could sense a change in the air. A few days later, as you stood at the helm, navigating the ship under the stars, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. Hotch joined you, his presence steadying, and for a moment, you simply enjoyed the quiet of the night.

           “I know I joke about you being the Pirate Queen,” he began, leaning against the railing beside you, the moonlight reflecting off the water and illuminating his sharp features. “But it’s not just a title to me.”

           Your heart raced at his seriousness, and you turned to meet his gaze. “What do you mean?”

           He hesitated, and the weight of his words hung in the air. “You’ve become more than just a crewmate. You’ve proven yourself time and time again, and you’ve earned the respect of everyone on this ship. But you’ve also shown me a side of you that’s fierce, courageous, and unapologetically yourself.”

           You felt your cheeks heat, and you looked away, overwhelmed. “Hotch…”

           “I’m serious,” he continued, his tone earnest. “You’re more than just a pirate. You’re my partner, and I want you to be my Pirate Queen - officially. I’m not asking for a title, but for you to stand by my side, not just as a member of the crew, but as someone I care about.”

           Your breath caught in your throat, surprise mingling with joy. “You really mean that?”

           He stepped closer, the space between you charged with unspoken feelings. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t. You’re not just another pirate to me, and I don’t want you to ever feel that way.”

           “I’ve never felt like just another pirate,” you admitted, your heart racing as his words settled over you. “But being your Pirate Queen? That’s a lot to take in.”

           “Take your time,” he said softly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

           As the ship rocked gently beneath you, you felt the weight of the world slip away. You were no longer just a kidnapped girl - no longer just a pirate seeking adventure. You were becoming something more, something powerful, and the man beside you made you feel like you could conquer anything.

           Hotch’s hand brushed against yours, a tentative gesture filled with promise.

           “Then I guess I’ll have to live up to that title,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “Just remember, I won’t be an easy queen to rule.”

           Captain Hotchner chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue across the ship as the crew bustled about in excited anticipation. After weeks of plundering and celebrating, the time had finally come to solidify your bond with Captain Hotchner in a way that was both thrilling and unconventional - a pirate wedding. The ship had never seen such a spectacle, and the crew was eager to make it memorable.

           Brightly colored flags fluttered from the mast, and makeshift decorations adorned the deck. Lanterns were hung with care, and the air was filled with the scent of roasted meats and fresh bread, mingling with the salty breeze. The crew had spent the morning preparing, and the excitement was palpable as they exchanged stories and laughter of Captain Hotchner and the Pirate Queen, anticipating the upcoming ceremony.

           As you stood at the helm, taking in the scene, a flutter of nerves danced in your stomach. It felt surreal to be preparing for a wedding on the open sea, surrounded by pirates. But more than that, it was the thought of becoming Captain Hotchner's wife - of finally acknowledging the love that had blossomed amidst the chaos and adventure - that set your heart racing.

           “Are you ready, my Pirate Queen?” Hotch’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see him standing behind you, clad in a crisp white shirt and dark trousers, his signature leather jacket hanging open to reveal a glimpse of his toned physique. He looked dashing, a sharp difference to the rugged lifestyle of a pirate, yet he still exuded that dangerous charm that had drawn you to him in the first place.

           You smiled, trying to contain the flurry of emotions swirling inside you. “I am, but I can’t help feeling a bit nervous.”

           “Don’t be,” he said, stepping closer. “We’re surrounded by our crew, and they wouldn’t want anything more than to see us happy. Plus, if things go awry, we can always plunder the wedding gifts and elope somewhere.” He winked.

           You chuckled, grateful for his ability to lighten the mood. “You always know how to make me laugh, Captain.”

           As the hour drew near, the crew gathered on deck, their faces lit with excitement. A makeshift altar had been constructed from driftwood and adorned with flowers collected from distant shores. Scully, stood at the front, a grin splitting his face as he prepared to officiate the ceremony.

           “Gather ‘round, ye scallywags!” Scully called, his voice booming over the sounds of the waves. “Today, we celebrate the union of Captain Hotchner and his Pirate Queen! It be a rare occasion for a pirate to tie the knot, so let’s make it a day to remember!”

           The crew erupted into cheers and laughter, and you took a deep breath, glancing at Hotch. His expression was serious, but there was a glimmer of joy in his eyes.

           “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, through storms and calm seas, to share in all plunders and treasures?” Scully asked, his tone both lighthearted and sincere.

           “I do,” Hotch said, his voice steady and resolute, and you felt your heart swell with affection.

           “And do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to face the fiercest foes together and cherish the spoils of life?” Scully now turned to you, and the crew leaned in, eager to hear your response.

           “I do,” you replied, your voice ringing clear as you gazed into Captain Hotchner's eyes.

           As Scully continued with the ceremony, you exchanged vows that were filled with promises of loyalty and adventure. You spoke of standing together through every tempest and sharing both the spoils of victory and the burdens of defeat.

           When it came time to exchange rings, Hotch reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple, weathered band. It wasn’t the traditional diamond, but it was perfect - crafted from the same metal as the ship itself, signifying your bond with the sea and each other.

           With a gentle touch, he slid the ring onto your finger, his eyes never leaving yours. “With this ring, I promise to cherish you, to protect you, and to always navigate the stormy seas together.”

           You smiled through misty eyes as you placed a matching band on his finger. “With this ring, I promise to stand by you, to share in your adventures, and to always be your Pirate Queen.” You winked at him as you mentioned the nickname

           “By the power vested in me by the seas and the crew of this ship, I now pronounce you Captain and Captain Pirate Queen! Ye may kiss your bride!”

           The crew erupted into cheers and whistles as Captain Hotchner stepped forward, his hands cradling your face. The kiss was soft but filled with force and passion as he pressed his lips to yours, sealing your vows in front of your motley crew.

           When you finally pulled away, laughter and applause surrounded you. You were married - partners in crime, in life, and now, officially in love.

           As the celebration kicked into high gear, with songs sung and rum shared, you felt a sense of belonging envelop you like the warm sun setting on the horizon. You were not just a pirate; you were Captain Hotchner’s Pirate Queen, and together, you were ready to face whatever adventures the sea would throw your way.

           As the night wore on and the stars twinkled overhead, you danced together on the deck, the laughter of your crew echoing around you. With Hotch holding you close, you knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of plundering and love - together, forever bound by the sea.

[aliesbienish]

A study of wolves

Paul Lahote x Reader.

A relocation to La Push brings more than just a new career.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A rare sunny day was surely a good omen. You read that North West Washington state had one of the wettest climates in the country, so pulling into La Push with clear skies and warm sun rays was surely a positive sign. It was nice to finally be here, out of the bustling city and into an area of lush green trees and isolated beaches.

Deciding to apply for the graduate internship across the country was spur of the moment. Sure getting paid to complete ecological surveys of the areas wolf populations was a dream job, but you had no expectations of getting it and therefore no reason to believe you would be packing up your life. Yet two weeks ago that unrealistic dream suddenly became reality. So here you were in a small reservation town with all your belongings stuffed into the boot of your car feeling for the first time like a proper adult.

You had managed to find your way to a small wooden cabin on the outskirts of town, your home for the duration of this project. You had detoured to Seattle a few days previously to meet your new supervisor and to get training on the process, but otherwise you were pretty much autonomous. You were the only one from national parks stationed in the area, but the local La Push council were kind enough to support you during this project. They had approved use of their cabin, and negotiated to have a council member with you during work in the field. This you were rather thankful for, knowing that managing to get lost and costing the parks department money to send out a rescue wouldn’t be a good look for your career.

Stepping out of the car, and taking a big stretch, you turned around to see two men waiting on the cabins porch.

“You must be [y/n], welcome to La Push,” A smiling man in a wheelchair declared as he offered his hand to shake. “I’m Billy Black, the chief here. This is Sam Uley, he and a few others will be the ones to help you navigate our forests ,”

“Thank you for having me, it’s lovely to meet you both.”

“We just wanted to welcome you, as well as invite you out for a bonfire this evening. We tell traditional stories, and have a barbecue. But more importantly it would be a good chance to meet some locals.”

“Absolutely, as long as I’m not intruding that would be brilliant,”

“Not at all,” Sam’s deep voice replies, speaking for the first time. “My partner and I live a few houses down, we’ll collect you on our walk down so you don’t get lost,”

You smiles and nodded gratefully. After collecting the cabins keys from Billy and declining Sam’s help to move your bags, since you had so little anyway, they were on their way and you started to get settled.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The summer sun was still high in the sky when Sam came to collect you that evening. He introduced you to his fiancé Emily who you instantly took a liking too. She seemed bubbly and inviting, happily asking questions and getting to know you. You had quickly schooled yourself when you first saw her, ignoring the scar that cut across her otherwise flawless face. However you were curious as it seemed to match the claw size of the gray wolves that roamed the area.

The walk to the beach was short and flat, and you were soon making your way out onto the sand. You heard the distant sound of chatter as Sam lead you passed driftwood and out onto the open beach. Ignoring the growing nerves settling in your stomach you followed him and Emily towards the large unlit bonfire surrounded by people. Billy was the first one you spotted and he quickly invited you over and introduced you to the other senior council members. He then called over his teenage son Jacob, who reluctantly said hi with his friends Quil and Embry.

After speaking with council members, mostly about the work you would be doing, it was time for food. Plates were passed around and you were happily munching on roast potatoes when the bonfire was lit and Billy’s voice started to reverberate around the group. The stories of the Quileute people and their shifter legends were fascinating. In particular their link with wolves sparked your interest, and you couldn’t help wonder how big the local wolf population was back in the days of Taha Aki.

Eventually the legends came to a close and you came back to reality. The older members began to pack up and Emily beckoned you over from further down the beach.

���[Y/N], hope you’re having a good time. The elders and kids will be heading off but we are staying around for a few drinks. If you’re happy to stay I can introduce you to a few people your own age.”

“That would be amazing,”

Emily smiled and thrust a can of beer into your hand which you gratefully accepted. A bit of liquid courage wouldn’t go astray. She lead you towards the small group hanging around the water.

“Hi [y/n], “ Sam greeted as you invaded the circle. “Babe,” he placed a kiss on Emily’s forehead and wrapped her into his side.

“[Y/n] is the parks worker who Billy told us about. [Y/n] this is Kim,” she pointed to the smiling short brunette who gave a small wave. “Her boyfriend Jared,” the taller boy with arms wrapped over Kim’s shoulders gave a cheery hello. “And Paul. Who along with Sam and Jared will be helping you with the study,”

You turned to face the last member of the small group, who had grunted as a greeting. Paul was the closest to you and you had to crane your neck to see him. Once you caught a glimpse of his face, which was lit by the dying embers of the fire, time seemed to slow. Your eyes met and you could hear him audibly gasp.

That trigged noise in the rest of the group that you didn’t quite understand. Emily gave a little clap, Jared and Kim giggled with each other and you were sure Sam was almost sighing in relief.

You snapped out of the trance and almost reluctantly pulled your gaze away.

“It’s lovely to meet you all, and thank you for being so welcoming.” You smiled, not realising your whole life was about to change.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Part two

Well looks who’s branching out from Bridgerton. Thought it was time to go back to my fanfic writing roots, I almost feel like I’m 13 again. Anyone keen in a part two?

[cloudypariah]

How to perpetrate and sabotage your own kidnapping: A guide for dummies.

- The creation of the board (and its subsequent discovery)

Summary: Step One: host a brainstorming session with your teammates on how best to kidnap your future abductee. Step Two: have said abductee show up half an hour into the session and begin correcting your entire plan. Step Three: realise at the beginning of their impromptu presentation the target has absolutely no idea that they’re the target. Step Four: fail anyway.

Pairing: Dark!Poly!Task Force 141 x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Content tags: Dark content - Discussions around kidnapping, tense situations. If this is not your cup of tea, please go and find something different might better suited your palate. This is an 18+ fic meaning minors do not interact with this work. No one has permission from me to repost, copy or translate my work. No one has my permission to put my work into any AI source.

Notes: This is my first foray into the COD fandom and will be the first part in a dark comedy series. Please let me know what you think. Not proofread very well, sorry for any mistakes! Thanks for the motivation @live-love-be-unique !

Link to Task Force 141 masterlist / Link to COD masterlist

Captain John Price likes to think he knows his men well enough to trust them when his back is turned. Now that itself doesn’t necessarily mean knowing each and every one of their dirty secrets - he definitely wouldn’t come out smelling like fresh daisies if any number of his were revealed - but it does mean that he has the awareness to recognise that they all share one particular secret.

He sees it in the way Lieutenant Riley’s body language shifts when you give him his medical forms to look over, your consideration at offering him the option to disclose only certain personal information making the reserved soldier relax just enough to offer you a low thanks, accompanied with a stare that stretches on for a few moments longer than considered socially polite.

It’s also so amazingly obvious with Sergeant MacTavish. John’s surprised everyone else misses the way Soap’s smile takes a little longer to fade after departing for yet another mission, your swift congratulations on completing yet another physiotherapy appointment - “ Keep it up the good work big guy” - leaving the Scotsman floating on cloud nine damn near until the plane lands.

And how could he forget Sergeant Garrick? The man’s quick to change his tune and focus up, but the captain has observed Kyle absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder, thumb gingerly stroking the spot where your palm was only moments before, your figure long gone as you retreat down the corridor to where you came from.

No, Jonathan Price doesn’t miss a thing about his men. And it only takes two weeks and a long chat in the corner booth of the bar one quiet night - sans you or Laswell - before somehow his place becomes the meeting point for an unusual, though not unwelcome, topic - you.

More specifically, how to keep you.

The wooden shit box of a sports bar was where the first two facts were confirmed amongst them: 1. Every single one of the 141 men wanted you for themselves, but they weren’t above sharing. 2. You weren’t worth killing each other over, not when there was a much easier solution staring them in the face.

John’s house became the go-to place to discuss fact number three - They needed a plan.

It was Gaz who initially suggested the whiteboard after numerous interjections from Ghost and John; from everything to how to keep this from Laswell, to deciding which of your usual hangouts would provide them with the best opportunity to commence your “relocation”, to how to delicately but firmly explain said "relocation" to you once it was complete. Kyle loves his brothers in arms and never regrets a moment where his life is on the line if it means saving any one of them, but his patience began to wear thin when Soap got bored and started using goddamn paper planes instead of words to get his point across. At that Price finally relented and bought the damn thing.

Now, John was expecting you to pop by his place on Wednesday night to drop some papers off. A perfect opportunity, were it not for the fact that the gentlemen were still disagreeing on where to relocate you. However, it’ll allow you to grow more comfortable with him while he has some alone time with you, your presence like a balm on a wound - soothing and necessary (at least to him).

He had been looking forward to seeing you… tomorrow. So when you turn up not just on the doorstep but in the middle of the bloody hallway in his own bloody home halfway through the 141 “guys night”, his secondary action of shitting bricks quickly overrides his primary instinct to eliminate the threat.

He’s on his way back from the bathroom when he sees you standing, familiar folders firm in your grasp - fucking hell, is that his spare key too? - and a sour expression on your pretty face.

Your eyes narrow further when you spot him, striding over with fury rolling off you in small waves. “Captain Price, I know you did not leave these dossiers on my desk just before the end of my work day with a note stating they all need to be completed by the end of the work day.”

John’s senses are briefly overwhelmed by you being so close to him, the sight of you angry having a different effect on him than what you had originally intended. He’s never seen it before, and his hand twitches when you’re less than a foot away - fluctuating adrenaline or the desire to reach out and hold you, he’s not sure which is more prevalent. 

He always forgets to not be so obvious around you, but it isn’t as though you usually notice. (He’s not sure if the thought should make him feel sad or grateful.)

The sounds of his men arguing in the background, merely the next room over, are enough to bring reality crashing down hard.

His voice is deliberately loud and stalwart when replies. “You can’t be here.”

“Tough shit. Your lads night can wait.” You lean past him to the origin of what your gut was telling you was the sounds of the remaining 141 members quarreling. It’s easy to slip past Captain Price once your mind is set, the push of files against his chest preventing him from reacting for a few seconds - all the time you need to move down the hallway to where everyone else is bound to be.

John is quick to rush behind you, the arguing noises having swiftly changed to near cartoon-like crashes just moments before you enter the room. 

Ghost has migrated to the corner of the sitting area, standing as stiff as a fucking nutcracker, a mountain of crumpled notes and paper planes spilling out from between his arms. (His mask is still on thank god because it’ll hide exactly how caught out he feels, and if there’s one thing Simon Riley cannot stand it’s feeling like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar). His eyes instinctually watch your every move, waiting for your reaction.

Both of your gazes drift to the other side of the room, with neither of you failing to notice how the couch cushions are strewn widely across the space, (with one being stuck on top of a bookshelf for some odd reason) to find not one, but two soldiers gecko’d to the standing whiteboard.

Their demolitions expert is currently splayed out on the left side of the board and desperately grabbing the top of its metal frame, his stomach pressed into the cold porcelain and a left leg hitched up in a poor attempt to conceal the incriminating writing.

Price’s protégé is in a similar state. Dear Gaz has his back against the right side, with his arms outstretched to - much like Johnny - cover as much of their group planning as possible, a coloured marker clasped in each fist.

Two deers in headlights.

The sight of his task force is enough to bring back flashbacks of his original conversation with Kate about bringing these men together because Jesus H. Christ, what the fuck was he thinking?

There are a few moments when nobody moves or dares to breathe…

… except for you, of course.

You waste no time walking over to the two youngest members of the 141 as you attempt to shove them off the board. “Move,” you demand, palms pushing firmly against their sides. “I want to know what’s so important to everyone.” When they refuse, you do your best to stare at them, pleading with a pleasantly soft, “Please.”

Yeah, they both do what you say with ease when they hear that, giving you enough space to take in the somewhat smudged scribbles.

You miss the signal John gives Simon, the Ghost moving closer to your position as John quietly locks the door, and when your attention is drawn back to the board after the other two move you also miss all of the knowing looks shared behind your back. This was very far from ideal, but how can they recover from this?

They hope you understand that whatever comes next, they didn’t plan for it to start this way.

Kyle and John call your name but you ignore them, still processing the information written in front of you.

Johnny flexes his hands, preparing for the worst as you step back and say, “This is… bullshit.”

Every single member stops. That was not the reaction they were expecting.

Turning to face the group, you scoff. “I’m not even kidding. Firstly, you’re using guys' night to work, which is horrible for your mental and emotional health. And you should all know better.”

Four sets of brows furrow in united confusion. You don’t let that deter you from continuing, your arms gesturing haphazardly at the whiteboard. “Secondly, this is hands-down one of the worst brainstorms I have ever seen. This is not cohesive in the fucking slightest. Garrick, mark me.”

Kyle chokes on his spit, his brain short-circuiting before he sees your fingers wiggling at one of the markers he’s holding. The sergeant promptly gives it to you.

Your free hand takes turns pointing at everyone else in the room, a verbal command of, “sit down” directed at each man also. Dumbly and cautiously they all do. Ghost places himself at the end of the couch nearest the entrance, John strategically chooses a spot between yourself and the kitchen, and Soap and Gaz sit closest to you, where the two of them can hear you muttering under your breath as you draw what appears to be a massive cloud shape in the middle of the board.

Once completed, you fill your shape in with the word ‘TARGET’ and slam your free hand against the board. No one flinches, but if one were to look closely there would be some eyes widening in response. Johnny swears he sees one of your eyelids twitch.

“So,” you call out, “what do we know about the target?”

There are not only wide eyes looking at you, there are full glances exchanged between your audience.

“Seeing as you had the nerve to not invite me in your little meeting while keeping me on overtime” - Kyle and John squirm at that, and your finger makes a little circle - “we are going to be working on this project together. With all due respect, I’m not asking.”

Surely not…

And it’s when Captain John Price reviews the writing left over from the others that he realises Kyle and Johnny did one thing right during their clusterfuck of a coverup.

They managed to erase your name.

… you have absolutely no idea you are the target.

 A piece of writing far in the coroner catches your attention, and your shoulders slump. “The target likes knitting and ‘The Karate Kid’. In another life we would have been the best of friends.” A dramatic sigh leaves you, “Oh well, at least I’ll be able to give you some insight into the mindset of this individual. Any questions?”

Four hands shoot up.

Rubbing your hands together with glee, a maniac smile grows on your face. “Excellent.”

[rvijayakumar]

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[puffein]

fireworks at midnight

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader summary: as the world celebrates under a sky of bursting colorful lights, a quiet gallery becomes a setting for a moment that could change everything or nothing at all warnings: angst word count: 1881 a/n: happy new year!! this has been in my drafts so... i hope you guys like this!! love lots!

general masterlist

The lights strung across the square glowed warmly against the winter night, Wanda told herself she’d stay for one night, just long enough to see the fireworks before she relocates herself into a new small town. She wasn’t supposed to stay for more than 2 months, but the small town has given her something she had never felt before — peace and tranquility. And in just a blink of an eye, Wanda has broken a rule she had never broken before. 

The town was nestled in a valley, surrounded by snow-dusted pine trees that stretched toward a pale winter sky. Cobblestone streets would meet her black boots as it wound between wooden buildings and soon their rooftops will be blanketed in soft layers of snow. It was the kind of place where everyone knew each other, where it seems like the whole town is one big family, where time seemed to slow down, and where even a stranger could feel like they belonged — that is if they stayed much longer than what Wanda is planning to.

Despite it being a small town, Wanda pretty much keeps to herself. It gave her satisfaction to know that none of the residents knew who she is and who she was. The people she had interacted with before knew her as Scarlet and only one person knew her as Wanda.

Maybe she did not stay for the fireworks — maybe she stayed for one night for a certain local artist.

“Well, well, well – look who got herself out of her cave.”

That voice.

Wanda’s tensed drawn up shoulders, once pulled up as if trying to shield herself from the world, began to ease. Her hands fisted, fidgeting with the hem of her coat in a restless rhythm began to loosen until they rested beside her body. She sighs, unknowingly clueless to the effect of a certain voice to her protective stance.

Wanda turns, the edge of her mouth twitching so slightly, “Happy new year?”

A hearty laugh surrounds Wanda, “Silly it’s not yet the new year.” A step was taken, soft and carefree, “Happy new year, Wands.” 

Wanda’s heart skipped a beat, she blinks, “So– you said you have something to show me?”

Wanda saw your eyes sparkles, shinier than the lights strung loosely across the square. She looks away confused at how her breath hitches.

Soft hands wraps around her arms, a thumb caress softly against Wanda’s coat, “Yes! I almost forgot. Come, come, it's in my gallery.”

Wanda’s eyes wanders at the gentle grip presented at her, she looks up and watches how your face has been casted a soft, golden glow, catching the delicate curves of your face. She sighs watching as shadows dance across your features, accentuating the gentle arch of your brow and the quiet intensity situated in your eyes.

She longed for that intensity – the freedom to feel so deeply, to let her emotions spill without the fear of breaking something fragile or the world around her.

Because the first and only time she had that freedom, it ended in disaster.

Wanda didn’t notice you stopped walking however, she noticed the absence of your warm hands around her arms. She took a step back and looked away.

“Sorry, I had you wait at the square. I didn't know if i’ll be finishing this on time so, i’m at the better safe than sorry zone.” You mumbled, hands fidgeting at the locks of your small gallery.

“It’s okay, I had fun watching the townspeople.”

You turn around quickly, “Have you tried the activities they organized?”

Wanda grimaces ever so slightly, you catch on to that and let out a chuckle, “Sorry for asking a question I already knew the answer to.”

You clamp your hands together, “So– this is a gift for you. I don't know if you'll like this and I don't even know— I just, can you please close your eyes?”

Wanda’s back straightened abruptly, closing her eyes seemed dangerous for her.

“What’s in there for me to close my eyes for?”

Your foot taps lightly against the ground, a rhythm that betrays the nerves you have. Wanda watches as you shift your weight from one foot to another, it was as if your unease had nowhere else to go, spilling out in the constant, anxious rhythm of your feet.

You sigh, gaining courage, “Okay. okay, sorry–” Wanda wanted to say you didn't have to be sorry, but – “Let’s get inside?”

She could only nod and watch as you opened the doors, the lights were off and your steps reverberated in Wanda’s eyes, she watched you switch the lights on.  

As you flick the switch, the room illuminates instantly, flooding the small space with soft, golden light, casting long shadows across the floor and illuminating the paintings in their full glory.

Wanda blinked, her breath hitching as she looked around the gallery. 

There – in their luminous glory are paintings of her made by you.

Wanda’s body buzzes with different emotions, the nerves in her body seem to be shutting down as her thoughts are buzzing in an unclear manner and she hates that. 

The artworks seemed to breathe with life, each of it drawing her in as if the colors and brushstrokes held a secret just for her. The walls of your small gallery were lined with vibrant portraits of Wanda, one painting captured her as if she’s frozen in time, surrounded by swirling colors that hinted at her chaotic powers that she wants to bury deep down — reds and purples. Another was a painting of her standing in the middle, pine trees around her, her silhouette framed by a golden sunset, her face turned upwards into the sky as if contemplating the weight of the world. 

But one painting, that small painting, a smaller piece situated right at the center, depicted her as she was now – quiet and uncertain. She's sitting by a window, gazing out at the world, her face soft yet distant like she was caught between two realities. Each strokes of your brush seemed to capture Wanda’s essence, a reflection of the depth and complexity she carried beneath the surface. Heavy and loaded.

That scared her, this scares her— how you seem to understand her by how you captured her in a way that reflects what hidden disastrous turmoil is swirling deep inside her.

This felt different and different things are no good for her. The portraits, the artworks weren’t just images of her, they were fragments of her soul, each of them revealing parts of herself she hadn't fully understood. 

Wanda felt exposed, vulnerable.

Has she been that obvious? Is she that readable that you were able to capture her fully.

But despite feeling this, the pieces filled her with a strange warmth — to know that someone had finally seen her in a way she couldn't even begin to see herself felt nice.

Then as if allergic to happiness, Wanda snapped back. 

Her mind swirled with confusion. How could you capture this? The thought of you seeing her so completely, unsettled her.

You stood beside her, nerves high as the mount everest, “Do you like them?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, it's like you're afraid of shattering the moment.

Wanda’s eyes lingered on a piece in the center. Swallowing hard, Wanda answers, “I don't know,” she mumbles softly. “It’s— it’s too much.”

It is for her. She knew at the back of her mind, that she stayed longer because of you — stumbling accidentally to your small gallery was a blessing to her, the moments you two shared together was enough for her to stay, to live a life she desperately wanted.

You nodded, stepping closer, your presence grounding Wanda. “I wanted to show you,” you said, voice gentle, “–that you’re more than what you’ve been through. That you’re not just the chaos you feel inside.”

Wanda looks at you, chest tightening.

“I–I had this constant thought that I have to let you see this – because I know, anytime you’ll disappear,” You smile tightly, “I just had to let you see, I just had to.”

The confusion deepend, mingled with something else— something Wanda couldn't name, something she was afraid to let in.

Your warm hands clasped around Wanda’s freezing ones, her hands trembled against yours, as if afraid you’d disappear right before her eyes, but the truth was she was the one already slipping away. 

“I told you, like I always do. You deserve to be happy.” you whispered, despite the hushed room the two of you are standing in, your voice was barely audible. 

Wanda gave you a smile she always plastered, small and fragile, “Happiness isn't for people like me.” she murmured, her voice trembling slightly.

You could feel it the way she held herself, in the quiet sorrow behind her smile — a smile that was always a little too broken that she wouldn’t let herself feel the good things in life, even the tiniest ones.

You wanted to say more, to tell her that happiness could be hers, that she’s worthy of love but something in her face, dark and impossible to reach, stopped you. You knew you were fighting a war that you could never win, but you had to try, right? For her.

You stayed silent, watching her as she gazed at the paintings of herself, captured in moments of beauty and rawness she never thought she could see. 

When Wanda finally turned to face you, eyes locking with yours, and it felt like the world stopped spinning. In that stillness, you saw all her pain, all her love, the chaos buried deep within her, tangled together in a way that broke your heart. You knew it was a love that was pure, yet haunted by something too deep to fix.

Your eyes followed as she took a step towards you, her breath hitching, and before you could say a word, Wanda rested her forehead gently against yours.

You and Wanda didn’t need words, the way her body softened against yours, the quiet tremor of her touch as she grazed your cheeks said everything you needed to know. 

She loves you.

She was sorry.

And she couldn't stay.

“Happy new year, my love.” Wanda whispers.

Your heart beats loudly and excruciatingly painful, it was so loud that it could almost deafen the fireworks that had already begun outside.

The burst of colors lighting up the pale sky was beautiful, but it was Wanda that you saw– her silhouette slipping away, walking beneath the glow of the lights. Her hands tucked in the pockets of her clothes, her head down, the color of her hair haunting you. 

You knew then, knew in the deepest part of you that she was taking a piece of your heart with her. 

And she was gone.

All that would remain was the quiet echoes of her absence, leaving only ashes where something beautiful was once buried.

Your love felt like a fleeting moment, one that never truly began but somehow, had already ended. It’s like a whisper in the wind, too soft to be heard, yet gone before you even knew it had begun.

As the first snow of the year fell, it buried the echoes of a love that was never meant to stay.

general masterlist

[dream-world-universe]

Zaanse Schans, Netherlands: Zaanse Schans is a neighbourhood of Zaandam, near Zaandijk, Netherlands. It is best known for its collection of historic windmills and wooden houses that were relocated here from the wider region north of Amsterdam for preservation. From 1961 to 1974, old buildings from all over the region known as the Zaanstreek were relocated using lowboy trailers to Zaanse Schans. Wikipedia

[mmgwritings]

FULLY CLOTHED, STARK NAKED

Characters: Kaz Brekker / Dreg!Reader

Prompts: When Kaz felt guilty and decided to handle his problems by shoving them into a dusty, forgotten corner so he doesn’t have to face them... until now.

Warnings: angst; smut; nsfw; canon divergence.

The cart rumbled down the narrow alleyway, laden with crates of drinks, tobacco, and spices from the distant lands of Shu Han — or so it seemed from the merchants' slurred accents. One of the oxen snorted as a wheel got stuck in a muddy puddle, momentarily halting the small caravan trailing behind.

The passengers of the caravan, weary from days on the road, decided to step out of the vehicle and surround the ox cart, slowly carrying their belongings to the main street. Their worn and thick clothes marked them as ordinary people from inland villages, seeking opportunities in Ketterdam now that Shu Han had opened its borders for small exports.

It was a new government measure, introduced after years of peace negotiations between Ravka, Kerch, and Shu Han following the fall of the Fold. The law, ostensibly about simplifying the import and export of goods, was a stroke of Ravkan ingenuity. While its simplicity aimed to facilitate trade, it inadvertently opened the door to cruelty. The same freedom extended to the movement of products was also interpreted and applied to humans, leading to a troubling rise in child abductions and the proliferation of exotic brothels. This grim reality didn't go unnoticed by Inej — and, consequently, by Kaz.

A letter from Inej reached Kaz's hands just a month ago. In the meantime, the crows, who had previously managed the taverns and tourists' finances, were now stationed at the city's entrances, keeping a vigilant eye out for potential slavers. It was a straightforward task: watch people through the cracks in the city patrol loft, handle the work that the corrupt officials neglected, and, if suspicions arose, track their movements.

After that, the grimy details fell to Kaz's officers. That was the part I preferred not to know about, but I was content just imagining it.

Today, it was my turn to guard the entrance to Shu Han, northwest of the city. I sat alone on a dusty crate, peering through a crack in the attic window to keep watch over the alley. Wylan typically joined me during the early hours of the night, but today he had been given special leave to celebrate Jesper's birthday.

With a groan and the gurgling of oxen and two men, the cart — now half-empty after the merchants had collected their belongings — finally got unstuck and trundled onward into the city. I looked beyond the city gates and saw nothing but two patrol officers lounging under a street lamp, smoking cigarettes and chatting idly. Beyond them, the road stretched out, dark and empty.

With a sigh, I stretched and stood up from the crate, my eyes burning from hours of distant observation. The Stadwatch loft, once housing for patrol rookies before they were relocated to a building in the Exchange, was a spacious, open area with no partitions. It was filled with neatly arranged beds and small dressers, two desks, and a stack of old paperwork in the corner. The small, dusty windows were perfect for monitoring the street but couldn’t be opened, leaving the room with a stale smell. On the plus side, the thick walls kept the sounds from travelling outside — Wylan even used to play music when he was bored.

Even with the street empty and no sign of new arrivals at the gates of Ketterdam, I had to stick to my watch schedule until the next guard relieved me in four hours. It was while sitting at one of the desks, feet propped up and munching on a sandwich, that Kaz found me.

Despite the cane, the boots, the wooden floor, and the guards outside, I didn't hear him coming. One moment the loft door was closed, and the next, there was Kaz, his dark coat gleaming in a patch of light from the night dew. His stoic expression scanned the room with interest, his lips pursed as he took in the musty smell.

“Good evening, boss” I said, shifting in the chair and setting the sandwich aside. “Come to check on the poor soul stuck here?”

“No, I’m just joining them,” he replied, lowering his voice as he walked over and sat on my abandoned crate. “Clive can’t make it today — caught a nasty cold and can’t stop sneezing. I’ll keep watch with you.”

“Then enjoy; it’s your turn to stare at the vast nothingness,” I murmured, returning to my sandwich with a smirk. Kaz, always busy and never idle, had come personally to take on a task that involved doing absolutely nothing. And above all, spend a considerable amount of time in my company. Someone he had been avoiding like the plague for the past few weeks.

That would be funny.

As anticipated, five minutes later, the complete silence was broken by his first sigh of boredom. Seven minutes after that, he began rummaging through some of the old paperwork.

When the dust started to rise, I decided it was time to stop. I didn’t want to end up competing with Clive and his sneezing.

“So, have you decided whether it really happened, or are you going to keep avoiding it?” I asked, my eyes fixed on him. Though he had his back to me, I saw him stiffen as he grasped the weight of my question. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, you even stationed me here at this end of the world, so far from everyone that Wylan felt sorry enough to keep me company.”

“I didn’t mean to put you here; it’s part of your job—”

“Don’t even start, Kaz. You know exactly what you’re doing. You felt guilty and decided to handle your problems—me—by shoving them into a dusty, forgotten corner so you don’t have to face them.”

Kaz, still with his back turned and hiding his emotions as he always does when cornered, remained silent. The weight of the truth settled in the attic, spreading through the shadows.

Over the past few weeks, as I spent hours watching the city, I replayed our past interactions in my mind and planned what I would say to Kaz when I finally saw him.

I fantasized about him offering a gentlemanly apology, imagining him walking through the door, confessing some naïve and heartfelt sentiments, and making promises. But once I accepted that it was all just a fantasy, my frustration grew. Clive, my watch partner, sometimes found me with angry tears streaming down my face. He’d ask what was wrong, but what could I tell him? That his boss was a smug asshole who was indifferent to other people’s feelings?

And that this same smug asshole was in front of me and still didn't say anything?

“It’s not my fault that you love Inej. It’s not my fault you’re hung up on someone who hasn’t been around for seven years. And it’s definitely not my fault that I love you more than you even like me,” I said, my voice cracking, the weight of my emotions evident as tears threatened to spill.

I stood up from my chair and grabbed my coat. “If you want to live like this, fine. But don’t pretend like nothing happened… because it did.”

Kaz sighed, slowly turning to face me. His expression was almost tortured, his eyes bright and warm.

I waited, but no words came from him. It wasn't necessary, not when in three quick steps he was in front of me, with his hands adorning my face, with his lips on mine, demanding a desolate kiss.

His tongue slid across my lips, which, with my surprise, parted in a breathless sigh, allowing him to greedily suck my tongue and massage it with his own. I was too stunned to react, surrendering any control over my body as I followed his lead. His hands moved persistently from my face to my waist, drawing me closer until our bodies pressed together.

Noticing my lack of reaction—or perhaps sensing my need to breathe—Kaz pulled his face slightly away from mine. He placed gentle kisses on my flushed cheeks and trailed them halfway down my chin. “You are the stupidest person in the world for not realizing that if there was a lack of words on my part, it was because I couldn't explain how much I want you”

“You’re the stupidest person in the world for not realizing that if I was at a loss for words, it was because I couldn’t find a way to express how much I want you,” he said, his eyes finally meeting mine. “If there was any ghost from the past, you’ve exorcised it. Any teenage feelings are nothing compared to what you make me feel. Don’t you understand? You didn't realize any of this when, that night, I was more yours than I ever was mine?”

His eyes were clear and filled with truth—the same eyes I gradually fell in love with over the years. One night, driven by youthful impulse and drink, I boldly declared my feelings to Kaz with a kiss. That kiss led to a messy night in his room, only for me to wake up alone and to live with his indifference. Or that's what I thought.

"That doesn't make any sense. Nina told me you're still-" my thoughts didn't align.

“And what does Nina know about my feelings? What does she know about all the times I think about you? I’m sorry; I didn’t know what to do that day. I was an asshole, irresponsible, a coward—any term you want to use. But I don’t deny that I do love you, and it’s much more than you love me.”

Kaz’s voice was assertive, as if he were stating an undeniable truth. He loved me. He’d made a mistake out of fear. I was scared too, but nothing compared to the fear that gripped me when he admitted, in so many words, that he loved me.

His lips found mine again, this time demanding much more. His hands moved to pull my body even closer, fingers reaching for the ties of my vest and moving up to my breasts, squeezing them as he guided me towards one of the beds.

My heart raced and my body was covered in goosebumps.

“Kaz, please,” I murmured, trying to pull him closer. I didn't even know what I was begging for, I just wanted more.

It felt so good to have him there, feeling the heat of his body, his weight pressing down on me, and his lips trailing kisses across my chest. Pulling my shirt aside, his lips find my nipple, pebbled by his fingers.

It was all so different from last time, that we were scared enough to take off our clothes, just finding pleasure through our hands.

Now, Kaz suddenly stopped. His eyes marveling at my bare breasts. And I marveled at him. With his swollen lips, heavy breathing, which made his chest rise and fall quickly. With his body pressed against mine, hips unconsciously rubbing against mine in search of relief.

Finding some independence, my hands pushed him until Kaz was kneeling over me. That way, I completely removed my blouse, and when I heard a sigh coming from him, I smiled. "Beautiful" he whispered.

My hands then went towards his vest, agilely undoing it and throwing it onto one of the dressers. The black, long-sleeved shirt remained on his body.

I knew enough about Kaz to see his limits. Clothes were his limit. But not mine.

Gathering up some courage, I hugged Kaz and in a kiss, pulled him on top of me again, and when we were lying down, I rolled on top of him.

"I want to try something." I whispered in his ear, my hand trailing down his body, caressing his abdomen and trailing down to his groin.

There, I found the bulge of his dick, and when I stroked it again I got a deep breath from him. "Yes, do whatever you want," Kaz replied, already too lost in his desires.

I got up quickly, Kaz was surprised and looked at me questioningly. Then he understood when I started pulling my pants down, removing my boots too. I laughed a little when I lost my balance while removing one of my shoes and fell with my face on Kaz's abdomen, too close to his crotch.

Taking advantage of the moment, I planted a playful kiss on Kaz's face and went down to the end of the bed to remove his boots.

He was in a good mood and trying to contain himself from laughing. His face was red, his hair was messy and he had an anxious expression.

"There, done. I hope you don't mind the socks" I said pointing to my mismatched socks with a smile on my face.

"I couldn't care less," he replied, hands resting on my waist as I straddled him. "But I care about one thing..." she spoke, her fingers lightly tugging at the hem of my panties.

"Worry about this little thing?" I asked, adjusting myself into a better, much more comfortable position, one that was on...

"I'm a petty man" He sighed, his eyebrows furrowing and betraying his pleasure. I moved a little, enough to make him abandon any kind of argument he was making.

His fingers found space between the hem of my panties, lightly caressing the crease between my leg. But not there, not where I wanted most, where I needed it. Just close.

Truly, a petty man.

Kaz's vibrant blue eyes were completely dilated as I began rubbing myself over his cock. Trying to find some pleasurable point, my panties were wet over the seam of his pants.

His other hand, not needed to guide me, moved up towards my nipple, squeezing it painfully, only to be tamed by his warm tongue. Now, the two of us sitting, me straddling him and Kaz sucking my tits, were like two teenagers in heat.

"I can't," I said, almost crying. My face hidden in his hair, my hands gripping his shoulders.

Then Kaz mercifully slid his fingers over my core. Not inside, where I wanted most, where my walls squeezed with emptiness. "Please, Kaz." I whispered in his ear, seeking his lips for a sloppy kiss.

As we kissed, as I sucked his tongue and kneaded his shirt, Kaz's hands went down to his pants, undoing the button and zipper, trying to pull them down. Realizing this, I helped him, putting my hand in his pants and freeing his dick.

It was wet with cum, it was big and it stood completely hard. It was as pink as Kaz's swollen lips, and all I could think about was how good it would taste in my mouth.

But I didn't have time for that. I felt like I was going to cum just from rubbing against Kaz. And he also felt the same way, as he quickly pulled my panties to the side and I guided the head of his cock towards my clitoris, rubbing it lightly, enough to make everything wet with my desire and his.

Kaz groaned throatily. Laying down on the bed and watching me as I slid down his cock, my folds wetting him all over and my white panties were almost transparent.

Unable to hold it any longer, I stood up and pushed his cock into my pussy. Feeling myself open up as he slid in, all the way to the base. Allowing myself to stand still for a moment, with goosebumps rising through my body, a painful moan escaped my lips in unison with Kaz's.

Me, stark naked and Kaz completely clothed. My hands found support on his chest as I slowly moved up and down his dick, finding a good rhythm for both of us. Kaz's eyes met mine, and that way, as he filled me and rolled his hips to meet my pussy mid-motion.

His mouth, swollen from all the kisses, was open, panting. His cheeks were pink, his forehead was sweaty and his hair stuck to it. Kaz was a beautiful sight.

With his eyes locked on mine, Kaz's hands went to my ass, helping me with the rhythm. Making me slide on it instead of going up and down. This way, my clitoris rubbed against the base of his dick, finding the perfect friction in the movement.

"Good?" he asked as I closed my eyes and groaned. "Perfect" I replied with a drunken smile.

"Open your mouth" I order Kaz, with a tone very similar to the one he used in meetings with the Dregs.

I opened it, my eyes still closed. I felt Kaz sit down, his chest against mine, my sensitive nipples against his shirt. Kaz, stuck a thumb in my mouth, gently touching my tongue and massaging it.

Instinctively I closed my mouth over his finger and sucked. Kaz put his face to mine and moaned. I thought I was going to keep that substitute for his cock in my mouth, but Kaz removed his finger and replaced it with his tongue.

His thumb, coated with saliva, trailed down to our junction. His dick filled me very well, but the need for more arose from the moment Kaz started massaging my pussy. I thought it couldn't get any better.

It was instinctive, as I had never experienced any of that rationally before. I moaned into his kiss and hugged him, trying to get closer, rubbing myself even more, trying to find relief from that sweet torment.

Kaz also felt the same, his dick moved inside me, trying to go deeper. I felt our sweaty bodies clinging to each other and Kaz's moans, not at all shy, made me shudder.

It was like we were boiling, feeling something tighten in my groin, feeling the need to have something faster, stronger, bigger, inside me. Until, when Kaz hugged me, his nails scratching my sweaty back, his other hand squeezing my ass and his hips pushing deeper into me, I felt like I was going to come apart.

Breaking our kiss for a gasp, I came, my face still placed on his, I felt tears running down his face. I felt, moments later, as my walls squeezed his cock and my body trembled, his hot cum filled me and then slowly slid out, even though he still had his cock stuck inside me.

Kaz then slowly lay down, taking me with him. Our chests rising and falling in search of air. Exhaustion taking over us and happiness bubbling up through our bodies.

We were still united, there was no need for us to separate now. So I adjusted myself to a more comfortable position, and looked at him. The tears were Kaz's, who was so overcome with pleasure that he didn't even notice he had cried. I kissed his face, chin and his lips.

Kaz's hands slowly caressed my body: my back, my arms, my hair, until finally he rested on my ass, playing with the hem of my panties.

We had nothing to talk about when, later, we separated enough to settle into a tired embrace and fall asleep. Kaz still in his clothes and without any criticism regarding my socks and panties.

[her-devils-advocate]

It's all for you, everything I do

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: fluff

summary: Inspired by the sweetest post by @humanitys-strongest-bamf (can be read [here])!

You and Levi spend some well-needed downtime together, sharing each other's company and relaxing with a hot bath.

word count: 1,813

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55328983

You enter the dimly lit room with a small groan, the loud creak of the ageing door alerts the empty room of your arrival. Your muscles do their best to protest as you manoeuvre your weary body towards the bed. You had pushed yourself too far, yet again, feeling the burn that only an extended ODM session could provide. Training in such cold weather isn’t ideal, the bitter air had caused your skin to sting more and more with each passing minute spent flying around in the forest, leading up to your reluctant retreat back to your room.

You're sure you will regret it in the morning, as you will no doubt find yourself achingly curled around a lukewarm bowl of porridge, a common occurrence for you. But for tonight, you don't care as you flop onto the firm mattress, letting your body sink into the soft blankets decorating the bed. You groan as you wiggle into a more comfortable position on your back, one arm thrown over your face while a single leg hangs off the edge of the bed.

Just as you are about to drift off into a peaceful slumber, eyelids heavy with exertion, the door to the small bathroom is thrown open. The unexpected sound causes you to jump and you slowly lift your gaze to the figure watching you from the doorway.

There's only one person who has unrestricted access to your private quarters, having taken to spending more time there than in his room. You remember his gruff voice as he attempted to explain himself the day you called him out on it: “Don’t let it get to your head, people are less likely to hunt me down here to deal with their bullshit.”

You snap yourself out of the memory and glance up at him. Levi's figure is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, bleeding around him and breaking into the dark room surrounding you. You cannot catch his expression, his body is consumed by the shadows hiding from the light, yet his posture is relaxed. A halo of light hovers over him, ripples of water reflecting on the ceiling above, dancing in the amber haze of the room. Looking closer at his hidden form, you can spot the bare skin of his forearms, his sleeves having been rolled up before your appearance.

He lets out a small breath, close enough to a chuckle, before making his way to the bed. You smile up at him, now looming over your relaxed form.

“Hey there.” You break the silence, voice low to not disrupt the soft moment weaving around the two of you.

“Hey,” his reply is equally soft and he bends down to gently prod at your forehead, earning him a lighthearted scoff. “If your muscles haven’t turned to stone yet, get up. I’ve prepared a bath, don’t let it get cold.” 

“You ran a bath for me?” You murmur in disbelief and awe. Part of you shouldn’t be too surprised, Levi usually prefers to show his affection through actions, yet the domestic act causes your heart to swell. You begin to sit up, moving to lean on an elbow, still comfortable on the bed and giving no signs of relocating any time soon.

“Did you train so much that it caused you to lose your hearing?” 

He grows impatient at your lack of movement and before you know it, his strong hand is gripped around your ankle, giving you a warning tug. You meet his amused stare with your own, without a single word, you then make a show of flopping back down onto the bed. Your laughter almost drowns out his groan, and before you know it, he begins to move away from the bed without releasing you.

“Hey!...hey, hey, hey…!” Your weak protests, mixed with shocked giggles, are interrupted by a small crash and you let out a yelp as your body collides with the wooden floor. Levi stands over you with his arms crossed over his chest, looking a little too proud of himself.

“That was mean.” You state plainly, watching as his eyes flick up to the ceiling before falling back onto you. 

“You would only complain if you ended up having a cold bath.” He shrugs before crouching down and wrapping his arm under your legs, easily cradling you to his chest as he stands. 

With no retort ready to toss at him, you simply snuggle closer to his chest instead, letting him carry you towards the bathroom. A wave of heat hits you once he crosses the threshold and you watch the steam rise from the tub, twisting in the air before fading away.

A few candles are dotted around the room, the wax dripping down and onto the small plates below while the condensation does its best to cling onto its waxy stick. The rest of the room is covered in a light sheen of mist, growing foggy with the heat infiltrating the air. You are speechless at the effort he has gone to just to get you to relax.

He bends to let you stand on your own, silently turning around to gather the soaps while giving you enough privacy to undress. You make quick work of your uniform, leaving it in a messy pile in the corner of the room, something you know he will complain about later once the domestic bliss has faded and the reality of the world kicks back in. But for now, you embrace the tender atmosphere and slowly sink into the hot water, a small groan slipping past your lips as your aching muscles slowly begin to relax.

The water comes up to your shoulders, gently lapping over your skin with each movement. Once he knows you are settled, Levi finally turns around and places the collection of soaps along the edge of the pristine tub. Before he gets the chance to move away, your hand darts out of the bubbly water and latches onto his exposed forearm.

“What is it?” He raises an eyebrow, his head tilted in confusion at your sudden movement.

“Join me?” Your voice is tender while you gaze up at him longingly, “It’s been a while since we got to spend time together. And no, doing paperwork together in silence isn’t the same thing.”

He stays rooted on the spot for a moment and you almost begin to worry that he will reject the offer, but he is quick to begin unbuttoning his shirt. You look away with a small grin, extending the same courtesy to him while you shuffle forward in the tub.

You entertain yourself with the bubbles floating atop the water, collecting some within your palms and gently blowing on them. You watch the small collection of suds float through the air before rejoining the fizzing pile below. You can hear the small rustling of fabric to your side, Levi is no doubt making sure each piece is folded and stored where they can’t get damp. Once he’s finished, content that not a single crease will dare to find its way onto his clothing, he carefully slides behind you into the warm water.

He gets himself settled, his legs resting on either side of yours as he pulls you closer to lean against his firm chest. His hands find yours as he laces your fingers together, softly resting your intertwined hands against your stomach while you allow your head to rest against his shoulder. Moments pass without a sound while the two of you allow yourselves to have a moment of peace together, the consistent slosh of water breaking the silence as you wiggle to get more comfortable. 

He gently rubs small circles onto the slowly pruning flesh of your hands while he places gentle kisses against your shoulder, the action bringing a small laugh from your lips as his nose passes along a rather ticklish spot. You give him a small warning splash, earning yourself a soft poke in the side in response.

“Thank you for this, Levi.” 

“What? For the poke?” An incredulous tone colours his voice and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, knowing he would most likely sense the action even if he can’t see it.

“No, not for the damn poke. For setting all this up.”

He holds onto you tighter, his legs crossing over yours to cling with every limb possible. You free one of your hands from his grip and raise it to run your fingers through his hair, the black strands feeling like pure silk. Even with his face hidden from you, you can feel his soft smile against your shoulder.

“It doesn’t take much effort to run a bath, but it is nice to spend some more time together.” You give him a small hum in agreement, idly playing with his fingers while he watches with fond amusement as you poke and bend the individual digits.

“Yeah, it’s nice to try and act normal every now and then as well.” You can feel the gentle shake of his chest, the silent laughter reserved for you and you alone. 

“Oi, are you trying to say I’m not normal?” Levi tries his best to let the usual aloofness show through his voice, yet his humour remains.

“Oh, I’m sorry ‘Mr. I could kill a titan with my glare’. Are you trying to argue that any aspect of our lives happens to be normal?” You try to turn to give him a disapproving look, yet his arms keep you held firmly in place.

“That’s an exaggeration and you know it. My glare isn’t that bad.” Before you can interrupt him to remind him of the time his glare caused a fresh cadet to burst into tears, he continues, “Now hush, stop ruining the moment and relax for once, will you?”

You gently knock your ankle against his, grinning in victory before feeling his retaliation. He lets out a small swear as a wave of water is released over the side of the tub and onto the tiles below, covering the floor in a soapy current. You silently mourn your dry clothes, which are now proceeding to soak up the rogue water. With a small sigh, you shift so that you can rest your head against his chest, hearing the gentle beating of his heart. His free hand comes to rest atop your head, tenderly stroking his fingers through your hair and absentmindedly playing with the ends of each strand.

The still warm water tickles your flesh with each slow ebb and flow of its man-made waves, the gentle thump of his heart allows the exhaustion you had been trying to hold off to overtake you once more. You let your eyes flutter shut, the knowledge that would be safe to doze off within Levi’s warm embrace follows you as sleep finally takes you.

[monstrouslyobsessed]

welcome home

—you inherited a strange mansion you vaguely remembered visiting in childhood. you were excited to start a new life, but, now, from the way the lone statue perched on the roof seemed to be watching you, you weren’t so sure anymore.

—a/n: happy (belated) halloween! this had been requested forever ago, though not as a concept but as a smutty headcanon. but it had been stuck in my brain since seeing it—so...introducing the...gargoyle!

—tw / tags: gn reader, implied confinement / isolation, implied mind control(?), implied possible grooming (from the monster), implied teratophilia, implied exophilia, general yandere themes, long post, uncut post, sfw.

—featured character(s): gargoyle, the unnamed uncle

“What happened to those two?” you wondered aloud, balancing the stack of boxes in your arms as you gestured with your chin towards the two headless statues perched atop the pillars of the front gate.

Your uncle cleared his throat, hesitating slightly at the sight of them through the tall, ornate window, “That’s a...good question,” he laughed, his voice trailing off.

You glanced up only to see the back of his grey head, your boxes successfully placed on the floor, eyebrows arched high. “Uncle?”

“...were...a week ago...” you caught the tail end of his murmur.

“Hey!” you erupted, jabbing the old man into his ribs with a playful poke. He responded with an amused chuckle, regaining his composure. With a quick complaint about the way he had ruffled your hair, you slapped his hand away with a suggestion, “probably got weathered from old age,”

You weren’t about to add more to his worries with the anxious face he’d had seconds before. He was already so old it just didn’t feel right to push for answers he probably didn’t have. Helping you to move into his old home had been so overly generous that you hadn’t felt comfortable pressing for more.

Still, as you resumed your unpacking, your eyes couldn’t help but wander to the statues.

They...looked wrong, somehow.

Their necks were too...clean.

As if they had been sliced through with a sharp blade.

Had there ever been heads to begin with?

You shook your head as a faint memory resurfaced. The statues had definitely had heads once, from your visits as a child. So, where had they gone?

As you pondered, your hands became slick with water-thickened dust and soap as you wiped down the wooden furniture in the large living room while your uncle busied himself somewhere in the background. The bright glare of the afternoon sun forced your lashes to flutter together in a wince and you groaned, relocating yourself to a shaded corner as your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.

You blinked.

Something strange was perched outside the window, its wings casting long, dark shadows across the room from the setting sun behind it. You paused, a brief gasp, ever so slight that it might as well have been a breath, escaped your lips. Before you could think of anything to do, a deafening explosion of something shattering rang out from another room, and you spun toward where your uncle was, shouting the old man’s name.

You pivoted again, to see what you thought you saw.

The window was empty, glowing brilliantly with the blinding midday sunlight.

As if you’d only imagined whatever that creature was.

You stumbled out, confused and unsettled, to find your uncle with a troubled look on his face, assuring you that he hadn’t meant to scare you. As you attended to the accident, the strange sight remained in the back of your mind. Discomfort grew in your heart, and you wondered if it was normal to feel so familiar with what you thought you saw.

“You always had such fanciful imagination as a kid,” your uncle chuckled, rocking in his chair in the library you remembered frequenting as a kid. This was supposed to be his final night here with you, before he took the trip back to his assisted living home.

You cocked your head as you looked for a place to slot your favorite books in one of the many shelves. “Did I?”

Truth be told, your childhood memories were muddy at best.

“Oh, ho, yes, you always chatter on about an angel trapped in stone and the stories they’d share with you. Very...terrifying tales, may I add! Frighten my ol’ love, yer did. He never did like listening to these things, said you were listening to the devil.” Your uncle sighed, plucking a framed photo from a small table to reminisce about his deceased husband—

You...vaguely recalled how upset your other uncle was, though the reason still came blank.

“...Wasn’t he the reason I had to stop visiting?” You absently added, stilling your hands in your large tote of books to look at your uncle.

He tilted his head to think, “...Said it’s for your own good, or the devil would spirit you away.”

A question lingered heavily on your tongue and you blurted it out before your uncle could step into his vintage car.

“Why leave me this mansion if Uncle,” it felt strange to say your other uncle’s name after so long when you hardly remembered ever liking him as a kid. He was a mean man, but now, after what you’d learned, you started to wonder. Shaking your head to halt your straying thoughts, you pressed on, “was so against me staying here as a kid?”

You hadn’t meant the words to sound so demanding.

He stopped mid-hobble, looking up at you with his wrinkled hand still holding the suitcase, just before tossing it into his car. For a moment, your uncle opened his mouth, hesitated, then his eyes glazed over. Finally, with a small, uncertain smile, he admitted, “I’m...not sure. I just felt compelled to give this place to you, is all.”

Compelled?

Before you could dwell on that one strange choice of word, your uncle waved you over, “C’mere and give this silly old man a hug before he goes!”

He felt especially small and frail in your arms, as you held him. You remembered him so tall, but now he was just a tiny, old man with a heart too big for his tired body. As he slipped from your ebrace with a warm grin, you were disturbed by how cold his paper-like skin was under your palms.

Words and tears were exchanged, and that was it.

He bid you a farewell, adding a gentle ‘I love you’, and he was gone, his vehicle kicking up dust as it disappeared down the winding driveway. The sound of its sputtering engine gradually faded into the distance, leaving you in the utter silence of the mountain you now occupied. When it was no more than a speck in the dense, green horizon, you made a half turn—

And then you caught sight of something unfamiliar perched on a pillar of the hipped roof of your new—albeit ancient—home.

Blinking, you tilted your head high and squinted to make out the sudden appearance of a gargoyle.

Was...it always there?

It loomed above, a bulky, weighty thing, its great wings curled protectively over its hunched back, with its claws clutching at the gutter. A crown of horns fanned out over its elongated head, shielding itself from the rising sun in the shadows of its bony appendages. The creature’s hulking form sat in a perfect stillness, its long tail wrapped tightly around its hind legs in a stony coil.

As if it had been there all along.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t recall seeing the gargoyle above the main doorway before.

Even when you’d first arrived to meet your uncle about your surprise inheritance, nothing so stellar yet so grotesque had sat above the door before in your memory.

Yet it seemed so oddly familiar. The childish urge to grin and laugh as if upon seeing an old friend again, rose.

Deep in your heart, you knew this was wrong. A shiver ran down your spine, and confusion twisted your expression into one of fear.

You couldn’t see its face clearly beneath its wings, but you felt its eyes pierce your soul.

With another blink, you shuffled your feet, grinding your heels in the crunch of the fine gravel below. You inhaled the cold, crisp air—and you swore you saw it

breathe.

Unable to take it any longer, you fled inside, into the safety and isolation of your new home. The door slammed shut behind you, and you collapsed against the hardwood flood, gasping. The old wood needed a good waxing, but that was the farthest thing on your mind right then, as you panted and your heart was pounding against your ribcage.

“I’m being so stupid—this is silly...!” you muttered with a weak laugh, even as your erratic heart tried to jump out of your throat.

Before you could brush it off with the excuse of the jitters of being a new homeowner, a low creak groaned from above, echoing off  the roof outside.

You stiffened, your sweaty skin prickled with the chilling realization.You were all alone—

With this stranger outside your house.

A loud thud rumbled through the floor, vibrating the door you were leaning against—as though something heavy was dragging its claws across it.

Quietly, its voice, so deep and croaky, a disembodied whisper slipped through the thick wood, sighing with unsettling fondness: “...welcome home,”

The way it said your name had you trembling, but its next words gripped you with a terrible, numbing fear.

“...it’s only two of us now.”

—end