#i don't have coherent thoughts on it quite yet you'll have to trust me

[ilostyou]

down bad is so.................

[elysiaheaven]

𝐆𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮-𝟎.𝟐-𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃-𝐘𝐚𝐧.𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐟.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Header created by @𝓶𝓸𝓲𝓶𝓸𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓮

Words:6000

TW:Mentions of hickey/slight sfw

As you begin to stir, the warmth of the fire and the weight of sleep slowly lifting, you become aware of a peculiar sensation. Your eyes flutter open, and the first thing you notice is the firm, warm surface beneath you. You lift your head, blinking in confusion, and your heart skips a beat as you realize you're lying on top of Sunday, who is very much shirtless.

His chest rises and falls steadily, his eyes still closed, a serene expression on his face. The proximity, the intimacy of the situation, sends a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks. You feel your face flush bright red, and your immediate reaction is to scramble off him as quickly as possible.

You manage to jump out of bed, your movements jerky and panicked. You stand there, flustered and breathless, trying to make sense of how you ended up in such a compromising position. Sunday's eyes open slowly, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he props himself up on one elbow.

"Good morning," he says, his voice a soft, teasing drawl. "Did you sleep well?"

You struggle to find your voice, still mortified by the situation. "I— I didn't mean to—" you stammer, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Sunday chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction. "It's alright," he says soothingly. "You must have moved in your sleep. No harm done."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I'm sorry," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sits up fully now, his bare chest still on display, and swings his legs over the side of the bed. "No need to apologize," he says, standing up and stretching. "I quite enjoyed it, actually."

You avert your eyes, feeling even more embarrassed. "I should go," you say quickly, turning towards the door.

Before you can take a step, Sunday is beside you, his hand gently catching your arm. "Wait," he says, his tone softening. "Don't go. I wanted to talk to you."

You glance up at him, trying to keep your emotions in check. "What is it?"

He smiles, his eyes warm and sincere. "I've been thinking about what you said, about not wanting to kiss until marriage. I respect that." His gaze softens further, and he adds, "I want you to feel comfortable with me, to trust me."

You nod, feeling a strange mixture of relief and apprehension. "Thank you," you say, grateful for his understanding but still wary of his intentions.

Sunday releases your arm and steps back, giving you some space. "I've prepared something special for us " he says, changing the subject. "I think you'll like it."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. "Alright," you say, your curiosity piqued despite everything. "What is it?"

He smiles, a hint of mystery in his eyes. "It's a surprise," he says simply. "But first, let's get some breakfast. You must be hungry."

You nod, realizing that you are indeed quite hungry. "Okay," you agree, allowing him to lead you towards the dining room.

As you walk through the palace, your mind races with thoughts and plans. The strange compulsion you felt earlier, the eerie emptiness of this world, and Sunday's possessive yet gentle demeanor all weigh heavily on your mind. You need to stay vigilant, to keep up the act while you search for a way out.

Sunday's world may be beautiful, but it is still a prison. 

As you walk through the palace with Sunday, you feel his hand gently brush against yours. You try to focus on the path ahead, but you can't shake the feeling of his gaze lingering on you. You know you need to keep up the act, to convince him of your loyalty, but it's becoming increasingly difficult.

As you approach the dining room, Sunday suddenly leans in and places a soft kiss on your cheek. The unexpected touch sends a jolt through you, and you jump back like a startled mouse, nearly stumbling in the process.

"Sorry," you mumble, your face flushing with embarrassment. "You just... caught me off guard."

Sunday chuckles, his amusement evident. "You're so adorable when you're flustered," he says, his tone light and teasing. "But don't worry, you'll get used to it."

You force a smile, trying to hide your discomfort. As you sit down to breakfast, your mind races with thoughts of how difficult it is to keep up this facade. Sunday's manipulative tactics, his constant attempts to get closer to you, are wearing you down. You need to stay strong, to remember your goal.

After breakfast, Sunday suggests a bath. You feel your heart skip a beat, knowing how intimate such an activity would be. "No, I... I don't think that's a good idea," you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

He tilts his head, a thoughtful look on his face. "I understand," he says slowly. "How about this? We can turn off the lights and wear some bathing clothes. It will be less intimidating that way."

You hesitate, feeling trapped by his suggestion. It seems like a reasonable compromise, but you know he's trying to manipulate the situation to get closer to you. You need to find a way to maintain your boundaries while keeping up the act.

"Alright," you say reluctantly, hoping this will satisfy him without compromising your own comfort too much. "But we keep the lights off and wear clothes."

Sunday smiles, clearly pleased with your agreement. "Of course," he says, his tone warm and reassuring. "I want you to feel comfortable."

He leads you to the bathroom, where the large, luxurious tub is already filled with steaming water. He hands you a modest bathing suit, and you step into a nearby changing room to put it on. As you change, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the next challenge.

When you return, the bathroom is dark, lit only by a few flickering candles. Sunday is already in the tub, wearing his own bathing suit. He looks up at you, his expression inviting. "Come on in," he says softly.

You step into the tub, the warm water enveloping you. Despite the darkness, you can still feel Sunday's presence next to you, his proximity making you uneasy. You sit as far from him as possible, trying to maintain some semblance of personal space.

Sunday doesn't seem to mind. He leans back, sighing contentedly. "Isn't this nice?" he asks, his voice low and soothing. "Just the two of us, relaxing together."

You nod, though your mind is racing. You need to stay focused, to keep up the act while you search for a way to escape. "Yes, it's... nice," you say, forcing a smile.

Sunday shifts closer, his movements gentle but deliberate. You feel his hand brush against yours under the water, and you resist the urge to pull away. "You know," he says softly, "I think we're getting closer. I feel like I'm finally starting to understand you."

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "Yes, I think so too."

He smiles, his eyes softening. "I want you to be happy here," he says. "I want us to be happy together."

You nod, feeling the weight of his words. "I know," you say softly. "I'm trying."

As the bath continues, you do your best to keep up the act, responding to Sunday's gentle touches and soothing words with feigned affection. But inside, your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and plans. You need to stay strong, to find a way out of this nightmare.

As you step out of the tub and begin to dry off, you notice Sunday's eyes following your every move. You know he likes things to be clean for some reason, his need for control and cleanliness manifesting in ways that often make you uncomfortable. It's another layer of his obsession, another tool he uses to manipulate and maintain his hold over you.

Sunday's voice breaks through your thoughts. "I noticed you missed a spot," he says gently, reaching for a cloth. "Let me help you."

You hesitate, feeling a knot of tension tighten in your stomach. Before you can protest, he steps closer, his presence overwhelming. He starts to gently scrub your arm with the cloth, his touch lingering.

"You're always so tense," he murmurs, his lips dangerously close to your neck. "I just want you to feel clean, safe."

You nod, forcing yourself to stay still, even as your instincts scream at you to pull away. "Thank you," you say quietly, trying to keep your voice steady.

As he continues to clean you, his hands move with methodical precision, each touch deliberate. The cloth slides across your skin, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his obsession pressing down on you. His hands move to your shoulders, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. You flinch slightly but manage to stay composed.

"Shh," he whispers, his lips brushing against your skin. "Just relax. I'm here."

His kisses trail up your neck, moving to your ear. You can feel his breath, warm and intimate, sending shivers down your spine. He kisses your earlobe, his lips soft and insistent. It takes every ounce of willpower to keep your composure, to not let him see the turmoil inside you.

"See?" he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "Isn't this nice? Just you and me, no worries, no distractions."

You nod weakly, unable to find your voice. His hands move down your arms, his touch lingering on your wrists, his need for control evident in every gesture.

Sunday continues to touch you, his actions driven by both his OCD and his obsession with you. It feels like a violation, his need to clean you an excuse to get closer, to reinforce his control. You focus on your breathing, reminding yourself to stay calm, to keep up the act.

Finally, Sunday seems satisfied. He steps back, his eyes lingering on you with a mixture of adoration and possessiveness. "There," he says softly. "All clean."

You manage a small smile, hiding your true feelings behind a mask of gratitude. "Thank you," you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Sunday smiles, clearly pleased with himself. "Anything for you," he says, his tone sincere. "I want to take care of you, always."

You nod, feeling the weight of his words. "I know," you say softly. "I appreciate it."

As you finish drying off and changing back into your clothes, you remind yourself of your goal. You need to stay focused, to keep up the act while you search for a way to escape. Sunday's obsessive behavior is just another obstacle, another challenge you must endure.

You will find a way out of this nightmare, no matter what it takes. For now, you will continue to play along, biding your time and gathering information, all while keeping the hope of freedom alive in your heart.

As you dry off and wrap the towel around yourself, you turn to Sunday, forcing a smile. "I'm going to dress alone, if that's alright," you say, trying to keep your tone light and casual.

Sunday nods, though you can see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "Of course," he says, his voice gentle. "Take your time."

You step into the changing room, closing the door behind you with a sigh of relief. For a moment, you just stand there, trying to steady your breathing. The events of the morning have left you feeling shaken and vulnerable, but you know you need to stay focused.

As you begin to dress, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes widen in shock as you notice the mark on your neck—Sunday's hickey, a dark bruise standing out starkly against your skin. You reach up, fingers brushing over the spot, feeling a mix of anger and helplessness.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. This mark is another reminder of his control, another violation of your boundaries. But you can't let it break you. You need to stay strong, to keep up the act until you can find a way to escape.

Dressed now, you step back from the mirror, composing yourself. You smooth your clothes and force a neutral expression onto your face. You can't let Sunday see how much his actions affect you. You need to play the part of the compliant, grateful captive.

Opening the door, you step back into the main room. Sunday is waiting for you, his expression warm and welcoming. "You look lovely," he says, his eyes lingering on you.

"Thank you," you reply, managing a small smile. You walk over to him, keeping your movements calm and controlled.

Sunday reaches out and takes your hand, his touch gentle but possessive. "I have something special planned for us today," he says, his voice filled with anticipation. "I think you'll enjoy it."

You nod, keeping your smile in place. "I'm looking forward to it."

He leads you out of the bathroom, his hand never leaving yours. As you walk through the grand halls of the palace, you can't help but feel a sense of dread mixed with determination. You need to stay vigilant, to find any opportunity to gather information or plan your escape.

Sunday's world may be beautiful and meticulously crafted, but it is still a prison. And you are determined to find a way to break free. For now, you will continue to play your part, keeping Sunday's trust while you silently plan your next move.

You walk through the grand halls, Sunday's grip on your hand is firm yet gentle. He leads you to a large window, overlooking the snow-covered landscape outside. The scene is serene and beautiful, yet it only heightens your sense of isolation.

Sunday turns to you, his eyes softening. "I need to go away for a while to prepare something special for us," he says, his voice filled with excitement and mystery. "You're free to explore any place outside. Enjoy the grounds, the gardens, anything you like."

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of freedom, but then his expression turns serious. "However, there is one place you must not go," he continues, his tone darkening. "The Temple of Ena, the Aeon of Order. It's forbidden. If you go there, I will have no choice but to punish you."

You nod, trying to mask your curiosity and anxiety. "I understand," you say softly, forcing a smile. "I won't go there."

Sunday's gaze lingers on you for a moment, as if assessing your sincerity. Then he nods, satisfied. "Good," he says, his smile returning. "I'll be back soon."

With that, he gives your hand a final squeeze before letting go and walking away, leaving you standing by the window. You watch him until he disappears from view, your mind racing with thoughts and possibilities.

The Temple of Ena. It must be important if he's so adamant about keeping you away from it. Perhaps it holds the key to understanding this world, or even a way to escape. You know the risk is high, but you also know you can't let this opportunity pass.

Determined, you take a deep breath and head towards the exit. The cold air hits you as you step outside, the snow crunching beneath your feet. The palace grounds are vast and beautiful, but your focus is on finding the temple.

You wander through the gardens and along the pathways, keeping an eye out for any signs of the temple. Eventually, you spot a path leading deeper into the woods, a sense of purpose guiding your steps.

As you walk, the trees grow denser, and the path becomes less defined. The air is crisp and silent, the only sound the soft crunch of snow underfoot. Finally, you see it—a grand, ancient structure, partially hidden by the trees. The Temple of Ena.

Your heart races as you approach, your curiosity and determination outweighing your fear. The temple is imposing, its architecture both beautiful and intimidating. You can feel a strange energy emanating from it, a sense of power and order.

You step closer, your hand reaching out to touch the cold stone of the temple walls. As you do, you hear a soft whisper, as if the temple itself is speaking to you. You can't make out the words, but the tone is inviting, almost comforting.

Summoning your courage, you push open the heavy doors and step inside. The interior is vast and echoing, filled with intricate carvings and statues. In the center of the temple, a large altar stands, surrounded by flickering candles.

As you move closer to the altar, you feel a sense of awe and reverence. The temple seems to hum with energy, and you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched. You approach the altar, your eyes drawn to a large, ornate book resting on it.

You reach out and open the book, its pages filled with ancient symbols and texts. As you try to decipher the writing, you hear a voice behind you, startling you.

"You were warned not to come here," the voice says, filled with both disappointment and a hint of admiration.

"I was just.."

He leads you out of the temple, his grip on your hand firm yet reassuring. As you walk back towards the palace.

You follow Sunday back toward the palace, your mind racing with thoughts about the temple and the possible secrets it holds. You need to go back and explore it further, but you know you must be careful. Sunday's suspicion could jeopardize everything.

As you walk, Sunday stops and turns to you, his eyes narrowing. "You seemed very eager to explore earlier," he says, a hint of suspicion in his voice. "Are you hiding something from me?"

Your heart skips a beat. You know you have to act quickly, to distract him and divert his attention. You take a deep breath, then step closer to him, letting a seductive smile curve your lips. "I was just curious," you say softly, looking up at him through your lashes. "I wanted to see everything this world has to offer. Including you."

Sunday's eyes flicker with surprise and something else—interest, perhaps. He raises an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Is that so?" he murmurs, his suspicion seeming to wane slightly.

You nod, maintaining your seductive demeanor. "Yes," you whisper, stepping even closer, your body brushing against his. "I wanted to be closer to you."

His smile widens, but there's still a glint of doubt in his eyes. "Prove it," he says softly, leaning in. "Kiss me."

You swallow hard, your mind racing. You lean in and press a quick, small kiss to his lips, hoping it will be enough to satisfy him. But as you pull back, you see that he's not happy. His eyes darken, and he shakes his head.

"No," he says firmly, his voice low and intense. "That's not how it's done."

Before you can react, Sunday cups your face in his hands and pulls you closer. His lips capture yours in a deep, demanding kiss, his breath warm and insistent. The intensity of the kiss takes you by surprise, but you know you have to go along with it. You close your eyes and try to relax into the kiss, matching his passion.

His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you even closer. The kiss grows more heated, his need for control evident in every movement. You feel a strange mix of emotions—fear, confusion, and something else you can't quite identify.

When he finally pulls back, you're breathless and slightly disoriented. Sunday's eyes bore into yours, a satisfied smile on his lips. "That's how it's done," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You nod, trying to steady your breathing. "I understand," you say softly, your voice trembling slightly. "I'll remember that."

Sunday's smile widens, and he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. "Good," he says. "I want you to feel connected to me, to trust me."

You force a smile, hiding your true feelings. "I do," you say, trying to sound sincere. "I trust you."

He seems satisfied with your response and takes your hand again, leading you back toward the palace. As you walk, you can't help but feel a sense of dread mixed with determination. You need to find a way to explore the temple further, to uncover the secrets it holds. But for now, you'll have to keep playing along, biding your time and waiting for the right moment to make your move.

Inside the palace, Sunday finally releases your hand. "I'll be in my study for a while, preparing our surprise," he says, his eyes softening as he looks at you. "Feel free to explore, but remember what I said about the temple."

You nod, managing another smile. "I'll remember," you say, your mind already working on a plan.

As Sunday walks away, you take a deep breath, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You need to be careful, to avoid arousing his suspicion again. But you also need to find a way to return to the temple, to uncover whatever secrets it holds.  

You are so naive...I won't punish you...I use it to my advantage.

After Sunday leaves, you stand alone in the grand hallway, the weight of his touch still lingering on your skin. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart and clear your mind. You know you have to be smart about this—Sunday's suspicion could derail your plans if you're not careful.

As you turn to head towards your room, Sunday's voice calls out from behind you. You turn to see him approaching, a smile on his face and something small in his hand. "I almost forgot," he says, holding out your phone. "I thought you might want this back. But remember, there's no signal here, no internet. It's just for you to use as a camera, or maybe listen to some music."

You take the phone from him, forcing a grateful smile. "Thank you," you say softly, trying to hide your disappointment. The phone feels like a lifeline to the outside world, but without internet or signal, it's just another reminder of your isolation.

Sunday nods, his eyes watching you carefully. "I'll leave you to explore now," he says, turning to leave once more. "Just remember what I said about the temple."

"I will," you assure him, clutching the phone tightly in your hand.

As soon as he's out of sight, you make your way to your room, your mind already working on a plan. You need to find a way to explore the temple further without arousing Sunday's suspicion. But first, you sit down on your bed and turn on the phone, checking it thoroughly. As Sunday said, there's no signal, no internet. You try to open a few apps, hoping for some kind of connection, but everything is offline. The phone's camera and music library are the only things that work.

You sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and determination. Even without a connection to the outside world, the phone might still be useful. You can take photos, document what you find, and maybe even use the music to keep yourself calm and focused.

Tucking the phone into your pocket, you stand up and head back out of your room. You need to explore the palace grounds, to familiarize yourself with the area and look for any clues that might help you understand more about this world and the temple.

As you walk through the halls, you take in the intricate details of the palace. The architecture is stunning, every corner filled with art and craftsmanship. Yet, the beauty only heightens the sense of being trapped in a gilded cage.

You make your way outside, the cold air hitting you once more. You wander through the gardens, taking note of landmarks and paths. You find yourself drawn toward the edge of the woods, where the path to the temple begins.

Standing at the edge of the forest, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. You know you need to be careful, but you also know you can't let this opportunity pass. Glancing around to make sure you're alone, you step onto the path and begin to make your way toward the temple.

The woods are quiet, the only sound the crunching of snow beneath your feet. As you approach the temple, you feel the same strange energy you felt before, a sense of power and order emanating from the ancient structure.

You reach the temple and push open the heavy doors once more, stepping inside. The interior is just as awe-inspiring as before, filled with intricate carvings and statues. You approach the altar again, your eyes drawn to the large, ornate book resting on it.

This time, you open the book and carefully study the pages, trying to decipher the ancient symbols and texts. You take out your phone and snap photos of the pages, hoping you can find a way to translate them later.

As you work, you hear a faint whispering, almost like the temple itself is speaking to you. You can't make out the words, but the tone is inviting, almost comforting. You close the book and look around, searching for any other clues or hidden passages.

Suddenly, you hear a noise behind you. You spin around, your heart pounding, but see no one. The temple is silent once more. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. You know you need to be quick and thorough.

You continue to explore, taking more photos and searching for anything that might help you understand the temple's secrets. Time seems to slip away as you work, the weight of your situation pressing down on you.

Finally, you step back and take a moment to assess what you've found. You have photos of the book's pages, as well as several carvings and symbols from around the temple. You don't know if it will be enough, but it's a start.

You slip the phone back into your pocket and make your way out of the temple, carefully closing the doors behind you. As you walk back toward the palace, you can't help but feel a sense of determination. You have a plan, and you're gathering the information you need. You just have to stay focused and avoid arousing Sunday's suspicion.

When you reach the palace, you slip inside and make your way back to your room. You sit down on your bed, reviewing the photos on your phone. You know you'll need to find a way to translate the texts and understand the symbols, but for now, you have a glimmer of hope.

You take a deep breath and lie back on your bed, closing your eyes. You need to stay strong, to keep up the act while you search for a way to break free. For now, you'll continue to play your part, keeping Sunday's trust while you silently plan your next move.

As you lie on your bed, reviewing the photos you've taken at the temple, you hear a soft knock on your door. You quickly hide your phone under your pillow and sit up, trying to look composed.

"Come in," you call out, your voice steady.

The door opens, and Sunday steps into the room, a warm smile on his face. He's carrying a small bag and a measuring tape. "I have a surprise for you," he says, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

You force a smile, trying to hide your apprehension. "What kind of surprise?"

Sunday sets the bag down on a nearby chair and approaches you, the measuring tape in his hand. "I need to take some measurements," he explains, his tone light and playful. "Don't worry, it won't take long."

You nod, standing up and smoothing out your clothes. "Alright," you say, trying to sound casual. "What's it for?"

Sunday's smile widens, but he doesn't reveal any details. "You'll see," he says cryptically. "Just trust me."

He starts with your hips, wrapping the measuring tape around you with gentle precision. You stand still, your mind racing with thoughts of the temple and the photos you took earlier.

Sunday's touch is professional, yet there's an underlying possessiveness in his actions. He notes down the measurements, then moves on to your waist, his fingers brushing against your skin through the fabric of your clothes. You suppress a shiver, forcing yourself to stay composed.

"Just a few more measurements," Sunday murmurs, moving the tape to measure your length. He starts from your shoulders, letting the tape fall down to your feet. As he works, you feel a mix of apprehension and curiosity. What is he planning? And how can you use this opportunity to your advantage?

"You have a beautiful figure," he murmurs, almost to himself. "I want this to be perfect."

You force another smile, trying to keep up the facade. "Thank you," you say softly. "I'm curious to see what you're planning."

He looks up, his eyes meeting yours. "It's a surprise," he says again, his smile mischievous. "But I promise, you'll love it."

As he finishes the measurements, he steps back and looks at you with a satisfied expression. "All done," he announces, tucking the measuring tape back into his bag. "I'll get started on it right away."

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. "I can't wait to see it," you say, trying to sound enthusiastic.

Sunday steps closer, his eyes softening. "I want everything to be perfect for you," he says, his voice tender. "You deserve nothing less."

You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Thank you," you whisper, your emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

He reaches out and gently cups your face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring. "I'll be back soon," he says softly. "In the meantime, feel free to explore the palace. Just remember our little rule about the temple."

You nod, unable to find your voice. He smiles and leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before turning and leaving the room.

As soon as he's gone, you let out a shaky breath and sit down on the bed. You reach under your pillow and pull out your phone, scrolling through the photos once more. You need to stay focused, to keep gathering information and planning your escape.

You take a deep breath and stand up, determined to make the most of your time alone. You'll continue to explore the palace, keeping an eye out for any clues or opportunities that might help you understand more about this world and find a way to break free.

For now, you'll keep playing your part, keeping Sunday's trust while you silently work towards your goal. The gown he's preparing for you might be a symbol of his control, but it also represents your determination to reclaim your freedom. And you won't let anything or anyone stand in your way.

As you explore the palace, trying to keep your mind focused on finding any clues or hidden passages, you hear Sunday's voice call out from behind you once more.

"I almost forgot something important,too..I'm sorry.." he says, approaching with a sheepish smile. "I need to know your shoe size. We can't have you wearing a beautiful gown without the perfect shoes, can we?"

You pause and turn to face him, trying to hide your frustration at the constant interruptions. "I don't remember my exact size," you admit, feeling a bit flustered.

Sunday's eyes light up with an idea. "That's alright," he says. "Let's try a few different sizes until we find the perfect fit."

Before you can protest, he's already leading you to a nearby room filled with various pairs of elegant shoes. He sits you down on a plush chair and kneels in front of you, carefully selecting a pair of shoes and slipping one onto your foot.

You feel a strange mix of emotions as he works. His hands are gentle and precise, his touch sending an unfamiliar warmth through you. It's as if something deep inside you is responding to his attention, making you feel strangely happy and content.

"Try standing up," Sunday suggests, looking up at you with an encouraging smile.

You stand, testing the fit of the shoes. They're a bit tight, so Sunday tries another pair. As he continues to test different sizes, you can't shake the feeling that something is influencing your emotions. It's as if a part of you is being ordered to be perfect for him, to enjoy his attention and care.

Finally, Sunday finds a pair that fits perfectly. He looks up at you, his eyes shining with satisfaction. "These are perfect," he declares, a proud smile on his face. "You look stunning."

You smile back, feeling a strange sense of joy at his approval. "Thank you," you say softly, your voice tinged with genuine gratitude.

Sunday stands and takes your hand, helping you back into the chair. "I want everything to be perfect for you," he says, his voice filled with sincerity. "You deserve nothing less."

You nod, feeling a lump in your throat. "I appreciate it," you whisper, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions inside you.

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. "I'll leave you to explore now," he says gently. "Just remember our little rule about the temple."

You nod again, managing a small smile. "I will," you promise.

You take a deep breath and stand up, determined to continue exploring the palace. You need to find any clues that might help you understand this world and find a way to break free. As you walk through the grand halls, you can't help but feel a sense of determination mixed with a growing confusion about your own emotions.

The path to the temple feels both familiar and foreboding, the weight of your mission pressing down on your shoulders.

You reach the temple and push open the heavy doors, heart pounding in anticipation. The interior is as eerily beautiful as you remember, the faint glow of candlelight casting intricate shadows on the ancient carvings.

You move cautiously through the temple, following the faint whisper of intuition that guides you toward a corner you hadn't explored before. There, hidden behind a tapestry depicting scenes of order and harmony, you find a small, concealed passage.

With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, you duck through the opening and find yourself in a narrow corridor. The air is cool and musty, the walls adorned with faded paintings and symbols that seem to pulse with ancient energy.

As you navigate the twists and turns of the passage, you come to a small alcove where a figure is huddled, her presence familiar yet unexpected. It's Robin, the bird from your dreams—the one who had spoken to you and urged you to find a way out.

She looks up as you approach, her eyes wide with surprise and hope. "You came," she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath. "I knew you would."

You kneel beside her, heart racing with a mixture of relief and urgency. "Robin," you say softly, reaching out to touch her hand. "I dreamt of you. You told me there was a way to escape."

Robin nods, her expression grave yet determined. "There is," she confirms, her voice steady. "But it won't be easy. The temple guards its secrets fiercely."

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lies ahead. "I'm willing to try," you say, your voice firm with resolve. "I need to get out of here."

Robin's voice breaks through the fading reality around you, urging urgency. "Sunday may come soon to bring me food. You must go now, and make sure Sunday believes you never came here."

Nodding with determination, you acknowledge Robin's advice, realizing the necessity of ensuring your escape remains undetected. "I understand."

You go away...

.....

"Fufu, Darling...How...could you be so naïve..? You can't escape."

[scuttle-buttle]

WC: 1141

Rated: T

Tags: drunk Laszlo, fluffy, Laszlo is a flirt when he wants to be, discussions of sexual things/theory but no smut, mentions of prostitution, Freud

🍷

A loud thump from the foyer jolted you awake, the book you had been reading nearly fell from your lap during the scare. You rub the sleep from your tired eyes. Laszlo was out for John's bachelor party and you had tried to wait up for his return; clearly you failed to stay awake.

Glancing at the clock on the mantel you see it is almost 2 in the morning. The fireplace was mere embers by now. The only light was a small electric lamp that Laszlo had invested in for you to use while reading. Well no wonder I drifted off… you think.

A series of thumps, bumps, and then a soft grunt made you look over the back of your chair. "Laz? Is that you?" you called into the dimness.

Laszlo peaked his head around the corner at your question, looking completely fine despite the noises he was making. "Ah, my dear you are awake!"

"I'm afraid I fell asleep waiting for you. How was John and the others? Is he getting cold feet?" you joke.

"Cold feet is an indication of poor blood circulation, a condition of which I am sure John does not suffer. His frequent visits to brothels in the past suggests his circulation is adequate."

You aren't sure how to respond to his statement about John and his previous… proclivities. Nevertheless, he continues.

"I do wonder if there is something else troubling him, though. He and Sara have had…" he trails off as if to think of the word he needs. Laszlo blinks. You wait for him to finish his thought. Instead, he offers "well something odd anyway," with a flick of his wrist.

Laszlo still stands in the doorway, his good hand gripping the frame. He hasn't moved since you caught him. "Why don't you join me in the parlor rather than stand by the front door?"

"Ah. You see I would, however I am at a disadvantage I must confess." He hiccups and tries to cover it with a small cough.

You observe him curiously, his behavior strange. "Which would be?"

"I'm afraid I am stuck."

It is then you can make out the slight dishevelment of his hair, a strand having fallen out of place. The slight crumple to his white buttoned shirt. The way his accent has become heavier than is usual, his words are a little slurred. The way his cheeks are tinged pink under that neatly trimmed beard. And of course, the way his coat tail seems to be attached to some unseen object behind the corner.

Your jaw drops at the incredulity of your deduction. "Laszlo, are you drunk?" While he did partake in drink, it was never to this outcome nor extent.

He opens his mouth to respond yet all that leaves his lips is a sort of breathy mumble. Your peal of laughter lights up the room, a hand covers your lips to muffle the sound. "Oh love, what has gotten into you tonight?"

"Several glasses of champagne and some lingonberry schnapps," he answers very matter of fact.

Shaking your head at his antics you make your way over to assist in freeing his jacket. After a minute of finagling you are able to unhook it from the chip in the front table's edge. "If that is the case then I think it's off to bed with you, I don't doubt you will feel ill in the morning after this adventure."

You wrap your arm around his waist to help guide him up the stairs, not trusting him to climb it in this state. His left hand grasps the railing. The weaker arm hugs lightly around your back. Laszlo nearly trips over his own foot as he takes a step.

You tighten your hold on your lover. "My, Laz, how on earth did you make it home if you can barely walk?"

"The body… and the mind, are both affected by drink." His head tilts towards you as you slowly climb. "I am to find myself with the advantage of a more capable mind than most. My body, however, is... another matter." How he manages to hold a coherent conversation in this state is beyond you.

Just as you feared he would become self conscious over his arm he spoke again. "But yours my dear is exquisite. You dress in the the most flattering garments that leave me with thoughts of you and I often see that I am distracted." His weaker hand twitches along the side of your evening robe, just along the outside of your hip.

Laszlo's statement catches you off guard as you begin to walk the long hall to your shared bedchamber. You huff, heat filing your cheeks. Leave it to Laszlo to flirt with you while intoxicated.

"There is no need to be agitated. It is natural for a man to desire the touch of his lover. Freud himself argues that we all have an innate need to fulfill sexual gratification. I am glad to share that physically with you, I am quite satisfied by our performance."

"Lazlo!" you whisper loudly, echoing through the empty hall. He just stops and looks over at you with an expression that touts 'what did I say that was wrong?' You would admit that in the throes of passion with him you lost all sense of good social morals, but outside of that you found it more difficult to do so. "You cannot go around speaking about such things outside the bedroom," you try to explain, "it's improper…"

"Since when have you considered propriety? It is just sex my dear. According to Psychopathia Sexualis there are many that prefer to complete the act outside of the bedchamber. Perhaps that is something we should explore." He begins to shuffle his feet towards the bedroom once more. "And I do not recall you complaining ever about propriety while I am under you," Laszlo finishes with a smug grin.

Your eyes roll so hard they should've bounced out of their sockets. Even so, you can't help the little smile that graces your features at his attempts to be coy. You stand corrected - leave it to Laszlo to not only flirt with you while intoxicated, but to do it in the most academic manner possible. "The only under you'll be doing soon is being under the weather if we don't get you to bed to sleep this off."

"I would agree with you."

You helped him dress for bed, your usual nightly ritual, and pulled the covers up to his chin before joining him on the other side. He is snoring before you even have a chance to settle. Chuckling, you think to yourself that this will be a long night. But it is no worry to you, as you plan to tease him about it in the morning.

Tag list: @ay0nha @apparrio @livvyshmiv @fictionlandslanddreams @vinylrosess @typical-bistander @ntlmundy @mymagicsuitcase @anteroom-of-death @somethingthatsaysbubbles @lieutenantn @multiversemarielle @trashbin2 @whatawildone @metalbreakfast @laura-naruto-fan1998 @greeneyedblondie44 @godidontevenknowwhat @marchingicenotes7 @loliissmut

[emily-the-fae]

Sound of a Heartbeat

Part 2. Edge of the Water

Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Okay so apparently this piece has formed some more or less coherent storyline and I just had to write it down...well at least try to. So if anyone enjoyed part one and is in to hear the further turn of events, here we go.

Pairing: Dracula x OC

Warnings: um, none again, suicidal mood a little bit if that counts

Watch out for the side effects of slowly dying by vampire bites (and no, it's surprisingly NOT turning into vampire)

***

Shari woke up in a strangely lit place. Woke up - big word, rather jumped into consciousness with total clarity as to what she is and what happened to her and total frustration as to where she may be located. It was definitely not the place she left. The forest around her seemed to glow light blue, fireflies dancing in the air with their bluish sparks. She didn't feel cold nor warm, all the pain seemed to leave her body together with most of her senses - Shari felt light, almost weightless and when she looked upon herself, she saw that her own body was glowing the same bluish color as everything around her.

She stood up hesitantly.  She had no idea what the place was - the campfire was gone and the forest around was nothing like the spot she stayed at before. What was this? A magic trick? A hallucination? Was she dead? Shari saw particularly bright light behind the trees and decided to walk in its direction - perhaps it was a trap, perhaps she's dead and in purgatory and there are punishing beasts waiting to see her. Shari could never be sure, but felt surprisingly at peace even in her current state, strangely at peace.

The source of light turned out to be a lake. A long and seemingly deep lake that ripped its way through the forest, no end of it seen any near, it might also be seashore, although she doubted that due to abscence of waves - there were fireflies dancing above it and the water seemed crystal clear, even though she couldn't see far below the surface because of the light emanating from it. Shari felt the urge to go closer - to dip her feet in the shiny water, almost felt the need for it, but something restricted her from doing so. She could hear whispers too - as if there were hushed voices coming from the depth of water and that scared her off quite a lot: whatever that thing was, it was definitely not as simple as it tried to look. Her witching life has taught her - if something looks nice and calls out to you, but is also magical: in most cases it wants you to be its lunch. A rule that definitely worked in practice.

The healer stopped still, then sat down on the ground abruptly, feeling awkward in her position; but she needed time to think. This all seemed unexplainably odd - the water, the indecisiveness, the whole place - it seemed like a vague dream even though she felt completely awake. Dracula said it was going to be like sleeping. But by Dracula's deeds she should already be dead. This did not look like afterlife.

Suddenly Shari sensed, rather than saw a movement behind her, ready to jump to her feet and defend herself the best she could, she turned her head to face the source of it. It was a woman. Shari could swear she wasn't there before - a young woman stared at her, standing some distance away. Her beautiful, intelligent face looked somewhat concerned, her long blonde hair thrown over her shoulder, she was glowing the same bluish light as everything else around them. Shari recognised her, very vaguely, but she did remember: Adrian had shown her portraits before.

- Lisa? You're Lisa, right? Lisa Tepes, I know you! - Shari wanted to jump up, but the woman held her back with a gentle gesture of her hand. Lisa - or whoever it was that looked like her - floated rather than walked closer, then sat down next to a very confused and excited Shari, giving her a reassuring smile. There were a few moments of silence, while her guest studied her face intently.

- You are beautiful, you know, - Lisa smiled warmly.

- Wh-What? I mean thanks, but why? I mean... Umm what kind of a conversation starter is that? Are you?... Are we?... Am I not dead or...? - Shari was startled to say the least.

- Yes, you are... Heading in the direction of death, though your friends and specifically my son are very insistent upon the opposite. I believe, you'll have to live up to their expectations and survive now... although it all depends on you, really.

A pause. Shari nodded slowly, taking in her words.

- But-but hasn't your husband killed me? I thought he was definitely going to finish me off...

- He was going to, I'm sure. But he didn't have enough time to do so... or will, for that matter, - the woman turned somewhat remorseful. - I hope he didn't hurt you too much.

- He... tried not to, at least in the end. That's a pity he didn't succeed. I almost felt grateful to him for doing so, - Shari turned away to look at the lake. - It wasn't going to end well anyway...I wasn't going to end well.

- Don't. It's probaly his poison wearing off on your mind, but stilll.Just don't say that. Value what you have while it's still in you. You have to live. Trust me, it's not as pleasant as it seems to be when you get to the other side.

- Why excatly? - a chuckle. - You know, I'm not far from death anyway, it is going to be pain and waiting for me. To go like that is the best way now, I am afraid. Going to be there soon, why not strip myself of needless agony, - she hesitated for a moment. - You are actually dead by the way. If you say I'm still alive, how are we even talking?

- I am not quite sure I can explain this properly, - Lisa frowned, her gaze drifting off to the lake. - The simplest way to place it is: sometimes the people who die are not yet ready to leave this world - and then they stay between life and death, like...

- Essentially, you're telling me that you're a ghost, - Shari felt a bit sceptical.

- Essentially, yes.

- And why am I seeing you out of all people?

- Because I wanted so?

- Why? To tell me to survive?

- Yes.

Shari arched an eyebrow, looking at Lisa with mistrust.

- I don't like this simple tone.

- You are not going to like it, - she hesitated, then continued. - You have to save Wallachia, - the words left her mouth so easy and obvious, that Shari burst out laughing.

- Oh no-no-no, now I'm definitely hallucinating. Is this some fairy tale for children or something? Listen here, you ghost of Christmas past, I'm no kind of warrior-saviour person. I'm not going or willing to catch up to the pathos of "you are the chosen one" or whatever it is that they say in those situations. I believe you confuse me with your son, madam, - Lisa listened silently to her monologue with an amused smile on her face; it was obvious that the reaction was quite expected. When Shari finished, the ghost carried on:

- That is exactly why you have to do it. You are no chosen one. But you are one who has at least a chance. Adrain doesn't. He thinks he does, everybody thinks he does, but in reality it will only go worse if he works out his plan. I know... I don't need you to save all of Wallachia after all, - Lisa paused after that sentence and Shari looked up confused, trying to catch her meaning. -  Just one person - and that will do the rest, - the woman was very serious, and Shari suddenly understood this conversation was somehow real, even if happening in a dream realm.

- And who might that be? - she asked carefully, in a hushed voice.

- Dracula.

Shari actually laughed.  Loudly. Not quite rolling on the ground, but close to doing so. Lisa looked at her, with a raised eyebrow and calmly waited for the small hysteric to finish.

- Done yet? - were her only words, when Shari seemed to calm down a little bit.

- Listen, ok, I get it, you want to protect your husband, but...

- You don't understand! It's not only about protecting him - it's about stopping this war. Peacefully. It's about stopping Adrian from killing his own father - you need to persuade Dracula to call back his army, - Lisa was looking at her earnestly, determination in her stare. Shari only huffed.

- You... How do you imagine me do it? Persuade him? Are you insane? He would tear me apart and finish what he started, he didn't listen to Adrian, he actually almost killed Adrian, his own son. Why would he listen to me now?

- That is quite the point. He would listen, because it's you, - Lisa leaned back, smiling at the confusion on the girl's face.

- Oh yes, and what's so special about me? - Shari replied sarcastically.

- Nothing.

- Ouch.

- Apart from the fact that he pities you, - sensing that she was about to be interrupted, she quickly added. - I've watched both him and Adrian, thinking of a way to figure this out and stop them from tearing at each other's throats, and you suddenly came as the most valid solution I can think of for the time being.

- He... "pities" me? - Shari rubbed her neck, raising her eyebrow. Sure. He pities her so much; she flinched slightly at the memory of their encounter.

- Don't go witty. He does. He was merciful to you, he almost didn't want to kill you, that's why he didn't succeed. You're the first human after my death that he feels this way to... You are a person he did not know before all of this, you evoke his pity and you seem to have the skill to negotiate your way into people's good side and out of conflicts. You may actually have something in you to change his mind.

- That's not how it works, he...!

- You remind him of me. You may persuade him that there are people worth fighting for... That there is a life worth fighting for, - her tone was growing louder with each word, getting more insistent.

- Wait a minute, so you want me what? To replace you? Remind him of you and tell him you wouldn't want it? Tell him your final will, you think that'll stop him? - Shari jumped to her feet, backing away.

- I want you to go to find him. To reassure him, show him pity, show empathy. You will remind him of me. And he will come back to understanding that humanity is not all bad, that some people are still worth keeping alive. And that awar against them is not worth his own or our son's lives, - Lisa stood up too, sensing the tension rise and stepped closer once again. Shari did not like it. She didn't just die heroically to come back and search for yet another heroic and probably much more painful death.

- No, Lisa, I-I see what you want me to... But I'm not you! You see, I'm not you! I can't just go and drag - who? Dracula-the-vampire-king-that-just-killed-me - out of his murderous depression! - she backed away.

- If you had a choice: you can surrender or you can come back to fighting with a new way...

- Yes, I think if I had any kind of choice and if I survived, I would keep away from trouble and try to hold onto my final bits of life for as long as possible, thank you very much! - Shari argued loudly.

- You have to do it, if you live, Shari. It is the only way to protect you and... - Lisa made another step towards her.

- And die a much more painful death, yeah, thanks, great, - Shari almost hissed. Her attention suddenly turned to the pool of water behind her. So that was the whole trick, why Lisa appeared to hold her back from dying. - Oh. I know how this works. The lake is the entrance. My decision if I do or don't die, right?

- Precisely, though it's not really you, who decides. You touch the water - you either leave or wake up. Can't be sure until you do... - Lisa answered. - But before you decide and step in I want you to think. Shari, you have to fight for it, for yourself annd for Adrian, for all the people out there you've been trying to help!

- I am not your son, - she answered barely audible, but firm.

- Shari! - Lisa stepped yet again closer.

- No! I've had my bunch of suffering. I'm not going back in just because you believe I am good for the fight, I'm not! I'm selfish, okay? I did not ask for this, - she paused, glancing at the water. - Whatever it is, let it be. If I die - I die, right? - Shari turned away decisively and with a moment of hesitation made a small step forward, into the water, not looking back at the ghost.

She awaited darkness or light, hell or heaven or emptiness and quiet. Whatever escape was about to come, she threw herself at its mercy.

[huntective-kyeo]

❗Warning❗ TYPOS, SPELLING, AND GRAMMAR. And English is not my first language. Kinda angry hehehe

This is my first time to post it here and I hope you like it. Feel free to criticize my writing so I can improve.

So enjoy.

FIRST FANFIC

My Father is Dean Winchester

Dean POV

I sat down on the chair and open the lid of the beer. It's been hectic two weeks. Sam and I hunt a witch in Colorado and it took us a week to find the witch and killed it. That witch got Sam to bruise his ankle, and a concussion but thankfully nothing major injuries that needed stitches and so. Most of all the sonavabitch wore witch almost touch and probably hex my Baby which I did make her pay for it.

All in all, it took us a few days to get back at the bunker and now I'm sitting on the chair, probably wanted to eat some pies and get drunk.

My thoughts interrupt when the door opened and I looked up wonder who that person is. My instinct is to grab my trustful gun and aim it towards that intruder. However instead of getting alert, and hunting instinct it exactly quite opposite to what I feel right now.

Third POV.

A girl took a deep breath and with her shaky hand, she holds the handle and she pauses before she opened the door.

She didn't know what to do or what to say. She felt nervous to face them all. She wants to keep it secret however it keeps harder and harder to hide all the symptoms she felt during the last few months.

with heavy heart and soul, she opened the door and wish that bunker is well as empty as when she leaves it a few hours ago.

She didn't notice that the Impala, her first love park on her usual spot, she didn't notice a man sit on the chair seem like thinking something, she didn't notice her dad.

Dean POV

" y/n? " I blurted out. I didn't notice that my daughter y/n leave the bunker without telling us, or wasn't I?

Y/n my precious daughter, my little sunshine, and the only reason aside from my little brother who keeps me alive. 16 years ago Her mother and I met at the bar and happened to have one night stand. I was drunk to forget us condoms. I didn't realize it until, nine months later, Kylia found me and she shove the newly baby born into arms. I didn't hear her rants about not wanting kids because I was so fallen to my baby girl. I swear y/n is the most beautiful baby girl that I've ever seen. From that fateful night, I swore that I protect and love her no matter what.

With the help of my brother and my family, we did a good job raising a finest and yet mini-me y/n which kinda bit frustrated when she becomes a rebellious teenager and seeking for a new way to hunt.

I know that being a father and hunter ain't hood to raise a child in a world full of darkness but I did try my best to become a father that she deserved and not the father that I used to grow up

I again clear up my throat and by the time that I saw her, I know something is terrible up. Called it father instinct. My stomach began to feel something that I don't know if it's about the food or the worriedness about my daughter.

"Where have you been, I told you not to go outside not unless if you needed something but should-" I stumble and am shocked by a sudden hug coming from my daughter. My eyebrows meet and speculate more thoughts about what happened to her during a few weeks.

Then suddenly y/n cried up and my heart broke up thousand of pieces. Through I used to her cry of nonsense but this is different. I can feel it.

I began to think of a different reason why she cried like this. Is she on her period? Did a boy break her heart? If it is, then who? Oh god, my baby girl is heartbroken?! No-no-no.

" Hey, baby girl what's wrong? " I managed to ask a few words as I stroke her hair.

I didn't get her reply as she continues sobbing and sniffing on my chest. I continuously stroke her hair and rubbed a small circle on her back. With her tears I heard, I began to tear up which probably I got hurt when my baby girl gets hurt.

I saw Sam holding a can and some books and gave me confused look. I know he was confused about what is going on and the same as me. I only gave her shrug off before concentrate on keeping her calm down.

I sigh and sing a song that makes her calm down. It's a song that I always sing to her whenever she feels scared and upset. it her lullaby and till now I always sing to her when she felt like this. And now even though she's growing up ain't stopping this.

'Hey Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better'

I sang softly and smile. I heard her sobs subside and her shoulder is no longer tensed. I kissed her head and quietly sing the rest of the song

By the song ends, y/n look up to me and hate to see her red-rimmed eyes and red nose face at me.

" Daddy... "

Y/n POV

After the song finish, I felt quite comfortable and my heart no longer pains me.

" daddy" I called up again. I hate seeing my dad worried glances and I wanted to back down but I know it's too late, now that I cried to his chest, and makes my father worried.

" what's wrong, princess " I nearly chuckle to hear the old nickname that I used to love but hate now. I should give my father annoying and death glares to him but I'm drained and tired to argue with my father.

Instead of the reply to his question, I took a piece of paper inside my leather jacket. With my shaky hand, I hesitate to give it to him. I saw my father unfold the paper and read it.

I know he reads it as I saw his face turn to a worried and horrifying face. I bit my lip as teardrops start to stream to his face and suddenly it aches my heart.

I didn't realize that my uncle Sam was there and he took the paper that my dad read it. My dad was frozen and saw Sam has the same reaction but he stumbled a bit and luckily sat on the chair or else he would hurt more.

The air was tense and several minutes seemed like a century to me as I was forced to see my dad and uncle of their horrifying reaction.

I was about to leave them and lock them up in my room but my dad grabs my wrist and put pressure on it, so I couldn't shove it off, I hesitate to look at his now red-rimmed eyes just like mine.

" Is this true? "

My heart broke as I nod

" when... When did it start? "

I flinched to hear a tone when my dad wanted a straight answer but I could see the difference of it. Instead of deadly and threatened, it's a broken and saddened tone that probably haunt me the rest of my life.

" honey, when did start... " I look up to him as a surprise to hear the familiar fatherly sweet tone that only me can know.

"a few months ago. When you just back from purgatory dad... " I mumble but I know that dad heard it because he mumbles coherent words that I know he's cursing, I wish it's not from me.

Then suddenly my dad sat down on the chair and then he hugged tightly couldn't breathe but slightly loose the tightness but still hugging me

" We can pull this up alright, we will. N/n we will fight this together okay, we'll find ways to rid this shit. We will be on your battle. " I then look up at my father and saw the tense and urging look " we will fight this out but you'll do your job ok, you'll kick this shit out, and keep fighting. Don't give up okay please, little n/n. " I heard him crack as didn't say anything considering, I was crying again and the inky response I can get is nodding.

Then I hug my father again and I feel another wrapped strong arms. I smile softly that uncle Sam joined the party. Now we are Complete, I feel like I'm ready to fight this shut out.

" Winchester is hard to kill, not even cancer. " I chuckle to hear uncle Sammy spoke.

"Yeah right, so you gonna do your part little princess, aright. Don't give up. " My father kiss my forehead. We parted away and wipes the tears we have. We laugh as we sniffle then finally our tears died down.

My father, Dean wipe the remaining tears and I look up to him confused. I saw him sad and regret my eyes and my heart sank.

" I love you N/Niepie, " then he kisses my forehead.

----AND CUT!!! ---

" Nice work J2 and Jodi damn there are no dried tears here " Robert yelled as all the staff and crew wipe their tears. " okay thirty minutes break, Jared, come to me I gotta asked you something" he added.

A group of assistants swarms the actors and did their task. Some wipe their sweats, do makeup, fixing their hair, and so on.

Jensen chuckles a little bit and wipes the remaining tears from his eyes.

" nice job dude, seem like the Days of our Lives gig paid off huh" A sixteen years old, young actress Jodi Smith tease him.

He rolled his eyes and ruffle her hair. " nice try but no you not riding my Baby" Jodi groan and about to reply when her assistant came and whisper to her ear "You're lucky, Mr. Ackles. Robert needs me now but I won't stop bothering you not until I sat on the driver seat and ride the impala".

When Jodi is out of sight, Jensen Ackles began to walk through his trailer. The thirty minutes of break is not enough of yearning for his daughter.

By the time he got inside. He locks it and sits on the couch. He rubbed his tired face as he grabs the old filthy Cinderella wallet. Today scene was emotional to him, not because of the scene itself but because he truly did miss his daughter y/n

In the finale of season 12, alongside Jack Kline played Alexander Calvert, and y/n Winchester played Jodi Smith we're both introduced and a new cast of Supernatural. Jensen was supposed to be glad that there are two new members of their family, but instead, it replaces guilt and dreadful feelings.

It's not the new cast members but the fact that Jodi Smith portrays is seem a great punch to his heart that he starts to realize he still has a daughter that should be taken care of.

No one knows not even Jared. Danneel and the kids, the crew nor the fans knew that the great Jensen Ackles has a secret daughter and only his close family knew about this truth.

" I'm sorry princess, How I wish I was there for you but you know I can't."

Jensen stroke a faded picture of an eight-year-old girl holding a doll whilst hugging the twenty-year-old Jensen Ackles.

" I'm sorry, I love you" he kisses the picture with so much love and tears began to stream down his cheeks

Hope you like it keep safe everyone. Reblog and like will yah.