#i don't have the energy to write an entire fic just to make this happen tho

[ventresses]

I need a Rebels Modern AU that has Chopper as an orange cat & an absolute menace (a.k.a. typical orange cat)

[ragnarokhound]

"reading under the red hood and it's pretty good i think" - jason todd fan who has only seen the cartoon adaptation of under the red hood

[fnafawoundleftbleedingau]

Ngl, I think one of my struggles with fic writing in general, is I don't really have anyone I trust enough that can give me feedback before I post said fics. I don't feel comfy at all asking someone I don't know super well to give my writing a look over, and rn my few close pals either can't or don't wanna give em a read. so yeah, I try my best to go over my own work and fiddle with it and re-adjust things as best I can, but I'm fully aware my own thought processes don't always "translate" well, or make total sense I guess? But I'm trying. ^^;

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: It's finally done, babes. This whole fic is so silly though, it's just Epel and reader bickering the entire time before their parents appear lol. Mind you the ending was going to be very different but like I've had so many ideas and so much time had already passed. I might write the alternative ending later though. Vil's nickname meaning btw: hase = bunny, Liebling = dear/darling & Sonnenschein = sunshine. Read part one here. @kingofspadesdelusion @harukishiyo

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, platonic + soft yanderes, sibling fight, hypnosis, memory loss, around 7k, half proofread.

The first thing you feel upon regaining consciousness is pain. It's unbearable, exploding in your chest as if someone repeatedly stabbed you and slowly peeled away your skin until only your bones were exposed.

Flames shoot through your spine, and coldness seeps into your bones. It feels like you've been run over by a tractor for hours, or fallen from an airplane — that's how much it hurts. Moans of pain escape your open mouth, but you don't have enough energy to open your eyes, at least not immediately.

There's a buzzing noise, a humming breaking the silence. Everything around you spins; you can feel it even with your eyes closed. A gentle hand holds yours, someone wraps your body in soft covers, there are screams, and a thick liquid falls into your mouth. Then, it's over.

But now, it's different somehow.

You still can't move, can't talk, can't open your eyes. It's like experiencing sleep paralysis.

Lying there, you try to remember what happened. Your memory is foggy, and trying to recall only makes your head hurt more. You grit your teeth and try again, harder, ignoring the pain.

It's like swimming against the waves—almost impossible. You force every inch of your cells to work, your lungs to take in air. You're trying so hard. You wish desperately for something, anything, to work.

Then, a light bulb goes off in your mind.

You remember the vampire pinning you to the ground, glass cutting into your skin, sweat and tears mixing, and a scream of pain escaping your lips as he bit you. After that, darkness and pain.

For several days following your transformation - assuming that's what it was - you wake and sleep deliriously, feverish, thirsty for blood, a viscous liquid spilling onto your lips until you calm down and sleep again. The cycle repeats.

It wasn't a nightmare? You bitterly think.

Heat surrounds you, but what makes your body tense is the sensation of someone behind you. Paying closer attention, you feel a faint, cold breath sending shivers down your back as you try to move your fingers and hands. But nothing happens; your limbs are too tired and weak from weeks of sleep.

Suppressing an angry noise, you slowly open your eyes to find yourself inside a transparent coffin on the ground — a glass coffin. It's dark, illuminated only by moonbeams through open windows. You hear laughter and soft music in the distance, the voices of two older vampires having fun. If you strain, you can even make out their conversation. But that's not what captures your attention; it's the fact that you can see in the dark, hear from such distances… You know what that means.

As minutes pass, you manage to move your fingers, then your hands, your entire torso, and finally your whole body. Your throat is dry as if you swallowed sand. You cough several times, waiting for enough saliva to swallow as you watch the creature resting beside you.

What lies there is proof that your torment was real, not just an incredibly lucid dream. Next to you sleeps the creature who turned you into a vampire because he wanted a sibling — a fragile figure with lilac hair falling into his eyes, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

He looks fragile, different. Hypothetically, you should be strong enough to kill him now, even if you're as hungry as hell. Your hands clench into fists.

The scent of blood still lingers, and even in the dark, you see small dry drops staining the corners of his shirt. This horrifying realization makes you move away, pressing your back against your side of the coffin as you stare at him.

At that moment, blood doesn't disgust you; instead, you feel the thirst returning, your fangs yearning to bite something. You want to rip and taste, need it, even your own wrists seem appetizing enough.

You knew it now — you were no longer human. The confirmation was painful. Humans couldn't see in the dark, hear sounds from kilometers away, or crave blood.

Yes, you were no longer human…

Memories of your former life flooded back — the fleeting joys, genuine tears. Those days were over. No more early mornings watching the sunrise, no more wrestling with friends, no warm hugs after a bad day. Your tongue would never taste your favorite foods and drinks again.

Eternity stretched before you like an abyss, closing in from all sides. You mourned the humanity you'd lost, wishing desperately to turn back time, to prevent your friends from entering that house. Your hand rested where your heart once beat, hoping in vain to feel its rhythm again, but all you felt was cold, the intense cold of a creature of the night, of an inhuman monster you had become.

Blood no longer flowed in your veins. You stared at your wrists for a while. You had been robbed.

You weren't one to cry easily in the face of adversity, always seeking solutions rather than succumbing to despair. But now, the weight of what had happened hit you fully, and thick tears rolled down your cheeks as you gazed at the boy peacefully asleep beside you.

Your friends were dead — all of them, food for the same assassins who had killed you to turn you into a beast like them.

Monster. You, him, them — all monsters.

Without hesitation, you forced the coffin lid open and leaped out. Your eyes distinguished different shades in the darkness surrounding you. It couldn't be real, you thought, not for you. You still had your whole life ahead, plans, dreams, it couldn't be happening…

But it was.

The voices faded, footsteps replaced by your brother's soft snore, the person responsible for your death, the culprit. Your hands clenched again, nails digging into flesh, but you ignored the pain. Closing the distance, you knew with his parents absent, the odds were in your favor.

After him, you'd plan to dispose of the other two, if it was the last thing you did. Brick by brick, breach by breach, you would destroy this mansion, decorate it with their guts and entrails.

Doubt flickered momentarily. Was this right? Was taking his life justified? You struggled with the realization of becoming a monster, yet hiding away in isolation wasn't living either. But returning home endangered those you cared for.

The hesitation evaporated. You had to do this, guilt or not. You weren't a murderer, but you'd be one soon enough. You'd stain your hands with his blood, with their blood.

Your movements were as light as the pillows you had rested on moments ago. Leaning over him, your trembling hands found his neck, cutting off his oxygen supply. It felt undeniably right.

Epel jolted awake, as if doused in ice water, eyes wide with terror, a strangled cry escaping his lips as he struggled. You tightened your grip, yearning to witness his life fade, to feel him weaken and falter, if only for a moment's respite.

He ended you on a whim. You would end him for your revenge.

"Not so smug now, are we?" you teased, your hands still shaking from the force of your grip, leaving crescent marks on his pale skin.

Panic painted his eyes, adrenaline surged through his veins, primal instinct urging him to fight for survival. As air escaped his lungs, his body reacted, muscles tensing.

"Look at me," You whispered to him, your voice sounding strange even to you. "I want to see the life leaving you when you die, as you had seen in mine when I died."

With a primal roar, Epel held onto your wrists, fingers digging into flesh as he fought to break free from the suffocating grasp. Every fiber of his being was focused on one singular goal: survival. Like a prey trapped in it's predator's maws.

Monster, human. Every species would always hope to survive. Or to run.

And sometimes... They fought back.

"You think you're so smart." He wheezed, an airy laugh leaving him. Its tone sounded so unnatural, so rough and dark, shivers went down your spine. You watched him closely, feeling like something was about to happen. Uncertainty dancing in your eyes as you tried to discern his next move.

With deliberate slowness, he straightened, his gaze piercing through the dim light with an intensity that made your heart race. "But cleverness alone won't save you," Epel murmured, his voice low and laden with a hint of menace.

Despite his bluff, sweat beaded on his skin, mingling with the scent of fear and his limps weakinging. A groan left him.

"Perhaps not," You replied evenly, refusing to show any sign of weakness. "But it certainly makes for an interesting challenge, wouldn't you agree?"

He wheezed again, trembling. He flexed his legs and used them to try to unbalance you or push you away in an attempt to escape. A futile attempt, you were unmoving. Unwilling to even give him a chance.

Die already! You wanted to scream, wanted to rip his head with your fangs.

Epel's muscles strained against your hold, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he struggled against the encroaching darkness. He was looking at you with his big lilac eyes, hoping for mercy or something else. But gradually, his movements grew weaker, more labored, until finally, they ceased altogether.

He lay there limp, his body cold and lifeless — a portrayal of a defeated monster.

In that moment, the roles were reversed, the hunter became the hunted. A surge of relief washed over you as you watched over Epel's unmoving body. Your heart raced with the realization that you had prevailed, that the threat had been neutralized.

As you took in the scene before you, a wave of relief washed over you. The danger had passed, at least for now. And as you caught your breath, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in your ability to withstand the ordeal. Though your chest was heavy with something you couldn't quite put into words. Guilty? Sadness? You didn't know what it was.

Tiny tears slipped from your eyes and fell on his face. Dead. You killed him. You thought about what you were feeling as you slowly stood up. It wasn't guilty.

It was something more primal. Something you didn't quite understood.

You turned around as you walked straight to the door, your hand frozen while you held the handle. There was two more to go. Whatever this thing you were feeling was, it could wait a bit. You looked back one last time, a gasp leaving you.

You stood there, baffled. His body had vanished. Why? How? You scanned the room, searching desperately, but he was nowhere to be found. Do vampire bodies just vanished after death? Were he pretending?

You opened the door and ran with reckless abandon. You raced through the halls, the truth sinking in like cold claws upon your heart, you hoped for any and all silly hypothesis to be the one instead of the real one. Epel had staged his death with such cunning that even your new instincts had failed you. Wherever he was, his laughter echoed with a bitter edge of amusement at your expense.

He sounded like he was having the time of his life.

As you ran, your senses caught every whisper of movement, every hint of shadow, every murmur he made. The sound of owls hooting far away punctuated the night. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you turned yet another hallway, the eerie shadows seemed to move of their own accord, trying to catch you, to hold prisoner just as much as you already is. The corridors twisted and turned in a confusing maze, never-ending, forever stretching far away.

Then, suddenly, the laughter stopped. The silence was deafening, making your heart race even faster. You slowed your pace, trying to listen, straining to hear any sign of movement. The stillness was oppressive, the darkness closing in around you.

"You were too confident," Epel's voice reached you, his tone dripping with amusement. "I'II let you know that vampires can't breathe, though we do move our shoulders and "breathe" because we were so used to after turning. So you would never be able to kill me with your teeny little hands. It was cute that you tried though. I did the same thing after I was turned, not to my father, it was a human. An elder man... I think. My first victim."

Your fists clenched at your sides, looking around. "And? If I couldn't kill you there, I'II kill you here. I have all the time to try."

With that, he appeared from the shadows, a smirk growing on his lips. Epel laughed. "You are but a baby right now, weak and easily tired, dear sibling. I'm not even teasing you as it is the truth."

Anger flared within you, but you fought to keep your composure. You needed a clean, calm mind for now. "Oh, I'm not helpless," You retorted, stepping closer. "You won't get away this time."

Epel chuckled, a low, mocking sound that grated on your nerves. "We'll see about that."

In an instant, he moved, a blur of motion as he darted to the side, anticipating what he was about to do you launched yourself after him trying to catch him before he turned into shadows again but it was futile, he was gone just like that.

Like sand falling through your hands, so easily. You bit your lower lip angrily.

Every whisper of movement, every flicker of shadow, anything around you could be him. The empty, endless corridors seeming to play tricks on your mind again as you ran after him without really knowing if you were following the right direction, having losing sight of him as soon as he turned the corner.

The manor was different from the other, you could tell. Its wall made of wooden instead of brick, the sound produced by your steps was loud too. There was some torch holders attached to walls, which was a bad idea. But this was not important, not now at least.

Though it was certainly something you kept in mind. You could always burn this manor with the trio inside of it.

"Pss, here!" He called.

Ahead, you caught a glimpse of him turning a corner. You pushed yourself harder, running without ever feeling tired, running as freely as you could knowing that you wouldn't bump into things, the darkness inviting you to see through her. As you rounded the corner, you found yourself in an empty section.

You heard his laugh, so joyful. As if he felt funny how you were chasing him around like a kicked puppy who wanted to bite him.

You stopped, he was more faster than you because of his little trick. But maybe you could also use the shadows like he so effortlessly did? Was that even possible?

Well, he was doing it so it was possible. But how? You thought for what felt like hours, steady and still, still hearing whatever what's happening in case he took that opportunity to hit you.

You weren't bound by human rules; maybe you really could do it. Focusing your mind, you reached out to the darkness around you, willing it to envelop you, to make you one with the shadows, as if you were but a swimmer trying to be one with the water, feeling around, searching for something, anything at all.

You felt a brief chill, a sensation like the brush of icy fingers, and for a moment, you thought you had succeeded. But as you tried to step into the shadows, to melt away as Epel had done, nothing happened. You remained solid and visible, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. Epel's laughter rang out louder than before, sharp and mocking.

"You're not ready for that yet," He said between giggles and wheezes, shaking his head. "It takes more than desire to command the shadows. You need understanding, control, and above all, experience. You're still just a fledgling."

"Shut up, this is all your fault" You insisted, trying to ignore the embarrassment burning within you. If anything, now you had to kill him for your honor too. "I'm going to find a stake and I'm going to fucking impale you with it."

He let out a low, mocking chuckle, the sound was as mischievious as he is. "Bold words for someone who can't even master the shadows," Epel teased, his voice dripping with disdain. "You think you can kill me? You're not even close to understanding what you're dealing with, so naive and self-assured, yapping endlessly about killing when I know damn well you can't stomach the thought of killing."

You heard something behind you and turned around immediately, ready to strike it with your bare hands and all anger bottled up on your chest. Nothing there, just another trick of his.

"But go ahead," He continued after being silent for a few minutes. "Try to find a stake, try to kill me. I'll enjoy watching you fail. Again."

His eyes glinted with a dangerous light, two lilac orbs glowing in the dark, promising chaos and pain, so unnatural to their usual sweet look. "And if you do manage to land a blow, remember this: I won't be so merciful next time. You're playing a dangerous game, sibling. One you can't win."

His form started dissolving into the darkness again when you surged forward, determined to not let him escape again, as the shadows swallowed both of you. You held onto his arm, wether because you were afraid of how fast you were moving or to ensure he wasn't going anywhere, you didn't know which was better. It was so strange, traveling through them, quick but unpleasant in a way you couldn't describe. You caught Epel staring at you, watching your expressions, before he regained control from the shadows and came to a stop, in a random room.

You were expelled from them with great force, hitting your back and shoulders against the wall, sending a few hanging pictures flying everywhere. While he landed perfectly fine on his own two feet.

"I hate you..." You groaned.

Epel's lips curled into a mocking smile, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "Hate me all you want, I don't care," He taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. He leaned in closer, his breath cold against your skin. "You're one of us now and the sooner you accept it, the better."

"I never wanted this," You spat, your voice trembling with a mix of rage and despair as you stood up. "You took my life on a stupid whim."

Epel's smile faded slightly, his expression growing more serious as he looked anywhere that wasn't your face. "I just... didn't want to be alone anymore," He admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his tone. "I love dad and father and they spoil me quite a lot but I miss having someone my age to talk to. We don't need to fight. We can be... Friends."

"Never," You snarled almost immediately, knowing well that you rather eat rocks and lava than be on amicable terms with him. Epel caught your wrist, his grip like iron.

"Maybe not today," He said softly, his eyes locking onto yours. "But one day, you'll see. We're connected now, bound by blood. You can't escape what you are, you can't escape me."

With a frustrated cry, You fought against him, kicking his shins and sinking your tiny, but sharp, fangs into his arms that held you, tearing at his flesh until it was a gruesome, bloody mess. Despite the blood trickling down your face, you refused to surrender, resolved to not go down without a fierce battle.

And Epel watched you with a mixture of pity and something that might have been hope. He truly hoped he could convince you through his words. He failed.

"Maybe when you wake up you'll be more receptive to seeing things from another point of view." He thought out loud , his voice almost gentle as he swiftly took hold of your hands, making impossible to escape from his grip even with you struggling and fighting. He simply didn't budge, almost as if he was made of iron, unmovable.

Epel's eyes bore into yours, a mixture of tranquility and determination burning brightly within them, as you felt your world swaying for as long as you stared at him.

"Sleep," Epel whispered, his hoarse voice echoing in the dimly lit room as dark spots started to dance upon your eyes. However, you refused to yield, turning your head defiantly to the other side so you couldn't be influenced by his hypnotic eyes.

You remembered reading once that vampires could influence people and you had no time to discover if this was real or not. Though without a doubt he was using hypnosis with you now but him himself wasn't strong, not in this at least. "Ah- stop, look at me. I command you to look at me."

Frustration and fear gnawed at you. He was playing a game and you were his unwilling participant. Again. You close your eyes instead. Your head swam but you fought against the pull of his hypnosis. Your mind was your own, and you refused to let him take that from you.

"What are you? A wizard?" You muttered back at him, holding back a laugh. "I command you to shut up."

Epel's eyes widened in annoyance, and he paused, his grip loosening just slightly. "Why do you resist? I'm trying to help you."

"Help me? Are you that dense?" You scoffed, breathing hard even though you didn't need it anymore. The motion was still too familiar, a reflex you hadn't yet forgotten even knowing well that was futile. You began counting to ten mentally, trying to calm yourself enough to think clearly. "You turned me into this... monster. I don't want your help. I didn't even wanted this. You just took my life without my permission."

Epel's expression hardened, a flash of hurt crossing his face before he masked it with anger, heavy accent dominating his tone. "You don't understand," He snapped. "I tried to be cool and gentle, yet ya ain't done a single thing if not grumple. I don't give a rat's ass if yer angry or sad, you're my kin now. An' we are your family, like it or not. You ain't goin' nowhere."

Epel's eyes darkened with a mix of rage and desperation, though his tone was filled more with frustration than regret. You felt uneasy for as long as he stared at you, feeling as if something was about to happen.

"I've played with you enough already," He growled.

Before you could react, Epel gripped your head with both hands and slammed it against the ground. Pain exploded in your skull, and your vision blurred. You tried to fight back, but your limbs felt heavy and uncooperative - probably due to his earlier hypnosis.

"Why can't you just see things my way?" Epel's voice sounded distant, muffled by the ringing in your ears. "I did this for us."

You groaned, struggling to move, but your body refused to obey. The edges of your vision darkened as you fought to stay conscious, anger and fear mingling in your chest.

Epel's grip tightened, his frustration palpable. "This could have been easier," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "But you had to make things difficult."

You felt yourself slipping away, the pain in your head overwhelming, tears of pain and hatred falling down your eyes. You failed again.

You repeated like a mantra, failure, failure, failure.

"Wait…" You tried to say, but the words came out as a weak, unintelligible murmur.

As world tilted and spun, a new presence made itself known. The heavy silence was broken by the sound of footsteps approaching, each step echoing with authority and grace at the same time. Suddenly, the door creaked open, revealing the imposing figure of a tall, proud, beautiful vampire standing in the doorway, his gaze piercing and inscrutable. His partner stood behind him.

"Oh la la, the children are playing already." Rook mused, a smile founding way to his lips as he watched you struggling.

With a single glance, they took in the scene before them - the traces of blood staining the floor and all over your own shirt and lips, Epel hands still holding your head as the world continued to spin around. Vil's expression remained unreadable as he surveyed his children, his presence commanding attention.

"What is the meaning of this, Epel?" Vil demanded in a voice that brooked no argument, his tone a mix of concern and reproach. His eyes flickered between Epel and you, searching for answers in the depths of his conflicted gaze.

Epel stood rigidly, his expression a blend of defiance and regret. "I didn't mean for things to go this far, father, I swear." He muttered, avoiding Vil's piercing gaze. "I just wanted them to understand..."

Vil's eyes narrowed, his displeasure evident. "By force? By hurting them? You think this is how you build connections, Epel? By breaking them?"

Epel's shoulders slumped, the weight of father's words pressing down on him. "I didn't know what else to do," His voice barely audible. "I was desperate."

Desperate, indeed. You lay on the ground, still feeling the residual pain from the impact. Your body ached, but you forced yourself to sit up, wincing as you moved, feeling the blood trickling down your neck from how hard he was banging your head on the floor. Rook found it's way to your side quickly, supporting you even if you obviously didn't like the idea that much.

"Desperate or not, you had no right," You said, your voice trembling but firm. "You can't just force people into your life and expect them to like you."

Vil's expression softened slightly as he glanced at you, the newest family member, his concern evident. "Are you alright?" he asked, his tone gentler.

You nodded slowly, the throbbing in your head making it hard to speak. Though when you were capable, you made your option known. "I'll be fine, dear Epel was just trying to show me some family love, isn't that right, Epel? Such a caring brother."

Rook pressed down on your injured head, silecing you before you could come up with another sarcastic remark. His stare was the only warning you had that dealing with him or Vil was different than dealing with Epel.

That you needed to respect them. And truly you did, only for now, while you waited for a perfect to either take Epel's as hostage or ran away. You didn't decided yet.

Vil clicked his tongue in displeasure, turning back to his son, his eyes hardening once more. "That's not how I taugh you on how to do things, Epel. Look at them, they're shaking and scared."

Epel looked away, his jaw clenched and a large pout forming on his lips as he was scolded. "I just... I know, father. I apologize."

Rook appeared beside Vil, his presence a calming influence. "Don't be so harsh on him, mon couer. He just made a tiny little mistake."

Vil sighed, his demeanor softening as Rook's arms wrapped around his waist, resting his face on Vil's shoulder. They stared at each other for a few seconds, almost as if they could read each other minds and this made you uneasy.

Was that possible too? You hoped not.

You saw Rook's amused smile growing and Vil rolling his eyes at his lover. And the scene was kinda cute if it wasn't for the fact that they were your enemy's parents. The couple you would kill after you had killed their son. Though were you really capable in this state? You couldn't even pry yourself from Epel's hands.

You took to watch the couple interacting while Epel was till sulking in the corner, looking like a cockroach in the middle of the kitchen who freezed up because the light just turned on. In his lover's arms, Vil looked so relaxed, slicked hair falling over his face as he turned his neck to softly plant a kiss on Rook's lips.

You wouldn't be able to tell that they weren't humans just by the way they looked or acted, they were too normal and common for anyone to guess that truly they were something different. You wondered how many lifes had they taken? How much blood had they spilled?

You were afraid of it. Of this new life, of failing to kill them.

You were afraid of becoming detached and apathetic just like them. You blinked, next thing you know Rook was next to you again.

You gasped, surprised, taking a step back.

"Aw, why the long face, petit lapin?" He asked, his eyes studying you with a mix of compassion and curiosity. Like a hunter study his prey. You felt trapped under his stare, compelled to answer him, even when you tried to swallow your words.

"I... I'm just... trying to make sense of everything," Your voice left you, so vunerable and feeling so small, you noticed when Vil took his side, also looking at you. "I don't know what to do... I don't even know how to be like this."

Your voice trembles with uncertainty. Every word feels like a confession under Rook's hypnotic stare, drawing out truths you're not sure you're ready to confront. So much doubt, so much fear, so much everything.

You fell lost, exactly how you felt when you woke up hours ago. The world is overwhelming and too big, and too dangerous. You don't know how to navigate it now and you can only hold onto your revenge, because if you lost this too you may lost yourself.

And you're not ready to talk about it. Not here, not now.

Rook's expression softens ever so slightly, a rare tenderness breaking through his usual intensity. "You don't need to be afraid," He reassures you, his voice low and calm. "We're here to protect you, to guide you."

Your eyes dart nervously to Vil, who offers you a reassuring nod, your thoughts keep coming to your mind; the mansion, the deaths, the pain, the fear. Yet, there's a certain growing on your chest that hasn't there moments ago.

Vil's presence calming and inviting and Rook seems like the sun, so warm, so happy. You turned your head away, afraid that your thoughts aren't yours anymore and that they were only manipulating you.

Feeling overwhelmed, you hesitate, you rethink everything you said, every little syllable, not knowing if you told them that willing or not. There's still some sarcastic remarks and rude comments you want to say to stun them, but before you can do it you feel Vil's hand grabbing your jaw to make you look at him this time, his eyes shining a vibrant lilac.

"It's ok to be confused, mein liebling," He mutters sofly. "It's ok to be scared and overwhelmed but we're here for you. You're safe with us."

He was telling the truth, you could feel it inside of you. The conviction, the certainess, Vil and Rook shared a glance then, with a surprising synchrony, they both step closer to you and by instinct you took a step back before looking back at Vil, confused. Everything was starting to feel complicated somehow.

Vil's arms encircled you first, drawing you into a warm, protective embrace, your head - now healed and not aching at all - resting on his chest as he played with your hair. His touch was gentle yet firm.

"You're not alone," Vil murmurs softly, his voice a comforting whisper against your ear.

Rook follows suit, enveloping you in his embrace from the other side. His hold is oddly comforting, as if he's silently promising to shield you from whatever dangers lie ahead. "We'll take good care of you, we're going to have so much fun together," Rook murmurs, lost in his own little world, swaying from side to side and pulling you along, as if you two were dancing to strange song only he was capable of hearing. Epel joins in, his arms encircling the group, like a family.

Are you forgetting something? You feel like you're forgetting something.

"Everything's fine, my dear. Close your eyes." But you don't. Vil's voice is as soothing as velvet, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. His presence is familiar, grounding. You want to trust him, to obey, but something in his tone holds you back. You keep your eyes open, watching him intently.

You watch his lips stained blood, the unnatural lilac eyes, the sun slowly rising through the windows. Something was wrong, so terribly wrong and your throat was so dry so suddenly. As you try to pull away from that hug, you feel him placing his hands on either side of your head.

“Close your eyes,” He instructs in a serene, soft tone that made you giddy. It was like you could tell him anything and never feel afraid of judgment, like a child running to show their father a drawing they just made without knowing how silly it looked. "I'm doing this because is far more convenient than wait for you to come around."

"I don't want to close my eyes," You answered petulantly. "Tell Epel to close his eyes."

Epel laughed a little, for the expression that took hold of his father face was priceless. He was a man (vampire?) of science, always have been, whence why their path have crossed when Epel was younger. Though he was old as that manor and the trees planted on the garden, there was an explicit limit to his patience. Staling for time as you were doing was not going to work.

It could work on Rook though. Anything worked on him simply because he was reckless. Epel was never going to forgot how he flirted with a hunter when he and Vil had a bad argument, nor how Vil killed that hunter painfully and slowly.

"Trust me," He whispers, fingers hovering just inches from your temple. You feel a slight pressure, like the brush of a feather, and your vision blurs momentarily.

"Close your eyes, lapin!" Rook murmurs this time, his voice like a lullaby. Your eyelids grow heavy, and for a moment, you consider giving in. But you fight against the drowsiness, blinking rapidly to stay awake.

Vil's expression hardens. "It’s for your own good, sonnenschein."

His hand finally makes contact with your skin, a gentle touch that sends a ripple through your mind. You feel a strange warmth spreading from his fingertips, a comforting, almost hypnotic sensation. Though you fight back agaisnt it with all your forces. You repel each and every attempt without truly knowing why.

Why you feared him when his hug was so cozy and comfy? Weird. Still you couldn't help it.

Your thoughts become hazy, memories slipping through your grasp like sand through a sieve. You struggle to hold on, to remember why you were resisting in the first place. Vil's presence was overwhelming, his will intertwining with your own. As your eyes close on their own accord, you feel a strange warmth spreading from Vil’s hands into your mind.

His voice becomes a soothing murmur, a hypnotic rhythm that lulls you into a deep, peaceful state. “Forget the pain, forget the fear,” He whispers, his words wrapping around your consciousness like a comforting blanket. “Remember only the peace, the safety, the love. Remember us.”

"Everything will be fine," Rook assures you, his voice echoing in your mind. You feel a tug, a gentle pull as if something is being drawn out of you. The details of your conversation, the reasons for your mistrust, your friends, your old world, everything begin to fade. The warmth grows, enveloping you in a cocoon of tranquility.

Epel watched it from a far, having freed himself from the hug. He was conflicted about this about at the same he wasn't going to stop his father, he knew better after all. Everything he did, he did with purpose. Though he wanted to ask if you'd be the same as you were? Fierce, fearless and determined? He hope you would.

He wanted you to be. He had other sibling once but he didn't fit in. So Epel had to dispose of him but you, oh, he could see you fitting into his little family well with your atitude and all. And he was glad that among your friends he chose you to be his sibling.

When you open your eyes again, you see Vil, Rook, and Epel standing before you, their faces filled with a mix of hope. You blink once, twice, and then your vision clears. You feel the weight lifting from your shoulders, the confusion and turmoil dissipating like morning mist.

You feel a strange sense of peace, a clarity that was missing before. The memories of your past, of your pain and fear, are gone, replaced by a comforting sense of belonging.

Vil is standing before you, a serene smile on his face. "There now," He says, his tone light and reassuring. "All better."

You nod slowly, you can't quite remember what had troubled you, but it no longer seems important.

"It worked?" Epel wanted to make sure.

His father only cocked an arrogant smile as he turned to face you. "Shall we go, hase? It's awfully clear already." He asks, extending a hand. And you take it without hesitation, the world around you feeling brighter, more vibrant.

The shadows of doubt and fear are gone, replaced by a sense of peace and clarity. You felt as if had had a pretty strange dream. Though everything evaporates from your head when you notices that you're hungry, your throat is still a little itchy.

"Where we're going?"

"To eat." Rook, from your other side, responded. He took your free hand as he and Vil guided you to somewhere darker, Epel following closer.

"After that, can I rant about this strange dream I had?" You asked.

"Of course," Rook said with a smile. "You can rant about it as we walk. We have time."

Vil glanced at you with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "A strange dream, you say? Sounds intriguing. What happened?"

You smiled a little, everything was too funny. "So I was doing this dare with a couple of friends, I think? We went to an abandoned house and there was something hidden in the dark that attacked us when we were walking. It was chaotic."

Epel, who had been silent until now, murmured, "Dreams are so strange sometimes, huh? Good that this only a dream and no one can hurt you here."

You nodded, continuing to tell them about a small, cute creature with lilac eyes that you jokingly said resembled Epel, eliciting laughter from everyone except the mentioned vampire. Epel, walking silently beside you, only smiled faintly, his expression thoughtful as he listened to your recounting of the dream.

The atmosphere lightened as you shared other strange dreams and random thoughts you had, the darkness around you seeming less intimidating whenever you made Vil and Rook laugh till their belly hurts.

Yeah, Epel thought, you fit right here with them.

[angel-eyes05]

only until midnight

pairing: prince charming!opla!sanji x cinderella!afab!reader

summary: after reaching your limits with your life at home, your outlook on life changes after meeting a certain stranger in the woods. your paths are destined to meet again at the king's ball later this week, but he seems to be more than what meets the eye. lucky for him, you are too.

warnings/info: nsfw (thats later in the fic though, so i'll mark it off when to stop reading, and when you can continue if you still want to read. the smut isn't integral to the plot i was just feeling horny lmao), THIS IS AN AU!!! if you dont like that this fic isnt for you lol, cinderella au, slight angst, lots of fluff after the smut, smoking (pipe cause its like the 1700s), first time/virgin reader, unprotected piv (wrap it up guys), reader's been through shit, no use of y/n (it kinda works cause he's not supposed to use her name and shit lol)

word count: 6.3k words

notes: i got this idea cause im playing grace in rodgers and hammerstein's cinderella and i was like ykw this would be really cute with sanji. i picked live action sanji because of 1) im more attracted to him than animated sanji lol 2) the british accent feels right for a prince 3) i dont know enough about him post time skip to like feel good enough to write for him (im only on sabaody). also ik the obvious look here is just to make the kingdom germa kingdom but again i don't know enough about post time skip one piece to write about it in confidence so im doing just a random kingdom in an au. the kingdom isnt even the main focus of this so it doesnt matter!!! also i didn't proofread, i didnt have the energy i finished this at 1 am my bad chat. lol enjoy

dividers by: @cafekitsune

It seemed as if the dirt was superglued down to the floor. As a part of your daily chores, your stepmother had ordered you to scrub the entire house floor until it was spotless. This one speck of dirt had decided to be particularly devilish with you and your consistent scrubbing. You let up from the brush, leaned back, and wiped the sweat brewing on your forehead. Some days were harder than others. The past eight years had been more of the same ordeal. Your father had married particularly quick after your mother’s illness took her, always leaving a sour taste in your mouth when you would linger on the thought. The woman had an interesting demeanor to her. She was sweet yes, but always with a twinge of condescension. She brought with her two young daughters, about your age. They were less deceptive of their malice, teasing you whenever your parents weren't looking. It wasn’t picture perfect, but then nothing was now without your mother. This was just your new reality, and you accepted it with grace and humility.

Then it happened. News came back to your house about a carriage crash involving your father. The image of your stepmother crumbling to the floor as the news was delivered was burned into your mind. Your family had to adapt fast, the house was in a vulnerable position now without a patriarch. The house staff was fired due to lack of funds, materials downsized, and tensions were thick with your new family. Drowning in grief and head of house duties, your stepmother never found the time to clean, and your stepsisters? Well let’s say they weren’t involved in that conversation from the start. You found yourself naturally taking the duty up on yourself. First it was just cleaning the dishes. It slowly grew as time went on, you had gone from daughter to maid. When your stepsisters would make your job harder for you, you would attempt to reach out to your stepmother for a glimpse of hope. Her beginning response was just ignorance, but as your chores became larger and larger, she turned into gas to fuel her daughters’ fire. As if matters couldn’t get any worse, your name was soon taken, along with your dignity and freedom. Bored today, your stepsisters found themselves brewing a new nickname for you.

“I got it!” The short one shrieked from the cushioned chair. The other quickly turned face her in excitement. “Cinderella!” There was silence for a bit, as taller one looked at her confusedly. The short one groaned. “Because shes always covered in soot and cinder from the fireplace.” The tall one took a second to think about it. “That’s too confusing. Plus it doesn’t have anything to do with her name! It has no ring to it.” “Well I’d like to see you come up with something better!” The short one retorted. “You don’t think I can do it?!” The tall one stood up in anger. You tried to block them out as you mopped the floor of the room around them.

“Watch it! You’re going to get my shoes wet with your dirty mop water!” The short one shouted. Blocked them out too much now. “My mistake,” you said, dully. “Ugh, you would think she’s a zombie or something,” the tall one groaned. You could tell your day was about to get worse when you heard the click of your stepmother’s heels entering the lounge room. “What’s all this ruckus you girls are making?” She asked, annoyed. “Oh mother I’ve got it! I’ve got her nickname!” The short one bounded out of her seat. “Don’t listen mother, it’s dreadful there’s no melody to it!” The tall one intruded. They began throwing hands at each other and yanking on the other’s hair. This was almost a daily occurrence when they began arguing. The shrieks had dulled your ears. Almost on routine, your stepmother raised her hand to cease the show. “Continue my dear,” she gestured to the short one. “We should call her Cinderella! Because she’s always around the fireplace!” 

The fire brewing in your stomach grew to a burst. “Stepmother please, they’ll only stop if you tell them so!” You exploded. The stepsisters gave an almost comedic gasp at your rare outburst. All your stepmother needed to do to get you back to your work was give you once glance worth daggers. She cleared her throat after the ordeal. “Girls, please try to keep the bickering to a minimum if you can, I’m trying to work out arrangements to the ball later this week.” Your sisters immediately started cheesing and cheering after hearing the news. 

You had almost forgotten about the event. The king was growing old of age, and with all his daughters married off to other kingdoms, his last hope for an heir was his unmarried son. The prince, the youngest of the king’s children, and the only son: Prince Sanji Vinsmoke. This ball was open to all the women in the kingdom. A playground for him to pick his new bride. Everyone and anyone had the chance, so of course the entire kingdom had been gushing about it over the past month.

Why bother though, you were most likely just going to be stuck in the house again that night. Your stepmother always found new ways to keep you busy on ball nights. “If you two keep quiet for the rest of the day, I will ensure you have the most beautiful dresses among the crowd,” your stepmother promised her daughters. They cheered and jumped into their mother for a hug. You couldn’t help but turn away from the sight, an ache growing in your heart, longing for your own mother back. “As for you,” she turned to face you and look you straight in the eye. “I need you to go into the market immediately and pick up some silk and lace to give to the seamstress for your sisters.” You nodded compliantly. “Yes stepmother,” you managed to speak. “No. It’s ‘Yes Ma’am.’ We’ve discussed this. Is that understood?” You nodded again. “Yes ma’am.” The woman smirked. “Thank you, Cinderella.” She exited the room, her daughters snickering to themselves and following her out.

You dropped the broom by instinct, hands too shaky to keep it steady in them. You covered your mouth to conceal the incoming sobs. You moved swiftly through the house out to the back where the horses were rounded up. You ripped a basket off the shelf outside, flopped on top of the horse, and whisked off into the backyard woods. You couldn’t help but let out your sobs. It was too much for you to take. You were trapped and things were only getting worse. You pulled on the reins of the horse to slow down. Once it slowed to a halt, you dismounted and tied the reins to a nearby tree branch. You walked to the center of the woods, and let out an ear piercing scream. You screamed until your vocal cords began to itch. It was the only way to let out your anger. You couldn’t explode on your family. The results of that were already clear. You didn’t want to explode on yourself. So the woods had become your sanctuary. A place to let it all out. After the noise could no longer physically leave your mouth, you flopped down to the floor and pulled your knees into your chest. Sobs left your mouth as tears flooded your eyes and pooled down your face. You just wanted your old life back. Your parents. Your freedom and dignity. Your name. 

The rustling of leaves nearby woke you from your breakdown. You lifted your head from your knees to find a man approaching from about 30 feet away. You immediately shuffled to your feet and looked at him bewildered. You picked up a sharp rock from the floor in self defense. “Woah, woah, woah! I mean you no harm I swear! I was just passing through!” The man defended, putting his hands up by his chest. The two of you circled each other at a safe distance for a little bit. He didn’t seem to mean any harm, dressed as a simple farm boy. His golden hair was too long, his bangs covering his left eye. He was fairly tall and skinny too, just enough meat on his bones, especially near his toned legs. What stuck out to you the most was the kindness in his eyes. Well, the kindness mixed with current fear. You were so enwrapped with observing him, you forgot you were currently threatening his life. You dropped the rock to the floor, and walked over to sit on a fallen tree log. He watched you for a little bit before you signaled him over to sit next to you. 

He wandered along over and took a seat down next to you, still keeping a safe distance though. “I was out riding when I heard a scream, so I decided to follow it. It went on for a while, so it was easy to track. I thought someone was in trouble,” he explained. “I’m fine,” you shot out. “The red in your eyes and your horse throat suggests differently.” You sighed and cupped your face in your hands. It stayed silent for a bit. Eventually, the man went into his pocket and pulled out a box of matches and a pipe filled with tobacco. Your head lifted up from your hands to watch his process. He struck the match and lit the tobacco, waited for the smoke to form, and then sucked it out of the stem. His eyes closed as he blew out a beautiful puff of smoke. He then turned to look at you and held out the pipe. With some reluctance, you took the pipe from his hands, held the stem up to your lips, and sucked out the smoke. Of course holding it in for too long, you coughed the lingering smoke out.

The man smiled and scooted in closer to you to hold your back as you coughed and took the pipe away. Once your lungs calmed down, you turned to look at him as he was admiring you. “Better?” He kindly asked. You nodded softly. He smiled and took another inhale of smoke before putting the pipe away. “And what would such a beautiful maiden you be doing out in the woods all by herself?” He inquired. You smiled at how cheesy the compliment was. “I could ask the same thing about you.” You both chuckled. He was the first one to explain. “Well I was just out for an afternoon ride, when your shriek took me off my path. And now, here we are I guess.” You nodded slightly and turned to look at the floor. 

“You still haven’t told me why you were screaming,” he mentioned. You sighed. “Just that sort of day I guess.” He nodded. “It just…gets too much sometimes.” As you felt your eyes welling up again, you also felt his hand rest upon yours. You turned to look up at him, a soft smile resting on his face. Naturally, your head fell onto his shoulder, and his head onto yours. You two spent a while like this. “Well, a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be using all her voice up like that. Whoever it was that hurt you like this doesn’t deserve that much energy from you,” he consoled. You couldn’t help but blush a little bit. You had no idea who he was, yet you felt so comfortable with him. “You know, you still haven’t told me your name,” he said, lifting up his head. You lifted up yours as well to look at him. “Oh, um I-.”

You were cut off by the sound of trumpets coming increasingly closer. “Shit,” he said under his breath, scampering up off the log. You looked up at him confused. Was he in trouble with the palace law? Before you could ask any questions, he asked “Are you attending the King’s Ball?” Damn it. You would become a laughing stock to him, most likely being the only girl in the kingdom not attending. “Can’t we just see each other in the market tomorrow?” you suggested. “No, it has to be there,” he shot out. You thought to yourself for a second. Maybe with some extra chores, your stepmother would finally allow you. With hesitation, you finally answered. “Yes.” He smiled to himself. “I hope I shall see you there.” He seemed to move back towards you again, but halted as the trumpets began to blare again. “Have a good day madame!” he exclaimed, bolting off into the distant forest. You stood up as you watched the mystery man escape from your life. 

The woods seemed to disappear around you as your heart fluttered. The first person to show you kindness in eight years and you didn’t even catch his name. Stupid. You were snapped out of your daze when the sound of approaching horse hoofs stopped behind you. Three palace soldiers on horses stood behind you as you turned and curtseyed to greet them. “Good afternoon men,” you greeted. They bowed their heads in return as a sign of respect. The Captain of the Royal Guard was the one in very front. “Pardon the intrusion, but we’ve been in search of His Royal Highness. He seemed to slip away from his fencing lessons earlier this afternoon and the king has been worried sick. Villagers said they saw him passing by through the woods just a moment ago. Have you seen him?”

Oh my god. It occurred to you that you had been so cooped up in the house you had no idea what the prince looked like. That couldn’t possibly had been him back there though. He would have no business around some low life like you. “Do you possibly have a picture of His Highness?” You asked. One of the guards in the back searches through his satchel and pulled out a portrait of the Royal Family. You walked up and took it, examining the prince’s face. You would’ve thrown up right there and then if it weren't for the fact you were trying to help him escape. But those eyebrows in that photo were unmistakable. It was him alright. You just smoked off of the prince’s pipe. “No, I do apologize, but I don’t recognize him,” you said. The captain simply nodded. “Thank you ma’am. As you were.” He bowed his head as him and his men rode off. 

Shock pulled your heart from out of your chest and into your throat. You could hardly believe yourself. That must have been why he was so insistent on you attending the ball. But why? What could he possibly see in someone like you? 

There was only one way to figure out. You went over to your horse, untied him from the tree, and rode off into town, with a new goal. You had to attend that ball.

The week had practically zoomed by. You had the house to yourself most days, your stepmother and stepsisters always out at the market place trying on dresses for the ball. This time was mostly spent either practicing dancing, or sewing up your own dress. There wasn’t much material in the house, and god forbid you take one of the dresses from your sisters, so you took scraps of fabric from your mother’s dresses and pieces of fabric in drawers around the house to make your own. It took about the rest of the week to make, spending laborious hours towards its construction. The final product was a pink gown. It wasn’t nearly nice as your stepsisters’ gowns, but it would suffice for the evening. 

The night came and your stepmother and sisters could be heard shuffling downstairs preparing to get into the carriage. “Wait! I’m coming too!” you shouted down to them. They turned around and looked at you in shock. “Mother you can’t let her!” the tall stepsister shouted. “Yes it’s too humiliating to be seen with her! You can smell the soot from a mile away!” her sister rebounded. Their mother held their hand up, shushing them up immediately. “Now girls, if she would like to join us, that’s well up to her to decide. She’s a grown woman just like the two of you.” The girls looked at her in shock. Your eyes glimmered in hope. It was finally working, all your hard work had finally paid off. Your stepmother smiled at you. Something felt off though. Her eyes had that glint of malice in them. That glint whenever she was about to do something truly horrible. 

“Now Cinderella, where did you get this dress from?” she inquired. “Oh, I used materials from my mother’s dresses and some fabric around the house,” you hesitated to reply. “Hm.” She stared at you, circled you like a shark for a moment. “Darling, come here.” The short one stood next to her mother, looking up at you. “Isn’t her dress lovely?” the woman asked. Your stepsister rolled her eyes a bit. “Yes mother,” she groaned out. “You can really see the attention to detail.” She traced her finger along one of your chiffon sleeves. “Like these sleeves. This beautiful pink fabric. Darling, don’t you have a fabric like this in your closet?” Your heart dropped. You could see where this was going fast. Your sister took a moment to observe the sleeve. She gasped. “You little witch, I bought this fabric its mine!” She ripped both sleeves off your dress. All you could do was stand there, mouth agape and watching in horror. The tall one walked up next. “And these pearls were in my drawer!” She ripped them off your neck. 

Within the next 30 seconds, your sisters found some excuse to tear of each piece of fabric off your dress. You tried desperately to get them off you, but it was no use. Through the chaos, you could see your stepmother smirking by the door. Your eyes welled up with water as you could do nothing but watch. “Girls, girls!” your stepmother called out. “That’s quite enough!” The girls stopped, hair ratted, looking at what they had done to you. The tall one was smiling. The short one had the slightest bit of remorse in her eye. But it disappeared as soon as they collected themselves and walked out the door to the carriage. Their mother was about to follow them out the door. Before, she stopped. “Just as I said. Going to the ball is up to you. You’ll just have to decide if you want to go with a dress or not.” You couldn’t even say a word to her. “Goodnight, my dear.” She closed the door. 

The silence of the foyer was choking you. You mindlessly shuffled to the backyard. Disassociated beyond belief, you took a seat on a bench outside. The tears came out naturally, without you even making a sound. It was all gone. The chance at a normal life. Just go to outside and feel like a human being for the night. To see him again. He wasn’t even at the front of your mind for once. You just wanted to curl up and disappear.  

Out of the corner of your eye, a silver glimmer could be seen on the other side of the yard. You wiped your eyes and looked up to see a tall woman, in a beautiful white ballgown, a glowing wand in her hand, and..were those wings? You must be hallucinating, theres no way. Still being dissociated during the ordeal. The woman explained she was your Fairy Godmother, and that she could send you to the ball. She created a carriage out of one of the pumpkins in the garden, coachmen and horses out of the scuttering mice, and a magical light blue ballgown for you out of thin air. The finishing touch were a pair of shimmering glass slippers. You couldn’t believe your eyes. The woman explained the details of the spell. “While the spell lasts, no one at the ball will recognize you. This will give you anonymity.” That was a relief. You were worried over your step family. Prince Sanji probably wouldn’t either. You didn’t mind though. This was just an opportunity to get out there. “The spell will also wear off by midnight. That means all of this is gone by 12:01,” she continued. You accepted the terms, and next thing you know, you were off to the ball in your pumpkin.

As you stepped out of the carriage and onto the stairs for the castle, you felt like a little girl. Living out your dream as a princess. It was too good to be true. The other girls with their husbands walked gracefully up the stairs. You seemed to have gotten there a little late, everyone in the ballroom already. You gathered your courage, and your dress, and made your way up the stairs and into the castle. The beautiful golden accents and stone pillars were a marvel for the eye. The orchestra playing was more beautiful than you could ever imagine.

As you scouted the room, you could see the row of women lined up to greet His Highness. Sanji sat bored, more cleaned up from the last time you saw him and in a white coat with gold accents, and red dress pants. His hair still covered his eye, and you could see the king swatting at him to tuck it away. Embarrassingly, you caught yourself staring at him from up upon the balcony. Get a grip. It was stupid to spend your time fantasizing over a prince. He wouldn’t even remember who you were. But your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat when you made split second eye contact with him. Before you could see him go back for a second glance, you had already made your way to wander about the rest of the palace. 

Ironically, you found yourself too nervous to dance with the other guests. You instead spent your time admiring the architecture of the castle. The grand piano in the center of one of the lounge room caught your attention. Your mother had taught you how to play when you were young, and wanting to see how well you remembered, you pulled out one of the sheets of music and began to play. Music filled the room as you became so wrapped in the passion of playing. It seemed as if hours had gone by when it was only mere seconds.

“No one’s played that old thing in years,” a familiar voice spoke. You could tell it was Sanji before even needing to turn around. You immediately ceased playing and jolted up from your seat. “Oh, I do apologize!” you shot out, frazzled.. “No, no, I’m sorry for startling you, my lady!” he interjected, walking closer to you and raising his hands up in defense. “I was just admiring the piano, Your Highness.” Remember you forgot to address him properly, you curtsey, your big dress laying on the floor, and lower you chin.

You hear his footsteps move towards you, then feel his finger as it rests underneath your chin and pull it up to face him. “Indeed.” You feel his hot breath on your face as your stomach swarms with butterflies. He’s closer to you than he intended to be. He looks at you with comforting eyes and a familiarity. That wasn’t possible though, the Fairy Godmother said the spell forbade anyone from recognizing you. You couldn’t help but wonder though what he was thinking right about now. All you could think about was how beautiful his lips looked right about now, spending moments to stare at them, as he did yours. Before anything can get too messy, Sanji clears his throat and steps away. “You played beautifully.” “Thank you, Your Highness.” “Please, call me Sanji, Your Highness is too formal.” You smiled at his suggestion.

“Do you know how to play it?” you asked him, trying to break the tension. “My father tried to get me lessons, but I had a hard time paying attention,” he said as he took a seat down on the piano bench. “I can try though.” He stretched his fingers and begun to play the melody on the sheet of paper. You took a few steps back and rested your head on the base of the piano, watching him hypnotically while he played. The was his fingers graced the keys was mesmerizing to the plain eye. Once he finished, he smiled and look up at you. “You’re blushing, my lady,” he teased. You immediately snapped out of your daze, lifted your head and cleared your throat. “Oh, my apologies.” “It’s quite alright.” Sanji looked out behind the door and noticed the music being played in the ballroom. He then bowed, reaching out his hand to you. “Would you give me the honor of joining me on the dance floor?” Your blush grew even hotter. “Oh, I’m afraid I’m not much of a dancer.” He lifted up, and took your hand in his. “Well then, I suppose we will just make the rest of the castle our ballroom.” You stared at him confused. “We can’t have anyone else see you fumbling on your feet, can we?” You both giggled childishly as he took your waist and you rested your hand on his shoulder. 

Sanji’s feet seemed to glide across the floor as he took you into a dance. You tried to match his movements, but your feet couldn’t help but stumble as you twirled along the floor. Your breath got slightly heavier as your embarrassment grew. “Are you alright, my dear?” Sanji asked with concern. “I’m sorry, I’m not very well versed with this dance,” you replied. Sanji smiled. “I guess I’ll just have to teach you.” He began to call out the movements you needed to make for the dance. “Left foot to the right, right foot forward…and twirl,” and so on and so forth. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see how hypnotically his eyes were watching you as you twirled, eyes low and tracing your figure. “See, now you’re getting it sweetheart,” he said, voice deep and low, putting butterflies in your stomach. The two of you continued to dance throughout the halls of the castle, eventually making your way to the balcony you had spotted him the first time.

It had taken a bit to remember, but it suddenly struck that you were dancing with the prince. This thought was brought back to you when you noticed every guest at the party staring at you and Sanji up on the balcony. “Sanji?” you whispered. He hummed low in response. “Everyone’s looking at you.” He chuckled under his breath. “Trust me my dear, I’m not the one they’re looking at.” You couldn’t help but blush. As you scanned the crowd, you spotted your stepmother and stepsisters. The look of jealousy in their eyes couldn’t help but make you smile. “We should go somewhere,” Sanji brought up. “Where?” you asked confused. “Away from here.” “But what about your guests?” Sanji smirked an evil look as he put his mouth just up to your ear. “I don’t think they’ll mind darling.” The butterflies were back. 

It felt as if the two of you had been dancing for hours. You had no idea what time it was, or even where in the castle you were. All you cared about was being here with him. Little girls always dream about finding their prince. They never expect it to happen when they grow up. But here you were. Swaying on the outside terrace of the castle in the moonlight. Your head rested up against his shoulder, him looking down at you, as if nothing else mattered. You and your prince. Without another word needing to be said, Sanji straightened up, took your hand, and led you into the the darkness of the yard. The two of you came across a lone gazebo in a field of tall oak trees, lit only by the moonlight and a single candle lamp. After leading you inside, Sanji shut the glass door and lit a second candle in the gazebo with a nearby match. You took a seat on the bench wrapped around the building, flattening out your massive dress as it poofed up. 

Sanji walked over next to you and took a seat, smoothing your face with his thumb. He gazed into your eyes as you smiled lovingly towards him. “My dear, may I ask you something.” You nodded softly, eyes slightly closed. “Where did you manage to get this beautiful gown.” Shit. You didn’t know what to tell him. He would never believe you if you told him the truth, you’d look like a fool. “One of the tailors at the marketplace,” you made up. He hummed and moved in closer to you. Your heart started pounding.

“I wasn’t aware your family could afford such fine fabrics. With the clothes you were wearing in the woods and such.” Your heart froze. “How did you know?” you stuttered out. It couldn’t be, there was no way. The Fairy said this was part of the spell, how could he possibly know? “I could never forget a face as beautiful as yours,” the words falling off of his tongue like honey. Before you had the time to comprehend what he said or how he could know it was you, his lips had interlocked with yours. They must have been laced with something, the way you simply seemed to melt into his touch.

His hand wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer into him. Your hands found their way into his hair, entangling fingers between the locks. The kiss was long, sensual, as Sanji explored your mouth for the first time. All you could do was let him take the lead, your hands tracing down his neck, humming as his tongue slipped into your mouth. In a swift motion, overtaking your dress with him, he slides you on top of his lap, where his aching erection becomes noticeable incredibly quick. You could feel him throbbing, begging, beneath you. His hand fumbled down the poof of your tulle skirt, and up your bare legs as he went to feel your ass. 

As his hands went up, his mouth went down, leaving wet, sloppy kisses along your neck, sucking and marking as he went. You couldn’t help but make noise as he played with your ass like putty and sucked the essence out of your skin. “Oh could this really be happening to me,” you lowly moaned out. You could feel Sanji smiling against your neck, grabbing your ass harder in response. You could feel his cock growing bigger and his breath getting more frantic by the second. He suddenly moved his hands out of your dress, and separated his mouth from your neck, leaving a trail of saliva.

“May I?” he asked, desperation in his eyes. You froze up a little bit. “I’ve never done it before,” you warned. He paused for a moment, then nodded gently. “It’s okay, I’ll go easy.” You thought about it for a moment, then gave him a nod. With this, he effortlessly lifted you up in his arms and carried you to the gazebo floor. He laid you down gently on your back, then leaned back and unlatched his belt. He pulled his pants down ever so slightly, allowing just enough room for his cock to spring up in an almost comedic fashion. Sanji then pushed the fabric of your dress to the side as he searched for your underwear, getting closer to you. 

You see him come and lean over you, kissing the top of your slightly exposed breast as he guides his tip across your hole with his hand. He had barely inserted himself into you and you were already mewling like a wild animal. You only got louder as more of his shaft entered your dripping cunt. Your fingers dug into his back as he braced and let out a few groans of his own. “God you’re so tight…” he groaned. Once he was finally inside of you he began to slowly rock back and forth, sending waves from your cunt to your brain. 

His mouth moved back to yours as he absorbed all of your moans as his pace picked up. “So lucky I ran into the woods that day,” he gasped out between kisses and thrusts. “Your pussy’s so good. Molding perfectly to my cock.” You couldn’t even fully process what he was saying, so enwrapped in the experience at hand. You were sent into further delirium as he picked up the pace even more. Desperate for more of you, Sanji hiked up your leg onto his shoulder to get even deeper into your pussy. The bliss was overwhelming. “Go harder Sanji,” you managed to moan out. “I can take you.” Sanji couldn’t help but chuckle, but he still accepted your request, shoving more of himself into you as he slammed his tip into your g-spot. Your hand shot out to the side, grabbing at nothing but the concrete floor. Your back arched and hips buckled. This man had you at full disposal and you hadn’t even known him for a day. “Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he grunted. “Want to keep you with me forever.” As he picked his pace up again, you could feel something brewing in your lower stomach, no idea what this feeling was, but knowing it was coming fast. “S-Sanji, something’s happening,” you moaned out. He smiled and kissed your lips sloppily, like it was the last time he would. “I know my darling, just keep going for me.” 

The sounds of your ass cheeks hitting across the floor, your moans and his groans mixing into each other’s mouths, the dim lit gazebo, everything felt straight out of a porno. Your hips began to buck further as the heat continued to grow. You could tell the same thing was happening to Sanji too, his thrusts getting sloppier by the second. With the last final thrusts of his converging into your g-spot, the white heat finally rushed up the rest of your body as you experienced your first time of pure bliss and ecstasy. Your moans turned into mewls as your hand ripped at your dress for any sort of stability. As the orgasm died down, you felt Sanji’s aching cock slip out of you, as he turned away and finished on his own.

A sort of numbness scattered across your body. The experience left you exhausted, barely noticing Sanji crawling up and laying down next to you as he cleaned himself with a handkerchief and redid his pants. He planted soft, gentle kisses into your neck as he fixed you up and brought your dress back down to cover your legs. “Oh my darling you did so good,” he praised you. You looked at him, pure, unadulterated love in your eyes. “Thank you…for giving me this,” you choked out. His lips laced into yours as he hugged your hip. “I would give you all my love if you simply asked. This was just a treat.” You giggled like a little girl. He smiled back and continued to kiss you. 

In between kisses, you tried to talk to him again, but couldn’t keep from giggling as he shut you up before you could continue. “Sanji.” Kiss. “Sanji…” Kiss and giggle. “Sanji!” This time he slipped in a little bit of tongue. “Your father will be asking about you, we need to get back now.” Sanji let go and groaned like a little school boy. “Alright, fine. But only because I can give him an answer on who to marry now.” You turned to face him. “And who would that be Your Royal Highness.” The silence and the look in his eyes spoke for itself. You took a deep breath and begun to sit up, but not before Sanji could pull you back down into him for another makeout session. Your giggles interlocked with his kissing only made him fall deeper in love with you. “Alright. We can go. IF! You tell me your name finally,” he suggested. All you could do at him was laugh, his childish behavior hitting all your soft spots. “Alright,” you began “It’s-.” 

Before you could finish, you were cut off by the sound of the bell chimes from the grand bell tower at the front of the castle. How many times was that? Shit. “What’s wrong darling?” Sanji asked, sitting up. It was twelve times. You looked at him, frazzled and upset. “I’m so sorry,” was all you could manage to say as you ran out of the gazebo doors. Sanji’s face after you told him will be forever burned into your brain. 

You ran and ran and couldn’t seem to slow down. You couldn’t possibly, you had no idea how much time you had left. You made your way through the castle, Sanji close on your trails and sending guards to chase after you. You made your way down the entrance stairs and into your carriage, which you could see rotting away by the second. As you jumped in, you couldn’t help but turn around and watch the castle as you drove away. You could even see Sanji, staring longingly out for you.

This was only for one night though. You needed to get that into your head or you would run straight back to him. You had a life to live. And you needed to go back to fulfill your duty. But this one night. This one perfect night. This was one you hoped to never forget. 

a/n: you know how this story ends TRUST HE FINDS HER THROUGH THE SLIPPER AND EVERYTHING ENDS UP OKAY i just really didn't feel like writing all that lmao. hope you enjoyed (i sure did lol)

[peachesofteal]

oh the image of Simon holding Darling while Johnny holds Bee in the latest baby trap installment 🥹 I just want so much more of them just being there trying to support Darling while repenting for their mistakes, even when she fights them the whole way

🍄

Beautiful mushroom anon is referencing this.

The guys are so... annoying. Concerned. Loving. Doting. I hate them. I love them. I could write an entire fic of this angst/pining/let us help you mess. I want them showing up at every beck and call, every whim. Groveling. Crying. I want it all. (I will also probably write it all for disco baby because that's the one that's going to be a full fic.)

18+ MDNI / baby trap au / dark and mature themes

"I'm here, I've got ya." You murmur, patting Bee's back while you hold her over your shoulder, trying to bounce her just a bit, enough to get her to burp. The movements work fairly quickly, and then you're leaning back again, foot rest coming rising under your feet and tucking your giant fleece blanket up around your waist with one hand.

"Need help?" Johnny asks, and you shake your head.

"No." Be nicer, they're being super helpful. You can't help but eye him with suspicion while he smiles shyly at you, perched on the opposite end of the other couch in your living room, fingers tapping together with nervous energy.

"Do you want to try to eat some lunch?" Simon sits a tray down on the cushion beside you, a plate with a sandwich and your favorite fruits already sliced up, along with a peanut butter smoothie. He's deposited your water bottle, refilled, on the side table next to you, within arm's reach if you need it.

Bee coos with a sleepy smile, pressing her face to your chest and you blow out a breath. She's going to fall asleep on you, again.

You could give her to one of the guys...

No. Just because they come over here, and take care of you, and wait on you hand and foot, doesn't mean you forgive them.

You do not forgive them.

The peanut butter smoothie calls to you, it's perfect consistency, perfect taste something you haven't had in so long, since before you left them. You want a sip, or to just down the whole thing, you want-

A cough scrapes across the bottom of your lungs.

You turn your face away from Bee instinctively, but you're not strong enough right now to really hold her from your body, and your shoulders tense as you try to draw a breath. Fucking pneumonia. Fuck.

"Take-" you croak, and Simon reads it, scooping the baby from your arms before you start to shake with the effort of your wheezing. It makes you lightheaded, and dizzy, and your eyes blink slowly after the fit is over, trying to get your equilibrium right.

Suddenly, you're exhausted. All over again. It's frustrating, increasingly so, and your patience has run thin. It's overwhelming, and frightening, how you could have gotten this ill, and now- now you're crying.

"Oh, darling." Johnny whispers, and you shake your head.

"'m fine." you sob out a protest. Jesus Christ. You are pathetic. This is so embarrassing.

"I know ye are, I know." Neither of them move, waiting, holding their breath. They don't want to push you, don't want to encroach on your very established boundaries, so they'll wait, which is even more frustrating at times, because it feels like they're trying to draw you out, push you to your limit even if that's not what's happening. "Please, can... can I help? Do ye want to go lay down?" Johnny's inched closer now, close enough you can see the sparkling blue of his eyes, his sweet and concerned face that watches every movement you make.

The dark of your room sounds so nice, so much easier, and you nod miserably.

"Alright, come on. I've got ye." He coos, and then wraps an arm around you, plucking you from the couch like Simon plucked the baby from your arms. "Bee's right behind us." He assures, because he knows you'll flip out, and sure enough, you hear her sleepy babbles over his shoulder. "We're all just gon' have a bit of a rest, yeah?" Simon situates her in the bassinet in your room, while Johnny places you slowly onto your bed. He hovers, watching while you peel back the covers and snuggle yourself down into them, turning on your side until you can't see either of them.

The baby monitor is deposited on the pillow next to you, while Simon murmurs something about being just outside if you need them.

Whatever. You roll your eyes but something, something very small, very far away in your heart, echoes with a ping of gratitude, and you and Bee drift off for an afternoon nap.

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xiv

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | chapter summary: The final chapter pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 9.2k (I love being insane) chapter warnings: SMUT (18+only) - unprotected sex. Insecurity/Jealousy. Angst/arguments. Discussions of death, blood and injuries. Alcohol & Marijuana use. Fluff. Bisexual reader (happy pride ya'll!). As always please dm for more specifics. a/n: This could probs use another round of proofreading but it would've delayed this even longer sooooo.... Here we go! I feel pretty emo right now and I might make a more in-depth post about my thoughts at a later date bc I just finished writing this in a hot daze so I can't put all my thoughts coherently together. But I just wanna say thank you to everyone who supported and gave love to this story. This is by far the most popular fic I've ever written, and I don't really know how? Or what I did to deserve all the love but I just want you to know how much I appreciate it. Thank you for sticking with me through all the angst and delayed updates and everything. I'll never forget you and I'll never forget Joel x Reader!! Thank you so much, I hope the finale lives up to your expectations! ❤️

**I DO NOT HAVE A TAGLIST. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

I’m not the kind of man who tends to socialize I seem to lean on old familiar ways….

-May 16, 2024-

“Are you sure you’re okay if I leave you here alone?” 

Ethan’s voice jolts you out of a daze, and you blink your eyes open, realizing that you’d dozed off while sitting upright in a patio chair, the cheesy romance novel you’d been reading still lying open on your lap. Turning to look over your shoulder, you find him standing with one foot on the deck, and one foot still inside, cut in half by the sliding glass door.

Clearing your throat, you straighten up and nod. “Of course. I’ll be fine.”

Ethan studies you carefully, like he’s not entirely convinced. He’s been hesitant to leave you alone unless it’s absolutely necessary – only stepping away from the house to go on patrol shifts and to bring home meals from the mess hall. Recovery has made you feel like a burden to him – to all your friends in the community, really. Everyone….well, almost everyone, has been supportive, but you’ve never been comfortable being openly vulnerable.

Unfortunately, it’s too hard to deny the pain that you’ve been in since the accident, the trouble you have getting around, the exhaustion that clings no matter how many long naps and twelve-hour nights of sleep you get. According to the doctors, being so tired is just part of recovery – rest is important, but the concoction of pain medication you’ve been prescribed only makes your drowsiness and confusion worse. It had been a big deal that tonight you’d mustered the energy to drag yourself outside to sit in the fresh air. 

“I’m fine,” you assure Ethan, once again. “Have fun on your date.”

“It’s not really a date,” he says, almost a little too quickly. “We’re just hanging out.”

“Right,” you say, matter-of-factly. “Do I know who this person is?”

Ethan looks at his feet. “You remember the day this shit happened?” he asks, gesturing towards you. “Before you left on patrol, the girl that said hi to me? It’s her. Her name is Alex.”

“Oh?” you tilt your head, give him a small smile. “She was cute. How’d you ask her out?”

“Well,” he begins, scratching the back of his neck. “I may have…uh, gotten some advice.”

“You didn’t think to ask me?” you’re able to muster up a small smile.

“I would’ve, I just…..” he shakes his head. “It seemed stupid…with everything you have going on.”

“It’s not stupid,” you say, feeling a wave of guilt. Even though he’s the one looking after you, you haven’t spoken to him much about anything going on in his life. In fact, you haven’t really spoken to anyone in a long time, beyond thank you’s and blanket statements like I’m doing better. You feel disconnected, and more lonely than ever. If you ever get enough energy to leave your house, you expect most of the people in the community to have forgotten you exist. “Who’d you ask?”

“Uhm….” Ethan runs a hand through his long dark hair, shifts his weight. “….I’ve been assigned on patrol with Joel Miller a lot lately….so….”

You almost laugh when he uses Joel’s full name. Joel has been such a huge part of your life – sometimes the hero, sometimes the villain – that you don’t need to hear his last name to know who Ethan’s talking about. You could know a thousand Joel’s, and he’d still be the first person that came to mind. But Joel is still a sore subject, and Ethan knows it, which is why you suspect he’s avoided telling you this in the first place. You feel your eyebrows knit together, only able to let out an unenthused. “Oh.”

“I just, you know….he’s a guy. And it sounds like you even liked him at one point so….he must know something, right?” 

“That was a long time ago,” you say quickly, regardless of the fact that he’s right.

It’s probably not fair to blame Joel for everything that has happened to you. You know this, deep down. But you’ve been so helpless and isolated since you’ve woken up in that hospital bed that you’re desperate to find someone to hold accountable. And Joel hadn’t visited you in the hospital once. By this point, he’s abandoned you so many times that your resentment feels justified, even if your current state is not directly his fault. Because it was you, after all, who had walked into the path of those men, too angry to think clearly, too weak to take them down alone. The only person you can blame is yourself, and you really don’t want to.

“Did he tell you to take her out on patrol, make her cry, and almost get her killed?”

Ethan clicks his tongue, looks down, almost ashamed. “No. He did not.”

“You should be careful with Joel,” you warn.

“I was…” Ethan says. “But I don’t think it’s that simple. I think he’s actually alright.” 

“So you’re friends with him now,” you state, hoping he refutes. But instead, he looks up at you, frowns, and lifts his chin.

“What happened to you was horrible. It shouldn’t have happened. And yeah, maybe you think he’s the reason you almost died…. I don’t know the specifics so you can believe whatever you want. But I know that he’s the reason you’re still alive.” Ethan’s voice breaks, and you feel tears brimming your eyes before he continues. “He brought you back here, he donated his blood, he-”

“What?” you cut him off.

“What do you mean, what?” Ethan asks. “He was the only person there who had your blood type. You would’ve died if he didn’t. They didn’t tell you this?” 

“Whatever it took to make him feel less guilty, sounds like,” you say, dismissively.

Something hot burns in your veins, something that must have always been there since you woke up, but you’re only feeling it now. It’s unsettling, Joel being a part of you that way. Your lives had already seemed intertwined enough already. But now, he’s inescapable.

“Well, he stayed by your side every night while you were asleep. Fuck, I mean, he was probably there just as often as I was. He made sure I ate, and slept and showered and… and he never once asked for anything in return. He cares about you as much as I do, clearly, so I don’t think it’s wrong to think he’s a good guy….”

You must not care about me that much, you want to say, but you stop yourself. Because it’s not true, and you’d only be saying it to hurt him. You have nothing to defend yourself with, no way to convince him otherwise, and so you just stare at him until he shakes his head and slips back inside.

Ethan is stubborn, he always has been. And it’s a special kind of stubbornness, fueled by anger – so common in most of the young people you meet these days. You understand why they’re all like this. When you’re robbed of your childhood – you get stuck there….waiting….. Like someday you’ll have a chance to do it all over again, regardless of how obvious it is that you won’t. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-May 25, 2024-

Things get better, albeit slowly. You begin to wean off the pain medication, which makes you more alert. It’s still difficult to leave your house, but you can move around it more easily, and you don’t spend all your days sleeping. Luckily, you aren’t as stir-crazy as you’d been expecting. 

One afternoon, Ellie Williams shows up on your doorstep with a bag full of groceries. 

“Maria wanted me to bring these to you,” she says when you open the door. “She told me to tell you she’ll be over tomorrow, but she wanted me to give you these to tide you over.”

“That’s very nice. Thank you for bringing them to me,” you try to take the bag from her hands, but she steps back just a little, like she’s unsure if you should be carrying anything. You let your hands drop to your sides. “Would you like to come in?” 

Ellie hesitates for a split second, adjusting the bag in her arms, and then nods. “Sure.” 

Stepping to the side, you allow her into the home. Because of how warm it is outside, you’ve opened all the windows to let the breeze through. 

“Sorry for the mess,” you say, Ellie following you into the living room. There are stacks of books and pill bottles with instructions scattered on your countertop. You haven’t swept the floors in awhile and all the hard surfaces are covered in a thin layer of dust. It’s not really that bad, but you don’t have the energy or strength to be on your feet for long – let alone to clean the house. 

“I don’t mind,” Ellie says. “It’s not even that bad. I don’t know why older people worry about leaving your house messy and shit….no offense.”

“There was a time it used to matter,” you tell her. “And I see where you’re coming from, but my thing is – if you’re going to live somewhere, you should do what you can to make yourself feel comfortable.” 

Ellie purses her lips, as if you’ve made a good point but she doesn’t know how to answer. Instead, you continue. “Can I get you anything? Water?” 

“No, I’m okay,” she puts the bag on your kitchen counter.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you tell her. “I just need a moment to put these away.”

When you walk into your living room a few minutes later, she’s hovering near your record player, looking through the vinyls. The turntable was already in the house when you’d arrived years ago, but it was buried in the closet and broken. Ethan had managed to fix it after a little troubleshooting and scavenging for parts. Now, you both were always looking for records to bring home, and had amassed quite the eclectic collection – jazz, funk, hip-hop, and everything in between. 

“Wow,” Ellie says, running her fingers along the shelved records. “You found all these?”

“Some of them were already here. But yeah. Ethan and I are always on the lookout on patrol. I can play you something. What do you like?”

“Eighties, I think,” she says. “But…I also haven’t heard as much.” 

“Well here,” you thumb through the records, pull out a worn copy of Speaking In Tongues. “How about some Talking Heads?” 

You pass the record over to her, and she stares at you blankly. It’s only then that you realize — she’s never used a record player before. There’s a familiar pang of sadness before you show her how. 

“Are you feeling better?” Ellie eyes you wearily once the music starts, and you settle onto the couch, feeling a little worn out after being on your feet.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m older now, so it seems like healing takes a lot more time.”

Ellie nods, then bobs her head to the music a little. “This is better than most of the stuff Joel likes.” 

“Oh yeah,” you smirk, and instinctually, you recall his enthusiasm for all things old-school country. “I remember that,” you say softly.

With so much time on your hands lately, you’ve found yourself thinking of Joel a lot, reminiscing on the time you’d spent with him and Sarah. What Ethan had told you about him staying by your side was definitely making you reconsider your assessment of him, even if you were still hesitant. It was probably a trap to think you’d ever be able to feel those things with him again, but if remembering them brought you comfort, you weren’t going to resist it. 

“You’re more than welcome to come over to listen anytime,” you offer, and she nods excitedly. 

Ellie stays for longer than you expect. You talk a fair bit. She tells you about what she’s learning in school – but mostly how ‘fucking useless’ it is. She wanders around your living room and pokes through your stuff without asking, but you don’t think to stop her – you just answer her questions and let her be curious.

Eventually, the sun dips below the horizon, and she excuses herself to go home, insisting that Joel will ‘fucking kill her’ if she’s out too late. Even though you’re exhausted after entertaining her for a few hours, you find it feels nice. Being on house arrest, essentially, had left your starved for connection outside Maria and Ethan.

You see her out the door before returning to your refrigerator to look for something to eat. Ethan will be back from patrol any minute, so it may be nice to make him something even if you have almost no energy.

But when there’s another knock on your front door, you’re shocked to see who you find staring on your porch. 

Joel.

You almost forget to speak at the sight of him. It’s been weeks since your accident and he might as well have moved away from Jackson since you hadn’t seen him at all. 

“Hey,” you say, tentatively, taking him in. He seems preoccupied – cheeks flushed, hair rumpled, and out of breath, like he had run all the way to get here.

“Have you seen Ellie?” he asks, not even greeting you in return. “I’ve looked everywhere and I-

“You just missed her,” you cut him off, not because you’re trying to dismiss him, but because he's clearly distressed. “I’m surprised you didn’t see her on your way over.”

Joel sighs, eyes closing in relief. “Thank God.” For a second, you glimpse the frazzled and overworked father you used to know. “She stayed out too late, had me worried sick.” 

“She’s fine,” you say. “Although she did say you might kill her if she didn’t get home soon.” 

Joel gives you an almost imperceptible smile, but seems mostly irritated by Ellie’s suggestion. “I would do no such thing.” He shakes his head and takes two steps backwards. “Thank you. Didn’t mean to be a bother.” 

Your mind floats to a memory of Joel on your front porch, late getting home from work and looking for Sarah, and you can’t help but feel a bit of sadness and longing for a simpler time, a surge of affection. 

Joel is halfway down your front porch steps when you speak again. “You aren’t bothering me.”

He pauses, turns to look over his shoulder. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, and you step outside, letting the door fall shut behind you and remaining huddled against the siding, and he turns to face you fully, sighing. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, actually….” 

“Oh…really?” you can’t keep the surprise from your voice, and he notices.

“Yeah,” Joel rubs his fingers together, a nervous habit of his you know all too well. “Yeah. I- well, I wanted to apologize to you.”

You’re so startled by the words you can’t answer right away. But the split second of hesitation causes Joel to continue, looking to fill the empty space. 

“I’ve been waiting to find the right thing to say….but it doesn’t seem like that’ll ever happen. I’m not even sure I know where to start.” 

“Oh,” is all you can manage, still taken aback. The only thing that doesn’t surprise you about his admission is the sincerity. You could say a lot of things about Joel, but he isn’t a liar. He always tells the truth. Maybe it’s why he pulled away from you to begin with. It’s easier than the alternative – spending time with you, which would force him to be honest. For how much you’ve changed, you’d probably do the same. 

But the thing with Joel is that you’re exhausted. You’re tired of the back and forth, of the push and pull, of the constant struggle to hold your care over each other's head, hoping the other will break first. Maybe this is a fresh start. 

You step closer to him, and you see him study the way you move. Of course, you’re trying to look strong, but he can surely sense the weakness. He’d always been good at that, better than any of the others. Your hand comes to rest on the porch railing for support. 

But…..

There’s that voice in the back of your head, the one that tells you this is a mistake. The one that reminds of the pain you’ve often earned through vulnerability. It likes to think it’s served you, protected you, and it has. But it’s not always right.

“I suppose I owe you an apology, too,” you say. “At the very least I should thank you for what you did.”

Joel shakes his head, dismissively, but looks to where your hand rests on the porch railing, looks back up to you as he reaches out. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

His hand clasps over yours, and to anyone else, this might be nothing. It’s so innocent, unassuming. But the effect it has on you is palpable. He squeezes once, and you flip your hand over, squeezing his back, giving him a gentle smile. “I am too.” 

Joel’s eyes fill with a warmth you haven’t seen in twenty years, and your stomach flutters, your heart races. A part of yourself that you’d considered long dead seems to rouse.“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I told Ellie we’d go to the mess hall together,” Joel says. “Otherwise I would.”

You blink once, and Joel sees it, immediately continuing on. “But maybe Ellie and I can come another time, join you and Ethan?”

“Yeah. He’d like that,” you say. “That might be nice.” ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-June 20, 2024-

You think that at the end of a long winter, bears must hate coming out of hibernation. 

It must suck. They spend months sleeping, doing almost nothing, and then suddenly they’re forced to function again – to hunt, to eat, to roam, to survive and socialize. You imagine there has to be a learning curve, a desire to crawl back into their den and never leave again. 

Or maybe you could be wrong, and they love it. And you’re just a wimp who hates feeling uncomfortable.

All you know is that you’re huddled in the back corner of the Tipsy Bison, nursing a whiskey – and it’s the last place you want to be. 

You’re overwhelmed. 

And despite the fact that you regularly used to attend community events, it’s been so long since you've been out in Jackson that you feel like you don’t belong. To some extent, you’ve always felt this – too hardened by the outside world to fully assimilate, especially when the town throws dances. But in the past, you at least attempted to convince yourself otherwise. 

Two weeks back, the doctors had cleared you to go about your daily activities as normal  – within reason, of course – but you hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity. Tonight, Ethan had accused you of becoming ‘antisocial’ and ‘reclusive’. You had agreed to attend – but only to beat those allegations. So far, you are definitely not. 

You scan the crowd, taking in the people spinning around the dance floor. Some of the women are wearing dresses. You can’t help but feel a little envious of how easily they’re able to perform femininity, which is something you’d given up on a while ago. It hadn’t exactly served you before arriving in Jackson, and you predict it would be humiliating to start trying now. After all the things you’d experienced, you were left marred with scars and wrinkles, stretch marks and loose skin. Since then, you’ve remained loyal to the combination of men’s denim and tank tops with flannel-button downs overtop. 

It doesn’t always stop the men in the community from descending like vultures. You might be the last pick – there are plenty others who are younger and prettier – but you’re still an option. Bea, your old partner, had always theorized that some men were particularly drawn to sapphic women, that it was ‘the ultimate challenge’. Maybe there is some truth to her theory, but you like men….sometimes. So there is always a part of you that yearns for their validation, for as many times as you tell yourself you don’t want it. But it never feels good to get it after you’ve watched them exhaust all their other options.

It’s pathetic, but it makes you think of Joel. He and Ellie had been over to yours and Ethans last week for a nice dinner, and you had tried to gauge whether there was any romantic connection between you still. Occasionally, you’d caught him looking at you with a wistful smile, but he could have been lost in thought. It’s not like you needed that from him or anything, but it might be useful information. After all this time, Joel is still so handsome, and probably has an impressive selection of potential partners here in Jackson – women of all ages. You hope he’s not here tonight – you can’t see much besides the dance floor at this point – because the thought of him cozied up to anyone here, combined with the acrid taste of the drink in your hand, makes you want to gag. 

You take another look around the room. Eugene, your partner in crime – quite literally – is walking towards you, which helps quell your spiraling mind . If you talk to him, say hello to Tommy and Maria, maybe Ethan will see the effort you’re making and you can sneak out without having to deal with anyone. It’s wishful thinking, but it’s worth a shot. The sooner you can get home tonight, the better.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel can’t stop staring. 

He knows it’s impolite. He knows that he’s not being subtle. He knows that if any other person in this bar followed his eyeline, they’d pick up on what he was doing in an instant. But every minute he doesn’t get called out for it, he becomes more and more emboldened. 

It’s the first dance he’s ever been to in Jackson, and the only reason he’s here is to placate Ellie and Tommy. But even they have abandoned him in favor of better companions – his brother is deep in conversation with Maria, sitting across from him in a booth, and Ellie is out on the dance floor dancing with one of her new friends, Dina.

Joel just can’t help himself. He still feels guilty for what he’s done, but he can’t shake the feeling of a soft hand clasped within his own – the first time he’d felt any semblance of hope since arriving here. Tommy and Maria had already slyly let him know about all the women who were interested, but he couldn’t bring himself to entertain their advances. There’s only one he wants, and she won’t even look in his direction.

When he’d first noticed you, you were whispering with Eugene on the opposite side of the dance floor. According to Tommy, you spend a fair bit of your time with the old man, which Joel initially thought to mean that you had some sort of entanglement. At first, Joel thought that couldn’t be possible. But you were deep in focus as you listened to Eugene’s words, nodding and leaning in closer and closer, and Joel thinks Tommy might be right. He wants to understand what you see in this man – tall and unkempt, covered in tattoos with long, graying hair and a beard to match. But Joel catches himself in his judgment, he’s probably just as unappealing – not just because of how he’s aged, but because of how horrible he’s been to you in general. 

The next time Joel sees you, you’re at the bar, chatting with a man who Maria had introduced him to not long ago, a resident who is new in town. Joel had been too busy focusing on the fact that he’d been in Jackson long enough to not be its newest resident that he couldn’t remember his name. He wishes he had, so he could keep tabs on him. Of course, he can’t blame the man for being drawn to you – Joel knows very well that you’re hard to miss in a crowd. 

Still, Joel bristles when you both step away from the bar, and the man’s hand lands just above your sacrum. He actually finds himself tensing up, resisting the urge to intervene, because it’d likely only make you angry. Plus, maybe you are interested. That question is answered quickly when you reach behind your to clasp the man's hand and place it back at his side. Where it belongs, he thinks.

“Joel!”

He snaps his attention to what’s in front of him – interrupted, and probably for good measure, lest he get himself too worked up. Ethan approaches with a girl his age, her arm linked through his. Joel stands to greet them. 

The terse understanding between himself and Ethan while you were still in the hospital had somehow turned into a friendship, especially after they’d begun getting paired up on patrol. Ethan reaches out for Joel’s hand to dap him up, slinging an arm briefly over his shoulder.

“How’s it going, kid?” 

“Good, good,” Ethan nods, pulling back, and gestures to the girl next to him. “Joel, this is Alex.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “Ethan’s told me all about you.” 

“Really?” Joel asks, feeling a little bewildered. 

“Only good things,” Alex says quickly, as if she senses his apprehension. Ethan puts his arm around her waist. Joel recalls a few weeks back when he’d asked for advice on how to ask out a girl. Joel hadn’t pried at the time, but now he seems to understand, and is surprised by the swell of pride he feels. “Ethan says you’re a fucking badass,”she giggles after she swears.

Joel looks over at Ethan. “I don’t know about that.” 

He shrugs, changes the subject. “Since when do you come to these things?” Ethan asks.

“Ellie dragged me out,” Joel answers.

“I did the same with my aunt,” Ethan chuckles. “But now I can’t find her, and I’m pretty sure she’s escaped.”

“Oh, is she here?” Joel plays dumb, like he hasn’t been aware of exactly where you have been all night. “I haven’t seen her.”

“I think she was with Eugene earlier,” Alex has to stand on her toes to speak into Ethan’s ear. Joel watches Ethan’s nose wrinkle. 

“Do you know Eugene at all?” Ethan turns to Joel. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on there, but she won’t say anything.” 

Joel wishes that he had more information. “Tommy says they seem close.”

“I know that,” Ethan says. “I wish she would just be honest with me. It’s not like I would be mad. Whatever,” he shakes his head. “We can talk about it another time. I just want to find her so I can introduce her to Alex.”

“We should say hi to Tommy and Maria first,” Alex says, and Ethan nods in agreement before saying goodbye to him. Joel claps a hand on Ethan’s shoulder as he moves past him, and Alex gives him a shy smile in acknowledgement. 

Focusing back on the crowd, Joel realizes that you’ve vanished in the short span of his last interaction. Maybe you’d rejected that guy, and then he’d retaliated. Maybe you’d gone home with Eugene. Joel shakes his hand. It’s none of his business. He doesn’t need to get involved. It’s not his job to look after you, regardless of how much better he feels when he does. Old instincts. He can’t help himself.

He settles on watching Ellie and Dina spin each other around on the dance floor. Eventually, Tommy and Maria, then Ethan and Alex all trickle out of the booth to go get another round or head to dance. Joel stands to release the booth to someone who actually needs it – and is left in the corner, nursing a nearly empty beer that’s now flat and warm. He looks towards his family and friends, but for some reason, he still feels alone. 

Joel isn’t sure how long he stands sulking, but he starts when someone approaches from behind.

“Having fun?”

You’re a pace or two back, one thumb hooked through a belt loop, a whiskey in your opposite hand. Joel looks back at the crowd a moment, then at the ground. “No.” 

“Neither am I,” you commiserate, stepping alongside him. 

Joel considers offering that Ethan was looking for you, but selfishly does not want to give you a reason to leave, so he stays quiet. You observe the dance floor like he is, smiling slightly at the sight of Ethan and Alex dancing. The flannel you’re wearing over a gray tank hangs loosely off one shoulder, and Joel wants to reach out and touch the exposed skin. You take your last sip of whiskey, bring a finger to swipe under your bottom lip, and Joel wishes he knew what you might taste like right now. He scolds himself for fantasizing.

You don’t speak either, and you stand in silence for a while, until you eventually pop your hip, shifting closer to him. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you’re already standing so close that your arm gets pressed up against his. Neither of you acknowledge the contact, but Joel is acutely aware of how your skin burns hot against his own. He feels comforted by the affection, even if it’s unintentional.

“Want to leave?” Joel asks, and can hardly believe that the words came out of his mouth, even if he wanted them to. 

You look over at him, not bothering to hide your surprise, but your expression evens out quickly, and you give him a single nod. “Yeah.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel’s still not convinced this is real. It feels too much like a dream, the weather outside is so pleasantly warm it feels like he’s floating as you walk down the street. He had never expected you to agree to leave with him, and now he doesn’t know what to do, or what to say.

The greater distance you put between yourselves and the bar, the quieter the town is. Most of Jackson’s residents are at the dance, save for the guards at the front gate and the handful of people that had been mingling just outside.

He heads in the general direction of the neighborhood, even though he lives on a different street. 

“What are we supposed to do now?” you wonder out loud, and you sound a little incredulous, like you’re equally as shocked to find yourself beside him. The question carries a bit more weight than it would have coming from anyone else.

Joel contemplates. He’s not sure what he wants from you – there are a lot of things, actually – but he doesn’t know if he really deserves any of them. For now, your companionship is more than enough.

“You’re welcome to come back to mine,” he offers.  “But if you’re looking to keep drinking, all the booze is back at the bar.”

“I’m good.” You shake your head like you’re uninterested, but look over at him with a sparkle in your eye. “I have something better….” 

You reach into the pocket of your flannel and produce a rolled joint between two fingers, looking over your shoulder. “Those dances are usually terrible, so I always come prepared.” 

Joel can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, and the sheepish grin he gets in return makes his cheeks feel warm. “Where’d you even get that?”

“You’ve never been on patrol with Eugene, have you?” you ask. “He has a place just out of town where he grows it. I’ve been helping him since we first got paired up, and in exchange, I get to sample the supply.”  

Of course. Joel would’ve never imagined that was the reason you were so close with Eugene, but it suddenly makes incredible sense. He shakes his head in a combination of relief and amusement. “You really haven’t changed.” 

“Oh, I’m sure I have,” you answer, smiling to yourself and looking at the ground. “But of course I haven’t shaken all my bad habits.”

“That’s not true,” Joel mutters.

“Well, you haven’t changed either, for as much as you’ve tried to convince me,” you nudge him gently, offering him the joint. “What do you think?” 

Joel plucks it from between your fingers and puts it between his lips. “I think I have a lighter at home.”

“Sounds perfect.” 

In the front hallway of his house, you slip out of your tennis shoes, shuffling behind him in your socks, pausing occasionally to study some of the doodles that Ellie had drawn and hung on the walls – it wasn’t exactly a priority to decorate these days, but they certainly livened up the place. He knows how much Ellie likes you, despite the fact that she doesn’t gush, but the odd comment here and there says as much. Joel remembers how difficult it had been to keep Sarah away, and Ellie now is no different. He doesn’t seem to be able to help himself, either. 

You sit next to Joel on his wicker couch, curling your feet up under you as he lights the joint and study him while he takes the first few puffs. He does it without thinking. That’s how soft Jackson has made him. Normally, he’d be too stressed about being out of his wits. But he can’t see how hypervigilance has served him since settling down. He feels safe here, and somehow especially because he’s with you. 

When he passes the joint your way, you look at him wistfully. “Old times,” you say with a grin. 

Joel nods as he exhales, coughing. “Old times.” 

“Oh yeah,” you say, as if you just remembered something. “You can’t tell Ethan about this. He doesn’t know, and he will give me shit about it. I need him to take me seriously.” 

Joel shakes his head. “Well, you know, it sounds like he and Tommy both think you and Eugene are together.”

“What?” your head jerks forward in shock, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, no. Do people think that?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Joel wants to mention how he had seen you whispering to each other at the bar earlier, but then realizes it’d give a bit too much away. “That’s what they think.”

“Well....historically speaking I might’ve liked older men…. but not that old.”

Joel purses his lips. “You’ve lived here awhile, huh?” When you nod, he continues. “Has no one caught your eye?” 

“Uhm….not really. But….” you trail off, looking into Joel’s backyard. “To be completely honest, I  don't think about that much these days. I guess I feel like I have a lot to be grateful for. I don’t want to push it.”

Joel understands, and nods pensively.

“What about you?” you ask. 

“I guess I feel the same.”

That causes you to smile a little bit, look over at him. “I bet you already know this. But the women here would line up down the block for you.”

Joel can’t help but roll his eyes, though he wonders if you would, too. Even if you did like him, that didn’t seem like your style. 

“I’m serious. I’ve heard the things they whisper behind your back. All their fantasies about you are pretty creative...”

“Fantasies?” He grimaces. He imagines none of them know anything about who he really is. You’re the closest thing, and all he’s done is hurt you. “I’m sure you were quick to set them straight.” 

“I don’t say anything,” you say, then continue on, a little quieter, looking at him from under your lashes. “I like to keep you to myself.” 

Joel isn’t sure how to respond to that. You have every right to tell all of them that you were once together, and all the ways he’s hurt you since. Yet for some reason, you’ve chosen to protect him. 

“So….all this time….” you wonder. “You had to have been with other people, right?”

Joel doesn’t think to hold back. “I had a partner for a long time. Tess. First, it was all business, I helped her smuggle things in and out of the Boston QZ…and then, I don’t know….we got along, we trusted each other and…” Joel trails off, hoping you’d put together the rest before he has to go into too much detail. “She was real fuckin’ tough. Scared me a little at first. You would’ve liked her.”

“Well, we already have one thing in common. What happened?”

“She’s the whole reason I ended up out here….with Ellie,” Joel explains. “But I lost her a little over a year ago.”

He hopes you don’t ask how. Maybe someday he’d be willing to go into detail, but talking about it generally is hard enough as it is. But fortunately, you seem to pick up on his hesitance. “I’m sorry, Joel,” you say softly.

He shakes his head. “I was an asshole. To her. I should've....after Sarah died I didn’t want to get attached, so I kept her at arms length and I... I wished I hadn’t in the end. It only made things worse.”

“Yeah,” you nod, look down. “I’ve made that mistake before.”

Joel doesn’t want to linger any longer on the memory. “What about you? Were you with anyone?”

“Uhm, yeah,” you fidget, looking uncomfortable. “I had a partner….for like ten years."

Ten years? He had been with Tess for more, but something about that information feels jarring. He’s shocked Tommy never told him this. Did Tommy even know? Suddenly, it dawns on Joel everything that could’ve happened to you since you’ve been apart. Entire lifetimes. And he’d said such horrible things when you’d fought. He remembers your face when he’d told you that you didn’t know what it was like to lose a child. Maybe you had. He’d been so cruel and inconsiderate just because he was uncomfortable. 

His throat feels tight, almost scared to learn anymore. “What…what was his name?”

“Well, Bea….was her name.” 

Joel is sure he doesn't hide the shock well. “Sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t think I did either. Well, I sort of did, but I was too young I think when I first realized to make any sense of it, but…. I met her and…yeah,” then, you smirk. “I mean, I went to an all-girls school and I had a really bad relationship with my dad so…it definitely makes sense. ” 

Joel considers this, smiles along with you. “But anyways. Her and I met shortly after my brother died and it was kind of the same. We kept each other alive, things developed from there. We ended up getting involved with this group who lived in the middle of nowhere. That’s a whole other story, but…” you wave your hand. “I loved her, and I lost her right before Ethan and I got here.” 

Joel sees all the pain in your eyes, and wishes he could say something to take it all away. He knows he can’t. You look back out into the woods in his backyard, take a deep breath, and reach back towards the joint that you had put out not long before, lighting it again. Joel gets the sense that both of you had done the most amount of sharing possible for the time being. 

“Look at us,” you take another drag before passing it over. “Old times.”

“Old times,” he repeats, a smile working its way onto his face. 

“This used to be my favorite thing to do with you.” 

“It was nice,” Joel agrees….hesitates before continuing. “But I can think of some things I liked better.” He gives you a knowing look, and you roll your eyes, laughing easily at his joke. It feels so good to make you laugh, to see you smile. Why had he spent so much time resisting?

“Touche.” 

What happens next spills out of Joel so quickly he doesn’t think to stop it. “I tried to look for you….after all this happened. I didn’t have Sarah anymore, and I thought maybe….I don’t know. It was the only thing that kept me going for a while.”

“I did too,” you confess. “But…I was with Vincent and Ethan, and I felt like I couldn’t leave them alone for something that might just be…. I always hoped you both made it. And I’m so sorry she’s gone. I really did love her.” 

“I know you did,” Joel reaches out to take your hand. “I know. And I shouldn’t have said those things I did. I’m still not sure why you’ve been so patient with me.”

“Hmm,” you shift so that you’re closer to him. “You waited around for me back then. It’s only fair that I’d wait around for you now. I want you in my life. I don’t care what that looks like. But it’s too hard to forget about a person that you loved.” 

Joel wants as much from you as you’re willing to give, and he can’t tear his gaze away from you. But he wants you to see him, all of him, before he takes it. 

“I’ve let a lot of people down. I’ve done a lot of h-horrible things,” his voice cracks, and tears well in his eyes. 

“I have, too, you know? Those things still live with me. But I think what matters is who we are now,” you reach out, fingertips brushing the scar on his temple, and Joel swears that even if you don’t know the story behind it, you can see right through him. “And I know who you are.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.” 

“You won’t,” you say. “No more than anyone else has. And if it makes you feel better…when people hurt me, I’ve gotten pretty good at hurting them back.” 

“If I do, I’d hope you would.”

“I will. I promise,” your thumb strokes his cheek, marveling at him. “I would suggest a blood oath or something but….I heard we kind of already did that…”

He’s given you every warning, every barrier, and you’re still here. He can’t believe it, and he doesn’t think he can hold back any longer. “Come here.”

He kisses you. He wishes that he could be slow and tender and gentle like he used to be – and certainly he’s still capable, but he realizes that he’s been depriving himself of something he wanted for so long, and can’t seem to control himself. 

Your hands land on the side of his face, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Maybe you’re somewhat taken aback by his urgency, you hum against his lips, but you don’t resist at all. Joel maneuvers you so you’re straddling his thighs, and he grips your hips, your ass, coasts his hands up your side. Your lips part in a moan, and he slips his tongue into your mouth. 

For a while, he stays there, savors the taste of you, whiskey and smoke still lingering on your lips. His hands cup your jaw, feel your body, grip and squeeze and stroke and you let him, continue to let him. He tries everything, wondering if you’ll tell him to stop, if you’ll decide you’ve had too much, but you don’t. Then again, he should know by now that you’re a woman who knows what she wants. He just finds it’s hard to believe that he’s the thing you want.

You break away from him, just a little, and Joel presses his nose to your neck, kisses your pulse point. 

“Should we go upstairs?” your voice is raspy and breathless. “Will Ellie be home soon?” 

“Probably not for a while. We can be quick.”

“Hopefully not too quick,” you raise your eyebrows. Joel can’t help but laugh a little. He relishes in the way your hands rake up and down his arms, exploring him, touching him. Of course he wants you, but even just this would be enough. He’d be content with less, he hadn’t realized how starved of affection he’d been.

You’re able to pry yourselves off one another to make it up the stairs, and Joel guides you with a hand to the small of your back. When you get to his bedroom, he opens the door, but stops you before you go inside. 

“Hold on,” Joel mutters, winding one arm around your waist, the other behind your knee.

“Joel, what-no, you’ll–” he pulls you into his arms. 

“Do you really think I’m not strong enough?”

“I didn’t say that,” you chuckle as he carries you over the threshold and into the bedroom, breath puffing against him before he lays you down on the bed. 

When he hovers over you, your fingers wind into his hair, nails raking against his scalp. He savors every sweet sigh he’s able to pull from you, hands cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips. You’re so pliant and open beneath his body, it makes it easier to not feel guilty about what he’s doing. He knows he shouldn’t feel guilty, you’ve said as much, but it might take some time before the feeling will die completely. Hopefully, he has enough time with you to see it off completely.

Clothes are removed quickly, intentionally, as you both bare more and more of yourself to each other. And while he wishes he could’ve been there to see the ways in which your body has changed, you’re still as beautiful as ever. 

Joel, however, is hesitant to give himself away completely. When you tug at the hem of his shirt, he hesitates. 

“I don’t know if-” he pauses. “If you want to see all that.”

“Joel,” you stare at him knowingly, kneeling across from him as he stands at the edge of the bed. “I do.” 

So he releases your hand, and lets you pull it over his head. Carefully, you study him, his body littered with scars. He knows he’s not as in shape as you remember. These days, he hardly can look at himself in the mirror after a shower. He expects you to be disgusted, or at least see it flit across your face before you compose yourself, but you don’t. Your fingertips drag through the smattering of hair on his chest and down his torso, tracing several prominent scars – each one with a story – but you linger on the one at his abdomen, frowning. 

He sees the question on your face, but you don’t ask it. Instead, you return to press yourself against him. “I’m so glad you’re still here….”

You kiss him, then, and Joel can only kiss you back. 

Joel isn’t the only one with battle scars. Some of them he feels are his fault, but you seem less self-concious about them, which gives him a surprising amount of confidence. Maybe it’s just a reality of what happens when you make it this long. 

When you’re finally bare beneath him, he admires how you look, stretched out and waiting, chest heaving and shivering with anticipation. He slides his hand between your legs – feels you already wet and warm, sinking two fingers inside. Your walls flutter around the intrusion, back arcing off the bed when you sigh out his name. Joel.

He’d forgotten how nice it felt to hear that. 

Joel is already thinking about what he’d like to do to you next time. He’d be more careful, more patient. He’d bury his face between your thighs to see if you tasted as good as he remembers, he’d let your fingers curl into his hair. But right now you both seem desperate for the same thing. 

He pumps his cock a few times with his hand, he can’t remember the last time he’d been this hard – the last time he’s wanted anyone this badly. Even with Tess, it had always felt like the both of them were hurrying to scratch an itch, her eyes would wander like she was thinking of other people, and maybe he was, too. 

Joel lines himself up with your slick cunt, teases you a little, and you roll your body down to meet him, gasping when his blunt head slides in – just a little. 

He can’t hold back. You practically suck him in, so tight and hot around him he finds it immediately overwhelming, but he doesn’t even think to pull out. Only when he’s fully seated inside you, and given you a chance to adjust, does he start to move. 

It’s euphoric. You’re both older now, more mature, but he still remembers all the things you liked, even if it takes a moment for him to find the spot inside you that makes you cry out, legs wrapping around his hips. 

Unlike before, you don’t bother trying to hide from him. You kiss him, hold him, touch him, look him in the eyes, tell him how good he feels – you don’t hold back. Joel relishes every word you say, clings to the praise and gives it back. Your lashes flutter when he tells you how pretty you look.

He can think of nothing else other than bringing you pleasure, can tell you’re getting close when you begin to rut against him, and he reaches down to let the pads of his fingers slide over your clit.

When you come, you whine his name, lock your lips with his own and he swallows your moans. The feeling of you so impossibly tight and wet and pulsing and squeezing him so tightly has him following closely after. 

His head is still buried in the crook of your neck when you speak again. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

The second Joel pulls out, he starts missing how close he felt to you. But you fix that by rolling over onto your stomach, curling up at his side, head on his chest, and arm across his stomach. 

“Joel. Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

He’s far from it. But he’s starting to think if you say it enough, maybe he’ll start to believe it. He turns his head to kiss you gently, slowly. “So are you.” 

“We can do this again, right?” you ask. 

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, we can.”

“Good,” you settle back against him, and very slowly, he dozes off with you right beside him. He doesn’t want to sleep alone again, and luckily, he doesn’t have to. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-December 4th, 2026-

When you return home from patrol, you find Joel in his living room – boots off and socked feet propped on the arm of the couch. You don’t notice his eyes are closed, that he’s asleep, until you get closer, see the book he’d been reading resting on his chest as he snores lightly. You can’t help but feel for him – he’s probably exhausted from constant patrols, so he must be tired. 

But mostly, you’re just overwhelmed by the love you feel for him, catching him in a quiet moment of vulnerability. Hesitantly, you reach out and squeeze his foot. It’s gentle and tender enough that he blinks his eyes open and looks around, taking in his surroundings, rather than jolting awake like he often does. When he sees you on the opposite end of the couch, he melts back into the pillow he’s propped against. 

“Hey, stud,” you lean against the arm of the couch. 

“Hey,” Joel answers, voice still gruff with sleep. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I just got in.”

“Hmm,” Joel closes his eyes again, folds his hands across his stomach.

“You’re wearing the glasses I got you,” you point out. They’re simple. Rectangular black frames. You’d found them on patrol, and brought them home after Joel had been complaining that he could barely see when he read before bed. But he’d tried them on and insisted he hated the way they looked, so you’d ended up using them most of the time.

“They do work,” he grumbles, like he’s ashamed to admit it. “But I still think they look stupid.”

“You look like a sexy librarian,” Joel rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s suppressing a grin. There’s always a bit of defiance about him, he can’t fully admit how you get him so flustered even after you’ve spent so much time together. You press your thumb into the arch of his foot and he groans. “That feel good?” you ask. 

“Yes.”

“Whatcha reading?” You gesture towards the book. 

“Some book about the moon landing,” Joel lifts it off of his chest, where it lay face down and open, looks at the back cover. “For Ellie.”

“How sweet.”

“It’s a little dry,” he deadpans. “But she likes this stuff.” 

You shift your massage to his other foot. Joel stretches, his arms lifting above his head, the shirt he’s wearing rides up just so, so you see a sliver of his lower belly before it disappears again, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

“Are you tired?” you ask. 

“Always,” he says through a yawn. 

“Me too,” you yawn along with him, since they’re contagious. He pulls the glasses from their perch on the bridge of his nose and shuts the book, placing them both on the coffee table in front of him. You take your hands off his feet and he sits up a little straighter, holding out his hand. 

“Come ‘ere,” he says, and you do. 

He grunts as you settle into his arms, head nestled against his chest, sprawling out almost on top of him, the only way you both can fit like this on the couch.

“You’re so warm,” you say softly, letting him wrap his arms around you. 

“You’re cold. Your hands are freezing,” he holds them in his own.

“It’s cold out.”

“Don’t know why you left today.”

“Obligations. Patrol.”

“Fuck that.”

You laugh into his chest, pausing for a moment before speaking again. “You know, I think we might be boring.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, we don’t really leave the house. We spend all day reading. And we’re old.”

“We’re not that old.”

“But we’re getting up there.”

“Sure, but…” Joel trails off. 

“Everything’s so quiet, so calm.”

“I think that’s what most people would describe as content.” 

“Are you content?” you ask, lifting your head to look him in the eyes. 

“I’m happy,” he says softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears. “Are you?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then don’t worry about the rest.”

“Okay,” you settle back against your husband's chest, feel his lips brush your forehead.

His fingers search absentmindedly for the ring on your finger he’d found while clearing out a pawn shop not too long ago. The one he wore looked nothing like your own. But the marriage had been long overdue, and neither of you cared what the rings actually looked like. 

Nowadays, you split your time between his place with Ellie, and your own with Ethan, but end up in his bed every night. At this point, you don’t think you could sleep without him. 

Years ago, another lifetime, you’d had a conversation underneath a sky full of stars. You’d told him that for you, good things had never lasted. Joel had made a promise. 

This will.

It took time. There was a lot of pain. But in the end, he had told you the truth.

-

-

-

[brotherwtf]

Prompt: "What would happen if I kiss you right now?"

Pairing: Clegan

‼️‼️this bout to make me nutty hehe

a small drabble for my cowboy Gale/City Boy John bcs I miss them a little bit

----

In all honesty, Gale hadn't laughed this hard in a long time.

John has dared Gale that he could climb into the rafters of the hay barn without any help, and Gale had warned him not to if he didn't want to get hurt. John, of course, didn't listen, and found himself promptly on his ass in a pile of dirt and hay.

Gale tried to keep his laugh to himself, hiding it behind his thumb as he smiled brightly, but couldn't keep the bright sound hidden when John gives him an exasperated look, hay sticking out of his hair. John scowled at him, kicking his feet out to try and dislodge Gale's footing.

After a couple of good hearted tries, John lunges for Gale's leg, tackling him down into the hay as he laughs. John hangs onto Gale's leg, mock-biting it as Gale tries to kick him off.

He shimmies up towards Gale's arms, pinning them down as he tries to get away. John's eyes crinkle as he laughs, something big and bright that fills up the entire hay barn. Gale's stomach is hurting, but he can't stop the gleeful sound escaping his lips as John wrestles him to the ground.

It's only when they stop laughing that they realize the compromising position they're in. John is halfway straddled across Gale's hips, has both of Gale's arms pinned by his head. They're both panting from their brief wrestling bout, and Gale can see the slightest flush on John's face. He has an expression that Gale can't quite figure out.

"What would happen if I kissed you right now?" John asks, and Gale inhales sharply.

Even when John was being an insufferable little shit, Gale couldn't keep his eyes off of him. He had an energy that drew Gale's gaze towards him. As he acclimated to the ranch life, Gale found himself even more infatuated with him. Above him now, with a flush on his cheeks and a heaving breaths, John looked like the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

"I don't know, why don't you try it and find out?" Gale mutters and feels himself choke when John swoops down.

John kisses like a natural, moves his lips easily against Gale's, a push and pull they almost instantly fall in. Gale closes his eyes, sighing when John peeks his tongue through Gale's lips. He links his fingers with Gale's by his head, tilting his angle to move his lips even easier against Gale's.

John pulls away for a brief moment before diving back in, barely giving Gale any time to realize what they're doing. Kissing in the hay barn, acting like lovers.

They only part when Gale has to take a breath, breathing hot air against John's cheek.

"That was so hot, fuck," John mutters, pressing his chest against Gale's to let his bodyweight go.

Gale nods, bringing their laced hands up to his lips to kiss the back of John's, a brave move he never would have expected from himself.

"Can I do that again?" John asks, and Gale finds himself nodding enthusiastically.

God these boys. this was very interesting to write just bcs the actual fic is from John's perspective, but this was so cool!!

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Some Kind of Disaster - Preview

Gally (TMR) x Fem!Reader

Concept: You saw Gally take a spear through the chest, and you are more than shocked to find him alive and well, in front of your eyes.

Preview Word Count: 970

If you like this preview, follow my writing blog @sundrop-writes and turn on notifications there as the full fic will be posted there sometime within the next few months when I have the time and energy to edit it. I may or may not make a TMR taglist, I'm not sure??

A/N: This is based entirely on the movie version of Gally, as I haven't read the books and don't plan on doing so. The title comes from an All Time Low song of the same name - which I would highly recommend listening to in order to get the vibes for this fic. Also apparently this is the same concept as a dozen other Gally fics, but I don't really care right now - because I got inspired to do it and it's entirely self indulgent, and this is my take on the concept lmao. I am currently on hiatus, but I've been working on fics as a form of stress relief during this time - but I haven't been editing fics. This fic will be posted after its edited sometime within the next month or two. (And there is already a sequel in the works, shhh.) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and feedback is much appreciated!

Warnings: the full fic will be smut, but this is more of a tease of that; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; spoilers for the films if you haven't seen them; arguing that turns into kissing; Gally has a self-deprecating/insecure inner monologue; mentions of Newt x Reader (it's one-sided in this fic, but may be something more later on ;)); Gally being possessive, Gally being rough (but the reader likes it); mention of Gally masturbating to thoughts of the reader; implications of Gally being taller than the reader (which I think is likely for most people cause Will Poulter is pretty fuckin tall); technically virginity loss (but it's not a big focus of the fic) - it's more about two people naturally enjoying their first time together (and I wrote this the same way I would write a first time in a relationship with two slightly more experienced characters) - and also nothing majorly sexual comes up in this part; this section: heated kissing with intentions towards sex, and that's pretty much it.

...

“Look, I’m sorry I’m not like them, okay?”

He spat out these words bitterly when you didn’t speak, and this left you confused. “I’m sorry I’m not some dumb brave hero guy-” 

You reached out and roughly shoved the middle of his chest again. Unknowingly, this aggravated the healed scar where the spear had gone through him, sending a dull ache through him at having the tender pink skin so roughly prodded without his chest armor on this time. 

“You’re so stupid!” You barked back, utterly insulted by his words. 

He thought this was par for the course, that you would begin hurling more insults before storming out. He thought that you would tell him his supposed ‘death’ had been the best thing that had ever happened to you, and the longing looks Newt had given you were truly something more. 

“God, you’re so-!” 

You choked on your own words and tears welled up in your eyes, and you took a sharp breath before you continued. 

“You are that dumb brave hero guy!” You yelled back, speaking like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Gally gaped at you, and you continued. 

“What do you think all that was?” You gestured vaguely behind yourself, obviously speaking about the events earlier in the day - when he had rushed into heavy bomb fire to drag you and the others to safety. “That was the dumbest hero guy thing I have ever seen.” You said, putting a stain of emphasis on the word ‘dumb’, pinching his own phrasing for it right in the ass. 

“That was nothing, I just did that because you were in danger, and-” 

“And that’s exactly what Thomas would have done.” You replied, quickly cutting him off. “You’re every bit as good as him. You are.” 

There was a tense moment where you stared him down, deep contemplation knit across his features while you waited for him to agree with you. 

“I wasn’t when you left the Maze.” He added on, quiet guilt floating through his voice. “I wasn’t brave then. I was a coward. I couldn’t be what you needed-” 

“You have always been what I need, Gally. When will you get that through your thick shank skull?” 

You were done rehashing the past. 

You were done contemplating the details of what could have been. It hit you truly then - all that mattered to you now was the fact that Gally, your Gally was in front of you, somehow alive and well. And though it was something you never could have predicted, you wouldn’t let such a beautiful thing slip through your fingers. 

You reached out and grabbed the front of his sweatshirt, pulling him forward roughly. At the end of that jerking motion, he was met with your lips, and he sunk into the kiss without a second thought, closing his eyes and letting out a soft sigh that shouldn’t have suited him so well. Adding to that softness as he reached up to gently cup your cheeks while you gnawed at him with a feral passion. 

This is exactly what he had been waiting for. This was the reunion he had wanted all along. 

In a moment, the touch, your desperate grip on the front of his shirt, the way you ran your teeth along his bottom lip, edging toward something more - it triggered something within him. A possessive streak over you that had long been dormant; something once fueled by rage and jealousy and fear over the bad things that might happen to you if he wasn’t constantly looking over your shoulder. Now, it came from something much deeper. 

That immature love he had felt for you that had only grown and matured during your time apart, adding to a hungry passion for you now that he had you back in his arms - now that he could feel the heat of your skin, smell you, hear the whimpering patter of your breath and know that you were so damn real. (Not just another falsehood of his imagination with the details poorly filled in that he tried to soothe himself with, while he had a hand on his cock.) 

He was the one who charged at you this time, shoving you backwards and walking tightly with you, crowding you back until you hit a wall. You hadn’t truly taken in your surroundings, and if you had half a mind to, you would have noticed that this was some kind of dingy store room - used for scavenged spare parts for the vehicles and old guns that needed to be repaired in order to be put into use. 

But your brain didn’t take any of that in when your back made contact with the wall, Gally still kissing you fiercely, making you downright dizzy. You didn’t have time to think when one of his hands took a possessive hold on your thigh, hiking your leg up around his hip while his presence loomed over you, like the perfect protective wall you always felt that he was. He continued the heated liplock for a moment before he pulled away for air, and then, a particular query couldn’t be contained within you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked, half-teasing, still holding your death grip on his shirt. 

There was a particular hum between your thighs - something hot and beating and alive, a calling that demanded to be answered. You knew that you would be devastated if Gally stopped too soon or didn’t rise to that call. So you had to know what his intentions were now to prepare yourself for the potential disappointment. 

“Showing you how much I missed you.” He answered firmly, entirely certain, leaning in to capture your mouth again - pressing his whole body tightly against yours now. 

It sent a thrill through you - knowing that he would answer that call and thensome.

[atzgo]

A Race Against Darkness: The Curse of the Dark Mark

summary: In a thrilling race against time, Professor Tom Riddle and Nadia Potter face a dire challenge when a cursed dark mark mysteriously appears on Nadia's skin. The mark, pulsing with dark magic, threatens to consume her entirely. As the curse's influence grows stronger, Nadia's energy starts to fade away.

Content Warnings: a whole lot of angst, blood, dark magic and curses, vomiting, mentions of torture, physical contact between professor and student (no smut)

Word Count: 8.1 k

A/N: I tagged this fic as x reader however the female character does have a mentioned name "Nadia Potter", the name only pops up once maybe twice but that's it, her brother Harry is thrown in there but never mentioned by name only referred to as "her brother" twice, physical description of Nadia is never described.

This is also my first ever fic so!!!

P.s I got inspiration for the first two paragraphs from @ holybonez on c.ai from her Prof tom riddle bot so giving credit where credit is due, I did reword it and the rest of the story is my own, just those two starting paragraphs that gave inspiration to me to write this! <3

all characters are 18+ !!!

In the quiet and secluded classroom of Professor Tom Riddle, you find yourself studying without permission, taking a risk for the sake of uninterrupted focus.

Not long ago, you noticed the dark mark on your arm, though you had no recollection of how it got there. The mark’s presence has been a constant source of unease and curiosity. As you gently roll up your sleeve to examine it more closely, tracing the intricate design with your fingers, the door creaks open. Jumping slightly, you hastily roll down the sleeve of your robes. Tom Riddle unexpectedly enters the room, his eyes immediately locking onto you, a questioning gaze on his face as he takes notice of your panicked state.

"Nadia Potter. Why are you in my classroom?" He walked over and rested against his desk with a purposeful stride. "You know it's against school rules for students to be in an empty classroom without a teacher present," he stated calmly, his gaze fixed firmly on you. "I'm aware... It won't happen again," you whispered, preparing yourself for whatever consequences might come. His eyes moved over your appearance, examining everything from your shoes to your hair, as if carefully analyzing every detail. After a long silence that reverberated in the room, he spoke once more.

“Roll up your sleeves” his voice strong and resolute. A surge of panic washed over you as you locked eyes with him. "W-why are you asking me to do that?" you stuttered, unable to hide your anxiety. A smirk formed on his lips as he moved away from the desk and closed in on you. Standing just a few inches away, he lowered his voice. "Did I not make myself clear?"

You stood motionless, your mind racing. It seemed impossible to escape with the door so far away and his presence so close. Before you could react, Professor Riddle firmly took hold of your wrist and slowly rolled up your sleeve. His smirk remained as he spoke again. "Now the other sleeve."

Your mind was filled with fear and confusion, and tears started to form in your eyes. "No, you can't do that! You have no right!" you objected, but he disregarded your tears and swiftly rolled up the other sleeve to reveal your forearm. His eyes slightly widened at the sight of the mark etched on your skin. "And why can't I?" he asked, firmly holding your chin and pulling you closer to him.

"Professors are not allowed to touch students," you replied, with a wavering defiance in your voice. His grip tightened as he locked eyes with you, as if searching for something in your expression. A tear slipped down your cheek as you tasted the salty reminder of your vulnerability on your lips.     

Filled with fear and confusion, your mind was overwhelmed, and tears welled up in your eyes. "No, you don't have the right to do that!" you protested, but he ignored your tears and quickly rolled up the other sleeve, revealing your forearm. Upon seeing the mark etched on your skin, his eyes widened slightly. "And why can't I?" he inquired, firmly grasping your chin and drawing you closer to him.

"Professors are prohibited from touching students," you asserted. His grip intensified as he locked eyes with you, almost as if he was searching for something in your expression. A tear trickled down your cheek, a salty taste entering your mouth.

He noticed the tear gliding down your cheek and quickly wiped it away with his thumb before looking into your eyes once more. "Why are you crying?" he asked, his cool tone from before being replaced by a softer one.

You were surprised by his sudden kindness as you said, "How do I get rid of it... the mark? You're a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher; you must know..."

Your voice shook with desperation as Professor Riddle's expression softened even more. He gently released his grip on your chin, understanding the depth of your fear.

"The Dark Mark is permanent once it's given. I assume you didn't receive it willingly...?" he asked with empathy.

“I found it when I woke up this morning, I can’t live with this”. Tears were flowing down my face as I spoke.

Professor Riddle understood your anguish. He softened his grip on your wrist and ran his fingers along the mark. "Has it been causing you pain?" he asked gently.

"It's been constant... Spells haven't helped, and I can't risk going to the hospital wing at Hogwarts, I could get expelled, they’d never give me a chance to explain if they caught a glimpse of it," you admitted, anxiety palpable in your voice. He continued to hold your arm, his touch comforting, as his fingers carefully traced the mark.

Releasing your wrist gently, he took hold of your chin, encouraging you to look at him.

"If I had to make a guess, the Dark Lord is the one who put it on you," he asserted with determination, his tone firm yet gentle.

"How? I've been at Hogwarts all this time, even during breaks. I thought I was safe here," you said, tears streaming down your face as you were engulfed by confusion.

Professor Riddle's expression softened even more as he pulled you closer, with his hand still grasping your chin.

"The Dark Lord's ways are unknown. If he wanted to mark you, he would find a way. Rest assured, as long as you're at Hogwarts, you are out of his reach..."

"If others find out... I could be expelled! Sirius won't take me back, my friends will abandon me, my brother will never speak to me again! There has to be a way to remove it," you begged, fear taking hold of you.

He held you tightly, feeling an unexpected tightening in his chest. Setting aside distracting thoughts, he concentrated on the current situation. "I will make sure no one discovers this. I’ll find a solution... I promise you," he reassured, sensing your anxiety diminish.

Your breaths became steady at his words, his reassuring presence bringing comfort. Pulling you closer, he continued to reassure you, his arm snaking around your waist, thumb gently rubbing circles into your skin.

"Are you feeling better?" he inquired gently, his concern evident in the tone of his voice. You gave a slight nod, feeling the tears subsiding as relief swept over you. "And the pain... none of the spells or potions that should work haven’t," you confessed, seeking his advice.

Professor Riddle carefully examined the mark before returning his gaze to yours.

"This mark is different from any I've encountered before. I will research potential treatments for the pain. It might take time, but I am determined to find a solution," he reassured you.

"Thank you, Professor. Your dedication means a lot," you responded softly, a hesitant smile appearing on your face.

"You seem tired. I can tell you're distressed, no doubt since finding the mark this morning," he said gently. You tiredly nodded, realizing how much the day had taken out of you. "I think I should go back to my dorm," you said, feeling comforted by his presence.

Professor Riddle agreed, moving away from you and heading towards his desk. "Get some rest. I will start researching the mark tonight," he promised, looking at you with newfound warmth.

Appreciative of his unexpected kindness and determination to help, you turned to leave, feeling reassured by his presence in the midst of uncertainty.

Throughout the night, Tom worked tirelessly to find a way to remove the dark mark, but unfortunately, he wasn't able to make any progress. Despite feeling exhausted from the sleepless night, he remained determined to find a solution. The next morning, Tom arrived at the classroom early, looking noticeably pale, but he didn't acknowledge any concerns about his appearance. Seated at his desk, he carefully reviewed the notes from his research, hoping for a breakthrough. When the bell announced the start of the day, he glanced up expectantly, anticipating your entrance.

Quietly, you entered the room, making sure nobody spotted you before softly shutting the door. Signs of fatigue were evident on your face, a reflection of a sleepless night. Tom observed as you settled in, offering a gentle greeting.

“Good morning.”

Noticing your weary appearance, he couldn't ignore the worry creeping over him. Pushing these emotions aside, he focused on the immediate moment.

“You didn’t manage to get any sleep last night, did you?”

"No," you confessed, your voice weighed down by exhaustion. "The pain gets worse every day. I can't sleep, and I've lost my appetite."

Your words filled Tom with worry, as he empathized with your difficult situation.

"Are you not eating at all...?" he asked softly, leaning in to closely inspect your tired face.

"No," you whispered almost inaudibly, eyes cast downward.

The pain in Tom's chest grew stronger. It hurt him to see you in this state, neglecting your basic needs. He reached out, gently touching the side of your face, his touch a blend of reassurance and worry.

"You need to have something to eat...," he said.

"I can't," you replied, your distress evident. "Whenever I try, I feel nauseous."

Tom felt his heart constrict even more. Your reluctance to eat was seriously affecting your health. His eyes locked on you with a blend of concern and resolve.

"Tell me, when was the last time you had a meal?" he asked gently.

"It's been two days," you confessed softly, a realization dawning on your face.

Tom's heart dropped at this admission. Two days without proper nourishment—how were you coping? He tapped underneath your chin, encouraging you to look into his eyes.

"You really should eat something. You'll waste away if you don't..."

You expressed your fears: "I don't know what to do. There are consequences whether I eat or not," with a sense of resignation and tears forming in your eyes. Tom felt a pang of helplessness, unable to bear seeing you suffer.

Despite his usual detachment, he found himself caring deeply for you. “There has to be something I can do…” he muttered to himself, feeling more determined than ever to find a solution.

Gently cupping your chin, he urged you to look at him. “Please… just eat something…” "I know what will happen, and frankly, I’d rather starve," you insisted, maintaining defiant eye contact.

Tom felt a pang in his heart at your insistence. He couldn't understand why he was so concerned, but he couldn't bear to see you suffering.

"Could you please have at least a small snack," he asked in a softer tone.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing in your options "Alright," you conceded, a faint smile appearing on your face. "But if I feel unwell, I'll blame you."

Tom felt a wave of relief as you agreed. Any form of nourishment, no matter how small, was a step forward. He mustered a slight smile in response.

"Don't worry, I'll take the blame," he reassured you gently.

Digging into your bag, you found a green apple that Draco had given you earlier. After looking at it for a few moments, you take a bite, letting out a soft sigh, feeling relieved to have taken the first step.

Tom was taken aback by your compliance but visibly eased. He kept a close watch on you, alternating his gaze between you and the apple, ready for any sudden discomfort.

You managed a few bites, a glimmer of hope emerging as you felt relief wash over you. However, suddenly, a wave of nausea engulfed you, shattering your temporary relief.

The apple slipped from your hand, falling to the floor as you quickly made your way to the bin in the corner of the room. Tom's eyes widened in concern as he stood up, closing the distance between you.

Placing a comforting hand on your back, he gently rubbed up and down, hoping to provide you with some comfort, his heart ached as the sounds of your retching filled his ears. You felt embarrassed as you vomited, thankful that your head was hidden by the trash can. Tears mixed with distress as you struggled, feeling vulnerable in front of your professor.

Tom's heart pained with each sound you made, but he didn't turn away. He kept his hand steady on your back, offering a soothing, regular pat as he stood by you until you were completely done.

After you regained some composure, he gently led you away from the bin and helped you sit in a chair nearby. Kneeling in front of you, he kept comforting you by rubbing your back tenderly, his touch soft against your trembling body. You were breathing heavily, your hands shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks—it had only been two days, yet it already felt like an eternity.

He felt his chest constrict as he saw you in so much distress. Tom took a seat next to you on the floor, keeping his hand on your back as he gently rubbed it, trying to offer comfort without causing more distress. At that moment, all he desired was to hold you tightly and protect you from the pain until it vanished.

"If it's not gone in a week... then I can't guarantee that I’ll still be here," you murmured, your voice filled with determination.

Tom's heart raced, his hand pausing on your back. Gazing at you, his tone was resolute, allowing no room for argument. "Don't even entertain that idea, do you understand?"

"This is hell... there are no records of the dark mark causing this effect on people.. so, how are we to cure it?" you whispered, your distress apparent in your voice.

Tom felt an even deeper pang of sadness at your words. The idea of the dark mark affecting you so severely was unbearable. His mind raced with countless possibilities; there had to be a solution. Meeting your eyes, he spoke in a determined, low voice.

"We will find a way... I will find a solution for you. I refuse to give up, and I won't let you give up either. You will overcome this, you must overcome this..." he whispered the last few words to himself, in attempts to bring him comfort.

You were adamant, insisting, "One week is all I can give.. I can't keep going for much longer."

Tom's breath caught at the thought of you losing hope in a week. He held your hands tightly, his eyes filled with determination.

"No, you can't put a time on this. I promised I will find a solution for you. You can't give up," he said firmly.

"By then, I might not even be alive... You saw how it went just now. I can only keep down water... My body won't make it like this," you whispered, tears forming once again.

Your grim prediction weighed heavily on him.

"You will not be dead in a week, don’t think like that, you will come out on the better side of this.. so promise me you won’t give up so soon."

"Fine, I promise" you finally conceded, your voice almost inaudible.

Tom let out a quiet sigh of relief. While still holding your hands, he loosened his grasp slightly and began to gently stroke the backs of your hands with his thumbs. Despite intense emotions welling up inside him, he fought to keep his composure.

You sat at the Slytherin table amidst your friends, enveloped in a silence that echoed louder than any conversation. Chin resting on your hand, you stared blankly ahead, your eyes fixed on the wall, unseeing. Not a single bite of food had touched your lips since you arrived, lost in thoughts that seemed to drown out the lively chatter around you.

Sitting at the head of the staff table, Tom focused all his attention on you. He watched as you remained motionless among friends, a look of worry forming in his chest. It was evident that you had no desire to eat, your empty stare fixed on the wall as if attempting to flee from your thoughts. Nobody at the table appeared to register your distress, preoccupied with their concerns and oblivious to the inner turmoil you were experiencing.

Meanwhile your eyes fill with tears as you come to grips with the harsh reality of your situation: your life is hanging by a thread, and time is slipping away. While those around you laugh and have fun, you grapple with the grim uncertainty of how much time remains. Suddenly, you rise from your seat, disregarding your friends’ calls, and storm out of the Great Hall, seeking solace in the tranquillity of the girl's bathroom.

Tom’s eyes widen as he watches you leave in haste, concern etched deeply on his face. He sees the worry wash over him like a wave, wondering what could have driven you to leave so abruptly. Amidst the oblivious conversations at the table, he can’t ignore the urgency to check on you. Ignoring the limitations of his position as a professor, his heart compels him to go after you.

Rushing down the hallway, you rub at your eyes attempting to unsuccessfully stop the flood of tears. Arriving at the bathroom, you grip the sink tightly, knuckles turning white from the force as sobs rack your body. It feels like an endless torment, each tear a reminder to the pain that has consumed you for days.

Standing outside the bathroom door, Tom’s heart shatters with every sob that echoes through the silence. He longs to barge in, to hold you close and reassure you that everything will somehow be alright. But he remains rooted in place, torn between his duty as a professor and his overwhelming desire to comfort a distraught student.

Standing outside the bathroom door, Tom’s heart shatters with every sob that echoes through the silence. He longs to barge in, to hold you close and reassure you that everything will somehow be alright. But he remains rooted in place, torn between his duty as a professor and his overwhelming desire to comfort a distraught student.

Staring into the mirror, tears streaming down your face, you take in your grim appearance staring at back at you. Your hand finds its way to your wand, a chilling thought forming in the depths of despair. Whispering to yourself, “He doesn’t have to know” you contemplate actions that could bring an escape from your pain.

Tom is motionless when he hears your quiet words, feeling each syllable like a jolt of fear. Every instinct tells him to act, to stop any hasty decisions. With his heart pounding, he can't just stand and watch, waiting for a disaster to happen.

Tom pushes the bathroom door open and strides in with determination. Your tear-filled, red and swollen eyes meet his, showing a mix of despair and relief as he arrives.

He never looks away from your eyes as he talks, his tone remaining steady even though he's filled with emotions.

“Put the wand down…”

Your head shakes involuntarily as the weight of your words hangs heavy in the air. "I can't do this anymore…"

Tom feels his heart skip a beat at your statement. His mind races, trying to comprehend the seriousness of what you have just expressed, although he dreads that he already understands. Slowly, cautiously, he takes another step closer, his voice steady yet tinged with desperation.

"Put the wand down, please… You aren’t going to do that…"

In response, you point your wand at him, your hand trembling with the weight of your emotions. "You don't understand! You have no idea what it's like… to live like this," your voice quivers with every word.

Tom’s breath hitches as he stares down the wand pointed at him. His heart pounds, his own voice betraying the fear and concern that gnaw at him.

"It's tough, but you're stronger than this. You don't have to give up.. Please, lower the wand…"

"I don't have much time left. I can't seek help from Dumbledore, Pomfrey, or even my own brother to extend my life! This is the end… There is no solution, not in books, not even in restricted sources! Nothing!" Despair fills your voice, each word reflecting the depth of your hopelessness.

Tom fights the urge to grab the wand from your hand. Instead, he begs, his voice filled with desperation and anguish.

"I've been searching tirelessly to find anything that might be able to cure you… I just need more time…"

"You've been saying that all along… and yet, here we are," you softly say, the weight of defeat evident in your voice. It's a painful recognition of the shared battle against an unavoidable fate.

Tom appears directly in front of you, his eyes fixed on yours, his words filled with emotion.

"… Just a bit longer, please…"

"I have no time! I can't eat or sleep, I can barely function without falling down!" Tear stains mark your cheeks as you speak with emotion choking your words.

Tom’s heart feels like it's on the verge of breaking, seeing you in such pain. His own eyes well up with tears reflecting your anguish as he speaks in a trembling voice.

“Please, just a few more days. I'm working so hard to find something… Please, just hold on…”

After you lower the wand from pointing at him, a brief sense of relief crosses Tom’s face. However, it quickly changes to shock as you direct it towards your own neck. Without hesitation, he moves quickly, grabbing the wand from your grasp and pulling you close to him.

“NO!” he shouts.

You let out a cry as he wraps you in his arms, his hold strong and resolute. In that moment, you feel utterly out of control, understanding that your last attempt to escape has been foiled.

"Never do that again…"

Tom clings tightly to your arm, one hand supporting the back of your head, refusing to release you. He senses your body shaking against his, torn between distress and solace.

“no..” you object, sobbing as your hands weakly strike against his chest, futile in your resistance against his strength. "You can't put me through this!"

“I said never again…”

His tone is resolute, authoritative, as he draws you into a tighter embrace, keeping you steady.

As you struggle against him, Tom’s arms tighten around you, preventing you from falling. Your face presses against his chest, you whisper your plea, your voice barely audible.

"Stop trying to keep me alive…"

“No” his voice firm yet gentle “I will never give up on you.. never..”

Tom’s voice is resolute, refusing to entertain the notion of giving up. He holds you close, his arms a shield against your despair, determined to fight for you even when you can’t find the strength to fight for yourself.

The past few days had been an agonizing blur for the young professor. He found himself pacing in his office, flipping through tomes in a desperate search for any solution to your predicament.

He hadn't slept for two days, as the stress of knowing someone was suffering and his own inability to help ate away at his conscience. In the still darkness of his room, Tom lay awake, tormented by thoughts of you. His worry for your well-being prevented any chance of rest, despite the need to prepare for morning classes.

Tom struggled with feelings of guilt as he lay wide awake, realizing that he couldn't inquire about your well-being without crossing professional boundaries. The act of confiscating your wand in the restroom lingered in his mind; although necessary to prevent harm, it weighed heavily on his heart.

As the sun started to rise, Tom remained in bed, worn out but unable to find comfort in sleep. Dark circles accentuated his eyes, evidence of his troubled night. Thoughts of your upcoming lessons weighed on his mind; he understood that you approached each day with suffering and diminishing strength.

During the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, you found it challenging to concentrate as you sat at the back. This subject used to be your favourite, but now even the simplest tasks seem difficult to grasp. Tom, attempting to maintain his composure, moved around the students and stole glances at your distant figure.

Your usual enthusiasm had vanished, replaced by a fog of pain and exhaustion. Every moment felt like a battle against overwhelming despair, leaving concentration an impossible goal.

As the lesson came to an end, Tom watched as the students left. He stayed at his desk, pretending to organize papers, but truly waiting for an opportunity to check on you.

You gathered your things slowly as the room emptied around you, with Tom watching and feeling his heart breaking with every moment he spent witnessing your pain.

After the last student left and the door clicked shut, Tom rapidly closed the distance between us. He spoke with a soft yet urgent voice that cut through the lingering silence.

“I need to talk to you…”

"Unless it's a solution to my problem… then I don't want to hear it," you responded sharply, with frustration evident in your voice. Tom flinched, hurt evident in his eyes, but he pressed on with determination.

“I’ve been searching for a solution all this time… I haven’t found anything useful yet, but I promise I won’t give up… I’m not giving up on you…”

"Well I have," you replied bitterly, your determination unwavering. "I'm finished, Professor. Because there is no solution! There is no escape from this…"

Tom's hand gently rested on your shoulder, his touch silently pleading. His voice shook with emotion as he spoke, determined to convey his resolve.

"You can't just surrender… There must be a solution… I'll find a way to assist you, you just have to trust me…"

"You have no idea… of the torture you're putting me through," you responded, your voice filled with anguish. Tom's grip on your shoulder tightened, his pain evident as he struggled to reply.

“Just give up already” you sneer at him

Leaving without saying another word, you threw your bag over your shoulder and angrily left the classroom. Tom was torn, unsure whether to follow after you or respect the boundaries between you. With fists clenched, he chose to stay put, feeling overwhelmed by his inability to help you.

Alone in the quiet classroom, Tom felt his heart sink. He had hoped that his words would bring some comfort, but instead, they seemed to deepen the despair. Standing there, he grappled with the realization that his efforts might have pushed you further into darkness.

you made your way toward the girl’s bathroom; the burden of your illness was too much to handle in the classroom. you didn't attend lessons, instead dropping your bag and collapsing onto your knees in a stall, clutching your skirt as dry heaves wracked your body, squeezing your stomach when there was nothing left to expel.

When Tom managed to leave the classroom and get to the girls' bathroom, his heart was heavy with a premonition of what you might be going through. He couldn’t bear the thought of you facing this alone.

When he entered the bathroom, the sight of you kneeling before the toilet, retching with nothing to show for it, shattered his heart.

Tom couldn't bear to stay still any longer, so he crouched down next to you, perching on his knees. His soft hand settled on your back, making slow circles to provide reassurance.

"Just let it all out…"

You wept into the toilet, the sound carrying your anguish. Amid such a terrible moment, his comforting touch was a small source of comfort.

"shh… just breath, darling…"

Despite feeling a glimmer of calm thanks to his presence, another wave of sickness overcame you. As you opened your eyes, they met with a horrifying sight – blood pooling in the toilet, more dribbling from your mouth.

My body collapsed backward, leaning against the stall wall, panic seizing me as blood continued to flow from my lips.

Tom immediately rushed to your side, his arms supporting your weight against the wall. His heart raced with fear at the sight of your deteriorating state, feeling utterly powerless.

“Just try to stay calm, alright? Just breathe…”

Despite your efforts to regulate your breathing, fear still gripped your entire body. Tom held you tightly against him, your back pressed against his chest, his arm wrapped around your waist trying to steady your trembling form.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart… Just try and breathe, okay? Just keep breathing…”

Lying there against him, another violent cough wracked your body, more blood splattering out, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I changed my mind… I don’t want to die…” you whisper, voice hoarse.

He heard the pain in your strained voice, and his heart ached for you. The blood’s effect on your throat was evident, adding to his anguish.

“You’re not going to die… you’re going to be okay, love…”

“It’s because I’m a Potter, isn’t it?” you forced a laugh, which only resulted in a fit of bloody coughs.

His heart clenched with guilt at your words. He held you tighter, yearning to ease your pain.

“Don’t speak, sweetheart. Just rest your voice for a moment, okay?”

He continued to hold you close, whispering softly, his touch and voice offering the only comfort in this harrowing moment.

“Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flickered up to his, and he saw the struggle within you as you forced yourself to take deep breaths.

In that bathroom stall, amidst pain and fear, you found a brief respite in his embrace. Tom’s presence was a lifeline, a steady force of comfort and support in the midst of your darkest hour.

Taking repetitive deep breaths, you choked intermittently, focused on the task he had set for you. Each breath felt like a battle against the curse ravaging your body, each cough a painful reminder of the ordeal.

His heart ached as he listened to the deep breaths interspersed with coughs. Each sound echoed the agony you endured, intensifying his guilt.

He gently pressed his palm against your forehead, gauging your feverish warmth. The realization that you were still too hot under his touch pained him deeply.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart… just keep breathing like that…”

Tom continued his soothing touch, tracing gentle circles on your back. His other hand remained on your forehead, sensing the lingering heat despite the temporary calmness.

His heart hurt knowing this was only the beginning of your suffering. He yearned to trade places with you, to shoulder this anguish instead.

You released your grip on your skirt, letting your hand rest on your stomach. Your gaze remained fixed, concentrating on maintaining steady breaths.

Feeling you finally relax against him, Tom continued to rub your back soothingly, relieved to see you easing your grip and finding a bit of reprieve.

“Just rest your focus on keeping that steady breathing, love… You’re doing so well…”

His touch and voice brought a serene peace, helping you focus on the rhythmic breathing that brought a fleeting sense of tranquillity amidst the turmoil.

Tom found solace in your relaxed state against him. Feeling your body ease brought him a sense of comfort he desperately needed.

You felt his steady heartbeat against you, a silent assurance that you weren’t alone. His closeness offered security you hadn’t felt in a long time, a shared moment of vulnerability.

He observed as you raised your hand to wipe away the remaining blood staining your lips, a pang hitting his heart. Gently grasping your wrist, he lifts your hand away from your face, his touch soft yet firm.

“Careful… don’t keep touching your lip like that,…. I’ll take care of it in a minute…”

“It feels disgusting.. want it gone…”

Your voice was hoarse, a painful reminder of the toll the curse had taken on your throat.

Understanding your disgust and discomfort, Tom’s heart ached. He spoke softly, fingers gently guiding your chin to keep your face turned towards him.

“I know it does…. Just give me a moment, okay? I’ll take care of it, sweetheart…” You nodded slightly, trusting him to help, a flicker of relief knowing you weren’t facing this alone.

Releasing your chin, Tom retrieved his wand from his pocket. With a soft, reassuring tone, he asked you to close your eyes.

“Close your eyes for me, just for a moment…”

Hesitating briefly, you closed your eyes slowly, finding a rare moment of peace after days of turmoil.

Tom directed his wand towards your face, whispering the cleaning spell. “Tergeo…”

Watching the blood disappear, he felt a wave of relief. The sight of your clean lips eased his heart, a small reprieve from the pain etched on your face.

“You can open your eyes now, sweetheart…”

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze instantly, a sense of relief washing over him. Feeling a bit better, you were grateful not to be overwhelmed by panic.

He smiled softly, holding your face gently, his eyes fixed on yours, his voice low and soothing.

“There you are… I’m glad you seem a bit calmer now…”

You said nothing, overwhelmed with thoughts of the suffering ahead. How long would this ordeal last? “All i want is to sleep..” You muttered, too exhausted to cry.

Your exhaustion and pain were palpable in your tired voice, and it made his heart clench. He desperately hoped that you would find some relief in sleep, even if only for a short while.

"I know, love… I wish you could rest now…"

"use the enchanted sleep charm…" you whispered, softly

Your eyes pleaded with him as they met his, urging him to allow you the comfort of sleep.

Seeing your pleading gaze tugged at his heart, making him conflicted about using the sleep charm on you in such a vulnerable state. Nevertheless, he recognized that it might provide the relief you so desperately needed.

"Are you certain that's what you want?"

With concern lacing his soft voice, he hesitates as he contemplates your plea.

"I'm exhausted… Please, I need it," you say, the weariness and desperation evident in your tone.

The weight of your request burdens him, stirring a sense of guilt at the idea of using the spell on you. However, he senses your fatigue and knows he needs to do whatever he can to assist.

"Fine… I'll do it, but just for a short while, okay?" he agrees softly, his nod tinged with a mix of compassion and apprehension. In response, you nod, gratitude evident in your eyes as you understand his decision.

With appreciation for your understanding and gratitude for your trust, he offers a gentle smile despite his own uncertainties.

Gently resting his palm on your jaw, he keeps his touch tender, ensuring your eyes stay connected with his.

“Keep your eyes open for just a moment for me, okay?"

"Mhm…" You softly murmur, hoping the spell will grant you the peace you long for, even if only temporarily.

Seeing your agreement, he smiles softly, as he prepares to cast the spell.

After he utters the spell, a sense of relief washes over you. Your eyelids close gently, your breath becomes steady, and your body becomes limp in his arms.

Letting out a deep exhale, he feels a burden lift from his chest as he observes you finally finding tranquillity in sleep.

He maintains his closeness, gently holding your relaxed body. From your forehead to your hair, his fingertips softly glide, providing comfort as he places a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

"There you go… You're safe."

Since the sleep charm took hold of your body, time seemed to stretch on endlessly. Vomiting blood had become apart of your daily routine, as regular as the sunrise. It had been two weeks since the cursed mark first showed up, yet any hint of a remedy remained out of reach.

During Defence Against the Dark Arts class, you remained silent, feeling your hope fade with each passing moment. Tom's attentive gaze never wandered far from you as he conducted his lecture. His worry was obvious, seen in the quick glances he cast your way, observing every hint of discomfort or pain that flitted across your face.

While you struggled to concentrate on Tom's teachings, you couldn't shake the feeling of his intense gaze fixated on you. Just when you started to feel some peace, the familiar metallic taste flooded your mouth, causing a wave of silent panic. The presence of other students in the room only amplified your anxiety, as you knew what was about to unfold.

Tom continued with his lesson, fully engrossed, but he remained acutely aware of any small changes in your behaviour. His heart sank as he saw the panic taking over you, indicating the beginning of another round of suffering. Without a second thought, he carefully made his way over to you, his steps purposeful yet inconspicuous, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention.

Seconds passed, and before you could react, pain seized you, doubling over in your seat as blood spilled from your lips. Tom reached you swiftly, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm. Kneeling beside you, he glanced briefly at the other students before focusing entirely on your distress.

"This is so humiliating," you whispered hoarsely, tears welling up as you struggled to contain the situation. Tom's voice, low and steady, cut through the chaos, soothing me with reassurance.

"Try to block them out for now. Concentrate on your breathing."

"Please, get me out of here," you pleaded, your tear-filled eyes locked onto his.

Tom's response was immediate and decisive. "Come on. I'll take you to the infirmary."

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself, finding a glimmer of hope in his steady guidance. Holding tightly onto his hand, we navigated the corridors, his voice a gentle murmur of encouragement as we neared the sanctuary of the infirmary.

"Just a little further, sweetheart," he murmured softly, his touch a comforting reassurance against the turmoil raging inside you.

Upon reaching the infirmary, relief washed over us as the door swung open, ushering us into a haven of calm amidst the turmoil of the day. The room was quiet, save for a few occupied beds, offering a sense of privacy and respite. Tom led you to an unoccupied bed, his demeanour calm yet filled with concern as he helped you settle.

"Here we are, away from prying eyes," he said gently, his words a balm to your frazzled nerves.

"I just want it to be over," you whimpered, fresh tears streaming down your cheeks.

Tom's heart ached at your anguish, his touch tender as he comforted you. "I know, sweetheart. I wish there was more I could do to ease your pain."

Sensing a presence nearby, you whispered anxiously, "What if she sees the mark?"

Tom's expression turned serious, his voice low as he assured you, "It'll be alright. Stay calm. I'll make sure she doesn't notice."

Nodding in trust, you felt a wave of relief knowing Tom was there to shield you. Madam Pomfrey approached, her eyes scrutinizing our scene with a mix of concern and authority.

Tom met Madam Pomfrey's gaze steadily, his expression calm despite the urgency he felt. He knew he had to tread carefully to protect you from any unnecessary scrutiny.

"Madam Pomfrey, she's feeling unwell," he began, his voice measured and composed. "I was just bringing her here to rest for a bit."

Madam Pomfrey's gaze shifted to you, her brow furrowing as she took in your pale complexion and the traces of blood on your face. Her concern deepened, but Tom maintained his reassuring demeanour.

"She had a sudden bout of illness in class," Tom continued, choosing his words carefully. "I thought it best to bring her here immediately."

Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assessed the situation. She approached you with a gentle but firm manner, preparing to examine you more closely.

"Let me take a look at you, dear," she said kindly, reaching for her wand. "We'll see what we can do to help."

You glanced nervously at Tom, silently pleading for his guidance in this moment of uncertainty. He nodded subtly, his eyes conveying reassurance as he squeezed your hand gently.

"It's okay," he whispered softly. "She's here to help."

You nodded hesitantly, allowing Madam Pomfrey to proceed with her examination. Tom stood by your side, his presence a steady anchor amidst the turmoil of the situation. As Madam Pomfrey began her assessment, Tom kept a watchful eye on you, silently praying for a solution to end your suffering.

Madam Pomfrey's examination was thorough yet gentle, her experienced hands and wand moving with practiced precision as she checked your vitals and assessed your condition. With each passing moment, Tom's concern grew palpable, his eyes never leaving your face, silently urging you to stay strong through this ordeal.

After what felt like an eternity of tense silence, Madam Pomfrey finally straightened up, her expression thoughtful yet composed. She glanced between you and Tom before speaking in a calm tone that belied the seriousness of the situation.

"I can see you're going through a lot, dear," she began, her voice laced with empathy. "We'll need to take some measures to manage your symptoms and monitor your condition closely."

Tom nodded in agreement, his gaze unwavering as he silently conveyed his support for whatever course of action Madam Pomfrey deemed necessary. He knew this was beyond his expertise, trusting in her ability to provide the best care possible.

Madam Pomfrey then turned to Tom, her expression softening slightly as she addressed him directly.

"Mr. Riddle, I'll need your assistance in ensuring her comfort and maintaining her privacy," she said with a hint of urgency. "We must keep a close watch on her condition and any developments."

Tom nodded again, his commitment to protecting your well-being unwavering. "Of course, Madam Pomfrey," he responded calmly. "I'll do whatever is needed to help."

With that, Madam Pomfrey began to lead the way, guiding both of you to a nearby bed where you could rest and receive the care you needed. Tom remained by your side, his hand still clasped gently in yours, offering silent reassurance and support as you navigate this challenging moment together.

As you settled onto the bed under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye, Tom took a seat beside you, his presence a steadfast comfort amidst the uncertainty. He knew the road ahead would be difficult, but he was determined to stand by your side every step of the way, supporting you with unwavering loyalty and compassion.

"I'm scared," you quietly confided in him, making sure not to be overheard by the matron, the fear in your voice unmistakable.

Tom felt his heart tighten at your admission. Moving closer, he urgently but gently reassured you, his voice a comforting presence amid the anxiety surrounding us.

"I understand, love. It's natural to be afraid. But you're not alone. Madam Pomfrey is doing everything in her power to help us figure this out. Try to stay calm, okay?"

"Okay," you murmured softly, his hand gently squeezing yours in a gesture of silent support..

Your response brought a flicker of relief to Tom, and he was thankful that his touch could provide comfort in your shared unease. He held onto your hand firmly, keeping his gaze steady as Madam Pomfrey examined with a concerned and puzzled expression.

"Your body is being affected by some unknown form of magic, but I can't determine the exact cause," she said with furrowed brows.

Madam Pomfrey's words filled Tom with a surge of anxiety, as the uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on him. He recognized that despite her expertise, there were limitations to what she could uncover. He turned to you, his eyes reflecting the concern that mirrored your own. "We'll figure this out," he murmured reassuringly, though his voice held a note of unease. "We just need to be patient and trust that Madam Pomfrey will find a way."

You weakly nodded, attempting to compose yourself despite the fear eating away at you inside. Tom's presence next to you was a source of stability, grounding you in the midst of the medical jargon.

Madam Pomfrey continued to examine the charts and magical symbols she had summoned, her forehead creasing further with each passing moment. "The healing charms are producing an unusual reaction," she murmured more to herself than to us. "There's a resistance that I can't quite explain."

Tom moved in closer, speaking in a hushed tone, "What does that mean?" Her gaze flickered between us, her expression troubled. "It means," she began carefully, "that whatever is affecting you is unlike anything I've encountered before. It's not just magical, it's… complex."

Her words made your heart sink, as a surge of despair felt like it might consume you. Tom silently expressed his support by tightening his grip on your hand. "What are our options?" he inquired, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes.

Madam Pomfrey let out a soft sigh, her sympathetic gaze fixed on you. "At the moment, we'll observe and wait. I'll speak with some colleagues to gather any insights or experiences with similar cases."

and wait we did. patiently.

Weeks passed with a relentless rhythm of uncertainty and hope in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey's consultations with other healers yielded little clarity on the mysterious ailment that gripped you. Despite her best efforts and the collective wisdom of experts, your condition continued to confound them all.

Tom remained a constant presence by your side, his support unwavering even as fatigue etched lines of concern on his face. Each day, he arrived early, often before you woke, and stayed late into the night, offering comfort through the long hours of tests, treatments, and waiting.

The infirmary became a second home, its white walls and sterile smell a stark contrast to the vibrant life you once knew outside. You missed the bustle of the Great Hall, the laughter of students, the company of your friends and your brother and the routine of classes. But most of all, you missed the freedom of being healthy and carefree.

Yet, despite his efforts, there were moments of despair that even his unwilling support couldn't dispel. On the darkest nights, when pain kept sleep at bay and fear gripped your heart like a vice, you would lie awake, listening to the distant sounds of the castle and wondering if life beyond these walls would ever be yours again.

One night, the infirmary window was illuminated by the silver glow of the moon, and you were having difficulty breathing. The pain had grown stronger, an unyielding ache that felt like it was penetrating every part of you. Beside you, Tom shifted in his chair, his eyes showing concern as he reached out to hold your hand.

"Are you feeling alright?" His voice was tender, but you could sense the underlying worry.

You managed a weak nod, though the effort left you breathless. "Just… hurts," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible.

Tom pressed a cool cloth to your forehead, his touch soothing against your clammy skin. "I'm here," he murmured softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "We'll get through this, I promise."

The words offered a flicker of comfort, but you couldn't shake the fear that this pain marked a worsening of your condition. Madam Pomfrey had done everything within her power, yet answers remained elusive, leaving you to confront the harsh reality that your time might be running out.

Days blurred into nights, each filled with a cycle of hope and despair. Tom continued to balance his responsibilities as a professor with his unwavering commitment to your care. His dedication was a testament to the depth of his feelings, a silent declaration that spoke volumes even amid the chaos of your circumstances.

One afternoon, as sunlight filtered through the infirmary windows, Madam Pomfrey entered with a somber expression. Her footsteps echoed softly on the tiled floor, drawing both your attention.

"I've consulted with healers from across Europe," she began, her voice tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and determination. "There's one last possibility we haven't explored."

Tom leaned forward, his expression hopeful yet cautious. "What is it?"

She hesitated for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. "There's a rare potion, ancient and highly complex," she explained slowly. "It's not without risks, but given the circumstances…"

Your heart raced at the glimmer of hope her words ignited. Tom squeezed your hand gently, his eyes locked on Madam Pomfrey. "What do we need to do?"

Her gaze softened, recognizing the fragile thread of optimism that tethered you to her expertise. "I'll need to prepare the ingredients," she said quietly. "It will take time, and there are no guarantees."

Tom nodded solemnly, his resolve unwavering. "Do whatever you need to do," he said firmly. "We trust you."

Madam Pomfrey nodded, a hint of gratitude in her tired eyes. "I'll begin immediately," she assured you both before turning to gather the necessary components.

Working diligently to mix potions and prepare spells, Tom stood by my side, offering quiet comfort and companionship. We both understood the high stakes and uncertain outcome, but in that moment, hope burned bright in the face of adversity.

Hours stretched into agonizing anticipation, the air thick with tension as Madam Pomfrey meticulously completed her preparations. Finally, with a sigh of relief, she turned to both of you, a vial in hand.

"This is it," she said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of responsibility. "It needs to be administered carefully. Are you ready?"

You glanced at Tom, seeing the mirrored hope and fear reflected in his eyes. You nodded slowly, your heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and desperate hope.

Madam Pomfrey approached with measured steps, her demeanor focused yet gentle. "This potion will be administered in small doses," she explained as she prepared a syringe with meticulous care. "It's designed to counteract the effects of the unknown magic, but its potency requires caution."

Tom took a steadying breath, his hand tightening around yours as Madam Pomfrey injected the first dose. A surge of warmth spread through your veins, followed by a wave of dizziness that made you clutch Tom's hand tighter.

"It's working," Madam Pomfrey murmured, a glimmer of relief in her voice. "Just a little more."

The minutes ticked by, each dose bringing a gradual easing of the pain that had plagued you for so long. Tom's presence beside you was a constant anchor, his quiet strength bolstering your resolve as you navigated this final, precarious hope.

At last, when the final dose was administered, Madam Pomfrey stepped back, her eyes fixed on you with a mixture of hope and apprehension. "Now we wait," she said softly.

Tom leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "You're going to be alright," he whispered fiercely, his voice trembling with emotion.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to believe in the possibility of a future beyond the confines of the infirmary walls. Beside you, Tom remained vigilant, his hand never leaving yours as you waited for the potion to take effect.

Hours passed in tense silence, the weight of your collective hope and fear hanging heavy in the air. Then, as dawn painted the sky outside the window, you felt a shift. The pain ebbed further, replaced by a sense of calm that settled deep within your weary bones.

"It's working," Madam Pomfrey breathed, her voice filled with wonder.

Tom's grip on your hand tightened, his relief palpable. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you whispered a silent prayer of gratitude, overwhelmed by the enormity of the moment.

With each passing hour, the effects of the potion became more pronounced, restoring strength and vitality that had seemed lost forever. You and Tom shared moments of cautious optimism, daring to dream of a future where laughter and light once again filled your days.

Days turned into weeks as you continued to recover under Madam Pomfrey's vigilant care. The infirmary walls no longer felt like a prison but a sanctuary where healing and hope flourished.

Tom was there every step of the way, celebrating small victories and offering unwavering support during setbacks. His love and devotion became the bedrock upon which you rebuilt your strength, his presence a constant reminder that life's greatest challenges could be faced with courage and resilience.

As you finally prepared to leave the infirmary, a mixture of emotions swirled within you. Gratitude for those who had stood by your side, determination to reclaim the life that had been put on hold, and a profound sense of love for the man who had never wavered in his belief that you could overcome even the darkest of trials.

Standing together at the threshold of a new beginning, Tom took your hand in his, his eyes shining with pride and joy. "We made it," he said softly, his voice filled with awe.

You nodded, overwhelmed by emotions that rendered you speechless. Instead of attempting words, you gazed up into his deep, dark eyes, now filled with hope and relief, sparkling like never before. Memories flooded your mind—moments of unwavering loyalty, his steadfast support through every trial. As you looked into his eyes, the golden sunlight bathing you both, a surge of courage and gratitude welled up inside.

Resting gently on his chest with one hand and finding its place on the back of his neck with the other, your lips hovered close to his, almost brushing against his, drawing you closer with a magnetic pull until the remaining distance was closed. The rush of warmth and reassurance spread through you the moment your lips met his. Instantly, his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tenderly, silently acknowledging the shared relief and joy.

You savored the taste of his lips, the feel of his arms around you, knowing that together, you had faced the darkest of trials and emerged stronger.

Breaking the kiss gently, you rested your forehead against his, breathing in sync with his steady heartbeat. "Thank you," you whispered softly, your voice barely audible but filled with all the love and gratitude you felt.

Tom's eyes, still locked with yours, reflected a depth of emotion that matched your own. "I love you," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. "I love you too," you whispered, your voice shaking with the intensity of your emotions.

A tear of happiness escaped your eye as you spoke, tracing a path down your cheek as his words reached your ears.

As you looked ahead to the future, uncertainties still lingered, but you knew that as long as you were together, you could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

With Tom beside you, you felt invincible, ready to embrace the new beginnings that awaited outside the walls that had confined you for so long. The journey ahead would be filled with its own trials and joys, but with his love lighting the way, you were certain that your shared future would be nothing short of extraordinary.

And as the sun sets over Hogwarts, casting a warm glow over the grounds, you embrace the future with open hearts and a love that has proven itself unbreakable.

[mvltisstuff]

Hi

I have a Buck (911) fic idea. Buck saved reader at the tsunami. Reader can't swim that good, so she was really scared and he comforted her. Reader took care of Christopher while Buck was saving other people. Two weeks or something after the tsunami they meet again. Maybe reader is working at coffee shop and they meet there. Reader can't stop saying thank you to Buck and maybe he asks her on a date at the end.

You don't have to write this if you don't want to. I got this idea and thought I'll send it to you.

arms of a stranger - e.b

summary: request above :)

evan buckley x reader

the tsunami had entirely taken out a whole community and a street of small businesses. it came rushing through, causing immediate calamity and jeopardy. not the most ideal first date, but definitely gets you closer to strangers.

the first wave had washed buck and christopher off of the pier, sending them away with bits and pieces of the structure. y/n had been shoved under the waves, which were horrifying but also marvelous. her lungs were filling with water and sand from the shores. it felt like every time she came up it wasn’t worth anything, as she would be pulled back under seconds later.

she heard the screams from buck, hearing the sharp yells of someone’s name. the adrenaline in her system kept her brain moving speedily and her heart beating fast. the red engine had sparkled out of the corner of her eye from the sizzling sun of california. she forced herself over, when the man gripped her arms and pulled her on. she bent over, coughing up water and leaning back on the truck.

“hey, are you ok?” he asks, worried.

“yeah, i’ll be fine. are you two alright?”

“we’re good, just scared shitless,” buck chuckles a little, trying to bring a little light to the disaster.

“same, i’m no mermaid.”

“it’s going to be alright, ok? i’m here for you,” he reassures immediately. he must have an instinct to protect people, she thinks.

y/n vividly remembers sitting next to christopher, watching buck save other people, and bring them to the top of the truck. she remembers the exact feeling of her jeans sticking to her thighs and her scraped arms from the wood and sticks in the water. he was just a little boy, he didn’t deserve to be in the middle of such a mess. when people had succumbed to the oceans, she covered his eyes to maintain his innocence whilst she couldn’t look away.

buck had come back and forth, saving several people. she immediately admired him. you have no idea the amount of courage and selflessness it takes to put yourself in the eye of the hurricane. and buck did that without thinking twice. most people would stay put, but he knows there’s no point to life if you don’t do everything in your power to make it a better place.

all hell broke loose when the truck shook, knocking several people off as buck watched christopher disappear in the waves. everyone was separated. no one knew how to get back, and everyone was shaking in fear.

hours went by and the sun went down and bucks panic didn’t go with it. he lost the one thing he was given to care of. christopher was a light in the tunnel and the one who truly got him out of bed. people only had good intentions and the world took that to an advantage.

y/n walked around, soaking wet after the water had started going back out to sea. she wandered around the town, looking for anyone she knew or something familiar. suddenly, nothing had become safe until she saw the sitting boy on the steps of a building, his eyes small and tired. the one she tried so hard to save from floating away, and she prayed he was going to be ok when she walked over. he was slumped to the side, his head leaning on a railing. “y/n?” christopher’s eyes focus, squinting at her.

“oh my god, christopher! you’re ok!” she runs over with whatever energy she has left. she pulls him into her, checking him over with her hands on his face. “are you? i’m so sorry, buddy, it all happened so fast.”

“i’m ok, i’m tired though,” he remarks. “where is buck?”

“i don’t know, ive been trying to find out for you, but the woman said there’s going to be units here soon. we can find him.”

“is he dead?”

y/n pauses, taken aback by his statement. “i don’t think so, chris. he’s a tough guy, really tough.”

“he just got hurt, what if he is again?”

“he was hurt?”

“at work.” y/n sighs, looking around again for anyone before moving to sit next to him. christopher leans on her shoulder, dozing off lightly as y/n happily allows it.

at least fourty-five minutes go by before ambulances and rescue personelle arrive to the scene. there were probably a hundred people clattering about, trying to find out if their family or friends were alive. y/n was given oxygen along with christopher, who shared the tank due to an emergency shortage.

they were transported to the nearest hospital right after sundown. christopher arm was tangled with hers for balance, trying to find his dad and buck. y/n observes buck and the other man, diaz on his name tag. they both have tears in there eyes as buck stutters on about the boy. eddie looks behind him, about to run out of there and search for christopher when he sees him limping over, exhausted. “christopher?”

“dad!” he yells, as eddie sprints over to take him. he checks him over the same way y/n did, making sure every single part of him is safe. y/n looks away as eddie carries him away to get checked out and she locks eyes with buck. he’s talking to his fellow firefighters, them observing his disoriented condition. when he stares into y/n’s pained expression, his knees give out but his eyes stay locked on her. he blinks a few times and somehow, she vanished right before his eyes.

he had a whole speech to give her. she saved christopher, and she saved him. he could have never made it out of this alone and he had to say that, but she was gone before he knew it.

two weeks had passed since an entire portion of los angeles had been demolished in two minutes. the city coming together to help everyone affected was truly beautiful, but something was missing in bucks eyes. he felt like he had to see y/n, but he had no idea how to reach her or where to find her. he wanted to give her anything she wanted for being there.

he roamed around on calls, taking a second glance at anyone who resembled her or her name. maybe he misheard it or something? he didn’t want to give up, but everyone had been telling him to let the tsunami go out of his mind with the tide. one of those ways was to avoid that day and the reminders. was it the best coping mechanism? absolutely not, but buck would try anything and everything to forget a trauma.

until he was asked to watch christopher again, he thought there was no point in bringing up the memory for especially you. you’d been there the whole time, being a bad swimmer and nearly drowning with no past disaster training. buck had that, and she was worse off than him, he thought. when christopher mentions her name, he realizes there is no point in trying to forget. this happened and there is no erasing it, maybe what he needed was y/n.

he took christopher for another day out, far from the shore and the non-existent pier. they’d gone to the indoor arcades and fun little places to hang out or just talk. buck was desperate for an energy boost, so he dragged christopher into the nearest coffee shop. it was an adorable little place with a few businesspeople sitting around on their computers. the smell of coffee and cakes hit bucks nose delightfully. his eyes land on y/n, casually making an latte like it’s muscle memory.

he stares at her in delight and christopher is the one to nudge him close to the counter. “hurry up, buck!”

“i’ll be right with you in one,” y/n’s sentence comes to a halt when she turns around to see buck, the man who saved her, standing behind her. “second. um, hey! how are you guys?”

“we’re good! i- im good, i didn’t know you worked here.”

“have been for a while, it’s easy money for school.”

“oh, nice. what are you in school for?” y/n explains her whole major to buck and why she’s here, practically giving a life story.

“sorry. that was a lot of information you don’t care about,” she laughs, pressing the cover onto the hot drink in her hands.

“i care a lot!” buck says a little too fast. “or, i care about you. how have you been doing?” y/n looks down at the boy with a radiant smile, wanting to show her bravery and strength in front of him, but it’s hard. “hey, chris. why don’t you find somewhere to sit?”

once he walks away to pick out a table, she begins again. “it’s been tough. my sleep schedules all messed up and focusing is like trying to fight a grizzly bear.”

“i’m so sorry, y/n. it’s been so hard trying to deal with it. but give yourself time,” he says sweetly. “you won’t heal if you force yourself.”

she gives him a little smile, appreciating his generosity and now starting to appreciate his looks. her eyes dart around his face, looking into his alluring blue eyes and his lips, and she couldn’t forget that birthmark that is perfect to her. he’s a beautiful man, but an even more beautiful soul. firefighters come with a lot of respect in society, but she had that for him even before she found out. he would never say something too fast, but he noticed her the first time he saw her and grabbed onto her. his rescue response had turned on and was stronger than ever, and the aftermath made him fall in love with her resiliency. she was insanely hot, he had to admit. buck’s gonna buck.

“thank you, buck. for everything. i want to give you the ends of the earth,” she grins. “but maybe we can start with a free coffee?”

“a free coffee sounds amazing,” he replies. he builds up the courage from his crushing self to ask her yet another question. a more bold on, at that. “do you wanna go out sometime? maybe not on top of a fire truck, in a flood?”

y/n’s heart burst right then and there. she had been dying to ask him to same thing, but figured he was too busy with work. besides, he does what he did for her every day so she figured it meant nothing. at the end of the day, it did. “i’d love too!” she shoots out her words rapidly, almost immediately curing bucks anxieties. she shakes her head quickly, trying to rub off her hyper mood. “i’d really like that. here, this is my number,” she writes down the ten digits on a scraped receipt, handing it to him and walking away to make his drink and a snack for christopher.

“perfect,” buck states with a sly wink. “expect a text or two tonight.”

y/n turns back around, heading to the employee room. she can’t find it in her to wipe the rich smile on her face. meanwhile, buck walks over to sit with christopher at the counter by the window. christopher’s grinning at him, high-fiving him and saying, “and buck has done it again!”

[valeriianz]

For the fic writer asks:

4. Obviously you did research for BitB. I'd love you to ramble about it if you like I'm sure you've got STORIES

5. Did you outline it?

7. How'd you decide it would be Hob's pov?

25-27 I'd love to know a/some favorite lines, details, and any lore you might want to share

omg TJ what wonderful questions! thank you!! this is going to get LONG!

4: Rambling about research!

do you wanna see a screen shot of my bookmarks under my "band au" folder?

man, and that's only what could fit on the screen.

there is... SO MUCH i chose to ignore for this fic. ideas that i had to drop, lines or extra details about the other band members equipment. more logistics, what Lucienne actually does, what Mervyn has to put up with as the new touring stage manager... i realized very early on that i couldn't possibly cram all this (super cool and eye opening) information into the fic and still keep reader's interest and, most importantly, to not stray away from the fact that this is a dreamling fic. whenever i felt myself getting carried away with a side character or job or even social media numbers, gossip, outside POVs, i had to reign myself in and get back on track. there will be time for exploring everything i missed in side stories after BitB is finished. i just hope i still have the energy to write it all.

once, i was so deep into research that after publishing chapter 2, i went into work and when my chef asked what "GA" meant on my prep list, i answered with full confidence, "general admission."

(it means "get ahead.")

the worst part of this entire writing process is im still learning new shit. i havent rewatched or read a lot of what i've saved because, to be very honest, i was feeling a little burnt out. it's why we're kinda full steam dreamling now. it's why ive been glossing over a lot of technical stuff and being vague about conversations amongst the crew/not including it at all. i don't prefer ignoring my research, but at the end of the day i want to still enjoy writing this fic and finish it. even if i can't be as descriptive and detailed and nuanced as i used to be.

5: Did you outline the fic?

(also asked by @hardly-an-escape!)

i wouldn't call what i have a proper "outline," it's more like a 20k word document filled to the brim with notes that i skim at least a dozen times while i'm writing a new chapter (being in my brain is literally hell). i live multichapter life very dangerously. i copy and paste lines or sections (always scattered, never together! augh!) that are meant to go together and plop them in a new document titled "band au ch.#" and then i structure the chapter around what i want to happen.

but to answer this question in the plainest of terms: yeah. i know exactly what's going to happen up until the very end. even if its all in my head and the only concrete shit that's written down are beats/plot points. i'll figure out the rest later!

7: How'd you decide it would be Hob's POV?

i actually never even considered writing it from Dream's POV. this was my first fic in the fandom (which is so nuts to think about lol) and writing in Dream's POV sounded so scary lol. i also just thought Hob's would be easier because i have worked a few backstage shows, back in my college years. i figured eh, i can make this work. and i loved exploring how weird and mysterious musicians can be, from a normie's POV. making Hob a fan first and having him worry about developing a parasocial relationship... it was fun to explore.

25: Share your favorite line

oh god, i have so many haha.

“What are you thinking about?” starting in ch.2 and onward lmao

“It’s–” Dream laughs quietly, bitterly. “I don’t like change.” He says each word with emphasis, eyes trailing down to fixate somewhere past Hob. “And I still hold onto the things I can control, like my instruments–” his eyes swing up to regard Hob apologetically. “Or my clothes or my–” he brings a hand up and wiggles his fingers around his head. “My hair.” ch.4

"His majesty is pleased." ch.5

“You are obsessive,” he states, slow and cool and with a quiet smile cracking through his composure. “Just like me.” ch.7

“You look good.” Hob has to lean in to say so, unwilling to raise his voice amongst the roar of the fans. ch.11

“Del looks like porcelain, but she’s actually made of steel.” Desire swirls the contents of their glass before pushing their shoulders back with a deep breath. “She's tougher than all of us.” ch.11

“Everything. I want…” his fingers tighten in Hob’s hair, pulling him closer, speaking against his lips. “…Everything.” ch.14

26: Share your favorite detail

how intentionally coy Dream behaves. i love keeping him a mystery and deciding when and how much to allow his intentions to peek through has been so fun lol.

Despair is in fact covered in tattoos and piercings! i say this because i feel like sometimes i forget lmao. (but also her and Hob don't interact much so. my bad haha).

Delirium's constant explosion of color in the way she dresses <3

Hob's dedication to his job, Dream, and the people he cares about the most. i don't care if people think i'm making him too soft and good, im gonna project on that man and make him a sweet, sweet simp lmao

and ah, this doesn't matter anymore, and i kinda regret doing it but. i originally had Dream's favorite bass all black but the pickguard was white. so it actually looked like Jessamy. not gonna lie when @designtheendless drew it all black i decided i liked it better that way. and truly i do. that's when i went back to ch.1 and changed it haha. to actually see the guitar with Dream, all done up sparkling black and purple flecks... gosh it's just so him. but then i got up to the reveal that the guitar's name was Jessamy and i was like, "oh, right." lmao. no one seems to care so i'll leave it be.

27: Share a piece of lore you made up for the story

i have a lot lmao. and this post is already so long... im hoping i can get to some if not all of it in side fics in the future. but for now, here's some that's more like headcanons but:

Dream hates flying. he can full on go into panic attacks on the plane if he allows himself to get into his own head.

this was mentioned briefly in ch.4, while Dream was discussing the formation of the band, but Despair was in another band before joining Endless. she is the only character in the fic who gets to keep her English roots (lol sorry) and is the oldest in the band (30).

all of the band members ages: Dream, Desire, and Death are all 28 and Delirium is 22.

Dream can experience subdrop after going too hard during a performance.

Dream paints his own nails, it's very therapeutic.

as an exercise, i explored my own headcanons for Dream in this verse in a word doc, and one thing i will share from it that you might find interesting: If I were to ever give Dream a theological values, I would describe him as a satanist. He is a physical and pragmatic person, nonconforming, and although he is introverted, he enjoys being a part of a community (he loves his band).

also found this in my notes: How Desire and Dream got along was Death making them fight it out. Hob raises an eyebrow “like in a brawl?” He couldn't imagine Desire throwing hands. “No, in a pillow fight that escalated in hair pulling and verbal taunts.”

fic writer asks

[wisteriaiswriting]

Hello! This is my very first request so forgive me if my english is bad, but could you do a small little one-shot on what would happen if Liam would have survived the final battle in Fourth Wing, after the reader somehow revived Liam back to life by using her Signet, but she used to much of her energy to the point she collapsed and went into a coma. In the infirmary Liam stays with her through the entire time, not leaving her side as she asleep. Reader wakes up and she sees that Liam is alright. Liam comfort hers and they both confessed their feelings.

𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

First Fourth Wing fic, and this is gender neutral as I don't write for female reader.

It was a surprise to live this long, alongside Violet. But you had survived to the Presentation, one of the final moments that decided your fate in life. Luckily enough no dragon had deemed you unworthy on the way past, unluckily it seemed they didn’t see you well enough.

Everyone switched positions to walk back, leaving you at the end. Barely able to see any other people get burnt, not missing the fire though. But this didn’t go both ways. A green dragon steps forward, separating you from the squad. Just light enough the others didn’t notice, continuing onwards.

You froze. There were two outcomes here, and only one had you walking to find your squad. The dragon leaned forwards, leaning down to be face to face, or as close as possible. It didn’t move its face, only their eyes. Taking in your appearance, which it seemed to like as it stepped back into line.

Only then did the others realize what happened, watching as you finally made it over. Liam was the first to know, watching as you were freed from the dragon. Rushing over to pull you into a bone crushing hug, letting you go when you had to tap out.

“Are you okay? It didn’t hurt you right?”

A barrage of questions spilled from him.

“Liam! I’m fine, it wanted a smell.”

That seemed to calm him down enough.

***

“Y/N you’ll be shadow–”

Before they could finish your Dragon [Dragon’s name] had shot off the ground.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?”

“[Dragon’s name] HEY!”

They didn’t give you a response, only flying further from your station. You were at one of the closer ones, only able to buckle down as they flew you further from everyone else. Few times you passed other squads, all yelling at you but you couldn’t hear them.

The flight could’ve been calming but the speed and rush wasn’t helping. But there was something in your mind that felt off, the silence wasn’t natural. Unable to think about it anymore when you realized where they took you.

The others were in a battle, dragons and their riders version Wyverns. Although they had it handled, few were in the air. Instead of turning around or helping them [Dragon’s name] dove to the ground.

Almost sending you flying off when they landed, barely letting you get off before rushing over. When you made it, you saw what happened. Deigh and Liam. It was clear.

A rider without their dragon is dead.

Liam is dead, and it was due to the damned Wyverns.

[Dragon’s name] had huddled closer to Deigh, mourning. While you kneeled next to Liam, pulling his head onto your lap. Tears were quick to start pouring, making sure they hit everyone but him.

Hands brushed through his hair, trying to come to terms with this. Unable to see what was happening, the others only watched, never stepping closer. 

You felt weird. Your body was heating up, quickly becoming unbearable. Though you couldn’t leave Liam, so you only cradled him closer. Your tears soaked into his clothing as your vision faded.

Others called out but none made it through your mind. Falling forwards onto Liam, unaware of his movement.

***

When you gain consciousness it’s immediate pain. Every part of your body had cooled down but it left a sore feeling everywhere. A lot more in your shoulder, where your bond mark is.

The feeling of the sheets moving caught your attention. Looking over to see Liam, asleep with his head on the bed. His hand held yours even as he slept.

“Liam…”

Even when you whispered his ears caught it, causing him to shoot up. Before you could say anything else he pulled you into a hug, trying to mind your pain.

“Love, I–”

He choked on his words as tears started. Eventually he calmed down enough to continue.

“Why? Why would you risk your own life for mine!”

“Because I love you! I couldn’t stand seeing you go…”

His mouth opened and shut again but nothing left it. His eyes scanned yours, searching for any hint of a lie but finding none. Suddenly launching forwards, catching your lips with his own.

“You can’t say that after you almost died.”

“I just did, didn’t I?”

“You smartass.”

Soon enough the room was filled with laughter from you two.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

I would LOVE more Fics of Tommy coming out to Hen (preferably pre-buck)

Sorry for the delay in getting to this one. I had to find the story to write in my head. Anyway here it is an I hope you like it!

As always you can send me bucktommy/saltommy/Tommy prompts to my ask and I'll write something.

Thanks 🩶

********

Sal had been gone for 2 weeks. For 2 weeks his best friend, his only family, his secret lover was gone. For 2 weeks Tommy had been lost. For 2 weeks he had been flitting between moping and biting everyones head off. He was angry. Not just at Sal for screwing himself out of a job at the 118, but angry at himself.

He knew getting involved with Sal was a bad idea the day they drunkenly kissed for the first time in Tommy's kitchen. He tried to put an emotional distance between them. Not just because they were best friends who also worked together but because he'd been hurt too many times before and had no faith in finding any kind of happiness with someone.

But neither of them could resist the other. Slowly Sal crawled under his skin. He began to see parts of Sal that nobody else saw. The softness Sal never let anybody else see. Like his love for forehead kisses - giving and receiving, or that he always liked it when Tommy would rest a hand on his leg when they ate together because he found it comforting.

Slowly Tommy's walls broke down and he let Sal in. And he hated himself for that now. He hated that he'd allowed Sal's calloused fingers to wrap around his heart, when he knew better.

"Come on." Hen told Tommy in the locker room after their shift. "You're coming home with me."

"Didn't know you wanted to switch sides." Tommy joked.

"Hilarious." Hen said, deadpan. "You're coming home with me to have dinner with me and Karen."

"No, I'm.. thanks but I'm not in the mood." He threw his holdall over his shoulder.

"It's not a request, Tommy. You've been miserable for the last 2 weeks, and no offense but it's starting to get annoying. So, you're going to have a nice evening having dinner with my wife and I. Or you can call her yourself and tell her she's wasted the entire afternoon cooking for you." She raised an eyebrow at him. Tommy knew saying no to Karen was not an option. He sighed.

"Fine."

*****

"Seriously you'd think working in a lab would mean everyone behaved professionally but I swear it's like a soap opera. If they're not back stabbing eachother they're having secret affairs." Karen regailed as they sat in front of their empty plates.

Firehouses weren't that different, Tommy thought. Hen stood and began sticking their plates. Karen stopped her.

"No, I'll get these babe. Why don't you and Tommy go sit on the veranda and ill make the coffee." She gave Hen a knowing look that Tommy didn't really understand.

"Come on." She gestured to Tommy and lead him outside. They sat on the wooden deck chairs facing the garden.

"So have you spoken to Sal at all?" Hen just jumped straight into the subject. Tommy didn't have the energy to change the subject.

"No." He simply said.

"Why not? Just because he's at the 122 doesn't mean you guys can't still be best friends. You live like, what? 4 miles apart. You can hang out all the time."

Tommy sat silently. His brain swirling with the last conversation Sal and he had had 2 weeks ago. Sal's words cut through him like a knife. He knew Sal didn't mean the actual words he used - he was just lashing out instead of dealing with his feelings, which was not uncommon for him - but he meant the reason behind them. Sal didn't actually think Tommy was a mistake, or that he didn't feel genuine feelings for him like he'd said he didn't, but he did want to end things. He did feel not remotely ready to be in a real relationship with a man. He did want to end.. whatever it was that they had.

"Did something happen between you? Did you have a fight or something?" Hen asked. Tommy again didn't answer. He didn't know how to.

"I mean you've had fights before and after some time to cool off you usually work it out. I'm sure this will blow over." She added.

"No. It won't." Tommy finally spoke.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm gay." He blurted out. He forced out a breath and put his elbows to his knees, letting his head hang down. There was an element of relief flowing through him at finally being able to say it out loud, but it was mixed with fear. It was stupid, he knew, because Hen was gay and he knew that she wouldn't say or do anything bad. But he'd lived his whole life in fear of people knowing the truth and that fear wasn't easy to look past.

"Did he say something?" Hen asked after a few moments of silence. "I know he can be an asshole but Sal never struck me as homophobic."

"He's not. He didn't.. " Tommy sighed.

"Then what happened?" Hen questioned again. The cat was out of the bag now so Tommy spoke.

"He and I.. we.. we've been dating. Sort of. I don't really know what it is. Was. He, uh.. he ended it when he left." Tears threatened his eyes and he sniffed them away.

"Oh." Hen responded knowingly. Suddenly Tommys behaviour over the last 2 weeks made complete sense. She scooted her chair closer to his and leaned forward.

"Okay, first of all, am I the first person you've told? About your sexuality I mean?" She asked. Tommy nodded.

"Yeah."

"Well, then I'm proud of you, Tommy." He looked up her. Hen was the first person who had ever said they they were proud of him that he actually respected. He'd heard it from his dad once as a kid, and Gerrard had said it a few times, but he didn't want their pride. He respected the hell out of Hen. Not just as a firefighter, but as a gay woman navigating a male dominated and very cishet field, with more strength than he'd ever seen someone wield. Her pride meant more to him than anybody else.

"Thanks." He said, his voice cracking. She smiled and reached and hand out to take his.

"Second of all, what happened with Sal?" Tommy explained how their relationship had gotten started and how Sal had had decided he couldn't do it anymore.

"He just said that he didn't have feelings for me and that now that he would be at the 122 the space would better for us to go our seperate ways." He wiped the tears away that had pushed their way out. "Thing is, I know he didn't mean those exact words. I know, I felt, he had feelings for me - he was just running scared. I tried to convince him that he didn't have to run and we'd figure it out but he was just too terrified of people knowing the truth."

"I'm sorry, Tommy." Hen said gripping his hand a little tighter. Tommy nodded.

"Thanks." He said after a while.

"For what?"

"Just.. being you." He looked up at her and gave a soft smile.

"Hey, I march to the beat of my own drum. Always have." She smiled back.

"But.. I'm not ready for others to know about me yet. So-" Hen held up her hand to stop him.

"You don't have to worry. This stays between us until you're ready. And if you need someone to talk to you know you can always come to me. Or Karen. The last thing either of us want is for you to be dealing with this alone. And I'm not talking about Sal."

"I know. Thank you." He lifted his arms and embraced her into a warm, tight hug.

"Didn't know you wanted to switch sides." Karen teased with a tray of coffees in her hands.

[sathanasslut]

Hello, Ghost fandom :,)

I don't use this app nor do I write fics, but goddammit for swissdew I will do anything. So here we are-

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Dewdrop / Swiss

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Trans Dewdrop, Gender Dysphoria, Period pain, Bathing/Washing

Word Count: 1,290

Read on Ao3 or below the cut!

Dew’s fingers curl in his own hair, tugging hard. A distraction from the other pain, the worse pain. Another groan slips from between his bitten raw lips, smothered by the pillow at his face as he curls further into his bedsheets. It hurts.

Tears well in his eyes, and he doesn’t even have the energy to chastise himself for his vulnerability. He needs a hug, but he knows he’d flay anyone who dared to see him in such a shameful position.

Dysphoria claws at his stomach as the cramps only seem to intensify. Even worse, his mind slips to the dampness of blood between his legs, staining his boxers. He wants to gouge his nails into his stomach, anything to distract from that pain.

“Fuck. Off.” He sobs into his pillow, his arms wrapping around his abdomen in a futile attempt to self soothe.

“But I just got here…” A soft voice teases, his tone a mockery of disappointment. Dew tenses, his head whipping around to face the apparently open doorway.

“Swiss.” He growls, trying to feign anger as the humiliation of being caught in such a vulnerable situation grasps at his throat.

The multi-ghoul doesn’t respond verbally, only pushing the door shut and pointedly clicking the lock as he steps over to Dew’s bedside. Every one of Dew’s base instincts is screaming at him to grab ahold of Swiss’ hand and drag him onto the bed, force him to spoon him and cuddle him and pander to him until the pain goes away, but he restrains himself. It’s humiliating enough as is, no need to make that even worse by giving in to such ridiculous urges.

“Dewdrop,” He hates the way Swiss says his name, like’s actually concerned about him. “Stubborn bastard. What are you doing suffering alone like this?”

If he wasn’t preoccupied by the sensations of his reproductive organs dismantling themselves, Dew would have clawed Swiss’ face off for that kind of comment.

“Fuck you mean?” He hisses, a snarl curling at his lips. “Can’t you leave me fucking be for a moment, let me deal with my shit before you come in here and bitch at me?”

Swiss rolls his eyes, his larger frame leaning over Dew’s bed. A part of Dew keens at that, the sight of someone he cares for towering over him not as a threat, but as an emblem of protection.

“Dew.” Swiss’ voice is more stern than usual, that usual teasing tone almost entirely eradicated. “I could smell the pain in your scent from the hallway. Either you talk to me and let me help you, or I’m telling Papa.”

Dew bristles at that. Swiss finding out was enough, he’ll do anything to prevent any more people getting involved in this horrendous situation of his.

“Fuck you.” He spits out, but the anger he’d intended in his tone is eaten up by the agony in his abdomen. “Shithead. Fuck are you even gonna do, growl at my period until it goes away?”

That makes Swiss pause, his movements stilling for a moment. He knows how sensitive of a topic this is for his little bandmate, and it’s not one he’s all too helpful around. Rain has always been the most understanding of Dew’s struggles with gender, and only the girls would understand how to physically help something like menstruation. But in the name of Satan that was not going to stop Swiss from at least trying.

“What do you want?” Swiss asks, cutting in again before Dew even has a chance to answer. “Other than to be left alone, because we both know that’s not happening.”

Dew huffs, rolling his eyes. It doesn’t distract Swiss at all from the obvious signs of distress the fire ghoul was displaying, especially the way Dew’s claws curl into his oversized sleep shirt more and more at every new cramp.

“...A bath.” He answers, finally. Swiss feels a small sense of relief, at least Dew isn’t kicking and screaming and physically forcing him from his room. It’s progress, Swiss remembers how closed off the smaller ghoul used to be even only a couple of years ago, this sort of intimacy would have been entirely out of the question then.

“A bath.” Dew can’t help but feel a little comforted by the genuine relief in Swiss’ voice, as if he’s truly happy he gets to help Dew. “I can do that.”

As quickly as he entered, Swiss is once again out of sight, scampering around Dewdrop’s ensuite to find all of the things to make a bath for the little ghoul. He runs the water until it’s nearing hot enough to scald his skin right off the bone, just how Dew likes it, then plugs the drain and waits for it to fill up as he fumbles with clean towels and cloths and bath soaps.

Finally, the bath is filled, bubbles are swirling, and candles are lit. Swiss walks back into the room, cooing Dewdrop’s name.

“Sweetheart, do you want me to carry you?” He smirks a little, unable to resist teasing the little ghoul at least a tiny bit. The adorable glare he gets in response makes it worth it, but he does feel a twinge of guilt when he sees a small wince of pain cross Dew’s face. “Seriously, you don’t look in any state to walk.”

Dew simply looks away from him, avoiding eye contact, and that’s all the answer Swiss needs. He scoops the little fireball into his arms and spends every step to the bathroom revelling in how perfectly Dewdrop fits in his arms.

He props Dew against the edge of the bathtub, deftly removing his clothes with the precision of a man that’s dealt with this exact shirt and boxers combination hundreds of times already. Dew pays no mind to being stripped by his fellow ghoul, but feels a twinge of humiliation when he sees Swiss’ eyes catch on the blood coating his thighs.

“Poor thing.” Swiss murmurs, without any kind of teasing or condescension to his tone whatsoever. “Let’s get you all cleaned up, hm?” He smiles softly as he lifts Dew into the bathtub gently. Dew’s heart twists at the genuine concern evident in Swiss’ eyes.

There’s a moment of silence as Dew acclimates to the temperature of the water, trying to push away the thought that Swiss had found exactly the right temperature for him, even better than he usually can himself.

He sinks a little deeper in, watching as strands of his blond hair turn to a soft brown at the touch of the water. Then, he feels an all too familiar touch against his shoulders, massaging softly.

“You don’t… have to do that.” Dew almost whispers, his voice almost swallowed by the flourish of emotions he was trying to tamp down.

“I want to.” Swiss’ voice is almost equally as soft, compelling him to lean back into the touch and embrace the comfort wholly. Soon enough, Swiss’ hands wander. Though, it’s not in the way Dew has become accustomed to.

There is no roughness or desire within these touches, just gentle massaging and lathering soap into his skin. Dew’s mind goes blank at the unfamiliar sensation, letting his head rest against the bathtub and his eyes fall closed as Swiss’ hands caress his chest and abdomen, the pain from before reducing to nothing but a hum under his skilled fingers.

Swiss indulges himself and allows his hands to span Dew’s chest as a small purr rumbles through his small body, feeling the vibrations ever so clearly and being filled with a sense of pride knowing that it was entirely him that drew the purr from the little ghoul.

“After this, I’m spooning you to sleep.”

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

How do you find motivation to write fics??????? I write ONE chapter and can’t finish

Motivation is FAKE, you finish by sheer force of WILL, STUBBORNNESS and SPITE /hj

In all seriousness its different for everyone.

I used to have trouble finishing stuff too ngl, its tough. But you just gotta find out whats stopping you. Is it really lack of motivation? Or is it lack of confidence or worry your writing isn't good enough yet? Or maybe you're worried no one will like what you're writing so it makes you not want to finish. Or maybe you're exhausted by other stuff happening in your life and it makes it hard to write because writing requires a lot of mental energy! Could be you might even be writing something you don't want to write just because everyone else is writing it and its super mentally and emotionally draining! The options are infinite!

Honestly when i stopped caring about what my writing sounded like and whether it was good enough or not and started treating things as more of a writing practice, it took a lot of pressure off of me and made it much easier to write. Usually I find its my own unspoken expectations on myself that make it hard to gather up motivation to write.

Motivation, by definition, is basically just a desire or willingness to do something. So what's keeping you from doing it really? You might just have a block you haven't figured it out where it's come from because we tend to default to identifying it a lack of motivation. But motivation isn't a reason! Its just a description for our desire and drive to complete a task basically.

I know this is a bit of a cop-out answer a look-within-you wise-old-mentor answer, but it really is a unique thing for everyone! Gotta get to know yourself and understand and acknowledge what might be really blocking you! and then work on that and chances are (at least in my experience) its gets easier.

Thanks for this ask! I actually needed to be reminded of this because I'm having trouble finishing something. And whaddaya know what i thought was lack of motivation was something else entirely.

I wish you luck in your writing journey mate! Its a never-ending process of being kind to yourself, working hard and getting to know yourself and what works for you, no matter how long you've been writing.