#hes so evil...but i felt sorry for him...somehow

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price as Nicholas Van Ryn

Dragonwyck (1946)

[mrsbarnesblog]

˖˚⊹ i am not the only one who saw that, right?

➤ summary: your friends find out that you secretly dating their enemy, but their opinion might completely change when they see Rafe from another point of view

➤ w/c: 2.2k

➤ warnings: secret relationship, pogue!reader, attempted assault, mention of blood, soft and protective Rafe

➤ a/n: inbox is open for requests💘

masterlist

“You cannot be dating Rafe fucking Cameron, Y/N!” John B exclaimed, burying his hands in his hair and walking all around the place. 

“No, seriously, this is not a good idea.” Sarah looked at you, giving out a nervous laugh. 

You were currently surrounded by your friends, who were all practically yelling at you after they accidentally saw a message from Rafe on your phone. You were one of the pogues; you never hanged out around the kooks, but somehow, when you were visiting Sarah a few months ago, you got into a random conversation with Rafe, and since that moment, the connection between you two has only gotten stronger. 

It was an instant click and as much as you both tried to deny the spark, it was there. As you started going out, secretly from everyone, of course, you decided to keep it private until the right time. 

“Alright, guys, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I knew that this would be your reaction. It just happened, okay?” You rubbed the bridge of your nose, already feeling a headache from the tense situation. All of your friends were standing on the opposite side of you and it felt like they were just attacking you. 

“What were you thinking? You know that he hates people like us, like you. We are pogues, Y/N. How the hell did that even happen?” Kiara was standing with her hands on her hips, as her piercing eyes were studying you. You felt awful looking at Pope, who was the one who always supported you, but he just shook his head and stepped away. 

“I don’t know. It just happened. We talked once when Sarah left, then I accidentally met him a few times in town, and then he texted me. He’s not bad when you know him closer.” You sighed. “Look, I know Rafe was a lot of trouble for us. He did bad things; I know that. But he’s not like that; he’s sweet and caring, and he has never shown any sign of being disrespectful towards me. I just can’t deny my feelings for him.”

“Honey, Rafe is not a good person. He doesn’t care about anything or anyone; he’s evil, selfish and manipulative.” Sarah stepped closer to you, touching your hand. “He’ll play with you, hurt your feelings and just throw you away.”

“And he probably just wants to get into your pants.” JJ grumbled, also taking a defensive position. 

“I haven't even slept with him yet, JJ!” You desperately snapped at him. It felt ridiculous, like all of them turned against you at the same time. Sure, Rafe wasn’t the sweetest person to them before, but they didn’t even give you a chance to say something in your defense. “And you’re wrong too, Sarah. All of Rafe’s actions were just to get people’s attention and appreciation. All it took for me to get on his soft side was to just listen to him and give him some affection. Other people didn’t care enough, including you and your father. He needs someone who he can trust and open up to because he’s hurt.” 

“No, Y/N. If you think that he loves you, then he just got into your head. My brother doesn’t love anyone. It will end badly; I just know that.” 

Tears gathered in your eyes, and a lump in your throat made it difficult to say anything back, so you just stupidly stayed there. You had no strength to fight with all five of them at the same time. You turned around, silently getting back in the car, even though your head was filled with doubt and dark thoughts because of their words. 

For the next few days, it was tough for all of you. You and the rest of the group were still close, and even though they were completely against your relationship, you still met and hung out. The pit in your heart was still there, no matter how hard you tried to act nonchalant and not let their words get into your head. 

Rafe noticed the change in your behavior—that you were upset with something—but he didn’t put any pressure on you and allowed you to decide for yourself when you wanted to open up. 

Pogues decided to go to some party on the cut near the beach and as much as you tried to refuse, Sarah and Kiara managed to drag you there. You all rarely went to such places, preferring to hang out in your little circle, but apparently everyone wanted to clear their heads and saw it as the best opportunity. 

It was pretty fun with a bunch of people you did not know, some music, and drinks, and you mostly hung out with your friends. Though quickly it got overwhelming and made you want to go home or at least go outside of the house to get some fresh air. As you left your friends and wanted out from the backyard to a part of the beach, you didn’t notice the guy who had been eyeing you the whole evening. 

He came out of nowhere from your back, his arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You yelled at the sudden and unwanted touch, and your heart seemed to drop into your stomach when you realised that it wasn’t just a joke from JJ, who liked to scare you. You started wiggling in his hands to get free, but he was fighting you back, dragging you up when you fell to your knees on the ground. 

It was such a mess trying to scratch and punch him that you almost did not notice his hand coming into contact with your face several times. You screamed again, this time loud enough, until you saw JJ running towards you. The guy behind you pushed you away as soon as he saw someone, and you fell to the ground with a loud huff. 

“That fucking bastard!” JJ was right near you, helping you to get up as tears streamed down your face. He tried to comfort you, checking your body for any injuries, but you pushed his hands away, wrapping your own around yourself in a defensive way.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” You heard Kiara, along with your other friends, calling your name. “What the hell happened?”

“H-he attacked me.” You sniffed, trying to catch your breath and, with shaking hands, reaching to the pocket of your jeans shorts to get out your phone. All of them looked at each other, questioning your actions, until you pressed someone’s contact button and put the phone to your ear. “Can y-you pick me up, p-please?” You sniffed again, now trembling from the adrenaline. 

“Baby? Are you crying? Where are you?” You heard your boyfriend’s concerned voice through the phone, feeling how JJ tensed beside you. 

“I’m on the cut. Near the beach. There’s a party and... Please, Rafe.” 

“I’m coming, angel. Just wait for me, ‘kay?” You heard the sound of the car engine at the other end of the line. Rafe didn’t ask any more questions, and as soon as you mumbled quiet 'mhm’ he ended the call. 

You all heard him before you saw him. The sound of the tires drifting through the sandy street was loud, drawing attention to the expensive car that was unusual to see at this part of the island. 

Rafe didn’t bother to properly park, turn off the engine or even close the door when he saw you sitting on some old chaise lounge, with his sister and Kie trying to talk to you and your other friends arguing nearby. 

The girls stepped away from you as soon as they saw Rafe running towards you with a furious expression on his face and ready to deal with anyone who made you cry. It looked like he didn’t even care about the pogues, with whom he always had to get into arguments; he was fully focused on your shivering form.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” He squatted down in front of you, and you started sobbing again. Your hands immediately found their place around his neck, and, before he could even properly look at your face, you pulled him closer to get some sense of comfort from his warmth and smell. Rafe hugged you back, soothingly rubbing your back. His eyes shot towards your friends, who were watching in awe at the interaction. “Which one of you did that?”

“It’s not us, you idiot. Some guy jumped her when she walked outside.” Sarah said, rolling her eyes at her brother. “JJ heard screaming, and when we walked outside, he ran away.” Rafe pulled away, finally taking in your appearance.

Your knees were covered in dried blood mixed with the sand. He gently took your hands to see the palms scratched from you trying to catch yourself before hitting the ground. Rafe’s eyes were burning with fury, showing his side that he rarely revealed in front of you. His hand reached to move your hair from your face, noticing a red, now already turning purplish, bruise covering the side of your cheek.

“Holy shit, sweetheart.” He softly brushed his fingertips along your cheek and you leaned into the touch, closing your eyes. Your bottom lip started quivering and you bit inside your cheek to calm yourself down. “Sh-h im here, okay? You’re safe. Did you see him? What did he look like? Just tell me and I’ll deal with it.” He almost begged, but you only shook your head. JJ suddenly stepped closer, slightly hesitating to actually normally communicate with his longtime enemy,  but he thought that it was the least that he could do for you.

As much as he hated The Kooks King, JJ knew that Rafe was the best option to find the guy who hurt you. 

“Tall, with dark and curly hair. Never seen him before, probably someone new on the island, but I’ll recognize him.” They looked at each other for a moment, and Rafe just simply nodded, turning his attention back to you. 

“I’ll find him, ‘kay? I promise I will.” He gently took both of your hands in his, bringing them to his lips to place a soft kiss on your knuckles. “We should go now. I need to take care of your knees and that bruise, baby. You don’t mind going to Tanneyhill, yeah?”

“Thank you, Rafe.” You whispered, slightly bending forward to ask for a kiss. Rafe smiled at you, his thumbs gently swiped the leftovers of the tears under your eyes, and then he kissed you on your forehead, nose, and gently pecked your lips. 

Your heart flattered at his soft touches and for a second, it felt like you two were in your own little bubble. Rafe's eyes shimmered slightly in the moonlight, and the way he looked at you, soft and caring, made you want to kiss him again and again. You suddenly snapped out of the trance, looking back at your friends, who all had different levels of shock and uncertainty written on their faces. 

“C’mon, pretty girl.” Rafe stood up, lifting you in bridal style without an effort, carefully not to hurt your bleeding knees. He almost walked away, but then sighed, turning back to look at his sister. “You coming home with us or somethin’?”

“Um, no, I’ll be with John B. It seems like I would be third wheeling with you anyway.” She shrugged, not being able to keep a smile when you two met with your eyes. 

Rafe then looked at JJ, thinking his words over. “I appreciate it, Maybank.” 

They exchanged a tight nod, both slightly shocked that for the first time ever, they communicated without biting each other's heads off. You leaned closer to Rafe, comfortably nestling in his protective hands, and looked at your friends, who were still too shocked to say anything. 

“I’ll see you guys later, okay? 

Everyone agreed, saying goodbye to you and asking you to text them when you get there safely. They saw how Rafe made sure to slowly put you into the passenger seat, then circled the car and drove away. An awkward silence fell around them, everyone at a loss for words. 

“Okay, so I am not the only one who saw that, right?” Pope spoke first, looking around the place as if he were trying to find something. “Rafe freaking Cameron just was acting cute and didn’t threaten to do something to us?” His own body physically shrugged at the word ‘cute’.

“I don’t know, dude. We all just probably drank something and it’s messing with our heads.” 

[icupblog]

Where did the party go? (batfam x neglected reader) TW: neglect, slight kidnapping

Gotham residents always said that the city could hollow your heart out, that if you lived there long enough you wouldn't care about how many homeless lived in that abandoned building, or how high casulties were every time the Joker got out of Arkham. But at least when gothamites went home they could cuddle up to their loved ones. At least they could have someone coddle them and ask them mundane questions like how their day was and talk about the weather. You on the other hand had no one.

Did you have a family, yes... but they weren't yours, in the sense of whether they would care if you left the house late or if they would come to a dance show you had because you had asked them to (they wouldn't)

So you spent your days working, grinding away at your schoolwork. because maybe Tim would be impressed if you got all A's on your exams, maybe Dick would notice you rather than just ignore your presence, maybe even Jason would give you some semblance of a smirk and tell you good job (you had lost hope for Damian).Oh, how you hoped to live up to your expectations, even for Barbara and Stephanie and they weren't even adopted.

Maybe you knew when you first entered the Wayne Manors beautiful gates that the house would be haunted by something, you just didn't think that something would be you.

You first entered the fiery gates of Bruce Wayne's home when you were 12 years old, unlike the kids that had come before you, you had actually reached double digits before making it to the dark knights home. (well the kids that were there at that moment in time).

The first time you met the man himself was after a funeral. You had just arrived at the Manor a day prior with Alfred escorting you to your room before you slept, and when you awoke there was pure brilliant silence throughout the mansion. It was so surreal you thought you were in a dream, you tiptoed down the massive staircase into the entrance of the house. The windows were slashed with a heavy downpour of thick unyelding rain, almost as if it reflected Bruce's own emotions. He opened the tall doors with superhuman ease (to a small twelve year old at least) and slouched his way into the manor, uncaring to whether his soaked clothes would get on Alfred's beautifully cleaned carpet. He looked up at you and held your gaze for an unseemly amount of time before sighing. You felt as though you should have said something, however upon seeing the man your throat closed up immediately. How could you do anything when just looking at him fills you with a strange foreign emotion? (fear)

When you were 12 you ignored the hints the family would sometimes give you that they were too busy. "Sorry name but I'm pre-occupied besides you're a bit old to ask for my help, right?" Dick would say while he would scroll on his phone. "Okay, uhm, see you around then," "Hey, I was wondering if you weren't too busy with paperwork the-" "No name I'm working got to Alfred if you need anything." "O-okay" Bruce would always be straight forward and blunt, he didn't care, no matter how hard you wanted him too. To him you were nothing more than a mistake a stain on his playboy image as one of his many escapades as Brucie Wayne ended with your mother getting pregnant. "Babs, can you help me with my computer?" "Have you tried switching it off and on again?" "no..." Barbara would always give you some time of day just not a lot... like 30 seconds max.

Then before you could think it could get any worse Tim arrived a Kid around your age, yet he would always sneak off with Bruce and Stephanie (a girl he would bring round, you sometimes could spot her before she disappeared) into the depths of the study and come out hours later looking exhausted and even more irritable before.

It somehow got even worse when Jason came back an evil entity hell bent on ruining your life, and Tim's. He show up outside your school sometimes telling the office workers you were his half-sister and he had to pick you up after school some days. He would shove on the end of his motorbike and hold you in a safehouse for hours on end before realising no one would arrive for you. Upon realising the great Batman didn't care about his one civilian child he would grow furious, breaking things around you as you clinged to whatever you were attached to and cry. Eventually he would grow bored of this old routine and leave you alone.

You tried to tell the family but they would just say "he didn't mean it" "he's not in his right mind name" or even worse they would forget the fact that their child who should be dead by all means kidnapped you and instead asked about his well-being. "Was he angrier or more sad?" "Did you see where you were held? maybe we can reach out to him B". In fact you didn't even realise Bruce Wayne your supposed father was Batman until you had moved out and put the pieces together.

Eventually Cassandra came along, then Damian. You think you were so traumatised by your first encounters by them both that you had blocked them out of your memory. You do however remember coming out of each conversation with an injury.

Let's just say when you eventually became eighteen you were quite frankly done with the family, you had decided to move out asap, so the second you got your college admissions you skedaddled out into metropolis.

Guys how do we feel about this?????

[godmadeaterribleerror]

And In Health

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, tooth-rotting fluff, domestic, sick fic, pre-established relationship

Summary/Warnings: Making Dean rest when he's sick is a Herculean task. You are more than up for the challenge.

Author's Note: Request from @kamari-nooo! My domestic fluff binge continues.

Word Count: 2.8k

Dean’s sick.

You know he’s sick. Sam knows he’s sick. The cashier at the gas station down the road knows it too, because—while trying to buy snacks—Dean had been half slumped over your body like he was drunk, before letting out the loudest sneeze you’ve ever heard. And the teenagers that hang out in town know it—they’d watched his blurred-eyed, feverish dumbass almost run into a wall, saved only by Sam yanking him back at the last second—and the woman at the grocery store, who gave him an evil-eye when he coughed all over the cheese knows it.

You’d offered her an apologetic grimace and grabbed Dean’s elbow to move it over his face, and he’d grumbled before shuffling in uneven steps to the meat section.

Everyone parking lot knew it too, watching Dean take a million years to pull out his keys, before sneezing so loud you felt the earth shake.

At this point, the only person who doesn’t know Dean’s sick is Dean. When you pointed out that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, he’d just chuckled and winked.

“You say that every night, sweetheart.”

You’d given him a flat look. “You know that’s not what I meant-“

“Don’t care.” He’d mumbled, wrapping his arms around you and dropping his face into your hair. “You smell like cherries.”

“Dean,” you’d sighed, leaning back enough to press your hand to his brow. “You’re burning up-“

“I’m fine. Actually, ‘m hungry. You want lunch?”

“I want you to lie down-“

“Nah. C’mon.” He’d grabbed your hand, and dragged you into the kitchen.

And usually this was adorable. Watching Dean move around like he was on a mission, making you food and listening to you talk with occasional, horrible jokes that always made you giggle. 

But right now he was red in the face, and all his steps were a little uncoordinated, and he kept sniffing up a runny nose every three seconds. 

You’d excused yourself to go find Sam, and spent the whole walk to the library praying he somehow didn’t end up falling onto the stove. And when you drop across from Sam, he doesn’t even look up from his laptop before he’s talking.

“I know he’s sick. But you’re not going to get him to take a break.”

You scowl. “Sam, he needs it, at this rate he’s lucky I’m not knocking him out and bringing him to the hospital-“

“We don’t have insurance.”

“We can forge it-“

“And it won’t work. He’ll just get mad at both of us.” Sam finally meets your gaze, a look of resignation is eyes. “I don’t like it either, but you know Dean. And neither of us ever really got sick, before we defeated Chuck. This is new for him.”

You sigh, slumping into your seat. “He’s going to get himself hurt, Sam-“

“And we’ll pick him up.”

“Or we can stop him from hurting himself-“

“You guys are really freakin’ loud.” Dean grumbles from above you, pressing a kiss to the top of your brow. “You’re so cute when you’re worried.”

You tip your head back with a frown. “I’m serious, Dean, you’re sick-“

“And I’m serious, I’m fine.” He says your name carefully, holding your gaze. “It’s just allergies, and I’ve never felt better. I’ve got my girl, good burgers, and pie. Livin’ the dream, sweetheart.”

“But-“

“Nope. C’mon,” he starts to pull you to your feet, and his gaze is still a little clouded, but he’s got the boyish, wide grin, and you can’t help but move with him. “Stop worrying about me, I’m good. No knocking me out to get to the hospital.”

You flush. “I’m sorry- I just-“

“I know. But I’m fine. Really,” he says your name, spreading his arms wide. “I feel awesome.”

He doesn’t look awesome. He’d lost his balance for a second, and even his voice is a little hoarse. But Sam was right. You’re not winning this argument right now. So you sigh and let him throw his arm around your shoulder. “Can I have a bite of your pie, please?”

Dean nods, pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of your head. “You can have whatever you want, babygirl.”

Sam snorts, looking back to his laptop. “You know Dean, if I said I was going to knock you out, you’d kick my ass, not give me pie-“

“You’re not cute, bitch.” Dean snaps, and you press your face into his side to hide your giggle.

He’s sweating. And even hotter than before.

But you have to let it go, for now. He’s Dean. He’s not going to slow down for anything. 

And you’re worried, when you see the high pile of tissues in the trash can. When Dean starts to stare hazily into the air, his eyes drooping and movements far slower than usual. But you also need to keep him where you can see him. Where, if he does collapse, you can run to his side and bite down your told you so for when he’s better.

But Dean might be trying to collapse. He won’t fucking slow down.

“Three people got turned into goo in Bloomington, Indiana.” He says, and you and Sam exchange a tight look.

“Dean-“

“I’m thinking some kinda of swamp monster. We’ve never hunted a swamp monster before-“

“That’s because swamp monsters aren’t real, dude.” Sam shakes his head. “And there are other hunters we can call and ask to take care of it, if someone isn’t already on it-“

“But we’d do it the quickest.” Dean sits a little taller—although there’s still a noticeable slump—and narrows his eyes at Sam. “Another hunter might take a fuckin’ week. We’ll gank it in a day.”

“Or we could stay home,” you mumble. “And watch TV.”

“We’ll watch TV at the motel.” He shrugs, moving to his feet.

You can see the sweat stains. And he really is walking like all the gravity of the earth is living in his feet, as he moves to kiss the top of your head. 

“Told you, I’m fine. We’ll hit the road in the morning.”

You hum, letting him tip your head back for another kiss—you might get sick as well, but at least then he’ll stay home to take care of you, and you can kick his ass for getting you sick after—and Dean grins against your lips.

“You gonna shower with me, baby?”

“Gimme five.” You pull away with a small smile. “Pie.”

“That’s my girl.” You get another kiss, and Sam gets a short nod. “Night, Sammy.”

“Night.” Sam grunts, frowning at his plate, and the moment Dean’s out of earshot, you give him a firm glare.

“Sam-“

“I know. I’ll go with Eileen before you guys are awake, and we’ll try to get it before he catches up.”

You let out a slow breath. “Thank you. I’ll try to talk him out of it.”

“Good luck with that.” 

Sam’s voice is dripping with flat sarcasm, and you shrug, shooting him a grin.

“I think I can do it. I’m cute.”

Sam rolls his eyes, and you laugh. It’ll be fine. You don’t have a solid plan, but this is better than no plan. You can slow Dean down, and then find him another goo monster to hunt when he’s not actively hacking his lungs out and sweating so much you’d think he lives in the sun. But if he does convince you to go on the case, you’ll have to drive. Just coming out of the shower, he’s swaying and blinking at you like he’s not quite sure he’s awake. 

“Dean-“

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty.” He mumbles, taking an almost lurching step forward to grab your face between his hands. “Look like a fairy. Or, uh- magic immortal lady.”

You sigh, reaching up to run your hand through his still wet hair. “Goddess.”

“Yeah. That.” He leans down, until your noses are bumping and you can see the fevered daze in his eyes. “So smart, too-“

“I’m not that smart, baby. You’re just sick-“

“No, ‘m not. I feel awesome.”

“I’ve heard.” You give him a soft smile, carefully pulling his hands away from your face. “Let’s go to bed.”

He frowns, but lets you tug him forward. “You gonna be in bed with me?”

“I always am.”

Dean grunts, collapsing on the mattress and reaching up to pull you down with him. “C’mon- Wanna do things to you-“

“After I get changed.”

“I can help you with that, sweetheart-“

“Nope.” You lean over him, kissing his brow, and his eyes flutter slightly. “Patience, dude.”

He glares at you, and you have to bite down a laugh. He looks like a huge, grumpy child who just got told they couldn’t have dessert. “Hate it when you call me dude. ‘m not just your dude, I’m-“ “My massive man-baby?”

He rolls his eyes, but even that looks like it takes him effort. “Think you’re so smart, babygirl-“

“I am smart.” You smile down at him, combing your fingers back through his hair. “You tell me all the time.”

“Cause you are smart.” Dean grumbles. “So fuckin’ sexy, when you talk about words.”

“Thanks, dude.” His eyes narrow, and you swallow your giggle.

“How about this, De.” You lean down, keeping your gaze on his. “You wait for me to shower, and I’ll call you whatever you want while you do things to me.”

His eyes light up. “Can we do the thing?”

“Of course, my love.” You pull away, and the only reason you’re agreeing to it is because you know he’s too tired to wait up. Your shower is only five minutes, but when you return to the bed, Dean’s already knocked out, snoring with his face in your pillow and the blankets bunched in his arms.

You smile, and nudge him carefully to his own side of the mattress as you settle down. And you’re not sure when you fall asleep—later than usual, too much time spent staring at Dean’s too-pale face in the dark—but when you wake up, Dean’s not in bed.

The bathroom door is hanging open. And you can hear the retching sounds, slightly stifled as Dean tries to hide them.

You love him. 

He can be such a fucking idiot.

You kneel down next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder and letting out a long, slow sigh. “We can’t hunt tomorrow, baby.”

He grumbles, taking an unsteady breath that rips slightly at your head. “I’ll be alright, must’ve just eaten something-“

“We ate all the same things. You’re sick-“

“I’m not sick-“

“Dean.” You keep your voice firm, propping your chin on his shoulder with a sad smile. “You are. It’s okay that you are, even you need rest-“

“I don’t-“

“You do. Please. Let me take care of you.”

He frowns at you. “You don’t have to-“

“Yes, I do.”

“’S not that big a deal-“

“It is to me.”

He lets out a long, heavy exhale. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you.”

You shake your head, and he slumps over the toilet with another groan.

“Fine. You get one day.”

You beam, pressing a soft kiss to the stubble over his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Don’t.” He grunts. “‘M fine-“

You reach up, flushing the puke filled toilet, and he scowls.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” You rise slowly to your feet, one hand still in his hair. “Let’s go to bed, my love.”

Dean grumbles something you can’t make out—but sounds crude—under his breath, and you giggle, guiding him back into the bedroom. He trails behind you, holding your hand with a tight, clammy, death-like grip, but before you can stop and get him into bed, he’s falling forward. Landing on top of you and pinning you below him with a grunt.

You squirm onto your back and give him a weak push, but his arms are already folded tight around you, and his face is pressed right into your breasts. 

A snore rips through the air before you can even say his name, and you smile into the dark. You don’t have the heart to move him now, and if this is what gets him to rest, it’s a bullet you have no reason to dodge.

You fall asleep fairly fast, only a few minutes later. And when your alarm goes off, Dean’s still knocked out above you, no sign of waking any time soon. 

It’s painful to wiggling out from below him, but you need to grab your phone and get him medicine. Sam’s gone—a text from a few hours ago saying he’ll text if he really needs back up—but you’re not too worried about the case anymore. 

Dean’s not going anywhere.

You shuffle back into your room with a bottle of Dayquil and some saltines, and Dean’s eyes flutter open with a groan as you sit on the mattress. 

He mutters your name, shifting to rest his head on your lap. “Where’d you go?”

“Medicine and food.” You set the crackers on the bedside table, and Dean grunts.

“Not hungry.”

You let out a soft laugh. “And you said you weren’t sick-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You gonna stay with me?”

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

Dean nods, and you can’t stop your almost pathetic smile.

“Okay. But you need to take your medicine.”

He shakes his head, trying to roll away, and his exhaustion is working to your advantage. He’s still big and heavy—all but dead weight—but right now, you’re stronger. You can drag him back and pull him upright, until he’s slumped against your body, but not going to choke on the liquid you’re trying to push through his lips.

He groans, turning his head into your shoulder, blocking your access to his mouth. “This shit tastes like ass, ‘m not drinkin’ it-“

“Do you want to go hunt the goo monster?”

He shakes his head. “I wanna watch TV with my girl.”

You blink, and it really shouldn’t shock you how fast he flipped. The struggle was always going to be getting Dean down. Not keeping him there. That’s always the struggle. He’ll grumble about a case he doesn’t want, but throw everything he’s got into it once he’s there. He told you he didn’t do relationships for three years straight, but the moment he caved and kissed you in the rain like all those movies he claims he hates, he’s never once tried to stray from your side. He’s a beautiful, adorable, brilliant dumbass who does everything all or nothing. 

And that, it seems, includes being taken care of.

“We can watch TV if you take your medicine.”

He pouts, but turns his head and opens his mouth. 

You don’t bother to stop your soft laugh at his sour expression when he swallows, and he groans, wrapping his arms tight around your waist.

“TV.”

“Yes, sir.” You lean around to grab the remote from his bedside table, and he groans.

“That’s playin’ dirty, sweetheart-“

“I know. Nothing you can do about it right now, Winchester.”

“Y’know, I always had a nurse fantasy.”

“And we can explore that,” you kiss the top of his head, humming against his sweaty brow. “After you’re better.”

He grunts, holding you a little tighter, and when you turn on the TV he rolls you around until you’re between his legs, and he’s draped fully around you.

Most of the day is slow. Easy. Dean’s fever isn’t breaking, but it’s not building either. You manage to convince him to let you got long enough to make him soup and get him water, and keeping it in moderation manages to stop anymore vomit. The next dose of Dayquil goes down easier—with bribery of another kiss, and the promise that you’ll let him fuck you stupid when he’s better—and when Sam texts you asking if Dean’s gotten you on the road, you send him a photo of Dean sprawled back over you, snoring and drooling like a dog.

And it’s beautiful, to see him so relaxed. To watch him sleep so peacefully against you, and know he trusts you enough to let you do this for him. And he said one day, but this is probably going to last at least two more, given the way he pushed it. 

You don’t really mind. Just like, if he passes it on to you, no part of you can bring yourself to be angry about it. It means he was holding you tight. It’s another excuse to keep resting, sitting in each other’s comfort and watching TV until the afternoon turns into evening, and the evening turns into night.

There’s no need for either of you to move, in the morning.

You have each other. 

And that’s all you really need.

End Note: Can't believe I'd never done a sick fic before. I am always sick. I love fluff. I've opened floodgates maybe.

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[pugh-bug]

His Promised Sin

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Remmick x reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: smut, nsfw, lots of mentions of religion and Satan, brief threat of sa

Finally posting this, sorry for the wait I’ve had a lot to sort out this week planning a funeral but I adored writing this. I’ll definitely be writing for Remmick again and for other Sinners characters. Any comments are appreciated so much <33

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In the fierce heat you trudged home, the journey only seeming longer with each step. The centre of town was five miles away on foot but there was nowhere else to buy groceries so walk you did. What you couldn’t afford to buy you grew and what you couldn’t grow you borrowed, from old friends who also couldn’t leave town. No one ever left and those who did soon returned, even the Moore brothers couldn’t stay away but you saw little of them.

Once the path shrunk into a pitiful thing only you could follow you knew you were almost home. You glanced at your ring finger thinking of Chris and the promise he’d just made before leaving. The promise of marriage. Soon. Guilt rang in your chest, working its way down to your gut and settling there.

It wasn’t just that you didn’t love him, that most suitors could live with, it was that you didn’t particularly like him. He didn’t make you laugh or cry. He didn’t make you feel anything worth much and yet you’d agreed. To Chris your politeness was excitement but you knew the truth. No man had made you excited since that night.

Creek

You pushed your weary door open with one hand and clutched your bag of goods with the other. Home at last. It was modest, nothing special, and yet it was the one place you felt comfortable. Peaceful. Some deep part of you hated how safe those words had become, how you prized surviving over thriving and hid from the world. Something better had to be out there, something you wouldn’t just settle for but embrace. Something to fuel you, fill your soul with purpose and set your nerves alight. In your lifetime nothing had matched that description except…

“Where are we going?”

You followed your new friend and classmate into the woods missing home already. If your Mother knew you were alone with a boy at night you’d be in more trouble than you could handle. No amount of grovelling would appease that woman.

“I should get home, they’ll be wondering where I’ve gotten to.”

Johnny ignored your worries, snaking an arm round your waist and pulling you close to his warm body. You froze. “You’re gonna enjoy this.” He grinned, before planting a sloppy kiss on your unsuspecting lips and attempting another.

“Get off!”

But he wasn’t concerned, not until -

“Listen!” You hissed, shoving Johnny away. Something was lingering in the trees watching your every movement. Your Daddy had taught you about hunting animals and in that moment you felt at one with his prey. Hunted. Somehow you knew where to look to see your predator, catching its gaze a few yards away.

Your heart began pounding loud as Johnny’s voice telling you to stop wasting his time. That didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. Nothing else existed but you and the glimpse of a face among the branches. A face with eyes you could hardly make out in the darkness except for red. A grin, a gleam in his eyes and a finger to his dripping lips telling you shush.

Nightfall approached as you sleepily unpacked your things, cursing yourself for craving more than you had. For daydreaming about anything but the wedding, if it ever happened. He’d only kissed you once the day his Grandma, who’s life was sadder than her death, gave her blessing. It hadn’t been the love you’d read about in books or witnessed between Smoke and Annie. It hadn’t been love at all and to worsen the blow, to fuel your disappointment, it hadn’t been lust either. A marriage of convenience.

That night you read until your eyes grew heavy and the book slipped away. You dreamt of the face from years ago, the face of something evil.

If it hadn’t have been for the open window you’d have slept through the howling wind.

Rising from your bed to close it, you heard it stop as quickly as it had started. Silence. You were left only with silence as a companion in the twilight except it seemed to want something. It stirred in the air and within you. A deep longing for a cure to the emptiness that had buried its way into your bones through years of sorrow.

Cautiously, you lit a lantern and held it to your window. Something ancient had awakened and somehow you knew Satan in the flesh was just outside. He’d been just outside all your life watching and waiting. Biding his time until you’d abandon all hope of a lasting morality and gladly give in to your sinful desires.

It seemed that night he would no longer idly watch.

Tap tap

Taking a deep breath before doing so, you walked towards the sound. Your front door. You ought to have walked like a traitor on a plank, like a person approaching death with terror. You didn’t, although a rhythmic thud sounded some alarm in your chest as you opened the door.

But there was no one there.

Relief should have been your immediate and only feeling but although it was there you felt a wave of disappointment overpower it. Had the tapping been in your head, or had the wind sent branches tumbling to your front door? The wind that had ceased long before the tapping…

You stood there for a moment letting the night air cool your body until a whisper of your name set your nerves alight.

“Y/n…”

Again, unmistakable a second time. You were not alone.

“Y/n…”

Taunting and nearby, the voice was beckoning you outside. All you had to do was answer. There was nothing but miles of forest between you and the nearest human soul. To answer would be inviting death.

As you made to enter and lock the door the air around you changed as if a gust of wind had ran through you. Alarmed you turned away from your house only to see him standing metres away. In every way he was the same demonic presence you’d encountered all those years ago without a mark of time on him. The only difference was his face, his mouth, was clean from blood. He would have looked to anyone else normal. Human. Harmless. You knew better.

“You know my name.”

A nervousness rang in your voice that only amused the visitor.

“Darlin I know lots of names, names are easy. Bet you’d even know mine if you thought about it long enough.”

You tensed at his words, his unnervingly charming manner of speaking and his grin and yet you did know. You’d always known, somehow he’d told you in the spiritual sense. In a different realm, perhaps in a different lifetime.

“Remmick.”

He bowed as if accepting a great honour, always remaining a few steps from you and your door.

“That’s what God gave me.”

His sardonic smile told you he was mocking your beliefs before he spoke again, eyeing your small house.

“Hasn’t given you much has he?”

“I have enough.”

That was the truth. You had more than you needed and less than you wanted, same as everyone else in town.

“But are you happy?”

You pursed your lips.

“I’m content.”

Remmick simply tutted, leaning closer to you with a demonic shine in his eyes.

“Ah sweetheart, contentment is the enemy of joy.”

Suddenly the emptiness you’d carried within you felt encompassing. Impossible to ignore. When your eyes met Remmick’s you knew he could see it on you, even smell it. A moment passed before you considered the small yet powerful distance between the two of you.

“Are you going to ask me to invite you in?”

Remmick rocked back on his heels, smiling comfortably to himself.

“No need to.”

You cocked your head.

“You already let me in.”

He ceased rocking.

“I didn-“

“You called out to me, you’ve been calling for my kind a long time.”

You thought of every celebration, every lonely night, every passing year you’d spent longing for something to take you away. A part of you had always felt heard, understood by some invisible force of nature - perhaps God. But God hadn’t been listening, Remmick had.

“Why now, after so long?”

He didn’t answer.

“Will you answer if I let you in?”

The light of the moon flickered in Remmick’s stare. He was undoubtedly the flame to your moth and he knew it, smiling as all those do who know they’ve won. It wasn’t just foolish to let him in it was suicidal but you felt a strange peacefulness with your decision. It was like he’d said: you’d already let him in.

Remmick watched, impressed, as you opened your door fully and gestured for him to come in. He hesitated only for a moment before slowly following you down the hall and into your kitchen. As he eyed your home, you glanced at the drawer you knew housed several knives.

Inside Remmick could almost pass for human, even to you. His eyes didn’t have the same demonic gleam they possessed outside. You watched as he ran a calloused hand down your armchair and caressed the tassels of your lampshade, like a child left unsupervised. He seemed in awe of everything and you found yourself feeling a solemn sense of pity in your heart. What kind of life did he live? Did he have a home of his own? These were questions amongst hundreds of others you craved answers for.

“Why now?”

Remmick turned toward you, still keeping a few metres distance. The air moved differently around him, sensing he did not belong. It parted for him out of fear and perhaps on some level respect for he was more ancient than any other being. He smelt of the earth as if he’d been born from roots, not a Mother’s womb.

“You weren’t sure what you wanted, til now.”

“And what do I want?”

He just smiled as if the answer was obvious and perhaps it was. You turned away from Remmick pondering his words…escape.

“That’s it.”

That voice, he spoke like a serpent. A siren. Everything the local preacher warned you about was standing before you in your own kitchen. Invited.

“Don’t look so afraid now darlin, you wanted me here.”

That he knew you couldn’t argue with, no matter how horrid a truth it was. It hadn’t been delirium or the forceful hand of another that had led you to sin. You’d had the same teachings as everyone in town, the same goodness and voice of God. It had never been enough and looking at Remmick, sensing his sinful ferocity, you knew only he would be.

“I know...”

It had barely been a whisper but you knew he’d heard. Resigned to your fate, you stared solemnly at Remmick. He stared back with the sight of countless forgotten souls.

“Will you leave…”

You let out a shaky breath, finding the floor easier to talk to.

“My body…will you leave it here when it’s done?”

Remmick took slow, almost careful, steps toward you. Once his face was mere inches from your own he shook his head, looking down at your tearful eyes as if you were a thing to be pitied. Pitied and played with.

“We’ll see where the night takes us.”

You felt weakened by his words and yet no encounter rendered you so energised. None except…

“Johnny.”

Remmick ran a sharp tongue over his sharper teeth.

“Don’t worry. He’s out of reach.”

You thought of Johnny’s incessant touches, his threats.

“Is that where anyone who meets you ends up?”

“Just the ones who deserve it.”

You looked up at Remmick taking in the shape of his jaw, the line of his nose and the unruliness of his hair. He shouldn’t have been appealing, not when his very existence went against God, but he was. With every look, every word uttered you felt yourself being pulled by an invisible force into him. Shrouded under his being.

“Do I deserve it?”

“Deserve?”

Remmick’s eyes were transfixed on your neck before he pulled away to speak once more.

“Forsake that word, it means nothing to you.”

His eyes bored into yours, you heard his words run through your entire body. You felt the sudden urge to nod in blind agreement as after all it had been Remmick who’d saved you. Answered your callings. He had been your saviour so you’d worship him as you saw fit.

“You don’t have to hide your true nature from me, I smell it on you.”

Before you could think of a reply Remmick moved, slow but purposeful like a hunting snake. You watched him mouth agape as he lowered himself down…down…down until his eyes were level with your thighs. There was nothing between you and Remmick but a thin layer of linen and yet he made no attempt to rid you of your clothes. Instead he looked up at you with a face as innocent as you believed him capable of having. He was asking for permission.

“Chris…”

Your stomach churned at the thought of him at home, eagerly telling his family of your plans.

“Isn’t here is he?”

Remmick’s voice took you out of your head, snapping you into submission.

Your only response was to lift your nightdress, keeping your eyes on his. You waited for the judgement, from who you didn’t know. There were only sinners present. Remmick took a long look, drinking in the sight before he tasted you.

“Mnghn…”

You let out before clasping a hand over your mouth. Remmick peered up at you, grinning.

“Don’t gotta be quiet for me sweetheart.”

If you were thinking of speaking there was no need, Remmick dived back in without another word. His tongue felt feverish, its movements unrelenting and hungry. You clung to the kitchen counter as he tasted every inch of you, his tongue seeming longer by the second.

“Jesus…”

But he wasn’t present, only Remmick and his tongue could end your suffering. Only the warm feeling of lust could envelope you, your mind unreachable and your soul his. No man on Earth ever made your body sing, it was as if Remmick had done this a hundred times before. You knew this feeling had been chasing you, and you it, long before the knock at your door and worse still…that you’d miss it tomorrow.

“Sweetest thing these lips have tasted.”

His words were purest filth, his mouth ancient sin spurring you on. Your hips involuntarily bucked into his mouth demanding, praying for more. He gladly obliged by adding a finger to your torment, circling your clit whilst his tongue had its way. Your grip on the counter tightened, your eyes pleading to close but Remmick’s eyes on you said no: don’t look away. Savour every minute. Savour him.

It was too much: Remmick’s devouring, his words, his scent and the feeling of oblivion growing hotter in your core. Your hand found its way into his hair, gripping him harder than the counter only invigorating him.

“Yes angel, just like that.”

Every cell in your body felt magnetised to him as you came with a howl of his name and fire in your lungs. You hardly registered Remmick’s awe filled eyes on your shaking body, pre occupied with seeing every star in the universe. The room, the house it all felt small. Inconsequential. You were rising above it or perhaps sinking below, you no longer cared.

“Better?”

Remmick rose to steady you with strong arms, not waiting for an answer. His fingers and mouth were wet with your slick but he made no effort to clean himself. You had half a mind to grab his face between your hands and bite, kiss and lick yourself off him but his words halted you.

“Are you ready sweetheart?”

He traced the shape of your face with his index finger admiring you almost like a lover would, a starved one. Your breath hitched when his hand found your throat and ever so gently squeezed.

“Your blood is louder than most.”

“You can hear it?”

“Always have.”

You pictured Remmick following your pulse to Johnny’s chosen spot, basking in the cover of twilight before draining him dry. It was an image you’d torn apart and rebuilt countless times when trying to forget. But in your kitchen, with Remmick’s teeth so close to your neck and your escape in reach it seemed almost comforting. The inevitability of it all eased your lost soul, the knowing that no force on Earth could steer Remmick from your path. His path was yours and yours his, always had been.

You craned your neck for him, closing your eyes to bask in what would surely be the beginning of something unholy but no bite came. Remmick guided your head back in place, a solemn finality in his gleaming eyes.

“Dawn’s comin.”

He gestured to your window and sure enough a sunrise was brewing, threatening to end your night of living. Your mouth opened to speak but no words came out.

“I’ll still be here when you wake.”

Remmick licked what was left of your slick off his fingers, tasting as if you were a delicacy. In the time it took for your eyes to blink he was gone yet the scent of him lingered. You imagined it always would, that a part of him as he said would remain with you. He’d doomed you both, promised without such words to end your stagnant suffering and damn you to Hell.

You dreamt of following him there gladly, knowing your time would come soon enough.

Part 2

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Resources

Taglist: @bluevenus19 @ajanehopper @jjubilee-fluff @troyottonick @solsoris @megangovier

[lynxgriffin]

Deltarune Chapter 3 and 4 RANDOM THOUGHTS

Spoilers so it's going under the cut! This is just me gushing about the madness

Geez I have like 50 different things I want to do art for and I can't focus on any of them long enough to start, SOB

Was NOT expecting Susie to find out that Darkners are objects immediately upon starting up the chapter. I'm glad she took it as well as she did, though! Still think this may come up much much harder later.

Holy crap Tenna's designs and animations just hit like a truck LOL. It wasn't until much later that I was like "wait...this guy is not getting recruited to Castle Town, is he. There's no way those sprites will get integrated."

Disappointed we did not get a proper Susiezilla sequence, I wanted that!

All the banter of them sitting around playing Legend of Kris was adorable

Did not expect Lanino-Elnina-Rouxls Kaard DISASTER THROUPLE???

Lancer MY BOY

Geez all of the stuff where Kris was playing their solo adventure was just. SO unsettling.

"You didn't do Snowgrave in chapter 2? Well you're doing it here now lol"

"You were used up" UH OH!!!!

I managed to S-Rank both boards somehow and got to the Shadow Mantle boss but got my ass handed to me; I'll need to go back and try again later.

Totally called Toriel being in the prize capsule from the start

saxophone noise

Me at the end of the Tenna boss battle: Kris Knight is real? Well, not what I would've liked, but I'm sure it'll be--

Me five minutes later: I'M SORRY, WHOMST??????

But no for real the Knight design and demeanor is LEGIT scary, I'm so glad we got a proper really intimidating villain

But yeah absolutely got thrashed by the Knight as well SOB SOB

THAT ENDING THO??? AND THEN THE TRANSITION INTO THE NEXT CHAPTER?

Please give Susie MORE PANCAKES

Absolutely fascinated by the fact that the monster religion is also just. Like. The game legend. The implications

Cannot believe we had friggin Tom and Jerry-ass shenanigans in Noelle's house with the soul including Kris beating the crap out of us with a hockey stick

banging fists on the table SU-SELLE! SU-SELLE! SU-SELLE! SU-SELLE!

Asgore how did you get more awkward every chapter

The whole scene with Carol was just generally so, so DEEPLY UNCOMFORTABLE

Evil and intimidating deer by awesome lesbian couple indeed

Me earlier: Man Carol Holiday is going to get a pretty brutal death in Eldritchrune, I feel a little bad, it's probably going to feel unwarranted--

Me after chapter four: Hell naw this bitch gettin' what she deserves

I gotta say that I REALLY loved the music in this chapter, absolutely outstanding. I might like From Now On even more than Rude Buster

All in all in chapter four was SO cool, loved that we're taking everything seriously now, it felt like a real turning point

OKAY SO turns out THIS KINDA HAPPENED A BIT? But while my initial thought was Gerson being the Knight, I honesty like this better

IDK Gerson was just SO funny as a J.R.R. Tolkien-esque party member and I absolutely appreciated him being a mentor to Kris and especially Susie

Did NOT expect Susie making her own dark fountain before Noelle did!! But oh man all the differences in her version of the world that you can see compared to the usual one...

In any case I love Susie more and more every day if horrible things happen to her I will teleport to Toby Fox's house and push everything breakable off of his shelves

YOUR TAKING TOO LONG

Ralsei I am DEEPLY WORRIED about you my dude

He was looking so ragged this chapter and missed good chunks of Susie's dark world, too

I am extremely anxious about that critical part of the prophecy that we conveniently missed but that Susie saw, my weird kids need to be okay

Also uhhh??? Am I nuts or like? Did my half-human Susie crack theory get more evidence?? I was expecting just a solid debunking but if anything there's just more hints of it???? I'm kind of terrified???? Half-human Susie real????

Seriously I may just finally dive into the nightmare realm of making a theory video for it

HELLO NEO DARK FOUNTAIN ALREADY

HI TITAN ALREADY THAT WAS SICK AS HELL AND ALSO TERRIFYING

Seriously that Titan boss battle was crazy hard; it took me a lot of tries and it was a LONG fight every time

I have no solid thoughts on whether it's Carol Knight or Dess Knight; I'll have to ruminate on it more

It's Raining Here made real...

CANNOT BELIEVE WE ENDED THIS CHAPTER ON FRIGGIN KRIS MISERABLE IN BED WHILE SORIEL DISCO HAPPENS DOWNSTAIRS

Again: I want to draw but have no focus aaljsda

Also I got like two hours of sleep last night because my brain would not stop buzzing lol

Once again THIS GIF REMAINS MY ULTIMATE REACTION TO NEW DELTARUNE BYE:

[sarahcmarie]

On Christmas Eve Cass Steph and Dick all break into Tim’s apartment to bring (kidnap) him to the manor for Christmas and see the usual stuff the ungodly amount of coffee and paper work for WE minimal decorations which they expect what they didn’t expect was the mountain of presents which isn’t a total shock Tim is a rather prominent socialite but at closer inspection half the gifts are from different villains/rouges some of the names include

:Ra’s Al ghul

:Edward nigma

:Harley Quinn

:Lady shiva

And MANY more names for obvious reasons they are concerned and when Tim is opening his front door and Steph starts demanding answers from him and dick starts begging him not to turn into a supervillain (cass is drinking tea on the couch ready to enjoy the show) he is confused and and then the rest of the bats show up and start trying to talk him out of becoming evil (except Jason who thought this was hilarious and just a little terrifying) and now he is just trying to figure out what the fuck is going on until dick let’s it slip and they ask why Tim has presents from supervillains laying around and Tim just doesn’t know how to explain that he and said supervillains have exchanged gifts since his YJ days and pretends he doesn’t know why the gifts were there

So the bats start saying that they are gonna confront the supervillains cause this means that they might know secret identities until Bruce see’s an open card on the kitchen counter from Harley that is actually a invitation to a villain Christmas party which appears to be a few weeks old and a photo with Tim in his Red Robin suit hanging out at the party with all the rouges and Tim has to figure out a way to get out of this but he is Tim fucking drake so he can’t just admit it so somehow now everyone thinks there is a clone of Tim running around with the rouges which is why they send him cards gift etc and Tim goes along with it but so do the rouges (Tim to this day doesn’t know why but just thanks the gods they did) so Batman looks but can’t find any evidence anywhere eventually it goes to the back burner when joker escapes and they didn’t pick it up again and nobody figures out the truth until Harley invited Steph and cass to the same villain party and they see Tim discussing science stuff with ivy and now cass and Steph know but they don’t tell the rest of the bats and this doesn’t come up again until YEARS have passed and Tim is on really strong pain meds and felt so bad he admits it half of the bats think it’s the funniest thing ever the other half are concerned/upset Tim didnt tell them

(Tim still goes to the Christmas party’s ever year without fail)

( i wrote this at one in the morning it might not make any sense so…. Sorry?)

[jarofstyles]

okay so idk how to articulate it but the trope is crime boss/mafia harry x nurse y/n and the emotions would be guilt, passion and angst. Y/n somehow got mixed up in Harry’s world and now he feels bad for getting her involved unintentionally

YES! Give it to me right now (I say as I am the one who has to write it) I loved writing this actually. Perhaps future full length! We will see

Check out our Patreon!

Warnings- injury, violence, all the organized crime stuff, angsty, ‘I’ll kill anyone who touches you’, mention of murder, blood, guns, etc

Harry had never felt more sick over seeing an injury in his life.

He’d seen brain matter splattered against walls from bullets he’d shot, fingers he’d cut off of people himself- an ear once-, he’d stabbed someone and twisted the knife, or gone for the throat with the spray of blood. None of them had enraged him more than the one he was looking at.

“And which one of you dumb fucks let her out of your sight?” He asked, level but angry. Cold. Dangerous. Killing calm, for the people who knew him. Seeing the girl he’d recruited to help with injuries sitting in the back of one of his warehouses, pressure applied to her arm with gauze, he could barely look at her without feeling that beginning of a spiral. He should have known better than to bring her anywhere close to this, but he was greedy. Selfish. He hadn’t been able to get her off his mind.

Bringing her into the fold was meant to be all benefit. He’d have a nurse on call, and he’d be able to be close to her. It would make sense. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

“Is no one going to answer me?” Tilting his head, he looked around to try and read the room. See who looked the guiltiest.

“Harry-“ Y/N attempted, her sweet voice cutting through the evil running rampant through his brain. He didn’t deserve her in the slightest, he shouldn’t have any access to her at all, but he still couldn’t let her go.

“It’s okay.” He looked at her. “They’ll tell me. Because they know what will happen if they don’t.” It was a little unsettling, feeling bloodthirsty in this way. “I know who was supposed to be back here. My question is, how did anyone get far enough into this warehouse to get at her? How would they even know where her office was?”

Harry knew he hadn’t been subtle about his affections for the nurse, but he hadn’t expected a rat. Hadn’t ever fathomed that one of his own would leave a window for this. “Still no talkers?” He shook his head, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “Fine.” It was a shame that he’d need to get rid of all of the team he’d left here. It would be a bitch to replace them. But no one speaking up meant there was loyalty to the rat, and he wasn’t going to deal with it. “Mitchell, Adam, Greg- escort the team that was here to the back. We’ll talk more later.”

He couldn’t let her see him like that. He had half a mind to put bullets between each one of their eyes in this current moment, but he had to settle for later. His concern was the girl sitting on the worn in couch in the back. Weakness showing be damned.

Trying to level himself out, he made his way towards her as he heard the team arguing with his main group to try and get out of it but he blocked it out for her. A single tear slipped down her cheek and he had temptation flaring in his stomach to go and do as he had impulsively chosen to do, but instead he leveled his temper to care for her.

“Hi, darling.” He mumbled, a sad strained smile gracing his lips. “Let’s clean you up, hm?” It was ironic and he knew that, being the one to guide her to the sink to rinse her own injury, but he wasn’t going to make her tend to her own wound. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

It was an understatement. He’d promised she would be safe, out of the crossfire- she should have been- but this was unforeseen circumstances. It did his control issues little good.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N mumbled, wincing a tiny bit as he patted the tender injury dry. It wouldn’t need stitches, he didn’t think- but he would think it would do her well to glue it. That’s what she had said about his injury when it had looked about the same. His stomach twisted at the look of it, but even more so that it had happened under his watch.

“You don’t have a singular fucking thing to apologize for.” He grunted, shaking his head at her. “You didn’t harm yourself. You were supposed to be protected. That’s my fault. I didn’t have as good of a handle on this group and that is an oversight that will be taken care of swiftly.”

“You’re going to kill them?” Her question was calm, though her face looked slightly green at the idea of it. She was too good for this world and Harry was too selfish to let her out of it. In fact, he wanted to pull her deeper in it. So deep that she was firmly wrapped up in him and unable to wriggle away so she wouldn’t get hurt again.

But he doubted she would take well to being akin to Rapunzel in her golden tower. His tower would be opulent, sure, but suffocating. Harry was known for being possessive over the things he held dear, and she had quickly become one.

He could lie to her and ease her mind, but that would do her no good. Harry lied to the feds, he lied to his enemies, he lied so well that people wouldn’t be able to tell even if they were highly trained- but he didn’t want to lie to her. “Yes.” The reply was simple as he caught her eyes. “And I won’t regret it, because they betrayed me- and you. They let you get hurt because they knew it would upset me.”

“But why?” She asked, voice small and confused. It stung a little bit, the little shards of skin left of his heart that hadn’t hardened bringing doused in alcohol. It made sense considering she didn’t know how much she took up of his mind, but still.

“Because I’ve grown quite fond of you, Y/N.” A wry smile hurt his lips as he squeezed ever so tenderly over her wound to apply pressure. “So they allowed you to get hurt.”

[angelplummie]

here for revenge.

being lily's best friend - you grow up with her - you're in the donaldsons orbit for all your formative years. you develop a crush on art that turns into love as you grow older. your home life isn't so glamorous. you spend lots of weekends at the donaldsons. art has tucked you in. brought you snacks when you stayed up late for movie nights, making you and lily promise not to tell tashi. you were there when art and tashi got divored, held lilys hand and pretended not to be happy inside at the thought of getting closer to art.

lily gets into college - a big smart one because she has tashi's ambition and leaves you behind, you're still stuck at home because your dreams have always been smaller.

maybe its not appropriate, to still spend time with art. but he's lonely. tashi left, and now his daughter has and you're the only one left in his life that actually wants to be around him, that has always looked at him with stars in your eyes. its probably not healthy. there should be a boundary there. your lilies, not his.

but you like being around him and he likes having someone to take care of. you come over and he makes you eat something healthy and you needle him about spending all his time at home and how he should get out more, and he rolls his eyes, tells you he should be saying the same to you, you're young and beautiful and you should be dating around.

but how can you date around when art donaldson is your dream man? when you're happiest at his side, eating what he makes you. you want more though. you want to share his bed, warm it for him, you want to make him not so lonely, you want him to stop seeing you as a little girl and as the adult you've grown up to be - so you start wearing less and less around him. start acting more and more like a housewife.

art accepts it without even realizing. now you just need to find the right opportunity to pounce.

WHEW. this one is long so buckle up

“art?”

“mr donaldson.”

you roll your eyes.

“mr donaldson, how come you never started dating again?”

he chopped the lemon with a deft clunk, eyes never leaving the knife.

“never felt the urge.”

“what does that mean?”

“what i just said. never felt the need to.”

“hm.”

you sat on the island, next to the chopping board. your legs swung haphazardly, and you watched art as he chopped.

why was he playing this game? he could’ve told you to leave, to stop coming back and bothering him, that this was inappropriate. and yet. he didn’t even tell you to get your sorry butt off the counter, or some such dad-ism. the low glow of the many warm lamps that adorned such a luxurious house illuminated art so softly, he looked as young as the day lily was born. he was as fit as back then, if not meatier. he didn’t have the pouch your dad had, but the years had given him a thickness. instead of wasting away like most lean men did, he struggled to the other side. he got broader. layer upon layer of muscle encased in a thin finishing of fat. he was skinnier when you were a kid, but he had no reason to be lean now. under his chin a tiny hammock of pudge rested as his head tilted down, kissed by light stubble. his blonde hair was streaked in silver, but that somehow made him younger looking. made him glow. he had grown it out, by your suggestion. he was everything in the world a man should be.

“what about you?”

“i hate boys. they’re all stupid.”

“you got that right. you’re too good for all of them, never settle.”

“maybe it’s just boys my own age. theyre so immature.”

arts wide chest heaves. his eyes flick to you then flick back down. you see it all, and cross one leg over the other.

“maybe.”

“what were you like when you were my age?”

he laughs at the memory.

“stupid, immature, evil. if i was anything to go by you should swear off men entirely until menopause.”

air left your chest cavity.

“i don’t wanna wait. i want a fully formed one.”

you watched the muscles in arts forearms flex as he squeezed the lemon onto salad. the main course was cooking, was singing loudly on the stove. art had gotten into cooking after the divorce. it took all his attention and put it in one place, something complex and delicate and time consuming. it helped to clear his head. it wasn’t helping right this second.

“i shouldn’t say that,” he said curtly,”boys your age aren’t so bad. give them a go and quit hanging out with an old man.”

“but i like you, old man.”

art was so harsh on himself. he really wasn’t that old. and you really weren’t that young.

he pressed his lips together and kept squeezing. his pink lips, that gave his face the everlasting youth it held. he shrugged his shoulders in that way he did when he was confronted with the truth of your arrangement. there was something going on. something very, very, very wrong. you were the same age as his daughter. 3 months younger. he was the worst man in the world. the worst person to ever breathe. what could he do though? tell you to go? tell you to leave his house and never come back? what would become of you then? without him, what pillar of paternity would you rely upon? what new low would you reach? what men would you come across, and what would you do to please them? while he gingerly entertained you, you dangled something in front of his face that others would not have the restraint or morality to resist. if you had to move to another target, your next victim might not care so deeply for your wellbeing. were you not altogether safer, sitting in his kitchen, eating his caesar salad, rather than inhaling second hand cigarettes from old wrinkled fucks who might murder you, or worse-

“art?”

“mr donaldson.”

“you got a bunch of lemon pips in the salad.”

“oh.”

he set down the lemon.

“are you ok? you seem tense.”

“i’m good. are you cold? i can turn on the heating if you like.”

“no. it’s actually quite warm in here.”

he hears the zip of your hoodie and starts away from the island, under the pretence of getting a paper towel to deposit the lemon seeds on. your jumper clatters to the counter, and you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. low cut top. he knows that’s what you’re wearing. because that’s all it’s been for the past 2 months. your mini skirt flowers around you as you sit, but when you stand each swish and sway of the fabric is a death sentence. god forbid you take the stairs for some ungodly reason.

“hey, you know what you said about never having the urge?”

oh, fuck off, he thought. fuck off. leave him be. leave him alone. release him.

“yes.”

“you can’t really mean that can you?”

“sure i can.”

“i mean, you can. but i don’t think you do.”

you twirled a strand of hair in between your fingers. your stomach grumbled, loud enough that he could hear. you were so hungry you could die, but if you ate what art was frying your breath would smell like fish all night.

“let me check the salmon.”

“i’m not that hungry. you can’t mean that you never had the urge to. everyone has urges.”

“well sure. but after tashi, i needed a breather. a grace period, if you will. you can’t go from marriage with a woman like her right into dating.”

“but it’s been 3 years. you must be over it by now?”

he ignored the hope in your voice. ignore, ignore, ignore.

“i am over it. but. women scare me.”

he walked languidly over the salmon. it was ready.

“i don’t scare you, i’m a woman.”

a woman. he turned off the stove, and turned to fix you with a stare for the first time tonight. a woman. that was not the word he would use to describe you. your eyes were the size of saucers, and you bat your lashes languidly, like you knew how much you were making him suffer. you sat up pin straight, and twisted your spine to make eye contact with him. your body. he tried not to look. tried not to look in front of you and see the twisted grin come across your lips. but he was a weak man. the weakest of men, and his eyes dragged over where a fatherly view should never cross. your perky new tits, the press and curve of your ass against the counter, the plush of your thighs. it seemed you had grown up overnight, and didn’t know you were still a baby. you’re a baby. you knew what you were doing to him. you knew. he blushed involuntarily.

“you scare me most of all.”

his voice trembled. he hadn’t meant to say that. hadn’t meant to dignify you will any response at all. it had crossed his mind and then it crossed his lips.

your eyes lit up with extreme delight. he liked to make you happy, but his stomach churned with the thought of why.

“why?”

he turned back around, and plated up your salmon, adding potatos and asparagus from the same pan, drizzling it all in the residual oil.

“why art?”

“mr donaldson.”

a twinge of irritation tickles your stomach. what was he fighting this for? you’re all grown up now. you both knew what was going to happen. he was resisting fate, the inevitable.

all your life you had known he was the man you were meant to be with. from that first time he kissed your forehead as you dozed off on the couch, thinking you were asleep. when his strong arms would carry both you and his daughter, flinging you around, threatening to dunk you in their backyard pool. when he would catch your eye in the rear view mirror as he drove you around and winked. he was so nice. so nice and brave and kind and warm, and if you had to be with any man it should be him because you’ve loved him since you were 8, and now you’re old enough to claim it. you’re not just a dumb kid with a crush. you love him. you understand it being one sided back then. but it isn’t anymore, and you wouldn’t let him deny it. with gliding footsteps you approached him, drawing closer every second he didn’t turn around. a hand rests on his shoulder blade.

“just stop,” you breathed after a pause.

his spatula clattered to the pan with a metallic thunk. you pull your hand away like he burnt you. he gripped the counter with a sigh and hung his head.

“you stop. stop it now,” his voice was stern. you felt yourself shrink. art was never stern.

“i know what you’re thinking, and it’s not going to happen. this has gone on far too long and it stops right now.”

a mere few paces from his wide curved back, you blink. the urge to touch him is overwhelming. you want to press your hand to his back, feel him under your palm and tell him you know he wants this. you know he wants this just as bad as you do.

but you don’t, because he’s angry at you, and he’s never been angry at you before.

“i’ve let you come here and cooked you food and watched movies with you because you’re a good kid. because i knew you as a kid and i know your problems with your father and i wanted to be there for you when lily is away. but you have taken this too far. you’re my daughters best friend. i have cleaned up your vomit twice, i baked you a cake for your 13th birthday- it’s not right. i’ve tried to be understanding, i’ve tried to ignore it, but you never drop it. never. your lack of self respect is staggering. you have to drop it right now or, im sorry but you can’t come back here anymore.”

every muscle fibre was clenched. if the counter top wasn’t marble it would’ve crunch and fell away under his grip. he couldn’t take it anymore. he didn’t know how much longer he could be good. didn’t know how much longer he could take resisting you.

maybe he was harsh. but it was the right thing to do. the only thing to do. he rested his elbow on the counter, and between his forefinger and his thumb held the bridge of his nose. he exhaled loudly. he hadn’t meant for it to come out that way, hadn’t planned it. but now it was out. he had stared the elephant in the room dead in its eyes. he felt lighter, somewhat liberated.

until he turned around after a few too many seconds of silence to see you turned away from him, slightly hunched over. he stepped closer, and saw your hands covering your mouth. you body jolted, and you drew in quick, grasping breaths. you were crying. he said your name, and you didn’t turn to look at him.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry mr donaldson.”

all the relief he felt was replaced by swift, acute, crushing guilt. your hair fell over your face, shielding you from him. he said your name once more. you sniffed.

“hey, hey hey hey.”

against his better judgement, and because of the aching of his heart, he took you gently by the shoulders, and turned you to face him.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

tears spill from your eyes and you wipe them away with a heavy hand, refusing to meet his eyes. his neck craned down to your eye level, his thumbs began tracing circle in your shoulders. a thoughtless gesture but one that made you cry even harder.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what i was thinking. im just so sorry.”

“hey, it’s ok. it’s alright.”

“it’s not alright. i’ve ruined everything. i’ve made it- so- weird. i just thought that you- you wanted me. i’m so stupid.”

your mascara runs, painting your face with your turmoil.

how could you be so dense? you had been making him uncomfortable. he didn’t want you. the only reason he even let you hang around was obligation. because of what you meant to lily. you didn’t mean anything to him. you were just some kid. did he even think you’re pretty? you bet he didn’t.

worse than that, you had disappointed him. him. he was supposed to be everything your dad wasn’t. and now he was disappointed. you had failed. you had ruined everything. what even were you? were you even human?

“don’t. you’re not stupid. don’t say that.”

“i’m sorry. i just- i wanted to make you happy. that’s all i ever wanted. i wanted you to be happy with me. you were so- so- so crushed after the divorce, i-i just-“

he guides you over to the bar stool, and you let him. you sit across from each other. his hand touches your cheek, the other holds you shoulder still. the touch of his hand quietens your babbling, your eyes round and wet and open.

“you do make me happy.”

your lips parted, plump with crying.

“i do?”

he cringes at the hope in your voice, at the feeling in his chest that it stirs. the feeling in his whole body at touching, after so many years, your soft skin. the last time he held your face you were 8, crying over a bumped knee. he had very different feelings now than he did then. sympathy and concern had ebbed, making way for much darker, much more corrosive emotions. he felt guilt and want broil in the chambers of his stomach, and the evilness inside him told him how easy to would be to get what he wanted. how close he was.

“yes. you’re my favourite buddy, we have a great time together,” he ruffled your shoulder like you pat a dog, speaking quick to placate you.

the hope in your eyes dwindled.

“so,” you sniffled, “you don’t feel anything for me? you don’t-don’t want me at all?”

with your convulsive sobbing your chest rose and fell, and with each jolt you spilled further out of your thread bare top. he closed his eyes, and swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing. inhaling deeply, his fingers released your shoulder.

“it doesn’t matter what i want.”

“yes it does, it matters the most,” you answer immediately, tears gone from your eyes, now sliding down from your water line and down your cheek, “what do you want?”

what does art want? when was the last time he asked himself that question? years. at least. he drew away from you. you felt sick.

he turned on the stool, ducking his head and cradling his face in his hands

“i want…”

what the fuck was he saying? he couldn’t say this to you. he couldn’t. but he was.

“i… you’re a very gorgeous girl. you’re sweet. you’re smart. you’re funny. i like you very much.”

he said it like he was confessing to murder. elbow resting on his knee, his hand covered his eyes with splayed fingers. god, he was going to hell for this. even saying the words felt like the deepest sin imaginable, and he was sanitising his truth extensively. what he thought about at night, when you went home and his house became cold again, when he got into the shower and mechanically relieved himself into the drain, that was truly deplorable. when he touched himself, it was you he thought of. invariably. everything a man could possibly do to a girl, everything a girl could possibly do to a man, he had laid up in his bed and touched himself to with you in mind. ropes and ropes and ropes of cum in your honour, so gently splattered on shower walls and bedsheets he needed to wash anyway. sometimes he came on his torso, just to feel young and frivolous, like you were. and when he did his brain would turn back on, and he would feel so guilty that he would lay there to soak up his guilt, a punishment for himself from himself. so yes. he wanted you. he wanted you very, very badly. with every fibre of his being, he craved you. and with every fibre of his soul, he hated himself for it. but apparently he was still talking. what his morality urged him his mouth couldn’t hear, or wouldn’t obey.

“so don’t think you’re delusional. you had every reason to think i might reciprocate.”

you watched him, glossy eyes wide as ever. he peeked from beneath his fingers, immediately covering his eyes again when he saw you watch him. he shouldn’t have said that. he shouldn’t have. that was bad, it’s only giving you hope, and there is no hope. he can’t, he can’t. he want to so badly but he can’t. god, no he can’t. it would be so easy but easy isn’t right and how could he ever look his daughter in the eyes again if he did? how could he look at tashi?

“mr donaldson?”

“mm,” he replied miserably.

“kiss me.”

slowly, exhausted, he lifted up his head. mistake. now he was thinking about it as he looked at your face, puffy and damp and shining like a star.

why did he look so disgusted? what was so wrong with you? you couldn’t stop yourself from barreling ahead, feeling his premature rejection like a rock in your stomach.

“just once. then i’ll leave and i’ll never bother you and you won’t see me anymore and i’ll go to church and ill get a therapist, but just once.”

he looks so tired. so tired and so fucking good. his eyes smouldered with deep thought, the thought only a mature man can have. he was so mature. he was so much larger than you. he could hurt you if he wanted to. he could make you do anything but all he did was look at you so tired it made you squirm inside. as your sobs died in your throat, regret and embarrassment become indistinguishable from desire.

he blinked slowly, and opened his mouth. the white of his teeth glittered. his tongue pawed the inside of his cheek. he was thinking about it.

how could he be thinking about it? he was the worst person in the world. and yet. and yet. one kiss. he could control it with one kiss. one kiss wouldn’t hurt. one kiss. he had kissed your head before. your cheek. what was so different about this?

wordlessly, he moved off the stool. heart in your mouth you waited. a tremulous breath shuddered from your chest as he took one step. two steps. three steps. until he was stood above you. his face was unreadable. not cold. not warm. just looking, appraising from above his brown lower lashes, down his strong kissable nose.

“one kiss?”

his hand rose slowly, palm facing upwards. his finger tips grazed your jaw, your chin, tilting your head up. fireworks burst in your stomach, and you resisted the urge to moan.

“one. that’s all.”

one. that would be all. one kiss and he would put this silly fascination away for good. a kiss is deniable. a kiss is nothing.

he stoops down, can feel the nerves vibrating from your skin. his head tilts slightly, and your eyes lock as he descends to your level. his hand moves into your hair, a combing hold. and you kiss. no tongue. your lips connect, mush and expand over the others. his nose touched your cheek. your arms remained stiff by your side as they gripped the stool. you felt the pinkness of his lips, felt the edge of his cupids bow. and then he pulled away.

there. one kiss. he had done what he had to to get you to drop it. had fulfilled your criteria, and now you could move on. now he could move on.

but if that was true, why was he leaning in again? why did almost tasting your saliva, a substance he had thought about in great detail, make him hungrier for it? why was almost having it worse than never coming close? why did he pull gently on your hair, making your head tip back, opening you mouth so he could kiss the part of you he craved; the inside part? why was he hard if it was over?

his tongue flicked gently inside, asking permission. your mouths closed together, making the kiss noise you hate hearing but love making. they open quickly and in sequence. your hands rise up to gently hover over his chest, barely grazing his shirt. you didn’t want to touch him too hard in case he dissipated into a cloud of smoke, an illusion.

but he was very real, and under your timid girlish touch he was undone. a soft exhalation like a groan into your mouth, and his tongue protruded. it touched yours and you tasted the salt on it, shivering. his other hand fell back to your shoulder, gripping so hard it was like had no idea what he was doing. feeling your mouth against his was all that there was. there wasn’t right, there wasn’t wrong, there was only sensation.

all the want he had saved for solitary and depressing masturbation now burst through his veins, into his actions and he kissed you with all the passion in him. with everything he’s never said, with all the times he held back with you, with tashi. he kissed you like if he didn’t he would die, breathing and groaning and grunting involuntarily. he mashed his face to yours, crushing your lips, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before recapturing your mouth in a sloppy open mouthed kiss. it felt like steam evaporated from where your met, so hot and wet.

you didn’t know what was your and what was art, where you finished and art began. you meshed like the broken pieces of a vase slotted against each other. his tongue became so wild it clipped the side of your mouth in its frantic exploration, and you sighed.

ultimately it was you who had to pull away. you pulled your hands into your own chest, gasping for breath. he didn’t move an inch. he gripped your shoulder still, cradled your face the same. he opened his eyes, chest rising and falling graciously.

he surveyed you, still too high from your touch to feel guilt, with lazy eyes. he was so fucked. your eyes sparkled like glitter. your lips shined pearly with his spit. his.

“art?”

“yes?”

“it’s not just one kiss is it?”

despite himself, despite everything, he smiled.

“no. i don’t think it is.”

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hellooo may I request an MLM fairy tale-esque story of a knight trying to save a prince from a sorcerer's spell, but the cunning sorcerer tries to enthrall him as well? ✨️✨️

"Why did you come?"

"Where is he?"

"Duty?" the sorcerer offered.

"Where. Is. He?"

"I hope it was not love," the sorcerer said. His head tilted. "You once vowed you'd never fall in love with someone like him. A parasite of royal blood."

He's different. But there was no good way to say that, not to them.

The knight came to a stop before the twisted imitation of the throne. It was closer to smoke and dreams than the gold plated seat in the grand hall that he knew so well these days, but the sorcerer lounged upon it as if it were all the same. Just as real.

"It doesn't matter why I'm here." The knight drew his blade, heart hammering. "I'm here. I'll cut you through to get to him, if that is what it takes."

The sorcerer's lip curled. "Spoken like a true knight."

"Well, you steal princes like a true evil sorcerer, so I suppose we both know our roles these days."

"You have either forgotten yourself or betrayed yourself," the sorcerer said, "and I'm truly not sure which possibility is worth."

It stung. Maybe it was even true.

"The kingdom needs him. Let him go."

"You are enthralled in the services of a man who loves you like a tic loves blood." The sorcerer's gaze drilled into the knight. "How else could he or any of them ask you to fight me for them? To die for him?"

The knight took a step closer, then another, and it felt too easy to press the silver shine of the blade against the sorcerer's throat. "Let. Him. Go."

The sorcerer smiled. "Why did you come?"

"You know why." The knight's voice cracked.

The sorcerer was quiet for a moment, before they offered more of their throat to the blade. "Then spill my blood across the floor and claim your prize, knight. You know how to break an enchantment, don't you?"

The knight's eyes narrowed. The sorcerer's gleamed in the moonlight, haunted and haunting, enchanted and enchanting - nothing like the world beyond the castle, where day still shone and princes were missing.

They were still, despite everything, not something that the knight wanted to kill.

"Go on." The sorcerer's voice lilted through him, sweet and cruel as a childhood memory. "Do your duty. You know it, don't you? Why cling to this small fragment of who you used to be, to me? You are his now."

His. For him.

The knight's head felt misty, like the fog of magic, of the whole cursed place, was seeping into them like damp.

He slit the sorcerer's throat.

Then, in an instant, it was not the sorcerer in front of him at all. It was the prince, his prince. An illusion shattered, blood-choked, familiar eyes filling with colour as the thrall of enchantment cleared from them.

"No!" The knight lunged for him, to catch him, to somehow reverse what he had unknowingly done. He peppered kisses to the prince's sweaty hair, exposing himself utterly, as his love and his duty looked at him with the sort of pleading that could have been it's okay or I forgive you but was ultimately far more terrible than how could you. "No," the knight said. "No, please. I'm sorry - I didn't - I thought -"

The sorcerer laughed. They appeared from behind the throne, winding out of the mist like a serpent. The magic changed the palace to an altar, as shadowy as the last setting had been but for the stained glass vibrant and bloody behind them.

The prince whimpered and crumpled on nothing, on air, landing on his knees. He clutched at the knight's hands. He squeezed, some morse code that wouldn't make it past his cleanly ruined throat.

"Now," the sorcerer murmured, "tell me what you would do, my knight, to save him?"

The trap was clear enough, but still the knight said it. "Anything."

"You would give yourself to me instead?"

"Anything. Just let them go, unharmed."

"I would enthrall you. Turn you inside out until I can see all the stitches of you and rework them in my image."

The prince shook his head against the knight's neck. He wheezed. His weak grip flexed and tightened.

"I said anything," the knight spat.

"Then everything," the sorcerer said, "I will have."

As the magic slid over them all, the knight had just enough in them to register one final command, to feel their true surroundings come into focus beneath the spell of it all.

"Put our prince in the tower, my knight," the sorcerer said. "I'll let him go, unharmed....eventually."

The knight did as he was told.

He did his duty.

[sublimati0ns]

daily koss #24: sometimes you guys are gonna have to put up with me posting the most random ass goofy AUs…

@dallacuna mentioned offhandedly that if Knock Out was in Little Shop of Horrors he’d be the dentist and the conversation spiralled…

Lacuna and I agreed none of the TFP characters suited Audrey, so I ended up using Windblade cuz I’ve been reading the IDW ‘05 run and (wack orientalism ass design aside) I really like her and her dynamic with Starscream so far :( Not me shipping yet another rarepair

Starscream was originally Smokescreen’s evil plant but Knock Out rizzed him up so he switched sides 🤦

KO is able to do this because Smokescreen’s attempt to avenge Windblade’s mistreatment doesn’t go to script and he ends up just dragging an unconscious Knock Out back to the flower shop, grappling with whether or not he should kill him after all, but Knock Out wakes up and ends up encountering Starscream

He was like ‘you know having to feed you live prey will end up eating at his conscience and he’ll end up betraying you right 😏’ and SS was like ‘oh and you won’t?’ and KO was like ‘please—I’m in this mess because I’m a sadist, I’m afraid; the only qualm I have with murder is how much work it is to hide a body [HINT HINT]’ their stupid ass you scratch my paint I scratch yours canon event 😭 so SS was like ‘Sorry, Smokescreen, but I’m afraid it seems our little partnership has come to an end [EVIL EMOJI]’

But maybe KO does not get to let SS cannibalise him maybe Smokescreen escapes… My baby boy…

KOSS short-sighted idiot moment immediately follows this scenario because they’re both like wait where are we going to keep Starscream. We can’t just leave him in the flower shop it’s going to be weird for Knock Out to rock up all the time. But they can’t just move him cuz he’s a 20ft plant

SS just expected KO to have a plan for this for some reason and he gets mad and KO is like ‘well YOU’RE the higher alien lifeform here I thought you’d have a spaceship???’ and SS is like ‘????? ⬅️ A PLANT WITH ROOTS IN THE GROUND’

They somehow work things out and then Knock Out becomes a serial killer for fun and business. Truly wretched…

It’s KOSS though so they need to have relationship drama; when KO realises the take over the world and kill all humans plan is for serious he gets mad like what about HIM??? HE lives there??? HELLO??? He thought they were going to publicise Starscream as a cool freak of nature and become famous??? And SS (idiot) is like Sorry you felt that way; I suppose I could always kill you last 🤷 And then KO starts trying to kill him

SS is pissed off but also feels bad for some reason… So crazy why does he feel hurt by this :((( It makes no sense :((( So even though he’s like ‘*scoff* No matter—he’s just some human; he played his role and now he’s in my way’ he can’t bring himself to kill KO 🤦 Very predictable

They end up making up though. Roll end credits of their domestic serial killer life /hit

Breakdown is Knock Out’s hygienist/secretary but unlike the original dentist he treats BD well! BD usually stays in his own lane but sometimes gets called in to help with the murder nonsense

I have not figured out the rest of the cast but might if I percolate this silly AU more ahahaha

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: After meeting Joel one late night at a bar you launch into a whirlwind romance with him. But, between a nasty breakup and the end of the world, you're left with nothing but your thoughts of the past and the way they haunt you all too well.

Warnings: 18+ Mature themes including: language, loss of virginity sexual references, SA (Not by Joel), Animal death, starvation.

Based on the song by Taylor Swift.

Word Count: 6.5k

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Winter 2023

Jackson was a town that was almost too good to be true. You had stumbled upon it nearly 7 years ago after fleeing in the middle of the night from a band of men that had captured you. Your sanctuary was just getting started then, but the group that was working there, welcomed you with open arms and as many supplies as they could spare.

It was your own little slice of paradise in this post-apocalyptic world you were stuck in. Away from FEDRA's iron fist and the horrors that evil people inflicted on others, most days you felt like you were living the life you used to back in 2003.

Of course, some things were different now. The TV in the corner of your living room was useless and most of your meals were communal in the mess hall. But, you loved it all anyway, glad to be away from the harsh world that lay outside the walls.

Even when you were assigned to clean out the horse stables, you loved your community. Jackson was your perfect little universe, undisturbed by the past and-

"Oh, shit...Joel?"

May 2003

College finals were the two scariest words one could say to you right now. Luckily for you, you had managed to somehow pass all of them this semester. Yes, you had somehow even managed an 80 on your biology exam, you still weren't quite sure how that happened. Maybe those 3am nights poured over your books did something.

"We should celebrate tonight." Your friend, Amelia suggested from her spot on the couch

"I was thinking about ordering a pizza." You sigh as you try to work out in your mind how much you have in your bank account. Perhaps you even had enough for some wings too.

"Not like that." She scoffs, " I meant we dress up real slutty and hit some bars. Get some guys to buy us drinks."

"I wanted to watch a movie tonight though." You sigh, thinking of the Blockbuster down the road. The second X-Men movie had come out a few weeks ago and you were dying to see Hugh Jackman on your screen again.

"You can spend the rest of your life as a grandma watching movies. You're only hot once." Amelia laughs

"But-"

"No buts. Your tits are gonna be at your waist one day and you'll thank me for this." Amelia declares before skipping off to her room, mumbling about which top she'd wear.

You sigh as you watch her door close. Amelia Caddel hadn't been your first choice for sharing an off campus apartment. Afterall, she was the opposite of you in so many ways. But, Miss Life of the Party had a steady deposit of allowance in her account from mommy and daddy, meaning she never missed rent, an important factor in a roomate.

"Guess you're spending the night alone." You sigh, looking down at your cat, Loki who purred, clearly wanting a treat or perhaps another heaping bowl of kibble.

Amelia fussed with your hair as the two of you entered your first bar.

"How're you going to pick up a guy if he can't even see your eyes?" She laughs

The stuffy air and the loud music, followed by a group of frat boys cheering for someone, reminded you why you never went out.

You watched with a sigh as she sought out the closest mid twenties guy she could wrestle a few drinks out of. You trailed behind, fidgeting with the skimpy black mini dress she had coaxed you into.

You'd have to hand it to Amelia, you certainly looked hot in it.

The feel of a stranger bumping into you and the sharp scent of aftershave filled your nose, and then big hands were wrapping around your waist, keeping you from stumbling.

"Shit sorry, hon." His Texan accent sent a small shiver down your spine.

"It's fine." You mumble, jumping away from the stranger's arms.

"Tommy, let's go! Quit flirtin' with the college girls!"

The man, Tommy, mumbles another apology to you before disappearing further into the bar, in search of whoever called for him.

Joel watched as his younger brother "accidentally" bumped into some silly college girl who seemed out of her element. Joel couldn't lie, it was something his brain might've come up with if he wasn't so damn tired from today's work. When was laying concrete going to get easier?

The younger Miller brother, who hadn't succumbed to back pain just yet, whispered some false apology in the girl's ears as she jumped away from him.

Joel called for him, he couldn't let Tommy terrorize some poor twenty-something girl who looked like a deer in the headlights under his brother's gaze.

"You're getting too old to be after college kids." Joel chastizes as he sits beside Tommy at the bar.

"Oh c'mon." Tommy scoffs as he orders a beer for himself and Joel.

"You're thirty, you're not some mid-twenties loser anymore." Joel points out.

"You're no fun, Joel," Tommy says with a roll of his eyes

Joel wanted to go home. He'd wanted to go home hours ago but Tommy had dragged him out after they finally finished working on their latest project, the new local Subway was nicely constructed by the Miller brothers.

Yet, here he sat, a few hours later, Two and a half beers deep, listening to Tommy try his hand at karaoke. Joel was pretty sure his ears were bleeding as his eyes scanned the bar. Most of the patrons were so drunk, they cheered Tommy on.

Joel found his eyes settling on the girl Tommy had "bumped" into earlier. She was still alone, sat across the room at a high-top table, sipping at some fruity drink. Pretty red heels were linked on the footrest of the barstool and Joel watched as she fumbled with her purse, looking for something with a deep frown across her pretty features.

If Joel didn't have a 13-year-old waiting on him back home, he might have slipped across the bar and sweet talked his way into this girl's arms. But the thought of Sarah back home, watching TV with Mrs. Addler had his ass glued to his barstool.

Instead, he observes as you finally find your phone and make a call. He watches as your features droop in disappointment as you yell over Tommy's singing to whoever was on the other end. Joel watched with a bit of amusement as you nearly fell off the stool when you went to stand up, you must've forgotten you linked those heels onto the footrest.

Joel let out a grumble of disappointment as Tommy launched into the beginning of Don't Stop Believin' by Journey. Why had he been given the world's most annoying little brother?

Joel's eyes turn back to the mystery girl and her delicate red heels just as some frat guy from Alpha Delta- who fuckin' cares, slings an arm around her waist, hand dipping too close to the hem of her skirt for Joel to be comfortable with.

As if he's on autopilot, Joel finds himself crossing the bar in long strides, ready to put a stop to whatever might come next.

"I don't see your friend now." The guy laughs as you shift your weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable.

Joel hears you mumble something about wanting to go home.

"I'll give you a ride."

The guy's sleazy tone has Joel cringing as he approaches. DId anyone teach these kids manners?

"Why don't you give the lady some space?" Joel suggests boldy

Alpha-Delta-Chad turns around to meet Joel's gaze, not releasing you just yet as he scoffs,

"Who the fuck are you? Her dad?"

"Just a concerned stranger." Joel nods to you in greeting, "She doesn't seem too comfortable with you, kid. Give her some room."

"How would you even know old man?" The boy asks, "You're like forty!"

Ouch. Joel was 35. Did he really look 40? Already?

"Let her go," Joel says, his voice deepening a bit

The frat boy's eyes scan Joel's figure. Either he decides you're not worth it, or that he'd lose the fight because before Joel knows it he's letting you go and murmuring another curse at Joel.

"Thank you." You breathe a sigh of relief, and a small smile graces your pretty face as Joel nods.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

The name slips out of Joel's mouth before he can stop it and he watches in amusement as you blink away in embarrassment.

Your eyes roam across his frame and Joel can't quite place the look on your face as you...size him up?

"Could you um...walk me to the bus stop? I'd go myself but I'm worried that guy might be waiting for me outside." You ask

Joel wants to say no. He wants to stay tucked away in the bar, sipping his beer, and hope Tommy accidentally swallows the microphone he's singing into. Yet, one look into your sad, and definitely drunk eyes has him folding.

"Sure, I'll walk ya."

A warm breeze blows through the air as your savior is beside you at the bus stop. He'd insisted on waiting beside you until the bus showed up, saying something about having a daughter back home and it not being right to leave you alone out here.

"So...what's your name?" You ask, your drunk mind disliked silences.

"Joel. Joel Miller." He says, "You?"

You softly say your name, shy under his gaze.

Maybe its the three margaritas but the man next to you is hot. Short brown curly hair with dark eyes to match. Not to mention the splatter of facial hair and mustache he seemed to pull off so effortlessly. He was definitely much older than you, at least over ten years your senior. But, he was attractive in the ways all the college boys in your classes weren't.

Your eyes raked over tanned arms, toned perfectly from whatever he did to get them. You could tell he was sporting a handsome dad bod under the plain blue t-shirt on his frame. You'd never been one for a rippling six-pack, a man who'd eat pizza and ice cream with you was always going to be attractive than one who spent his days drinking protein shakes and eating eggs for "gains". Joel seemed like a guy who'd be into a binge-watch of every Star Wars movie and indulge with you in an impulsive 2am Domino's order.

"Where the hell is this bus at?"

His deep voice had you snapping from your drunken daydream of pizza and dad bods.

"Oh um..."

You're not quite sure where the bus is. Hopefully, it'd show soon. Your legs felt like a newborn deer's, no way would you be able to walk the seven and a half miles back to your apartment like this.

"Joel!"

Another voice has you and your new companion turning your heads. Another man, somehow a bit familiar in your drunk brain is approaching.

"What're you doin' man? You missed my singing."

"I heard enough." Joel huffs in annoyance

Oh, so this was the guy who was badly singing to Brittney Spears and Journey. He looked a bit more familiar though...this was the dude that had bumped into your earlier!

"Now if I'm too old to be goin' after college girls, then you're definitely too old, brother."

"I'm not...Not goin' after anyone. I'm waiting for the bus with her. Some creep was hitting on her at the bar, I'm keeping her safe." Joel groans at this man's comment.

So he wasn't interested? You felt your heart sink a bit. Of course, he wasn't interested. He had a kid for crying out loud.

Oh god, what if he had a wife? Were you daydreaming about a married man?

Your eyes jump to his left hand.

Ringless.

Well, at least you weren't fantasizing about being a homewrecker.

"The bus? It's past midnight. The bus stops running at 11:30." The new guy says, looking at his watch.

"Oh...um. I'll just go then." You say, standing up on unsteady legs. Looks like you're walking. You didn't have the money for a cab, so your legs were just going to have to tough this one out.

"Go? Go where?" Joel's friend scoffs

You ignore him, he's so weird.

"Tommy, stop it." Joel scolds

He sounds like such a dad as you laugh to yourself while smoothing your dress out.

"Do you want us to give you a ride?" Joel asks, standing up next to you

"No, I can manage the walk." You brush him off, trying to ignore the way he's so tall all of a sudden.

You were even wearing heels and he was bigger than you!

"I can call a cab," Joel suggests, watching the way your ankle nearly twists when you take a step.

"I don't have any money for one." You whimper, as the pain in your ankle shoots up your leg.

Fuck these heels. Fuck Amelia for ditching you for another bar. Fuck Joel had his stupid dad bod and tanned skin. Fuck the stupidly attractive mustache on his stupidly attractive face.

This always happened when you were drunk. First, your legs turned into literal Jello and then you'd get all weepy about nothing. At least you'd have seven miles to cry your eyes out. Hopefully, Loki would let you hold him when you got home.

"Let me give you a ride. Do you live on campus?" Joel asks his eyes widening at the tears that dribble down your face.

"I'm just gonna walk." You mumble and bush past him, forcing your legs into an unsteady match.

"That's like...an 8-mile walk," Tommy says from behind you, estimating the distance between here and the college.

"Actually seven and a half." You sass, not interested in his comments or his stupid aftershave that invaded your nose as you walked past him.

You're not entirely sure how you ended up here, in the back seat of a pick up truck while Joel drove you home. You mumbled your address to him and he'd somehow known immediately where you were living.

Hopefully, you weren't going to end up dead in a ditch tonight.

Joel watched as you rested your head against the window. He'd walked you to his truck after you got a few feet away from him before sitting down on the curb, tears running down your pretty face, mumbling something about a cat.

"Fuckin' college girls." Tommy had mumbled as he helped Joel buckle you into your seat

"Let's just get her home," Joel said

"Yeah before she turns the waterworks back on." Tommy sighed

Joel drives towards the shitty apartments they rent to college kids. Two blocks away he had once been working in a fancy new condo building, putting up drywall and laying flooring. There'd been talk about developing your area as well, but six months later the apartments of Oliver Avenue were still as shitty as ever.

Joel guaranteed you were getting ripped off by your landlord. Probably paying too much for someplace that had thin walls and bad heating. Sure enough, he was right, as he parked his trunk in front of a building that badly needed a makeover.

"Stay here." He tells Tommy who seems to be a few moments away from falling asleep in the passenger seat.

Joel pulls you from the backseat, shoving Sarah's soccer ball back under the seat when it rolls out and tries to escape.

"Alright, what floor?" Joel asks as you stand beside him, tears finally dried up.

You wordlessly begin to plod your way up the steps and murmur what sounds like a five to him.

Joel makes sure you get your door open and watches as a black cat greets you as you push the door open.

"Hi, baby." You coo at the cat, scooping him up. "Did you miss me?"

Joel feels his heart speed up as you sweet-talk your pet. He tries to banish the idea of you talking to him like that, carding your hands through his hair, rather than this little black cat with a green collar and golden bell around his neck.

"Thank you, Joel." You say as you spin around to face him

"No problem." He hums, "Glad I was able to help."

You smile at him as your damn cat meows loudly, breaking the trance you had on him.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Joel."

July 2003

The fourth of July was serious business in Austin. From mega barbeques to fireworks that put Magic Kingdom to shame, your sleepy little college town was transformed for America's birthday.

A much-needed breeze flows through the park as you sit on the blanket you'd found shoved at the back of your closet. Summer was brutal this year, and you were sure that the Texas heat wasn't making the wait for fireworks any easier.

Your parents had invited you back home to Pittsburgh this summer. But, you found yourself more interested in staying put in Austin. Your sleepy suburb town back home would always be there, no sense in spending your summer cooped up in your childhood room. At least here you could go out whenever you wanted.

"Dad, let's go! All the good spots are going to be taken!!"

A young girl's voice drifts across the park as you turn to watch her pull what must be her father along.

"Hold on, Sarah! You're gonna make me drop all this."

"Move faster then!"

Well, shit.

Joel Miller, the savior of drunk college girls, was here in the park, walking towards you.

Your eyes widen as you take him in. At least you know it wasn't just the alcohol talking, Joel Miller was just as devastatingly good-looking now as he was a month and a half ago when he drove you home from the bar.

"H-Hi." You awkwardly stammer as he passes by you, arms full with a small cooler and a big blanket.

"Hello." He says, quickly

The double take he does is almost comical as he looks at you.

"Sarah!" He calls after the girl, "Come back here!"

"Didn't think I'd ever see you again." You smile, standing up from your own spot

"Well, I do live around here." He says with a lopsided smile that makes him look a bit more boyish.

The girl, Sarah, returns to her father's side.

"Hi." She says a bit flatly, clearly annoyed her father has stopped his march across the park to what she had deemed the perfect spot.

"Hello." You greeted her, with a soft smile.

She was so cute, with dark curly hair and black shorts paired with a pretty green and blue t-shirt. Sparkly sandals caught your eye as she stepped a bit closer to Joel, looking up at him for an explanation.

Joel introduces you to her, "I helped her out a month ago, got her home safe."

You're beyond elated he's standing in front of you again. For a little bit you swore he was a hallucination you'd dreamt up in a drunken haze. A handsome Texan man who'd driven you home safely after rescuing you from some sleaze. Amelia had scolded you for hours when she found out you hadn't gotten his number.

"Super safe." You smile at him.

Joel feels a nervous sweat break out on his forehead. Here he was with his daughter ready to watch their fireworks like they always did each year and he was flirting with a girl like he was 17 again. He'd be lying if you weren't on his mind regularly. The way you'd been dressed that night haunted him at night as he lay in bed, your sweet voice filled his ears as he went about his days. He'd wondered if you only used that tone for your cat.

"You two want to sit with me? I'm not sure if these are the best seats in the house but I do have some popcorn I can share..." You trail off, giving a smile to Sarah who enthusiastically agrees at the idea of free food.

Joel settles next to you as Sarah talks your ears off about soccer practices and the pool party Joel took her to a few weeks ago. He watches as you listen intently to his daughter's words. So rarely does a woman he's interested in take time to talk to Sarah. Yet, here you were, in college and interacting with his daughter better than most grown women did.

"So how old are you?"

Joel nudges Sarah with his shoe, doesn't she know that's a rude question? He could've sworn he taught her better.

"I'm 23. 24 this August." You say

"Wow," Sarah says

You turn away for a moment, reaching for the bag of popcorn that sits behind you. Joel's eyes widen as he watches Sarah silently mouth to him,

"She's so old!"

If you were old, did that mean he was ancient? God, how old did his daughter view him as? He could've sworn 35 wasn't that bad. Maybe it was though...

"So, 23. You're graduating soon then, yeah?" Joel asked

"I wish." You sigh, "I took a gap year after high school, and then just couldn't find the right major for a bit. I'm technically on track to become a Physician Assistant but I dunno if it's right for me."

Joel nods, he knows the feeling, not knowing if what you're doing is right. He'd felt that way when Sarah was born, and then when her mother left them, and then every time Sarah was hurt or crying, or just not perfectly happy, Joel felt that way, unsure of himself.

"You'd make a great PA, Sweetheart." Joel genuinely says, placing a hand over yours

"Thanks." You say a bit flustered at the physical contact.

"Gross," Sarah comments at what's unfolding before her eyes.

"You're gross." Joel counters, not missing a beat to tease her.

Sarah sticks her tongue out at him in retaliation, and Joel does the same.

You spend the rest of your summer with the Millers. In between public pool trips, and catching fireflies in the backyard, you somehow end up entangled with Joel. Staying up on the couch beside him, watching movie after movie when Sarah drifted off into dreamland up in her bed.

Before you know it, Joel is picking you up for dates and meeting you at coffee shops to let you talk his ears off about whatever book you've picked up for the week.

You let Joel take your virginity on a humid August night. After sending Sarah off to her friend's house you let him pull you into his room and under the sheets.

Breathless and sweaty you rest your head on his chest.

"You okay?" Joel asks quietly, running a hand up and down your back

"Mmhm." You sigh dreamily

"Didn't hurt you or nothin'?" He asks

"I'm okay, Joel." You laugh

"Just checking." He mumbles

Joel looks a bit out of place as he sits on your couch. Sarah had a week of soccer camp and the two of you decided to spend it together. Loki jumps up on the cushion beside Joel and lets out a loud meow.

"Pet him." You suggest with a shrug

"He doesn't even like me." Joel huffs staring into your cats eyes

"You nearly sat on him the first time you were here." You remind Joel of his previous crime from a week ago.

"I thought he was a throw pillow." Joel defends himself, motioning to the many pillows you and Amelia had scattered around the apartment.

"You thought I had a green-eyed pillow that meowed?"

"I dunno what you women are into, you're all so confusing."

You let out a scoff before plopping down on the couch next to him, Loki climbing into your lap and purring as you scratch behind his ears.

"The only confusing one here is you, Joel Miller."

Tommy isn't as bad as you thought he was.

Scratch that, he's fantastic, pulling out old photos of Joel from over the years. You nearly piss yourself though when he whips out an old family album. A nine-year-old Joel stares back at you as you look at an old photo of him playing tee-ball.

"Look how cute you were!" You gasp as you run your fingers across the photograph

"Joel Miller, star tee-ball player!" Tommy teases his big brother.

You smile as you watch Joel's face turn red as you take in even more photographs of him as a kid, you even see his 10th-grade photo, yes the one where he has braces and the worst case of acne known to mankind.

By the time the Texas heat begins to ease off and the leaves begin to change colors, you're head over heels in love with Joel Miller. From the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, to the way he'd dance with you in the dead of the night while the refrigerator door hung open, the light reflecting off your bodies as you laughed in his arms.

Three months, such a short time, and yet so much had happened. You tried to focus on the Anatomy lesson your professor was talking about in front of you yet you found your mind occupied with something else. It was as if you had been possessed, nothing but Joel filled your mind as you scribbled your notes onto your notebook. Anatomy class be damned, you were going to go mad thinking of him like this.

Your birthday, August 29th rolled around faster than you thought it would. You hadn't seen Joel all week. Between your classes, Sarah's soccer and school, and Joel's contracting, you had only time to talk to him briefly on the phone.

You had reached out to Joel earlier today to invite him to a small birthday party Amelia had insisted on. Nothing special, just some pizza and cupcakes, a cheap beer or two.

But now, it was going on 10:30 and Joel was nothing but a whisper in the wind. Sadness weighed on your chest as you watched the front door, hoping for a knock that would signal his arrival.

"Hey...I think we should just go to bed..."Amelia suggests softly from her spot next to you.

"No, he's coming." You mumble sadly tears tickling your waterline,

You stare at the last cupcake that sits on the coffee table. It was meant to be for Joel. You had scooped it out of the box thinking about how nice the icing looked on it. You had wanted him to have the best one in the box, even if that meant your own was a little lopsided and missing sprinkles.

Amelia pulls you into her side, letting you rest your head on her shoulder. She gently wraps her arm around you and quietly says,

"It's supposed to be fun, turning 24..."

September 2003

Three days pass before you hear from Joel again. His voice on the other end of the phone call is paralyzing as your world comes crashing down. The phone beeps as the call ends and you stand at your kitchen counter in shock, shocked that he's ending it all like this, with a phone call.

"If we had been closer in age, maybe it would've been fine."

His words bounce around in your mind as you slam your phone down on the counter. Loki jumps from his spot on the windowsill meowing as you cross the room quickly.

You pulled your covers over your head, blocking out the world as you heard Amelia return from her ethics class.

"If we had been closer in age, maybe it would've been fine."

God, that made you want to die. What did he even think of you? That you were some wide-eyed college kid who just existed in limbo for him?

You spend the next week in bed, plagued with tears and anger as you curse Joel out at least 1000 times a day. The knock at your door and Amelia entering your room with a box has you startled.

"What's this?" You sniff

"UPS guy just left it at our front door." She says before setting it on the bed and leaving you again.

You cut the box open and find your things inside it. Little things you'd left at Joel's over the summer. Hair ties, a brush, deodorant, t-shirts, and sweaters, even a photograph of you, Sarah, and him at the aquarium is nestled between the pages of a book you kept on his nightstand to read to him before the two of you dozed off. The box holds your entire relationship as you dump it out on your bed.

The scent of Joel, masculine and inviting clings to your belongings just like the way it clings to your heart.

Your hands shift through the items again, the scarf you wore to Tommy's house is missing. You had left it there and Joel had promised to return it to you.

"Who wears a scarf in Texas?" Joel snorts

"I do! And you better give it back, Miller." You groan

"I'll get it to you, sweetheart. Don't worry about it."

You wonder what has become of your scarf now. Perhaps it's sitting in a drawer in his room, nestled among his belongings, looking horribly out of place. Or maybe it's stuck in his truck, shoved under the seats under the pretense that it would make its way back to you one day.

You wonder what has become of Joel now. Perhaps he's lying in his own bed right now, thinking of you, your scarf wrapped around his hands, smelling of you and all his failures.

You wonder if this love affair bruised him the way it did you.

God, you had so many regrets.

December 2003

Cold air fills your lungs as your feet ache beneath you. Snow gently fell down as you sighed quietly. The walk into your hometown was no joke. The shitty beater car you'd stolen had died about 50 miles ago, leaving you vulnerable and scared.

Loki meowed from his crate as you quietly walked along. You shushed him and dropped a few treats behind the bars of the crate. He was going to need food soon if you intended to stay alive, your traveling companion wasn't known for holding his tongue when it came to hunger. The last thing you needed was to have an infected try to kill you because of your pet.

It had been nearly 5 days on the road now. and You'd managed to drive from Austin to Pittsburgh all on your own armed with a shotgun and a map you'd found in the glove compartment.

The past few months had been spent in Joel's basement. After things started going south outside your apartment building, you stuffed Loki into his carrier and filled a two big duffle bags with food and clothes for you and supplies for your cat before managing to somehow sneak into the parking deck and jump into your car. Amelia had never returned from her boyfriends house that night. You knew you couldn't go looking for her though, his home was nearly 25 miles away while Joel's was only 10.

It was mid-morning on September 27th when you reached Joel's place. The other neighborhood homes were empty and you nearly threw up at the sight of Mrs. Adler's mother lying face down on the driveway.

Your heart sinks when you discover Joel and Sarah are already gone. You hadn't expected them to be here yet, a part of you had hoped they'd be. It was Joel's birthday yesterday, you wondered how he'd spent his last normal day. Knowing him, he'd probably been at work all day.

You barricade the doors before slipping into the basement. Joel had spent time finishing it so it was nice for Sarah's sleepovers. You let Loki out before returning upstairs to bring down every nonperishable food item the home had to offer.

And so, there you sat with your cat, in your ex's basement, willing for him to magically appear and tell you everything was going to be okay.

March 2017

The Pittsburgh QZ was fucked. Royally fucked. The loud explosion from some truck filled your ears as you zipped your backpack shut. Loki let out a meow of protest as he disappeared in your bag. He was nearly 15 and his attitude about backpack travel wasn't improving.

You stick to the back alleys as you work towards finding an out. A decent-sized hole in a fence catches your eye and you take your chances, better than getting blown up by the Fireflies or FEDRA.

You're about 4 miles away from the carnage when a sizeable group catches your eye. They must've gotten out just like you.

A man, David, shares a can of flavorless chili with you and you sit on the ground beside him. But, the more you listen to him talk, you can't help but think he's a total nutcase. You thank him for the chili and the 8 cans of chicken noodle soup he's shared with you and decline his offer to join the group.

"We have so much to offer." He says in a soft voice, gesturing to the people scattered around eating and talking amongst themselves.

"I'll stick to just him, thanks though." You say petting Loki's head as you pull him from your backpack to place the cans of food inside.

"Suit yourself."

April 2017

You had dozed off. A rookie mistake to make in the apocalypse.

They had been on you before you knew what was happening. With nothing but a knife to your name to protect yourself, you were hopelessly outgunned.

"Look at what we have here." A deep voice booms, "A girl wondering in my woods, must be my lucky day."

A smelly man stands in front of you, and about 8 other men are circled around you. You squeeze your eyes shut as he lets a dirty finger trail over your face.

"How pretty."

A loud hiss cuts his next sentence. Loki, you brave boy, has climbed out of your backpack where he had been taking a nap. His back has hunched up and you don't miss the way his dark black fur is bristling in the low light of the sun disappearing behind the trees.

You aren't even able to try to arrange a deal for your baby as the man pulls a large knife from his belt and carelessly throws it at your cat.

A horrible screech from Loki fills your ears as the man coos at you and tells you it'll all be okay.

"We've got dinner boys!" The man who has killed your only friend in the whole world exclaims.

Your eyes slam shut as red blood begins to seep into the fabric of your backpack. The man says something about being a provider but you're too focused on choking back the tears that are forming in your eyes.

Hours later, you're tied to a tree stump, your arms behind your back. Your captors present you with a warm soup of sorts. Canned carrots and potatoes float in a clear broth but it's what sits in the center of the bowl that turns your stomach. What's left of your Loki is now being devoured by the men.

You can't do it. You had been starving, unable to catch anything for days. but you can't do it.

"Fine, don't eat." The leader and cat killer huffs as he runs his hands across your chest in an unpleasant matter, "You're going to wish you had though when we're done with you."

June 2017

The moon is your only light as you steal away into the night. Your heart is pounding but you can't or rather won't look back.

Your escape is credited to a man named Adam. He had always been softer to you than the rest. Less brutal than the others when he bent you over a tree stump and forced himself into your unwilling body, cooing in your ears about how good you felt even though you were dry.

Softer and easy to fool when you batted your eyelashes at him so he'd give you a second serving of the deer they'd killed. Gentle when he cleaned whatever wounds the others inflicted on you for their sick pleasure.

Tonight, you had used his softness against him. Crying and whimpering when he tied you to a tree, saying the restraints were too tight. He'd of course taken pity on you and loosened them before kissing your forehead and walking off to sleep.

It had been easy to slip out of the ropes thanks to Adam. You stole his backpack and stuffed it with as much deer jerky as you could get your hands on before snatching a gun off Adam's unknowing form.

Now, you were stumbling through the night, hoping to put as much distance between you and the men as possible.

Nearly three weeks had passed and you were still somehow free. The men hadn't found you and you were deep into the wilderness. Your freedom was something you had yearned for since the moment Loki had died. Yet, here you were, starving and wasting away because you couldn't kill anything to eat.

You drag your body into an old concrete building that was being used to control some form of dam. You rested your head on your backpack, thinking of how far you'd come.

Strangely though, you thought of your past. Fuzzy images of a college classroom came into your brain. Amelia's long blonde hair and the way she'd style it perfectly each day. Texas summers, filled with heat and perfectly seasoned barbeque.

What you wouldn't do for a big plate of ribs right now.

And then the curly hair of a little girl is dancing around your mind. Her warm laughter fills your mind as you think of Sarah Miller. With her sparkle filled sandals and her strange interest in gore filled horror films. You wondered if she was still out there somewhere. Perhaps stuck in some QZ with Joel.

Joel.

You think about Joel. You're sure you've thought of him more in the past three months than you did your whole relationship. Every night when one of your captors, or sometimes multiples had you every which way, you'd try to think about other things. Those other things often divulged into Joel and how gentle he'd been with you. Oh, how you missed his warm arms and soft southern twang. Hou you yearned for him even now. Your only real relationship experience was something you just couldn't let go.

When you were finally found by Maria, you were nearly ready for death. Brain filled with delusional thoughts of the past and starving, she had hoisted you up on her horse and rode off to Jackson, praying this mystery woman wouldn't die on the way there.

Winter 2023

You nearly fall over when his tired eyes meet yours. The loud voice of a young girl fills your ears.

"Do you two know each other?"

You push the stable door open to get a better look at the man who stands before you. For so many years you had pictured the man you dated for a few months, not trying to imagine the way the end of the world might've changed him. Your mind can't reconcile the Joel you once knew and the one before you.

For starters, he looks so tired. Graying curly hair sits atop his head, a salt and pepper beard adorns his face. Even his frame has changed, the winter coat he wears hides it but you can tell he's become riddled with muscle to take on the harsh outside world. The only thing that seems the same is his mustache, somehow untouched by time.

"Joel, wait up! There's something I gotta tell ya!"

Tommy's loud voice carries from wherever he is and you want to laugh at the younger Miller brother. Of course, he was going to try to intercept your meeting. Too bad he was too slow.

"Joel? Hello? Do you know her?" The girl asks again.

You glance at her, she can't be more than 14 or 15. Her pale skin is rosy against the cold Wyoming winter. She looks at you, probably for an answer since all Joel is doing is staring at you, most likely in shock.

Eventually, though, the man of the hour opens his mouth to speak,

"No, I don't know her."

This is my first time writing for Joel, hope you enjoyed :)

Next Part

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly @orcasoul

[cosmowgyral]

"Once again, the Evil that cannot be Undone: Tonight you will fall for me"

▪︎ William and Nica

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

William's End

When I went to the great hall, William was playing the piano, just like the other day.

He immediately noticed me and stopped.

Kate: …..I’m sorry for interrupting again.

William: Not at all. I was playing it to lure you out, so it all went as planned.

(…Huh?)

(I feel like I’ve heard William say that before.)

I tried to remember when it was, but my head only throbbed with a dull ache.

William: Will the Robin stay up late again tonight?

Kate: Ye-yes…. I didn’t feel like sleeping just yet.

William: I heard you went out with Nica Schwartz today.

Kate: How did you know?

William: Liam got worried seeing you leave the castle and followed you.

Kate: …I’m sorry.

Unable to bear the strange sense of guilt that welled up inside me, I apologized, and William tilted his head.

William: Why are you apologizing?

Kate: Well, that’s….

(For some reason, I felt bad for William, so I ended up apologizing….)

(Why do I feel sorry for him…and why do I feel guilty?)

It’s difficult to express emotions that I can’t understand myself….

Kate: I was told to take it easy and get some rest, so I think I might have worried others by going out on my own.

In the end, I gave a safe and neutral answer.

William: ….I won’t deny that I was worried.

William’s hands leave the keyboard and reach out towards me.

(Ah…I feel like someone is caressing my cheek.)

I might not remember it, but my body remembers the feeling of William’s fingers caressing me.

Sometimes it was mischievous and lively like playing on a keyboard, and other times it was careful and gentle like it was handling something fragile.

Even though I was at the mercy of his touch, I felt like my heart was filled with happiness.

(Why do I remember the feeling of his touch?)

Although I was confused, my desire to be caressed by him overcame it, and I patiently awaited his touch.

However, William put his hand down halfway without touching me.

William: You must be tired after being out all day.

William: Even if you’re not feeling sleepy, it’s best for you to lie down in bed and rest.

After lowering his outstretched hand, William spoke to me gently and comfortingly.

I was sure I heard concern in his words for me, but for some reason I felt he was pushing me away.

(No. What I wanted to hear wasn’t ‘take rest’.)

(What I wanted William to say is….)

Kate: Why won’t you scold me?

The words that came out of my mouth not only surprised William, but me as well.

William: ……

Kate: ..Ah! I-I’m sorry. I said something very weird…!

William smiles, as if to ease my nervousness.

William: Do you want me to scold you for going out with some other guy?

Was it just me or did his voice just now sound a bit more cheerful?

Kate: I-I don’t really want to be scolded.

Kate: But somehow I feel like I’ve done something that deserves scolding.

William: If that’s what you feel then come here.

When I walked up to William at his beckoning----

His fingers tapped my forehead lightly.

Kate: ..Ngh

William: You’re a bad girl.

He seemed to be just joking and didn’t mean to scold me seriously…..

But I felt like William had forgiven me and all the tension in my body eased.

(Why do I care about him so much?)

I felt sad when he seemed to push me away, and now that I have been forgiven, I’m happy.

The frustration of my emotions not going the way I wanted them to was similar to the feeling of being in love.

William: As punishment, how about you join me for a performance tonight?

Kate: Huh…? But, I’ve never played the piano.

William: That’s okay, I’m sure you will do fine.

William demonstrated a simple melody on the piano.

William: Now try imitating it.

I watched and tried to imitate him, playing the keys in the same way.

William: Well done. Now let’s continue like this.

Imitating William’s hand movements, I played the piano as though I were pursuing him.

After repeating it several times…I was now able to play the piece on my own without having to look.

William played the piano along with me, and the two intertwined sounds resonate beautifully.

William: What do you desire the most right now?

As he continued playing, William casually asked the question.

(I feel like….I have been asked this question before.)

The moment I realized that, my lost memories vividly came back to me.

--(flashback)--

 William: What do you desire the most right now?

Kate: Of course…I want to go back to my normal life.

--(flashback ends)--

It was not long after I became the fairy tale keeper.

In response to William’s question back then, I said that I wanted to go back to my daily peaceful life.

But….that was a mistake.

It was painful to wish for something that would never come true…so I just swallowed my inner voice and pretended to be understanding.

After meeting William, falling in love with him, and loving him with all my heart, what I truly want is----.

Kate: What I want most right now is…to go back to my ‘normal life’ with you, Will.

Kate: Is there a place for me?

William: Yeah, of course.

William: All this time...I’ve been waiting for you to come back.

After saying this with a stern voice, William picked me up effortlessly.

He carried me to his room and lowered me onto the bed.

Kate: Will---mmngh

Will leaned over and kissed me deeply.

The kiss was a little too rough for him.

(Did Will feel lonely too?)

My heart is filled with a sense of guilt for having lost my memories and my love for him.

I took his hand once more…. in the night that had just started.

[Chapter 1] [Masterlist]

[gogolstoelicker]

What do you think would the dorm leaders and vice dorm leaders would do with a shenhe like reader? And can I stay Anonymous?

Dorm leaders + vice dorm leaders with Shenhe!MC

note: id like to let u stay as anonymous but i legit have no clue how this works😥im a peepaw kinnie sorry bro

also this took two years im so sorry💀💀i was so busy w school and deciding what i want for the future my bad pook (update it took 3 years actually LMAO)

also im barely into twst by now HELP ive been playing too much hsr instead

You're someone with a cool, reserved demeanor that gives off an otherworldly aura. Due of some circumstances, your soul was bound with special red ropes to restrain some of your murderous impulses. However, this had the side effect of repressing many of your emotions, making you as dispassionate as the otherworldly beings. When you're annoyed however, these impulses can start to leak out.

Riddle:

yall rmmber how cloud retainer taught shenhe to just beat the ppl who wronged her? well

you may or may not have tried to grab him by his neck and slam him to the ground

grim is the one telling u not to btw LMAOAOAOAOA

reversed pet and owner😭its grim telling u what not to do

"No no dont do that🤬☝️yes yes good good mc"

rmmber the end of the quest when the drunk man tried to bother shenhe and shenhe was 👿 and paimon was "no no☝️dont☝️good shenhe good shenhe" THATS HOW ITS LIKE

riddle was undeniable pretty angry bcs u literally tried to use violence on him HELP (also pretty shaken bcs WHAT)

but eh im sure yall can get close once his overblot is over

he would NOT like to talk about how u tried to freeze his ass and beat him up using a polearm btw

mf is so strong bro wiped out his fire one sec

I think youre pretty ? abt the rules but tried ur best to follow em

"why cant i eat burgers in tuesdays☹️" -u while reading the rule book

"bcs the queen of hearts told u so☝️"

its funny cause youre not even from his dorm and youre the one trying so hard to follow his rules LMAOAOAOA

"i wanna eat burgers☹️" u on tuesdays or whateverday

"? eat em then" ace, confused

u can ask him if u dont understand some social cues or human customs!! he can provide a pretty good explanation

Trey:

tried to stop u from eating random herbs/flowers from that batony place i forgor what its called

"oh food" "MC!!!!😨😨😨😨"

literally pulled u back by your collar before u ate the plants in there

if youre hungry u can come w him to eat in the dorm😥😥pls dont eat random things u saw

he knew how strong u are so he just leaves the heavy work to u sometimes HELP

like yo dude i need to bring some of these from the store/garden ion kno

he did it in exchange of cooking dw guys

yall frequent heartslabyul to eat cause the food u serve r mostlu herbs

grim does not like it and tattled on u

"but all the proteins we need r there🫠" -u

"well yes but🧍" -trey

Leona:

somehow the guy who makes excuses for u whenever u resort to violence

"guys i SWEAR mc is nice🥺🖐look into my eyes guys i swear..." /j

he did try to talk u out of violence (sometimes)

if it doesnt work he just stands on the sidelines n goes sheesh😨

candidate no 2 who almost got slammed to the floor

ruggie stopped u just in time w his UM

but leona is strong!! u might say but did he got trained by the adepti tho☝️exactly

honestly theres a wee bit of bad blood between the two of u for a lil bit

but yk sleeping in the same room helped mend ur relationship

(also planning evil shit together towards azul got yall closer)

u like to train in the afternoon/morning sometimes so u just somehow got dragged to their everyday morning practice

u lead the team btw 🗣🗣leona encouraged it cause he dont wanna do much work

sometimes if he felt nice he'll let u eat w them in the dorm

he encouraged u eating herbs btw he found it kinda funny

it doesnt kill u anyway do why should he stop u

grim is otw to take a bite on his arm bcs of it

hes very knowledgeable so u can ask him abt what customs u dong understand

he might give u the stink eye sometimes cause u ruined his sleep but its ok he still answers u anyway

Azul:

yall fought in WATER he does not stand a chance

him if he tries: 🥶🥶🧊🧊🧊

he became frozen octopus

what almost happened to the twins HELP

thank god for Floyd's UM

can u tell im trhing so hard to think of smth for him rn

yall had some bad blood during the entire chapter but got good again at thr rnd its ok

u sometimes work in the monstro longue and azul had to keep an eye on u to make sure u wont harm any rude customers

do that behind closed doors pls☝️youll scare his other customers away

he doesnt care as long as it doesnt drive the other customers away

tbh he even encouraged it HELP

gotta keep them customers in line yk

dont ask him abt human customs pls he doesnt kno much

Jade:

he listened in on ur convo w trey abt not eating random flowers in the batony place ion kno what its called

he rubbed his hands together like a fly and starts scheming

if u see a new specific herb planted there, turn around. walk away. it was jade's

u fell for it u were kinda hungry

"kinda hungry rn..." -u said

jade is hiding behind a tree with a smirk

thats how he looks the entire time while waiting for u to take the bait

as soon as it enters ur mouth by 0.1cm he came out with a smile going "oh no!! my herb...☹️☹️"

thats how u got baited into working in monstro longue

the start of ur career tho its ok🗣☝️

dont ask him abt human customs or cues,he'll prank u somehow

"haha the dude is wrong. slamming someone on the wall is a good thing"

azul had to hold u back the entire week from annoying customers cause u trusted jade

Kalim:

i think u can ask him if youre confused abt smth❓️

dont trust him 100% tho, the way he celebrates some things may not be like how normal ppl does it

u may celebrate a birthday by giving a gift and baking a cake

he celebrates it by having a march w animals he have in his house /j

rich ppl activities amirite

"why cant i wear this halloween costume to work☹️" -u

it could end in two ways

he either tells u why or gets an idea to have a halloween special day in monstro longue

dw abt it azul quickly approve of it (he wont turn down money)

kinda funny to imagine its like a 2nd jamil beside him and its only bcs yall have the same facial expressions

cant be an everyday thing tho customers will het tired of it

😐☺️😐 <how yall look so basically

sunshine protectors and sunshine

honestly kalim would either go "yikes that must've hurt" when u beat someone up or go "mc! this isn't you!😔" /j

he would sometimes help u out dw!! (he called a teacher)

Jamil:

sunshine protector #1 and youre #2 (and an idiot in disguise)

honestly i do not have an idea for him like legit dude

imagine two ppl who looks like 😐😐 most of the time

rmmber that time he trapped yall in scarabia?? guess who almost lost their limbs (half the scarabia dorm)

"yes u shall listen to my evil plans muahahaha" -jamil seconds before u tried to slam him into the floor

the guy who tries to hold u back from violence

"no NO BAD MC BAD MC😡😡🤬🤬" him on a normal tuesday morning (its too early for this pls)

if he saw u try to beat someone out from afar tho, he wont try anything

he will only stop u when 1. theres the strict dorm leaders around or 2. the professors r around 3. it will somehow bite him back in the ass in the future

also he calls u up each time theres a bug

u either squash it w ur bare hands or grab it n throw it away (w ur bare hands)

he made sure u wash ur hands for at least 10 mins after

but dude is very knowledgeable, u can ask him anything u find confusing!!

he esp loves to talk abt his culture etc n try to introduce u to certain things

^how u ended up w hennas (jamil drew ur left hand, kalim ur right)

Vil:

the guy who puts many efforts in trying to stop ur violence

"violence is not necessary rn!! unless they start it first ofc..."

u took his words to heart n silently prayed someone would try to pick fights w u first so u can have an excuse to beat the shit out of them

vil absolutely does NOT approve of ur habit of eating random plants

"prefect what r these random plants in ur dorm??" "thats my lunch😊" "what."

almost fainted when he found out ur diet is mostly of random plants n herbs u either got from the batonical garden(???) or smth that grows on the walls of the ramshackle dorm yikes

also finds out u barely ate actual living human foods in fear of being attached just to not be able to taste them again

"on god we gon get u some therapy bro🙏" -him probably

tries to convince u that its not enough reason to completely discard food

yk those relatives that puts more food on ur plate when they notice youre not eating enough

hes kinda like that but hes also mindful to make sure u dont take more than what u can

Rook:

was on one of his journey of getting to know ur lore better (stalking) when he caught u eating the plants in the batonical garden

"NON NON!! U SHALL NOT!!"

he tried to stop u only for him to be neck neck w ur polearm cause ?? why the hell is he sneaking up on u??

despite ur first meeting, u did start to warm up to him eventually!!😊😊

he absolutely loves how blunt u are

also the guy who talks ur ears out abt his passions, which includes many things

u on the quiet side so u just listen n nod

one time u found a neige keychain n gave it to him idk man maybe theres neige merches around

hes THRILLED dude. his hat almost got legs of its own so it can start jumping around

as thanks he gave u flowers (that became ur dinner /j)

the two of u meditates together

its good for him as a hunter to have a clear mind!! n u need to keep up w ur training even tho youre in a completely diff world now so its perfect!!

if vil caught the both of u, he would join the meditating session

it became a group thing. vil joins yall whenever hes not busy and rook is somehow always free to join u

Idia:

not there physically to witness ur quirks but he did saw it enough times through the security cameras

"where r they producing these ppl😥😥"

witnessed ur strength once n u immediately got upgraded to an SSR character 🗣🗣the UR spot is reserved for malleus sorry

almost went bald bcs u freeze his ass (n hair) during the overblot fight

i feel like youre strong enough to defeat one of those robot thingy that he used to capture the dorm leaders w🙏🙏this is totally not bcs im a shenhe glazer

you are STRONG STRONG alright. he promises to himself not to get on ur bad side in case he'll go bald again

his ass is always w electronics n then theres u😂🤣

he wanted to laugh at first when u said u didnt kno how to use a phone

that is until he starts teaching u these technologies idk n now he wants to cry cause wow. he cant imagine not using the internet for even an hour

pats ur shoulder once out of pity

"there there you'll be a good internet user one day ig...." "whats internet and how does one become its user??🤔"

Malleus:

omg yall r quite similar in some ways!! boomers, emos and poker faced /hj

yall had never rode a car before💀let alone seen it

i just know yall would somehow break ur phones

"prefect it seems i wont be able to contact u through the phone anymore... (he destroyed it by accident while trying to contact u)"

"its ok. me too (u also destroyed urs by accident while trying to figure out how it works)" crowley is crying in the background abt how much money he needs to spend buying u a new one btw ignore him

"is this healthy??🤔🤔" -he thinks to himself as he stares at u munching on some random plants

ur diet reminds him of what silver has consumed during his younger years

except silver was bcs of sOMEONE (lilia) and u are completely out of ur own will

hes like a kidnapper trying to lure u with better foods to get u to stop eating those plants

"whats in my hands??😊u can have it if u stop eating those plants...."

also the guy who rambles on and on abt his passions (gargoyles) w u nodding ur head at him

u crafted one for him once n u swear flowers bloomed somehow

spoilers but u would absolutely try to knock him out in his dragon form

but its in an affectionate way i swear

not the "STOP THIS (aggressive)" but more of a "STOP THIS(affectionate)" get it?

Lilia:

tries to cook u homemade meals

u somehow survive?? and asked for seconds

the other 3 diasomnia students who suffered under his meals asked how tf can u endure it n if its rlly thag delicious

"no it tasted terrible😐but its filled w all the nutrients our body needs"

in ur head, its like lilias cooking = the herbs u ate

except u have a 5050 chance at surviving his cooking🙏🙏thank ur adeptal training RN

lilia is proud bcs someone finally appreciates his cooking enough so u got called in to their dorm often for food

he pretended not to notice when the other 3 gave some of their foods to u btw

he somehow convinced u to join silver n sebek's training💀💀

hes impressed by how strong u r btw<<33 he jokingly asked if u wanna be knight no3 for malleus

he finds it kinda funny that he knew more abt the internet than u

his oldass is out here doing tiktok live n u are?? uh idk making cheese from scratch?? what do ppl do back in the days

will not miss a day to clown u btw do NOT trust him fully

"in fae culture, eating herbs is considered taboo bcs it killed 1 in 3 of our ppl so u cant have herbs in diasomnia im sorry..." "o omg....😨😢"

[luwritesstuff]

Breaking Point

Spencer Reid x reader

notes: angst/arguing followed by fluff/comfort, gn!reader, no use of y/n

wc: 884

Every relationship had their weakness, the one thing that tested how strong two people really were together. You and Spencer found out months into dating that your relationship's pressure point was exhaustion. It hit you both after two back to back cases across the country in one week, a friend’s wedding on Saturday, and a dinner with your parents on Sunday. By the next week, the two of you were stretched thin.

For you, the exhaustion made you irritable. Things you usually had patience for were getting under your skin and turning you into, quite frankly, an asshole. Spencer somehow had the most patience in the world and this only pissed you off more. Why wasn't he annoyed that your neighbors kept taking up two parking spots? Why was he so calm when you lost power for 12 hours?

As much as you ranted, Spencer listened. He made it a point to be a good boyfriend even on your worst days. This didn't mean that the exhaustion didn't get to him too. Spencer’s lack of sleep brought out his insecurities. The more irritable you got, the more worried Spencer became that he was the one annoying you.

On a normal week, you had more control over your emotions. You were thoughtful about how you spoke to Spencer and you were able to let the small stuff roll off your back. But this week wasn't a normal week and you couldn't stop the anger that kept slipping out of you around every corner. Spencer’s solution was to give you space, but deep down, you didn't want to be alone. Not even on your worst day did you want Spencer not to be curled up on your couch with you.

And how could Spencer say no to you? He wasn't evil, if you asked him to stay, he'd stay. Even if you had a permanent scowl on your face and didn't offer any conversation.

“Spencer!” You groaned, fighting the urge to stomp your foot like a child. “Why do you keep putting your wet towel on top of mine? There's another hook behind the door and every time I go to use my towel, it's wet!” You brought the towel out to Spencer and threw it onto the couch. Before he could finish his apology, you were continuing, “It just drives me crazy, honey. It makes me cold getting out of the shower and-”

“If you hate having me around so much, then why am I even here?” Spencer cut you off, raising his voice in a way you'd never heard directed at you before. Anyone who didn't know Spencer well would see his words as anger, but you knew Spencer well and you could feel the hurt and insecurity seeping out through his voice.

You both froze, staring at each other in silence while you replayed his words in your head. After a beat, your shoulders sagged and you moved to sit on the opposite end of the couch from him. “Shit,” you sighed and grabbed the towel to start folding it, “I'm being mean, I'm sorry. I do want you here,” you promised and looked over to find Spencer staring at his lap.

“It's fine if you don't, just… tell me that. I don't want to keep pissing you off and making things worse,” his voice was calmer now and your heart ached. Spencer, the light of your life, felt unappreciated and unloved, because of you.

You reached out to take both of Spencer’s hands into your own and gave them a squeeze. “Hey, I want you here. I love you,” you emphasized, “having you here helps and I'm sorry I haven't been showing it. This week was just… you know how it was. And my parents just get under my skin, but I shouldn't have taken that out on you. I'm sorry, sweetheart.” Spencer couldn't hold any anger towards you if he tried and the thought made you want to cry. Your Spencer, that you were cold and bitter to, still held your hands tightly and pulled you to his chest after your apology.

“I'm sorry I put my wet towel on top of yours. I know you like having a warm towel after your shower,” he said softly and kissed the top of your head, “and I'm sorry I raised my voice at you.”

You sniffled and shook your head against Spencer’s chest. “No, don't apologize for that. You should've raised your voice at me sooner, I was being a brat,” your voice was muffled by Spencer’s shirt but he took every word in, rubbing your back as you spoke.

After you'd both calmed down, Spencer took you to bed where you both slept a solid three hours. You woke up feeling lighter than you had all week and Spencer felt relieved to have you back to your usual self. “There you are, my beautiful love,” he whispered and brushed your hair from your face.

“You're one of a kind, Spence. Let's not overdo ourselves like that anymore. Next weekend, we’re taking both days off and we’re not seeing anyone but each other,” you promised and rolled over until you were straddling Spencer’s hips. His thumbs traced shapes into your hips and he agreed eagerly by pulling you down into a kiss.

[slu7formen]

I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her like this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.