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Here, Then Gone, Then Here Again - Clark Kent X Female Reader - Slight Angst/Fluff - 3.5k

Her Knight In Shining Armor - Chapter 3 - (Knight) James 'Logan' Howlett X (Princess) Female Reader - Slight Angst/Fluff - 1.5k

At Sunset - Joel Miller X Female Reader - Slight Angst/Fluff - 2.7k

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[justsomerandomfanfic]

Here, Then Gone, Then Here Again - Clark Kent X Female Reader

Title: Here, Then Gone, Then Here Again

Clark Kent X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Mary (OC)

WC: 3,551

Warnings: Can be read as any iteration of Clark/Superman, italics, nicknames, flirting, teasing, banter, crying mentioned, breakups mentioned very briefly, slight angst, and fluff

The warm, red glow of the diner’s neon sign flickered against the rain-slicked pavement as Clark held the door open, his free hand resting against the small of your back. The moment you stepped inside, you let out a quiet sigh, trying to shake off the lingering chill from the light drizzle outside. Clark, ever attentive, guided you toward the back booth - your usual spot. He helped you slide into the seat before settling in across from you, his gentle smile making it easy to forget the world beyond the rain-streaked windows.

This was nice. The two of you hadn’t had time for a date in nearly two months, caught up in the chaos of deadlines at The Daily Planet and Clark’s never-ending duties as Superman. Between late-night articles and last-minute heroics, carving out time just for each other had become nearly impossible. But tonight, you hoped - really hoped - that this would be the one date where he didn’t have to rush off to stop burglars or thwart some sudden disaster.

It almost felt like the universe was conspiring against you, always pulling him away just when you finally had him all to yourself. From the interrupted date at the local aquarium, where he’d barely made it past the jellyfish exhibit before an emergency called him away, to the candlelit dinner at that fancy restaurant just a couple of blocks from your apartment that had ended with him apologizing as he rushed out before dessert. Even the simple picnic in the park had been cut short when trouble struck, leaving you alone on a blanket with nothing but half-eaten sandwiches and the distant sound of sirens.

And yeah, it upset you, but you understood. You always did. Because you loved Clark - so much so that, at the end of the day, just being a part of his life was enough. No matter how many times he had to leave, he always came back, and that was what truly mattered.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, the waitress came over, a sweet little old lady whose hair was styled like it was still the 80s - something you secretly adored. She wore the diner’s classic 50s-themed uniform, the crisp blue dress and white apron a perfect match for the retro red leather booths and black-and-white checkered floors.

With a warm smile, she glanced between the two of you before giving a knowing tilt of her head. “Well, aren’t you two just the cutest sweethearts,” She mused, pulling out her notepad. “What can I start you off with?”

Her words made you smile, a soft warmth spreading through your chest. There was something about her - maybe the way she carried herself, or the gentle kindness in her eyes - that reminded you of your grandmother. 

“I’ll have the cheeseburger and fries,” You said, still smiling as you glanced at the name on her tag - Mary. “Oh, and a chocolate milkshake, please.”

Mary gave you an approving nod before turning her attention to Clark. “And for you, sweetheart?”

Clark shot you a small, amused smile before saying, “I’ll have the same, but with a vanilla milkshake.”

Mary jotted it down with a satisfied hum. “Great choice, you two. I’ll be back with your food in a hot second.” She tucked her notepad away and gave you both another warm smile before heading off to put in your order.

You let out a soft sigh, settling deeper into the booth before your gaze drifted back to Clark. Almost immediately, your eyes locked onto his hair, the way his dark curls had become even more unruly from the rain. You bit your lip, trying, and failing, to muffle an amused, adoring sound.

Clark’s eyebrows furrowed, his head tilting slightly as he caught the look on your face. “What?” He asked, confusion laced in his voice. His hand instinctively came up to wipe at his cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head. “No,” You assured him, amusement still evident in your tone. Reaching across the small diner table, you brushed your fingers through his hair, fluffing up his curls with a gentle touch. They were still slightly damp from the rain, even softer than usual. Your fingers combed through the strands, feeling the way they bounced back into place like they had a mind of their own. “The rain made your curls even curlier,” You mused, your voice full of quiet affection. Your fingertips lingered, gently twisting a curl around your finger before letting it spring back into place. “They’re extra fluffy today.”

Clark huffed a laugh, pink dusting his cheeks. “That so?”

You nodded, still playing with a particularly stubborn curl near his temple. “Mhm. You look adorable.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head as if in defeat. “I was going for ruggedly handsome, but I guess I’ll take adorable.”

You grinned, sitting back in your seat. “You can be both.” Propping your elbow on the table, you rested your cheek against your hand, gazing at Clark with a playful, soft teasing glint in your eyes. “Actually, now that I think about it, you’re not just adorable,” You mused, your lips curving into a smirk. “You’re also dashing. Beautiful. Pretty, even.”

Clark scoffed lightly, shaking his head, but you could see the way his ears tinged pink.

“Devastatingly gorgeous,” You added, dragging out the words as if savoring them. “Truly, a masterpiece of a man.”

Clark let out a breathy chuckle, but before you could lovingly tease him any further, he reached across the table, his warm hand covering yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and deliberate, as he met your gaze with something softer - something deeper.

“And you,” He murmured, his voice low and earnest, “Are the most incredible person I’ve ever known. Beautiful, inside and out. The kind of person I can’t believe I get to love.”

Your breath hitched, warmth blooming in your chest as your fingers instinctively curled around his. You tried to play it cool, you really did. But the way he looked at you made it impossible. Heat crept up your neck, and you ducked your head slightly, biting back a smile as you gently squeezed his hand.

“You can’t just say things like that, you know,” You muttered as Clark’s grin widened, clearly enjoying how easily he could make you flustered

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

You rolled your eyes, though the soft laugh that escaped. Before you could think of a response, Mary returned, balancing a tray in her hands.

“Alright, sweethearts, here you go,” She announced cheerfully as she set down your plates and milkshakes. “One cheeseburger and fries for the lady, one for the gentleman. Chocolate and vanilla milkshakes. Enjoy, lovebirds.”

You shot her a grateful smile, but as soon as she walked away, your eyes flicked back to Clark, your hand still resting in his.

You gave his hand another gentle squeeze before grinning. “I don’t know about you, but these fries look delicious.”

With a final brush of your fingers against his, you let go, reaching for your food as Clark did the same. The two of you ate in comfortable silence for a bit, the sounds of the diner filling the space between you - clinking silverware, quiet chatter, the low hum of the jukebox playing ‘Little Richard’ in the corner.

After a few bites, you casually reached over and plucked one of Clark’s fries from his plate. He raised an amused brow as you dipped it straight into your chocolate milkshake, humming in satisfaction before popping it into your mouth. “You know, you have your own fries,” He pointed out, though there was no real protest in his tone.

You grinned, already reaching for another. “Yeah, but yours taste better.”

Clark just shook his head with a fond smile, letting you grab at his fries. Right at that moment, the rain outside finally began to let up. The steady pitter-patter against the diner windows softened until it was nothing more than a few lingering drops. Then, as if the universe itself decided to grant you a small, golden moment, the clouds parted just enough for the sun to peek through. Warm light spilled in through the window beside you, casting a soft glow over the both of you, illuminating your features in a way that made Clark pause mid-bite, watching you with a quiet, almost awestruck expression. The sunlight danced across your skin, and he let out an inaudible sigh. You weren’t even doing anything special - just sitting there, eating, existing - and yet, to Clark, you were breathtaking. Lost in the simple beauty of the moment, he barely noticed that his gaze had lingered a little too long. That is, until you caught him.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, brow raising slightly as you reached for a napkin, dabbing at the corners of your mouth just in case. “What?” You asked, glancing at him curiously.

Clark blinked, as if he’d been pulled from a dream, and shook his head with a soft, almost shy smile. “Nothing.” His gaze lingered a second longer before he returned to his food, but the warmth in his expression told you it wasn’t really nothing.

Shaking your head with a small, amused sigh, you popped the last fry into your mouth before turning your attention to the small dessert menu propped up beside you. Browsing through it, you tapped your finger against the laminated page, considering your options. You hummed softly, scanning the menu. “The raspberry cheesecake looks good… Or maybe a slice of apple pie.”

Clark leaned back slightly, giving you an easy smile. “Get whatever you want,” He said, nodding toward the menu. “I think I’m gonna go with the pie.”

You hummed again, nodding to yourself. “Alright, I’ll try the cheesecake then.” Your fingers drummed lightly against the table before you glanced up at him. “Should we get it for here or to go?”

Clark opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, he froze. His jaw tensed, eyes immediately shifting toward the window as if he’d just heard something beyond your range. Your smile faltered. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Clark turned back to you, guilt flickering behind his eyes. He didn’t have to say anything - you already knew.

Still, you gave him a soft, understanding smile and nodded. “Go on,” You murmured, voice gentle but certain. “They need you.”

His expression was a mix of determination, disappointment, guilt, and something else - before he let out a quiet sigh and pushed himself up from the booth. Before leaving, Clark quickly pulled out his card, setting it on the table for you. Then, without hesitation, he reached for you, his palm warm as it cupped the back of your neck. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, his breath fanning against your skin as he muttered a soft, “Thank you.”

And just like that, he was gone, rushing out the door and disappearing into the world that always seemed to need him. You watched him go, your small smile slipping the second he was out of view. With a quiet sigh, you glanced down at the table, absently running your fingers over the edge of his abandoned card.

Mary returned moments later, and you quickly pulled yourself together, offering her a braver smile than you felt. “Could I get one slice of the raspberry cheesecake and one slice of apple pie?”

She jotted it down with a nod. “For here or to go, sweetheart?”

“To go,” You answered, your voice steady despite the weight settling in your chest.

~~~

It had been about two weeks since that diner date, and after a long day at the Daily Planet, you were finally at Clark’s apartment for the weekend. The moment you stepped inside, he was there, helping you out of your jacket and hanging it on one of the hooks by the door while you slipped off your shoes.

“Thanks,” You murmured, flashing him a small smile.

Clark returned it, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

For the past few days, you’d noticed something off about him. He was usually a quiet guy, sure - thoughtful, sometimes lost in his own world - but this was different. It was like he was stuck in his head, distracted in a way that left you worried. There had been moments where you’d caught him staring off into space, so deep in thought that you had to call his name, sometimes more than once, to pull him back. And every time, he’d blink, shake his head, and insist he was fine. You didn’t want to pressure him, but the concern was there, gnawing at you.

You made your way to his room, eager to change out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable. As you pulled open one of the drawers, you couldn’t help but pause for a second, realizing just how many clothes you had there now. Shirts, sweaters, even a pair of socks you didn’t remember leaving behind - it was subtle, but it made you smile. A quiet reminder of just how much time you spent here, how much of your life had seamlessly intertwined with his. And how his was intertwined with yours. Clark had a couple of items at your place, too.

Shaking the thought away, you grabbed a pair of sleep shorts and changed into them. Just as you were pulling off your work suit jacket, Clark walked into the room, already tugging off his tie, his fingers quickly working at the buttons of his dress shirt. Without thinking, he unbuttoned it the rest of the way and shrugged it off, tossing it onto the chair in the corner before heading to his closet.

After dressing, you made your way to his kitchen, pulling open the fridge, and grabbing the leftovers from the other night, popping them into the microwave. The low hum filled the quiet space just as Clark entered, reaching for a couple of glasses and filling them with water. Neither of you spoke as you carried your plates and drinks into the small living room. The quiet wasn’t exactly unusual - sometimes, after a long day, you both just enjoyed the silence - but this time, it felt different. He felt different.

You glanced at him as you took a sip of your drink. He was staring down at his plate, absentmindedly pushing food around with his fork before taking a bite. He chewed slowly, swallowed, then, without looking at you, he spoke.

“I think it might be best if we break up.”

You froze, lips parting slightly as your hands slowly lowered, placing your cup onto the small coffee table with a soft clink. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your brain struggling to process the words that had just left his mouth. 

Swallowing against the lump forming in your throat, you turned in your seat to fully face him, your heart pounding as you blinked rapidly, trying to keep the burning in your eyes at bay. “May I ask why?” You asked softly, your voice barely above a mere murmur. “Was it… Was it something I did? Or said?”

Clark’s head snapped up at that, his eyes wide with something that looked almost like panic. “No,” He said quickly, shaking his head with urgency. “No, it’s not you. It’s me.”

You tilted your head slightly, motioning for him to continue, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Clark let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair before setting his plate beside his glass on the table. He turned to you, lips parting as if to speak, but then hesitated, his brows furrowing. For a moment, it seemed like he was searching for the right words, struggling to string them together.

“I just…” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It’s not fair to you, my love.”

Your brows knitted together. “What’s not fair?”

Clark dragged a hand down his face before finally meeting your eyes. “The way I always have to leave,” He admitted, his voice tinged with frustration, though not at you. “No matter what we’re doing, no matter how much I just want to be with you, something always comes up. And you’re left waiting. Alone.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes dark with conflict. “You deserve someone who can always be there for you. Someone who doesn’t have to run off in the middle of dinner or disappear for hours without being able to tell you why.”

Your chest ached at his words, at the weight of the guilt he carried. You swallowed hard, trying to push down the flood of emotions rising in your chest. Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you shuffled closer to him.

"Clark..." You whispered, your voice shaky but soft. Reaching for his hand, you pulled it gently into yours, your fingers lacing through his. His hand was warm - always warm - and you ran your thumb over the back of it in slow, soothing strokes. "Clark, honey, I don’t want anyone else," You murmured, your words tender yet firm.

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His eyes dropped onto the floor, avoiding yours.

You lifted your other hand, brushing your fingertips along his jaw before gently tilting his chin up, coaxing his gaze back to yours. "After you told me that you were Superman, I understood what I was getting into. I understood the weight of your responsibilities, the risks that came with the job. I knew you’d have to leave sometimes. I knew things wouldn’t always be easy." Your voice remained steady, but you felt the rawness of your own emotions pressing against your ribcage.

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before they dropped again, but you didn’t let him retreat into himself. Instead, you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing along his skin in soft, reassuring strokes.

"I understand what you have to do," You told him, unwavering. "I understood from day one, and I’ll understand years from now."

Clark exhaled shakily, his eyes searching yours as he slowly raised his hand, cupping yours where it rested against his cheek. His fingers curled around your hand, holding it in place as he turned his head just enough to press his lips against it. His eyes fluttered shut, and in the quietest murmur, he whispered, “I don’t deserve you.”

Your chest tightened at the raw vulnerability in his voice. Shaking your head, you slipped impossibly closer, closing the remaining space between you.

"You deserve everything, Clark," You whispered, your voice steady, certain.

His lips lingered against your palm for a moment before he pulled away, but you didn’t let go. Your fingers curled around his, grounding him, holding him there with you.

"I know you have to go sometimes," You continued softly, your thumb brushing against the back of his hand. "But at the end of the day, you're always here for me. Even when you're not physically next to me, I still feel you - with me, loving me. And that’s more than enough, Clark. Just having you… That’s enough.”

Clark exhaled softly, his gaze searching yours before he leaned in, his warm palm cupping your cheek. Then, his lips met yours, soft, lingering, full of everything he couldn’t put into words. He pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, “I love you.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with the words as you whispered it right back, your lips finding his in a soft, tender kiss. But just as the kiss deepened, Clark suddenly knocked you back onto the couch, your back hitting the cushions with a soft thud. A muffled, surprised giggle escaped you, a breathless laugh bubbling from your chest.

He pulled back just enough to give you a playful grin, pressing one more lingering kiss to your lips before he moved to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. He settled himself on top of you, his curls tickling your skin.

You sighed, a soft contentment filling you as one hand rested on his back, the other slipping into his hair. “I’m not going anywhere,” You muttered, the words slipping from your lips with a slow, playful smile. You continued, teasing, “Even if my boyfriend likes to go off gallivanting in tights.

Clark huffed out a soft laugh against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Galavanting?” He murmured, his voice laced with amusement as he shifted slightly, his arms wrapping around you more securely. “That’s what we’re calling saving the world now?”

You grinned, fingers threading through his curls as you gently scratched at his scalp. “Mhm,” You teased, your voice light. “My very heroic, very dashing boyfriend gallivanting across the city in his bright red cape and blue tights.”

Clark let out a dramatic sigh, nuzzling closer. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope. Besides, I think you look amazing in that super suit.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pressed a lazy kiss to your collarbone, his body completely relaxed against yours. “Good,” He murmured. “Because I don’t want you to go anywhere either.”

~~~

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Her Knight In Shining Armor - Logan Howlett X Female Reader

Series Title: Her Knight In Shining Armor

Chapter 3: Teach Me

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James 'Logan' Howlett (Knight) X Female (Princess) Reader

Additional Characters: Your Father; the King, advisors (Mentioned), and Reader's mother (Mentioned)

WC: 1,523

Warnings: Royal AU, sunshine x grumpy, knight x princess, slow burn, assassins/attempted murder mentioned, longing, banter, teasing, tension, slight angst, and fluff

You stood in the grand hall, the large, wooden double doors shut firmly before you. Behind them, your father and his advisors spoke in hushed tones, their voices occasionally rising as they debated the kingdom’s safety. Pressing your back to the cool stone wall, you strained to listen, catching snippets of their conversation about looming threats and preparations for a possible conflict with the neighboring kingdom.

Beside you, James stood silently. He didn’t comment on your eavesdropping, though you caught the occasional shift of his gaze as if he was telling you to ignore them. But you couldn’t.

Your father’s voice carried through the thick doors. "The knights and guards will undergo additional training, and we’ll bolster the defenses. It’s imperative to ensure the safety of our people."

After what happened on your afternoon ride, you had been forced to stay behind the castle walls. It was upsetting, and your father’s words only made you feel worse. You felt like a bird trapped in a golden cage. 

You huffed softly, pushing off the wall abruptly as you reached out and grabbed James’ hand without a second thought. "Come on," You said, tugging him along. 

But James stopped in his tracks, and you found yourself unable to continue forward. He looked at you, his brow furrowing slightly. "Where do ya think you are goin’?"

You glanced back at him, meeting his gaze. "I need to get some fresh air," You said simply, hoping he’d understand.

He paused for a moment, the usual guarded look in his eyes, before he let you pull him along. He followed, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced down at your hand holding his. When the two of you stepped into the gardens, you released his hand, and crossed your arms.

You began pacing, the hem of your gown brushing the grass with every determined step. James stood still, his arms folded as his watchful eyes followed your every move. Finally, you stopped, turning to face him with a determined expression. "Teach me how to fight."

His brow lifted, and for a moment, he simply stared at you, the faintest flicker of surprise breaking through his otherwise stoic features.

"Princess-" He began, but you cut him off.

"I’m serious. I can’t stand the thought of being helpless while everyone else prepares to protect the kingdom. I want to learn how to defend myself... And the people I care about. And after that afternoon…" James turned his head, his gaze settling on the sprawling oak tree nearby, as though ignoring your plea would make it disappear. His silence only fueled your frustration. You huffed, stepping closer to him, your determination unwavering. "You’re the Captain," You said, your voice firm. "If anyone is qualified to teach me, it’s you. Who else could I possibly trust with something this important?" He didn’t reply immediately, his eyes fixed on the bark of the tree, his jaw tightening as he mulled over your words. The breeze stirred his dark hair, "I’m not asking for much," You continued, trying to temper the fire in your tone, though your persistence shone through. "Just teach me the basics - enough to hold my own."

Finally, his hazel gaze shifted, locking onto yours. "And what makes ya think I’d agree to this, Princess?" His voice was low and gruff, carrying the weight of genuine concern. "I highly doubt the King would find that favorable." You met his gaze without flinching, a couple of moments of silence passing between you both. His eyes searched yours, weighing the seriousness in your expression. With a reluctant sigh, he finally spoke, his voice laced with resignation. "Fine," He grumbled, the word heavy with reluctance. "I’ll teach ya. But on one condition."

Excitement surged in your chest, but you masked it with a firm, determined expression. "Name it."

He took a step closer, his presence even more imposing now, towering over you as he leveled you with an unwavering, almost intimidating look. "Ya listen to everythin’ I say. No arguin’, no sneakin’ off to ‘practice’ on your own, and no takin’ risks I don’t approve of. If we’re doin’ this, we’re doin’ it my way. Understood?" His tone left no room for negotiation.

Your excitement didn’t waver, though, as you nodded firmly. "Understood."

The very next morning, you stood in your riding gear - comfortable, flexible pants and a simple top - far more practical than the dresses you typically wore. It was a welcome change, though the sight of James’s eyes lingering on you as you adjusted the strap of your quiver wasn’t lost on you. He said nothing, his gaze flicking between your movements and the bow in your hands. You were a good distance from the target, as you raised the bow, your arrow aimed at the target, trying to fix your stance.

With a steady breath, you let go. The arrow flew, but instead of hitting the target, it landed with a soft thud, two feet in front of you.

You stared at it, wide-eyed, shocked at how far off you were. James, already sighing deeply, pushed off from the tree he'd been leaning against. He walked over, out of his usual armour, replaced with what you believed was his training uniform, his frustration was evident.

"Your stance is all wrong," He said, not looking at you but focusing on the arrow instead. "You're not alignin’ your shoulders properly."

Your frown deepened as you muttered, "I’m doing the best I can." The words came out sharper than you intended, a reflection of your mounting frustration.

James said nothing, stepping closer until his broad chest was nearly pressed to your back. His proximity sent a jolt of awareness through you, and you stiffened instinctively, your grip tightening on the bow. "Relax your grip," He instructed softly, his voice lower now, coaxing. His hands came up, fingers brushing lightly against yours as he adjusted the bow in your hands. The contact sent a warm shiver racing up your arm and down your spine, tingling your toes. You could feel the heat of him - solid and steady - radiating against your back.

You swallowed hard, your heart thudding in your chest as you tried to focus on the bow instead of the sensation of his touch.

"Like this?" You asked, your voice faltering, you cursed to yourself mentally.

James didn’t respond immediately. His gaze was focused on your hands, his brow furrowed in concentration. His fingers brushed against your wrist, their touch gentle as he tilted your arm slightly. "Not bad.”

His breath, warm and soft, fanned against the side of your neck as he leaned down just slightly to align your arms. It sent a shiver through you, your pulse quickening, and your mind fixated on the smallest details; the rough texture of his calloused fingers - he wasn’t wearing his usual gloves - the scent of leather, pine, and musk that clung to him, and the way his voice rumbled so close to your ear.

"You’re too stiff," He added, his hands lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, adjusting your elbow with a touch so light it left a trail of warmth in its wake; you no doubt had goosebumps. "Breathe.” You exhaled deeply, not even realizing that you were holding your breath. You drew the string back, feeling his hands leave your hand on the bow, and your elbow, though his presence still loomed large behind you. "Now, release.” You let go, the arrow sailing forward and hitting the target - not quite where you’d intended, but closer than before. "Better," He muttered, and for the first time, there was a faint note of approval in his voice.

Turning to look at him, you quickly realized just how close he still was. Your gaze lifted, his face was just inches away, close enough that you could feel his hot breath against your warm cheeks. Your own breath hitched as your tongue darted out to wet your lips, your eyes tracing the sharp lines of his jaw and the subtle curve of his lips.

"Thank you," You managed to whisper, your voice soft, your heart pounding in your chest as you snapped your eyes to his, realizing that you may have been staring at his lips for a tad too long.

Something flickered in his eyes, an emotion you couldn’t quite name, before he stepped back abruptly, retreating to his spot under the tree. The warmth that had surrounded you seemed to dissipate with him, leaving you almost unsteady.

"Continue trainin’," He said, his tone once again commanding and stoic.

You turned back to the target, your fingers tightening around the bow as you tried to shake off the lingering effects of his closeness. But no matter how much you tried to focus completely on the target, you could still feel his touch; a ghost’s caress along your skin. You missed his touch…

Were you the only one who had felt it? That warmth, that tingling that made your spine shiver and your heart race?

“Not proper.” Your mother’s voice rang through your ears and you scoffed to yourself, raising the bow, and trying again.

~~~

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~~~

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[justsomerandomfanfic]

At Sunset - Joel Miller X Female Reader

Title: At Sunset

Joel Miller X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Sarah (Mentioned), Sarah's mother (Mentioned), Tommy (Mentioned), and Ellie

WC: 2,789

Warnings: Pre-walkers beginning, canon events mentioned, banter, flirting?, teasing, hint at grieving, mentions of abandonment, confessions, cursing, italics, friends to lovers, oblivious lovers, mentions of death, slight angst, and fluff

The sky outside was painted in soft pastel shades of pink and orange, the last remnants of daylight stretching lazily across the horizon. Golden light poured through the half-opened sheer purple curtains, casting warm stripes across the semi-messy room. Clothes - some clean, some not - were scattered across the floor, the result of some half-done spring cleaning shenanigans. The faded scent of your perfume lingered in the air, along with sunscreen from hours before. A half-drunk iced tea sat on your desk, condensation pooling around the glass and dampening the coaster it was placed upon. 

You were on your bed on your stomach, legs kicking softly in the air, a book propped open with one hand while you lazily reached for the small candy bag filled with Kisses beside you. The rustling of the bag filled the quiet room, mixing with the distant hum of crickets outside your window. Your fingers fumbled with the wrapper, too distracted by the sudden plot twist unfolding before you as you popped the chocolate into your mouth, savoring the sweet taste as it lingered on your tongue.

A soft tap against your window barely registered in your mind, dismissed as a stray branch or bug. But when it happened again, you finally glanced up, brows furrowing. Pushing yourself up, you pushed the tip of your thumb into your mouth to lick off the remnants of chocolate before you slipped off the bed. Walking to your window, you pushed the sheer curtains to the side, and pushed open your window. 

Joel stood below, hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jeans, rocking slightly on his heels. The second your eyes met, Joel’s face broke into a slow smile. “‘Bout time,” He drawled, “Was startin’ to think you were ignorin’ me on purpose.”

You shook your head, a small laugh escaping, “Couldn’t ignore you if I tried.”

Joel’s smile grew, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, “Couldn't ignore me if you tried, huh?” He repeated your words, shaking his own head, “You busy?”

You hummed thoughtfully, glancing at the book still laying open on your bed. “Just readin’,” You admitted, running your fingers along the windowsill. “What are you up to?”

Joel shrugged, “Thought we could go for a drive. Maybe catch the sunset somewhere nice.”

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, a small flutter stirring in your chest at the thought - at the fact that he’d thought of you to join him. “That does sound nice,” You murmured, glancing at the sky, where soft pastel hues. Stepping back from the window, you shot Joel a playful look. “Stay put. I’ll grab my jacket.”

With one last glance, you shut the window and rushed over to your desk, snatching your sandy-colored cable knit sweater from the back of your chair and slipping it on. You grabbed your keys next, stuffing them into your pocket before darting out of your room. Taking the stairs two at a time, you nearly skidded to a stop at the door, hastily slipping on your Converse - without bothering to tie them, as usual - before stepping outside.

Joel was already waiting by his truck when you approached, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. The second he saw you, his expression softened, and your smile brightened in response, right before you stumbled forward, your untied laces catching under your foot.

Joel moved quickly, one hand catching your arm while the other pressed against your waist to steady you. A quiet huff left him, part exasperated, part amused. “You gotta start tyin’ your damn shoes,” He said, shaking his head. “One of these days, you’re gonna smack your face into the ground.”

Still holding onto him, you tilted your head up with a sheepish smile. “Joel,” You said, voice soft with your own amusement, “I already did that in high school. You should remember, you were there.”

His brows lifted slightly before he scoffed, lips twitching. “Yeah, and you still ain’t learned a thing.”

Reluctantly, Joel let go of you, his hand brushing briefly against yours as he stepped back and opened the passenger door for you. You smiled, looking up at him, “Thanks,” You said, climbing in but he silently stopped you before you slid in all the way, feet dangling out the truck as you sat.

Joel crouched down in front of you, hands working to tie your shoes. You couldn’t help but watch, your gaze tracing the curve of his broad shoulders and the way the fading sunlight caught the dusting of stubble along his jaw. His hands were rough, yet gentle, as he worked the laces with practiced ease. It shouldn’t have affected you as it did, he had tied your shoes for you before, but still. Your heart swelled a little in your chest as you admired him. The way his flannel shirt fit him, how he ruffled the sleeves up above his forearms, his muscles working as he tied the little bunny-eared bows. There was just something about him, something that made you both feel grounded and oddly weightless all at once.

But then, as if sensing your gaze burning holes into him, Joel looked up at you, his dark eyes locking with yours, and his lips quirked into a small smile. “They too tight?”

You blinked, suddenly snapping out of the soft haze of purples and pinks you’ve been in. “N-No,” You stammered, shaking your head quickly, “They’re perfect.”

Joel’s smile deepened for a split second before he straightened up, brushing his hands off on his worn out jeans and stepping aside to let you fully sit in the truck. As Joel walked around the truck to slide into the driver’s seat, you couldn’t help but exhale deeply, pressing a hand to your warm cheek. It was only then that you realized how flushed your face had become, and you quickly cleared your throat, looking down at the compartment in front of you.

The engine roared to life, and Joel’s hands settled easily on the steering wheel.You leaned back in your seat, rolling the window down. The wind rushed in, tangling your hair and whipping against your outstretched hand. You held it out the window, letting the cold breeze flow over your skin, while your other hands absentmindedly fiddled with the locket around your neck.Your feet rested on the dashboard, the familiar, comfortable motion of driving mixing with the song that came on the radio. ‘With Or Without You’ by U2 played through the speakers, and you found yourself humming along, lips mouthing the words in a quiet, half-hearted sing-song.

Joel glanced over at you, a small smile tugging on his lips as he took in the sight of you, lost in the moment. His eyes flickered back to the road, but the smile never left his face. There was something so peaceful, so right about it - just the two of you, driving in the fading light of the day, the world passing by without a care.

It was hard to believe how long you’d known Joel - how much had changed and yet, somehow, how much had stayed the same. You had met him back in high school, both of you just a couple of small town kids trying to figure out what you were meant to do in the world. It started with a shared class, where you were both paired up for a project, which then led to study sessions together, which then led to late-night phone calls where you talked about everything and nothing. Before you knew it, he had become your best friend, the one person you could count on no matter what.

Somewhere along the way, you realized you cared for him way more than a best friend should. It hit you like a freight train - slow at first, creeping in through the cracks of friendship, until one day it just hit you. But you had to push those feelings back when Joel started seeing Sarah’s mother. It wasn’t easy, watching him fall for someone else, but what could you do? You swallowed your feelings, and shoved them deep down. Overall, if he was happy, then that was more than enough for you. 

But then she got up and left. She left two years after Sarah was born. She walked out leaving Joel to live as a single young teenage father with a two year old to raise her all by himself. When Joel called you that night she left, you were furious. How dare she? How could she do that to Joel and Sarah? You went over to his place that night after the call. And, for the next seven years you had been there for them. You were there for them in every way - and in any way - you could be.

You showed up at his house with takeout when he was too tired to cook. Showed him easy-to-make recipes on the nights when he could. You were there for all the toddler tantrums, late nights trying to get Sarah to bed, birthdays, and even preparing for the first day of school. And babysitting? You loved it. Babysitting for you was never a chore; it was an honor. You adored Sarah. You loved all the princess tea parties, little shops at the mall, trips to the local Dairy Queen, watching Disney movies, baking cookies - everything. You adored that little girl with your whole heart.

At first, Joel felt guilty. He thought he was taking up too much of your life. You should have been going out, living like any other twenty-something, chasing dreams, making somewhat reckless decisions, staying out too late. But instead, you were there - pacing the room, hair a mess, dark circles under your eyes, bouncing a screaming toddler in your arms while he was sitting on the couch with his hands in his hair in frustration. 

“You don’t have to do this,” He had muttered more than once, running a tired hand down his face, guilt gnawing at him. “You should be out with your friends. I can’t believe you canceled to be stuck here listenin’ to a baby wailin’ her lungs out.”

But you had just given him that look of yours - the one that shut him up real quick, the one that told him that you weren’t going anywhere. “Joel.” You had sighed, adjusting Sarah in your arms as she finally began to quiet, little hiccups breaking up her cries. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

And you meant it. Of course, you did.

That was the thing - he hadn’t asked you to stay. He never once expected you to step up in the way that you did. But you did anyway. Without complaint, without hesitation. Every late night, every meltdown, every sick day - you were there. And, eventually, Joel stopped fighting the guilt. Because if there was one thing more powerful than the guilt, it was the quiet, aching truth he tried to ignore. 

He needed you. 

And Sarah? Well, she loved you.

Sarah adored you in the way only a child could - completely and without hesitation. She always wanted to be with you, reaching for you with tiny hands, giggling whenever you pulled her into your arms. She'd babble your name excitedly whenever she saw you, her face lighting up as if you were the best part of her day. And that continued to this day.

Speaking of Sarah…

“So…” You trailed off, grabbing one end of the worn blanket as Joel took the other, the two of you shaking it out before laying it down across the truck bed. As you smoothed out the edges, you glanced over at him. “Who’s watching Sarah?”

“Tommy,” Joel said with a huff, shaking his head. “Figured he owes me.”

You smirked, pushing yourself up onto the truck bed and settling in. “Hope you’re ready to come home and find out he let her drink soda and stay up past her bedtime.”

Joel exhaled through his nose before climbing up beside you. The night air carried a crispness that hinted at the cooler hours ahead, and without much of a thought, Joel draped an arm around you, pulling you into his side. His warmth seeped into you instantly. The sky, a mix of purple and orange, slowly gave way to the soft, golden remnants of the sunset, and the two of you sat there in comfortable silence, watching it fade. Rather romantic for just two friends, right? 

“I’m well prepared,” Joel muttered, a small smirk tugging at his lips, as if trying to brush off the idea of Tommy’s potential chaos with Sarah. “Not my first rodeo.”

“You know,” You started, “If you wanted to hang out, I am more than willing to come over. You didn’t need Tommy to babysit. I love spending time with both you and Sarah.”

Joel shifted beside you, his legs crossing at the ankles as he stared ahead, his gaze following the horizon as the sky turned dark blue. He shifted awkwardly, “I- uh,” He looked at the sparkling stars. “I wanted some… Time with just you, I guess. Alone.” His voice was quieter than usual, a subtle shift in his tone.

You blinked, “Oh?” You said softly. You turned your gaze to him, watching how he avoided looking at you, instead focusing on the worn fabric of his jeans. He picked at the jeans with his index finger and thumb, a little nervous habit of his that he picked up back in high school, something you learned he only did when he was uneasy or uncertain. “Do you… You know that you can tell me anything, right?” You spoke, looking up at him. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Joel murmured, shaking his head, finally meeting your concerned gaze, “Ain’t nothing wrong, sweetheart. I just- I’m in love with you.” He wasn’t expecting those last few words to just fly out of his mouth, but they did.

“Oh,” Was all you managed to say, the word escaping you in a soft breath. You felt your face flush, your chest tightening with the overwhelming rush of emotions that flooded in. It was the kind of feeling you only read about in books.

Joel’s gaze widened in panic, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, sweetheart,” He said quickly, “I didn’t mean to- I just thought… I’d hate it if I ruined our friendship.”

You reached out, taking his fidgety hand in yours, the warmth of his skin grounding you as you squeezed it gently. “No,” You whispered softly, cutting him off. “You didn’t. I-” You paused, trying to collect your thoughts, feeling the weight of everything you had kept bottled up for so long. “I was just… Surprised. I never thought-” You shook your head, letting out a shaky breath before looking him in the eye. “I’ve been in love with you, Joel. Ever since high school.”

Joel’s eyes widened slightly, and he leaned in closer, his expression softening, a look of relief and wonder crossing his face. “Really?” He asked, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the rush of emotions. “Yeah, really.”

Joel let out a soft, relieved huff, and for a moment, his hand lingered in yours before he slowly pulled it away. Without missing a beat, he reached up, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek, his touch tender and warm. A teasing glint flickered in his eyes as he smirked. “Guess we’ve got a lot of time to make up for, huh?”

A small, breathy giggle escaped your lips, “Guess so.”

The distance between you seemed to shrink in an instant, and before you knew it, both of you were leaning in. 

“Joel…”

He heard a voice speak, he shut his eyes, trying to drown it out, but it persisted.

“Joel!”

His eyes snapped open in an instant, sitting up in his sleeping bag. His breathing was ragged, his hand coming up to press against his chest, his heart was racing underneath his skin. Ellie sat beside him, on her own sleeping bag, a concerned look on her face. 

“Are you alright? You were tossing a lot.” She asked, and Joel said nothing, pursing his lips, as he tried to calm down, but that dream - that memory - still haunted him. He looked around, remembering that he and Ellie were able to find a safe place to stay for the night before they continued on their way to Utah. “Was it her again?” 

Joel felt the chain of the locket as he rubbed the back of his neck, the only piece he had left of you. “Yeah…” He muttered lowly, “I’m fine.”

He wasn’t. He didn’t think he’d ever be.

~~~

Main Masterlist | The Last Of Us Masterlist

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hi there! I would love to request a matchup :) Preferably for the fandoms Marvel, X-Men & The Witcher pretty please. I am heterosexual, 21 years old and use she/her; so I would like to be matched with males. As for looks: I am 5ft tall, got olive tanned skin, dark brown eyes and matching long wavy hair and I'm athletically yet small built. I would say that a feature of mine that distinguishes me are my freckles that only go over my nose and cheeks and for some reason are more dominant on one side lmaoooo. other than that i have a few tiny beauty marks all over my body; but no other freckles. I'm definitely a more outgoing person and I love speaking what's on my mind. but even then I know when to shut up when the situation calls for it. I believe that I give off a warm and welcoming energy but I do not open up too easily and give off "good listener and advice giver" vibes. I am extremely cuddly and affectionate in private; but I do not show that to the outside world. I grew up being a romantic cause no one would have a crush on me hehe Hobbies of mine include fitness, pilates, pro-wrestling, reading, cooking and playing with my dog (if one can count that as a hobby haha). My music taste varies all over the place; depending on my mood I can listen to Country, Hip-Hop, Classic Rock, Jazz or whatever... Thank You so much in advance!! <33

Hello!

I would love to write you a matchup for your chosen three fandoms!

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I had a lot of fun with this, I believe this is my first Witcher one!

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I hope you like it!

Enjoy!

(I am sorry if I rambled!)

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Romantic Matchups; Marvel, X-Men, and The Witcher

~~~

Romantic;

~~~

Marvel;

Thor Odinson -

When Tony Stark decided he wanted to get into pilates, he didn't want to do it alone - so naturally, he hired you as the Avengers' official pilates instructor.

You were expecting to work with only maybe a few others, but you weren't prepared for a literal god to walk into your class.

The moment Thor saw you, he was intrigued.

So small, yet so strong?

I am imagining this is during 'the first Thor movie Thor,' when he was very confused/curious about Midgard and acted mostly like a Golden Retriever.

Anyway!

His curiosity was piqued immediately.

He towered over you, looking both amused and fascinated, asking, "Are you certain you can handle training a god?" with that playful grin of his.

You were intimidated, "I should be asking if you can handle training with me."

That was it - Thor liked you instantly.

Your confidence?

Incredible.

Your strength?

Admirable.

And your warm, inviting energy?

Utterly captivating.

Thor was the worst pilates student at first.

He'd fall out of poses, grumble about 'this Midgardian torture,' and once even broke a mat in half just by sitting on it weird.

You lightly laughed at his antics instead of coddling him, which he loved.

Most people either feared or worshiped him, but you?

You treated him like any other student.

"You're a god and yet you can't even touch your toes? Tragic."

He developed an immense respect for you - not just because of your strength and skill, but because you had a fire in you.

He admired how you spoke your mind, yet knew how to listen.

Outside of training, he'd follow you around like a Golden Retriever.

He'd sit next to you while you played with you dog, asking endless questions about Midgardian animals, food, and why exactly you enjoyed pilates so much.

You cooked together often.

Thor was fascinated by your skills in the kitchen and insisted on learning more from you.

You taught him the art of seasoning because, "By Odin's beard, why does Midgardian food have such delightful flavors!?"

Thor was obsessed with your pro wrestling the moment you introduced him to it.

He'd dramatically commentate, challenge other Avengers to "duels", and even try wrestling you once - only to be shocked when you actually put up a very good fight.

Thor adored your dog.

He'd carry them in his arms.

He loved listening to you talk about books - even if they weren't about battles or legends.

You once read to him as he lay his head on your lap, and he swore your voice was more soothing than the songs of Asgardian bards.

You introduced him to your varying music tastes, and he loved jazz and classic rock the most.

Sometimes, he'd just sit with you, listening in silence - which was rare for him.

This boi loves to talk.

Thor didn’t realize he was in love with you at first.

He just knew that whenever you were near, he felt lighter.

Happier.

Warmer.

He loved how affectionate you were in private.

The way you'd casually rest your head on his shoulder?

The way you'd snuggle into his side during a late-night movie?

It drove him crazy.

But he didn’t push for more - he just enjoyed basking in your touch.

Then one day, he saw you laughing with Steve, and something inside him snapped.

He didn’t want you to look at anyone else like that.

That was the jealousy talking...

He started hovering more.

(You noticed, you thought it was adorable.)

It happened after a particularly intense pilates session.

You were both lying on the floor, exhausted, when Thor suddenly blurted, “I think I love you.”

You froze.

Then, with a teasing smirk, you said, “Think?”

That made him chuckle.

“No. I know. I love you, little one.”

You weren’t one to swoon easily, but he said it so sincerely - so full of pure adoration - that you melted.

You leaned in, brushing your fingers against his cheek, and whispered, “Good. Because I love you too.”

He pulled you into his arms, kissing you so deeply, so thoroughly, that you swore you felt thunder rumble in his chest.

Pet names?

Oh, he has so many for you.

Little One. My Star. My Love. My Queen.

He constantly picks you up - whether it's spinning you around in joy, carrying you bridal-style just because, or tossing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing.

Thor adores kissing your forehead - it’s his way of grounding himself, of reminding you how precious you are to him.

He still insists on helping you in the kitchen, though he mostly just stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you work.

Thor is an infuriating blanket thief.

But waking up wrapped in his arms, his lips against your temple, makes it worth it.

Dancing in the Kitchen.

He'll randomly pull you into his arms, swaying to whatever music is playing - whether it's jazz, classic rock, or even silence.

If you fall asleep on the couch, he won’t wake you up.

He’ll just scoop you up effortlessly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he carries you to bed.

No matter how much you talk, he listens intently.

He loves the fire in your eyes when you’re passionate about something.

You once showed him how to use an air fryer.

No one dares mess with you when Thor Odinson is at your side.

He worships you - your strength, your fire, your heart.

He’ll trace your freckles and kiss each one, telling you how breathtaking you are.

If you're upset, he doesn't push you to talk - he just pulls you into his chest, wrapping you in the safety of his arms.

You remind him that he’s more than a warrior.

That he deserves love, warmth, and a life beyond battle.

You introduce him to new foods, music, and experiences, always keeping things exciting.

Remind him that he is loved.

Because sometimes, even gods need reassurance.

Thor Odinson adores you.

To him, you are his home, his storm, his star.

~~~

X-Men;

Scott Summers -

You first met Scott Summers in the mansion gym, where you’d just started working as a yoga and pilates instructor.

It wasn’t hard for Scott to notice you – the woman with the infectious energy who somehow made working out feel like fun.

He wasn’t much for the gym or yoga, but he respected your passion for it and had heard great things about your classes.

One day, while you were giving a private pilates lesson, Scott wandered in, deciding he’d try something different.

At first, Scott was a bit reserved.

He didn’t really know how to let loose or have fun, especially around people he didn’t know very well.

But there was something about you, your warm, welcoming energy that made him open up bit by bit.

As your lessons became a regular part of his routine, the two of you started to share more laughs.

You were the only person who didn’t treat him like a leader of the X-Men, but instead as just a guy trying to find balance in his life.

You spent a lot of time talking after classes.

He’d always linger a bit longer, asking about your hobbies, or discussing things like his favorite bands or how things were at the mansion.

You noticed that he was a lot more fun than his serious demeanor suggested.

He’d tease you sometimes, always being careful not to cross boundaries, but it made your heart flutter every time he cracked a joke.

It felt easy with him.

It wasn’t long before you both realized that what you were building was something more than just a friendship.

Scott found himself thinking about you more often than he ever expected to.

He admired your confidence, the way you were unapologetically yourself, how you had this effortless beauty about you, and the way you cared for others so deeply.

But there was more to you that he admired - the fact that you were someone who wasn’t afraid to be real.

You didn’t fawn over him like many others at the mansion, but you didn’t shy away either.

You saw him as Scott, not Cyclops, and that meant the world to him.

For you, the shift was slow, but undeniable.

Your heart skipped when he smiled at you, or when he asked you to sit with him for a quiet lunch.

The way he’d casually place his hand on your back as he passed by or how he would linger during your classes just to spend a little extra time with you made your stomach do flips.

You saw how protective he could be, especially with the other X-Men, but he was equally kind-hearted and patient with you.

The confession came during a particularly quiet evening at the mansion.

After a long day of training and missions, you were both in the gym.

You’d been chatting about your plans for the weekend, laughing about some old movie you had seen, when the conversation turned into something more meaningful.

Scott paused for a moment, his red visor gaze locking onto you.

"I’ve been thinking… And I feel like I need to say something." He looked nervous, as though words weren’t coming easily for him.

You raised an eyebrow, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"You know you can always tell me anything, right?"

"I-" He hesitated, his jaw tightening for a second, and then he took a deep breath. "I think I’m starting to fall for you."

His voice was steady, but there was vulnerability beneath it that made your heart race.

A mix of surprise and warmth flooded you.

You stepped closer to him, your smile widening.

"You’re not the only one, Scott," You whispered, before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, feeling the faint pulse of his heartbeat.

Once the feelings were out in the open, everything changed.

He wasn’t one for grand gestures, but the little things he did spoke volumes.

Whether it was a soft kiss on your forehead after a long day or him quietly waiting for you after your yoga class, he showed his love in ways that were personal and meaningful.

You’d find yourself sharing quiet moments together, perhaps over a cup of coffee in the mansion’s kitchen, or simply lying together, letting your fingers intertwine.

He loved listening to you talk about your hobbies and passions, and he’d always ask thoughtful questions to learn more.

You also found that you enjoyed supporting his work, whether it was helping him decompress after a difficult mission or being there when he needed someone to talk to.

You would both take time to unwind together, either with music playing softly in the background or just the two of you talking about your day.

You’d bond over different songs you both enjoy.

Sometimes you’d even dance in the living room, laughing and holding each other close.

He’s not the first one to initiate cuddles, but once you start, he’s the warmest and most affectionate person in the world.

You’ll wake up early, curl up together, and enjoy the comfort of each other’s company before starting the day.

Sometimes he’s a little stiff, but you always know how to make him laugh with a playful nudge, easing him into relaxation.

Simple, thoughtful gifts.

Scott is the type to remember the little things, like your favorite drink or the way you prefer your coffee in the morning.

He’ll pick up small but meaningful gifts, like a fresh batch of your favorite tea, or a new book that he thought you’d love.

It’s his way of saying, "I’m thinking of you."

You love cooking, and Scott loves watching you in your element.

Sometimes you’ll make dinner together, with Scott taking the easy tasks like chopping veggies or stirring while you handle the more complicated steps.

You’ll end up laughing as you get flour everywhere or try to perfect the perfect meal.

You would take care of him when he needs it, always being his safe place.

If he ever gets too caught up in his responsibilities, you’d remind him to take a break.

You’d give him the quiet space he needs to recharge after long days of missions, and you’d always be there to listen to his concerns, providing him with the emotional support he needs to feel grounded.

You’d also be the one to help him lighten up - helping him see that it’s okay to relax and let go once in a while, and that not everything needs to be so serious.

Scott would do anything to protect you.

When you need space, he’ll respect it, but when you need him, he’ll always be there.

He’ll make sure to put your happiness first, even if it means adjusting his usual way of doing things.

He’d go out of his way to make sure you feel appreciated, whether it’s bringing you your favorite snack after a long day or planning a quiet night in just to let you relax.

He would also be your rock during tough times.

If you’re ever feeling down or stressed, Scott will be the one to pull you into his arms, offering you quiet comfort and reassurance.

Together, you and Scott would form a strong, loving partnership - one built on trust, understanding, and the occasional stolen kiss.

~~~

The Witcher;

Geralt -

It was an ordinary, quiet afternoon at your bookstore, surrounded by the scent of old leather-bound books and the soft shuffle of pages turning.

You were shelving a few new arrivals when the bell above the door jingled.

Looking up, you saw two figures step into the warm light of the store: a tall, grizzled man with striking white hair and piercing amber eyes, accompanied by a lively, much more colorful companion who seemed to carry an air of excitement wherever he went.

It was Jaskier who spoke first, with a grin that could charm the birds from the trees.

"You wouldn't believe it, my dear! Geralt here needs a place to rest his tired bones."

You gave them both a smile, offering a seat, and the rest was history.

Geralt, ever the stoic figure, settled into an armchair, his eyes scanning the shelves.

The familiarity of a quiet space seemed to soothe him, though his usual guarded demeanor remained.

Jaskier, on the other hand, engaged in a full-on conversation about the finest wines and the tragic beauty of romance.

You were immediately drawn to Geralt’s quiet presence, intrigued by the mystery surrounding him, while Jaskier's infectious energy made you feel comfortable enough to engage.

Your shared love for stories, in particular, began to form the foundation of your friendship with Geralt.

Even if he didn’t speak much, you could tell he appreciated the world of books as much as you did.

Geralt's visits to the bookstore became more frequent as time went on.

He wasn’t much for words, but the way he would linger over the shelves, running his fingers over the spines of books, showed a softer side to the Witcher that not many got to see.

You’d catch him occasionally reading while waiting for Jaskier to finish writing a song or recovering from whatever dangerous creature they'd faced on their travels.

You began to bond over more than just books.

Geralt would listen patiently as you shared details of your life, your hobbies, and your personal dreams.

He’d raise an eyebrow when you told him about your love for pro-wrestling, but then he’d smirk and say something about how he could probably win a match if given the chance.

You’d tease him back, imagining him in the ring with someone as loud and theatrical as Jaskier.

Over time, the quiet moments of reading together turned into long conversations, with Geralt offering the rarest of smiles when you shared a joke.

You’d often bring your dog to the bookstore, and Geralt’s presence would change, becoming less tense as the dog nuzzled his leg, a silent understanding between the two of them.

There were little things - like the way he would offer you a ride on Roach when you were walking home late at night.

For all his gruffness, Geralt was kind in ways that didn’t need words.

The transition from friends to something more was gradual.

At first, it was a subtle shift.

You noticed the way Geralt’s hand would hover near yours when you were walking through the woods or how his eyes softened when he looked at you during the quiet moments.

Sometimes, when Jaskier would pull out his lute to play, Geralt would catch your eye, and for a brief moment, the two of you would share a silent connection, your feelings for each other almost palpable.

Geralt would never say anything directly, and you, too, hesitated, unsure of how to approach the growing affection that bubbled up between you.

The quiet moments in the bookstore, with only the sound of pages turning, became filled with a subtle but undeniable tension.

One evening, as you shared a drink after a particularly long day, Geralt leaned back in his chair and looked at you with an intensity that made your heart flutter.

“You’re different,” He said, his voice low and steady. “The others... They don’t understand me like you do.”

You didn’t know how to respond at first, your heart racing as you realized that maybe - just maybe - he felt the same way you did.

But, true to form, Geralt didn’t press for answers.

Instead, he simply gave you a small, tender smile and let the silence linger.

The moment came one evening as you sat together in the small cozy corner of the bookstore, your dog curled up at your feet.

The air was thick with unsaid words, and you felt as though you might burst if you didn’t speak.

“Geralt,” You said softly, your voice shaking slightly. “I don’t want to just be the person who’s here when you need a rest or a book to read.”

Geralt looked up from his hands, his amber eyes meeting yours with a surprising intensity. “What do you want, then?”

Your heart pounded as you crossed the small distance between you, sitting next to him on the floor. “I want to be more,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to be the one who stays, the one you trust, the one who-”

Before you could finish, Geralt cupped your face in his calloused hands, his touch tender yet sure. “I know,” He said simply, before leaning in and kissing you softly.

In that kiss, everything clicked into place.

It wasn’t about words; it was about the bond you’d built, the quiet understanding you’d shared, the moments that spoke louder than anything either of you could say.

From that moment on, your relationship with Geralt blossomed in the quiet, unassuming way that both of you seemed to prefer.

You found comfort in each other’s presence, in the unspoken affection you shared.

Geralt would still be gruff at times, but you could see in his eyes how much he cherished you.

You spent your days reading together in the library, discussing your favorite books or teasing him about his inability to finish a book without getting distracted.

At night, Geralt would stay by your side as you cooked dinner, offering his silent support as you worked through the simple joys of domestic life.

He’d occasionally join in to help chop vegetables or stir the pot, though his cooking skills were, admittedly, less than impressive.

But you loved it when he tried, his gruffness fading into the warmth of your shared space.

Geralt wasn’t one for grand gestures, but he showed his love in the little things.

He’d warm a blanket for you if you were cold, and if you ever had a bad day, he’d find some way to soothe you.

Whether it was taking you for a quiet walk through the woods or simply sitting with you as you read, his presence was his greatest gift.

On special occasions, Geralt would bring you rare flowers from his travels - flowers that didn’t need words to convey their meaning.

He’d leave them on your desk with a simple, “I thought you might like these.”

For you, the world of Geralt was one of gentle affection.

You’d cook him his favorite meals and sneak little notes into his coat pocket when he wasn’t looking.

You’d always make sure to listen to him when he spoke, as if every word mattered.

You show up when he needs it most, quietly holding space for him after a rough battle, letting him rest in the safety of your presence without any expectation of him opening up.

Geralt, in turn, protects you - physically, emotionally, and mentally.

He’s your quiet guardian, offering strength when you need it and respect when you don’t.

In each other, you’ve found someone who understands the unspoken parts of your soul.

Someone who, despite all their battles, finds solace in the quiet moments shared with you.

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Beauty And The Beast - Chapter 6 - Loki Odinson X Female Reader

Title: The West Wing

Loki Odinson X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Natasha, Clint, Mrs. Potts, and Alpine (Mentioned)

Beauty And The Beast Retelling Fanfic

Chap 1 | Chap 2 | Chap 3 | Chap 4 | Chap 5 | You Are Here | Chap 7 | Chap 8 | Chap 9 | Chap 10 | Chap 11 | Chap 12 | Chap 13 | Chap 14 | Chap 15 | Chap 16 END |

WC: 1,280

Warnings: Imprisonment, rude Loki, italics, banter, nicknames, yelling, wolves, fighting, mentions of injuries, slight angst, and fluff?

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her expression clearly displaying worry as she crossed her arms. “If his Highness finds out you violated his orders and fed her, he will blame me!” Her voice was sharp, exasperation dripping from every word.

Clint, leaning against the doorway, gave her a playful smirk. “Yes, I will make sure of it,” He responded cockily, almost as if daring her to fight back.

“Oh, I’m planning my sweet, sweet revenge,” Natasha muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes, though a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips before she focused back on the conversation. “But did you see her stand up to him?” Natasha added, her voice dropping to a whisper, and ensuring you were far enough behind to not overhear.

Clint rose a candle into the air, “I am telling you, this woman is the one.”

You, however, were too distracted to even hear their little whispers, your eyes wandering around the halls as you trailed further behind, admiring the strange, yet elegant decor. Rather lost in thought.

“They must fall in love if we are to be human again,” Mrs. Potts whispered with urgency, glancing at Clint and Natasha. “And how can they fall in love if she stays locked away in her room?”

Confused by their kindness, you quickened your steps to catch up, furrowing your brow. “I don't understand why you're all being so kind to me,” You said, your voice soft but filled with curiosity. “Surely, you're as trapped here as I am. Don’t you ever want to escape?”

Mrs. Potts’ face softened with a mixture of warmth and sadness. She glanced at you, then ahead, her voice gentle but firm. “His Highness is not as terrible as he appears. Somewhere deep in his soul, there's a fellow who’s just waiting to be set free of his burdens and just wants to be happy. To be understood.”

As they led you to the kitchen, the smell of rich, savory food filled the air. Before you knew it, you were seated in front of a meal fit for royalty: turkey smothered in thick gravy, a mountain of mashed potatoes, and a sparkling goblet of ginger beer. You dug into the feast, overwhelmed but grateful, savoring each bite, though the weight of your situation still lingered.

Soon after, Clint and Natasha excused themselves, leaving you with Mrs. Potts, who kindly offered to walk you back to your room. As you strolled through the winding halls, you hesitated, your curiosity bubbling to the surface. “Clint mentioned something about the west wing…” You asked, clasping your hands nervously, hoping to learn more.

Mrs. Potts paused briefly, then waved her spout dismissively. “Never mind about that. Off to bed with you, my girl,” She instructed with a firm yet gentle tone, ushering you toward the door to your new room.

“Good night,” You said, though your mind was far from resting.

“Nighty-night. Straight to bed,” Mrs. Potts echoed softly, giving you a nod before disappearing around the corner with a gentle hop.

The moment she was gone, you felt your pulse quicken with a surge of rebellious energy. This was your chance. Heart pounding, you quietly crept down the staircase, turning toward the west wing. Each step seemed to echo in the eerie silence, but your curiosity propelled you forward.

Entering the forbidden wing, the darkness seemed to swallow you whole, the air thick with mystery. Your eyes adjusted, and you gasped at the sight of the broken furniture, torn tapestries, and shattered chandeliers scattered across the room. It was a place of forgotten beauty, left to decay in its loneliness.

Your fingers grazed one of the broken portraits on the wall, curiosity overwhelming you as you lifted the torn canvas flap. A royal family was revealed beneath the damage - two regal parents with their two sons. The father, dressed in golden robes with an eyepatch, had a commanding presence, while the mother, with her gentle smile, stood tall and serene. But it was the sons who captured your attention. The blonde one, with his bright blue eyes, seemed to emanate strength, while the dark-haired son, with his mischievous green eyes, drew you in. Those eyes held something deeper - something alluring, maybe even dangerous.

A flicker of red caught your eye, pulling your focus from the painting. You turned slowly, eyes widening at the sight of the beautiful red rose floating delicately inside its glass case. Its soft glow lit up the dark room, enchanting you with its impossible beauty.

You stepped toward it, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for the glass cover. The air around you felt charged, like you were touching something sacred, something forbidden. The moment your fingers brushed the glass, a voice boomed from behind, freezing you in place.

“What are you doing here!?” The Beast’s thunderous roar echoed through the room, and you spun around to see him storming toward you, his eyes wide with panic and fury. You stumbled back, heart racing, as he rushed to the rose, his massive frame blocking your view. “What did you do to it?” He demanded, his voice a dangerous growl. His claws gripped the glass case, covering the rose protectively, as if he feared it might vanish.

“N- Nothing!” You stammered, taking a shaky step back, your voice barely steady as you tried to explain. “I didn’t touch it.”

His breath came heavy, his anger barely contained. “Do you realize what you could have done?” He snapped, his gaze piercing through you. “You could have doomed us all! Get out of here! Go!” His voice reached a fever pitch, sending you stumbling toward the door in a panic.

Without another word, you fled, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridors as you burst through the main double doors and into the icy, unforgiving night.

Outside, the snowfall came down hard, biting into your skin. Desperation took hold as you raced toward Alpine, who was waiting nervously by the barn. With a quick, frantic movement, you mounted the horse, urging her forward into the thick forest. Snow whipped across your face, obscuring your vision as you rode, the trees blurring together in the storm.

A low, menacing howl cut through the night air, sending chills down your spine. For a moment, you thought it was the Beast, but no… It sounded like a wolf. Alpine reared back, spooked, and in one swift motion, you were thrown from the saddle. You hit the ground hard, gasping as the breath was knocked from your lungs. You scrambled to your feet, looking around frantically. Shadows shifted in the darkness - the wolves were closing in.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched for something, anything, to defend yourself with, but the wolves were too close. Their black forms stalked forward, their eyes glowing in the dim light. One of them pounced, and just as you braced yourself, the Beast lunged from out of the shadows, tackling the wolf to the ground.

The fight was brutal; savage. The Beast tore through the pack with raw strength, tossing wolves aside as they lunged at him. Finally, the last of the wolves retreated, their howls fading into the distance as they disappeared into the woods.

The Beast collapsed into the snow, his breath ragged, his body trembling from the effort. You hesitated for a moment, then cautiously approached him, kneeling beside his hulking form. His fur was matted with blood and snow. He was hurt…

Gently, you helped him onto Alpine, his weight nearly overwhelming, but were able to guide the horse back to the castle; the cold biting at your skin with every step.

~~~

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The Witch In The Forest - Draco Malfoy X Female Reader

Title: The Witch In The Forest

Draco Malfoy X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Nymphs, Centaurs (Mentioned), other people at Hogwarts (Mentioned), Draco's parents (Mentioned), Blaise (Mentioned), Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy

Originally based on The Ash Lad, but I loved the story so much that I adapted it for Harry Potter.

WC: 9,919

Warnings: Royal AU (in a world where Hogwarts is a school for young royals, and the Forbidden Forest is filled with witches and wizards), Reader is mentioned to wear a dress, mentions of murder/killing, threats, yelling, italics, Draco being Draco, very brief mention of food poisoning and throwing up, very brief mentions of injuries/blood, very brief mentions of eating bugs/animals, love at first sight?, teasing, banter, flirting?, slight suggestiveness, name-calling (coward, lowly peasant, etc.), no Voldy!, enemies to lovers, forbidden lovers, prejudice, angst, and fluff

The forest was thick with heavy green brush and tall, wide trees that stretched beautifully into the sky. The world around you was peaceful, with soft chirps from small birds, and the bright sun’s light shining through the canopy of leaves, warming you perfectly. Today was indeed a breathtaking, and perfect day for collecting more ingredients that you were running out of. Herbs, mushrooms, berries, you placed all that you could find and needed, carefully in your woven basket. Crouching on the ground, the trim of your brown skirt became slightly damp from the moist moss beneath your booted feet. A faint rustle in the undergrowth went unnoticed at first, a pair of rabbits slipping quietly from the bushes, their noses twitching, bold in their searching for fallen fruits. Nearby, a sleek fox moved soundlessly from behind a tree, its golden gaze briefly flicking in your direction before settling elsewhere.

You thought that this day was going to be like any other day, but just as you were going to pick some blueberries, you froze. Above you, the insistent chirps and shrills of birds alerted you, their song different; they were trying to tell you something. Slowly, you looked up, spotting the blue birds in the arms of the trees before turning your head towards the west just as a small gust of cold wind blew past you, ruffling through your hair under the hood of your cloak slightly. Something was wrong, and your instincts and the cries of nature were never wrong. 

A rustling in the underbrush made you glance down. The rabbits had vanished, leaving only trembling leaves in their wake. The nearby fox, now wary, stood frozen, its golden eyes locked onto something unseen in the distance. Even the insects had gone quiet, the usual hum of life replaced by an eerie, expectant silence. And so, you stood, abandoning the lush, purple berries to follow the small gust of wind, which carried some of the dead fallen leaves of the oncoming autumn off the ground; creating hauntingly beautiful swirls of orange, yellow, red, and brown. 

Following the swirling wind for what felt like only a couple of minutes, you finally reached a path. It was free from any fallen leaves, branches, or twigs; which led right to a tall rock surface, covered in vines and moss. You tilted your head and stepped close to the stone, you looked up, seeing that the blue birds had followed, jumping around on their branches as their wings fluttered, nervous. You looked back at the stone before placing your palm upon its cold surface. Shutting your eyes, you felt the warmth of your energy flow through your body, tingling from your head to your toes before flowing out of your fingers as a soft, silver light. It sparkled and glowed as gentle little spindles of light emitted from your hand, swirling in an intricate pattern around the stone. Your eyes snapped open again, taking in every single detail of your surroundings. Everything seemed to shift and change, it was mesmerizing.

You took a step back from the rock as it slid open. It moved to the side, revealing a dark, hidden passageway. You quickly moved forward, feeling a sense of urgency, not knowing what was wrong, or whether someone required your help. There was a reason that the forest was forbidden. Stepping past old stocks, dead leaves, and a low mist that hovered over the ground, you found yourself face to face with a group of Nymphs. Now, these weren’t simple woodland Nymphs, no, these were the worst kind. These Nymphs were dangerous and unpredictable, hiding deep in the depths of the forest.

Their haggard appearances were enough to make anyone uneasy and their stomachs upset. Their hair was dark, covered in dried mud, dirt, and whatever else. Their faces, much like any stereotypical hag, any guardian would tell their children about as a cautionary tale before slumber; wrinkled faces, long warty noses, grimy teeth. They spoke with high-pitched, scratchy voices, laughing to one another, fawning and buttering up their most recent prey; a young man. 

From where you stood, you could tell that he was already deep under their spell, eating the bugs, snails, and such that were simply illusioned as sweet treats in his eyes. From his mind’s view, and from what he could tell while under their spell, he was simply eating delicious strawberries, and devouring pleasant pastries. Under their sorcery, instead of somewhat terrifying Deep Forest Nymphs, he saw beautiful young women; sparkling eyes, breathtaking velvet voices, and long flowing hair. 

You had to act fast to save the man’s life, and so, you went straight into action. Crouching down, you placed your hands on the dirty ground. Shutting your eyes briefly, the palm of your hands shone in the dark hall of the cave, just as it did at the face of the stone. Slowly, you watched as large vines slithered and crawled past you, as if with a mind of their own, towards the evil and vile seductresses. You continued to watch as they began to panic as the vines began to climb and twist around them, pinning them in place where they sat at a long wooden table, encasing them in a thick, vine prison. 

“No!” One shrieked, “He’s ours!”

“Ours! Ours! Ours!” Yelled another. 

They screeched, and cried, struggling against their only temporary bindings as you scurried closer, reaching the young man. He continued to laugh, high on the hallucinations, his fingers almost numbly reaching out to try and grab a dead rat from the table. You cringed, instantly pulling the man up from the table’s wooden bench before tugging him through the cave’s tunnel, his feet stumbling as he fought against your hold to get back to the ‘beautiful women.’

“Let go of me.” He spoke, his words slightly slurred as he continued to drag his feet, trying to get back to the cave now multiple feet from the both of you. “Let go of me! I want to stay with them!”

Stopping in your tracks, the man stumbled into your back as you did so. He rubbed at his dirty hair with his free hand, a frown on his equally dirty face as he looked around; hopefully, the spell was fading off, at least his sluggish laughter had stopped. 

“Snap out of it.” You scolded him, growing irritated, “What you had seen in there was all just an illusion; a spell.”

Immediately, the man glared daggers at you, “How dare you tell me what to do! Do you know who I am?”

You narrowed your eyes, though you likely thought it went unnoticed beneath your hood. Taking the chance to study him, you quickly noted the familiar uniform - Hogwarts School of Nobility and Royalty. Founded by four of the most influential and powerful rulers of their time, the academy served as a boarding school for future monarchs and nobles, shaping them into the leaders they were destined to become.

You disliked the school, not only because you believed it molded students into power-hungry, pompous rulers but also because its rigid house system only reinforced future prejudice. The separation of students by status and lineage served as a breeding ground for arrogance and division - an irritation you could never quite ignore. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the school eagerly spread propaganda about the forest you called home, painting it as a treacherous place teeming with unruly creatures. Half of that was true, there were large spiders and evil Nymphs who lured unsuspecting trespassers into their lairs, but they conveniently ignored the gentle woodland animals, the kind-hearted dwarves, the playful fairies, the protective centaurs, and the rare, majestic unicorns that roamed beneath its canopy. And of course, your people; the witches and wizards. 

“No, and I do not care or wish to know who you are until we get to my cottage.” You replied sharply, turning around and walking through the forest once more. “And it would be smart to shut your mouth. Somehow, you have found yourself in the deepest part of the woods, and there are other dangers that are far worse than what you have recently encountered.” He probably didn’t know it, but just a hop, skip and jump away from the Nymph’s nest was the home of something even you couldn’t save anyone from. 

Sighing dramatically, the young man followed behind you obediently, muttering curses and harsh words in general under his breath. His legs were weak, tired from the constant movement, but he kept pace with you nonetheless. And finally, after a bit of a long walk, climbing a few cobbly steps and through a tunnel of pink-flowering trees, you reached your cozy, little cottage. 

“You live in this dump? How pathetic.” The man sneered as he stared at your home, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

Entering, you pulled the man inside and shut the door. Your animal friends made little sounds of joy at your arrival, bringing a smile to your lips. The young man, startled by the sheer number of creatures, watched as you gently asked the handful of squirrels to vacate what seemed to be your bed. A snake slithered lazily along the mantel above the fire, its smooth scales catching the glow of the flames. A few birds of different breeds perched atop the small candle chandelier, their feathers ruffling as they observed the newcomer. The open cupboard housed more squirrels and even mice, chattering softly as they nestled among stored goods, while over on the window seat, a pair of raccoons lounged comfortably, their bright eyes flicking toward you with casual curiosity.

“Sit on the bed.” You ordered simply, setting down your basket of what you salvaged from your busy morning of saving rude men - which you may or may not have wished you hadn’t saved, but you knew that having your life in the fate of Deep Forest Nymphs was far worse than any death imaginable; in your opinion, nobody should suffer through it. 

He didn’t move, eyes wide with shock and disgust, “Excuse me!? I will not touch anything that those vermin have touched!”

You spun around in alarm, “Excuse me, but that is uncalled for! It would do you well to be kind to the creatures around you. Now, I need to heal you. Sit.” You repeated, pointing to the bed as he continued to stand in the middle of your cottage with his arms crossed, defiant. 

“No. I will not take commands from some lowlife peasant.” He practically spat, “I am a Prince, I’ll have you know.” He spoke, all high and mighty for a man that was covered in layers of dirt and grime.

You scoffed, pivoting your weight to one side, jutting your hip out, and resting your hand there as you stared at him. Oh, you knew of what he was, just not who. “And that concerns me why?” You questioned him mockingly, “If you had come from Hogwarts, then you should know better than coming into these forests. They did tell you that this forest is forbidden, right?” You spoke before pointing a finger at the bed once more, “Now, sit, or the longer you wait, the faster the food poisoning will occur, and the sooner you die. But, if you think that you are strong enough to deal with it by yourself, then please, be my guest, the door is there. I don’t have to waste my precious ingredients on you.”

Silently, the prince stared at you, guarded, before reluctantly going over to take a seat on your bed, as you’d instructed. Shifting uneasily, he watched you warily as you moved around the cottage, rifling through drawers and shelves to gather the ingredients you needed. A soft flutter of wings broke the quiet, and a brown owl swooped down, holding a small vial delicately in its talons. It passed the vial to you, and without missing a beat, you silently whispered a thank you, the owl hooting softly in acknowledgment before flying back out to its perch upon the high wooden rafters. You began to combine the right ingredients, mixing various herbs and roots, and grinding them together into a smooth, dark green powder in your mortar and pestle. 

He continued to watch as you finished smoothing the powder before grabbing an empty circular bottle. Pouring the powder into the bottle, you then grabbed a secondary vile, which was filled with a purple-ish substance. Combining the two, it sizzled slightly as you swirled the bottle, mixing the liquid and powder together, creating a purply-pink foam before it dwindled out. 

Walking over, you offered the bottle to the man, who stared at it, up to you, and back. “You don’t honestly think I’ll drink that do you? You could be poisoning me.”

You inwardly sighed, “Why would I drag you out of a cave of hungry Deep Forest Nymphs only to bring you to my cottage to kill you?” You countered, gesturing to the bottle. “And I already said that you are currently dying. So if you don’t drink this, you will die. Your choice.” You shrugged, as you waved the bottle in his face. “Some advice though? I would choose the bottle.”

Snatching the bottle, he slowly brought it to his lips. He cringed, the overwhelming smell of what he could only describe as rotten eggs engulfed his senses. He paused briefly, muttering, “My father will hear about this. Forcing me to drink this…” Before squeezing his eyes shut and chugging the concoction in just a few quick gulps. Cringing once more, he pulled the bottle away once it was empty, blindly handing it to you as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That was disgusting, what was that!?”

“I didn’t say that it was going to taste good.” You ignored his question, setting the bottle into your sink across from the bed. “Now, that should take effect in no more than a few moments.” You continued, beginning to untie your thick, red cloak, “It will counter the food poisoning that you have most likely obtained while staying with those Deep Forest Nymphs. Tricky creatures, they are.” You finished as he tilted his head to the side like some confused pup.

“Deep Forest Nymphs?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing, creating a small crease between his brows.

“What’s your name?” You then asked suddenly - again - ignoring his question as you removed your cloak, turning to hang it on the hook near the front door. And then, the man found himself speechless. As a prince, he had met a lot of people - not only from Hogwarts, but the people that his family were associated with - possibly meeting hundreds of beautiful women, but you… You were something else entirely. You had taken his breath away, completely and utterly, leaving him almost gasping. You must have been a Veela. That was his only conclusion. Your hair was a perfect shade, complimenting your skin, and framing your face beautifully. His cold gray eyes began to look over your features; your soft lips, the slope of your nose, and the bright sparkle of your eyes. He suddenly felt warm, and it wasn’t due to the fever raging within his body from the food poisoning. His heart beat quickly like he wanted nothing more than to run his fingertips along your jawline and cup your cheeks, pull you close, and press his lips against yours. What was happening to him? Was this your spell? Was it from that potion you gave him? No, you had to be a Veela. “So?” He heard your voice say, plowing through his daydreaming and thoughts, “What should I call you?”

His mouth went dry, and he licked his lips, his eyes narrowing. "What did you do to me?" he asked accusingly. "Are you a Veela?" He demanded, his voice tinged with suspicion.

You chuckled, surprised at his second question. Shaking your head, you let out a soft laugh. "No, no, I am not a Veela," you said calmly, crossing your arms over your cream-colored chemise and brown corset. "But I'll take that as a compliment." You grinned, amused by the fact that the young man before you seemed to think you were either impossibly beautiful or somehow hypnotizing him. You ran a hand through your hair as you glanced at the fire, the flickering flames casting a soft glow over your face. "If I were a Veela, wouldn't you be losing your mind over my beauty or something?" you teased, shrugging with a playful smirk. You then shifted your gaze back to him, "Now, what's your name?"

He paused, before clearing his throat, his hand forming a fist at his mouth. Yes, it was true, he seemed to still be in his right mind. From what he knew, if hypnotized, the male victim wouldn’t be able to think about anything else but you. “Draco. Prince Draco Malfoy.” He answered before clearing his throat again and returning to look at you, “And what should I call you?”

You leaned back against your wooden table, resting the palms of your hands on its surface. Well, now, you definitely heard of the Malfoy royal family. The Malfoy family was as rich as they were highly influential, but not in the best way. The forest, though far from the world beyond it, wasn't spared from the news and gossip. From what you heard from a Centaur friend, the Malfoys were ruthless and cruel, and their kingdom was deeply corrupted, ruled by greed and a thirst for power that left little room for kindness or fairness. And this young man before you, was the king and queen’s spawn. Lucky you. 

“My name’s Y/N.” You answered, tilting your head. 

Prince Draco narrowed his eyes, “What are you?”

“What am I?” You repeated, “Quite rude of you to ask me what I am.”

Prince Draco stood, puffing his chest slightly, making you smirk again, amused at how he tried to make himself seem tough. You had no doubt that he could fend for himself, provided that he had a sword in which to use. “I have survived Nymphs from what you say. What creature are you?” He asked, almost judgingly as he raked his eyes down and back up your body. 

“I’m a witch… A Forest Witch specifically. If you want to get technical.” You answered with a sigh, turning to bend over the fire, checking on the small pot of soup that was bubbling there; cooking, almost ready.

“A witch?” He then asked, seemingly shocked, maybe tense, “But you’re not ugly.”

That made you laugh, a real, genuine laugh, as you turned away from the fire and back around to face the Prince. “Once again, I’ll take that as a compliment,” You said, a playful glint in your eye. "But I’ll have you know, that school of yours isn't truly accurate with their information. Not all witches are ‘ugly.’”

Prince Draco tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "How do you know about my school?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You gave him a deadpanned look, your expression unchanging. "Hogwarts is literally my next-door neighbor," You replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Now, down to business,” You walked over to him, “I will allow you to stay here for no more than three days, so you can get your strength back and I can monitor you. For now, you will eat and sleep - I’ll take the extra bed in the other room. And once you are better, I’ll lead you back towards the edge of the forest. Is that clear?”

“You expect me to stay here? With these creatures everywhere? And in these dirty clothes? Unless you are going to offer to wash them then I demand new, clean clothes, peasant.”

You hummed, stepping closer to the prince, “Well, your highness, I guess you’ll just have to wash them yourself if you don’t want to wear them… I do have extra clothes that might fit you, but you won’t get them unless you ask nicely.”

He stared down at you, his lips parting slightly as his eyes traveled over your face, taking in every bit of beauty that his gaze landed upon. His fingers twitched nervously and his breathing quickened; there was just something so strangely alluring about you. “This is ridiculous…” He muttered before gulping. It didn’t take long, as he stood, taking in his appearance. His school uniform, black, silver, and green, were dirty, as well as parts of his face, hands, and blonde hair. He smelled foul, and the prince blinked before frowning stubbornly, “Fine. I will take the extra clothing.”

“Please?” You prompted, tilting your head to the side slightly, “Gotta use the magic word.”

His eyes narrowed, matching your force with his own, fueling the tension that sizzled between the two of you, “Please?” He sneered, his stomach churning as a strange fluttering warmed in the pit of his stomach. “Happy, are you?”

You hummed, allowing yourself the pleasure of admiring the prince before you leaned back, “Very.” You smiled, “Now, I’ll go grab those clothes, you can help yourself to the stew. It’s mushroom and potato. After dinner, you can wash the muck off you. And, do not worry, my friends do not sleep in my cottage, usually they leave after dinner and return for breakfast.” Draco felt a sigh leave him as you turned around the corner, only for you to peek your head back around a second later, “And don’t think I forgot the ‘thank you for saving my life’ that you own me.”

~~~

“I am fine.” Draco tried to assure you stubbornly, crossing his arms as you made one last elixir, “I do not need another one of those dreadful things.”

You hummed, flicking your tongue to the roof of your mouth, “These ‘dreadful things’ are what keep you from becoming more sick.” You spoke calmly, pouring a bit of spring water into your circular bottle before mixing the ingredients together with a few twists of your wrist, “This also helps with any stomach issues you may have. You don’t want to throw up, do you?” You asked, turning from the table to walk the few steps to the bed where Draco sat. 

“No, I wouldn’t.” He continued to be stubborn, however, turning up his nose at the drink that you offered.

“Then drink.” Your grin widened when he - again - snatched the potion from your hand and drank the whole thing in a couple of chugs. “There, not that bad, right?” You playfully cooed, only for Draco to look at you with a hardened glare.

“Don’t treat me like a child.” He scolded, setting the empty vessel down on the nightstand beside the bed with a hard thump, thankfully, the bottle didn’t shatter or crack. 

“Then stop acting like one.” You answered back, crossing your arms as you leaned against the wall, the snake that was on your mantel yesterday, was in his usual spot before slowly slipping onto you, slithering around your shoulders, “The faster you drink what I make, the faster you’ll get better, and the sooner you can go on your own way.” You ran a hand through your hair, “I don’t know why you have to be so stubborn. I am just trying to help. I don’t have to help you, but I do. And it’s not weak to need help or ask for help, if that’s what your problem is.” You watched him carefully as he crossed his arms across his chest and looked away.

“I hate it here.” He grumbled, making you groan in frustration and push off the wall. “It’s too cramped.”

“Well, I am sorry that I don’t live in a castle or mansion.” Walking towards the table again, you felt your blood boil slightly as you spun around and leaned against it, “You just never learn, can you? I’m only trying to help, I’m trying to make everything easier for you, but you refuse to accept my help.” A bluebird flew from the rafters to land on the table beside you, brushing up against your arm as a hedgehog waddled over to your foot, nudging you; all trying to give you their emotional support.

“Because you are forcing me to stay here.” He growled lowly, “I’ve told you before, I don’t need your assistance. Especially from some lowly witch.”

You barked out a sarcastic laugh, narrowing your eyes as you smiled darkly, “A ‘lowly witch,’ well, I haven’t heard that one before.” You huffed, “I may be far too kind and generous for my own good, but I am still a witch, and I can still be quite vicious if I feel it is necessary. I have a lot of hexes in my book. I can and will turn you into a ferret, if I must. And this situation certainly qualifies for that, don’t you agree?” He kept silent. Sighing, you pushed yourself from the table, some of the animals following after you, “If you want to leave, you may, I can’t force you to stay here. You can leave whenever you like. As I said yesterday, I don’t have to waste my ingredients on you.” Your voice was soft as you walked past him, pausing momentarily at the corner. “You may keep the clothes, I won’t need them. I would advise that you bring my extra cloak, it’s getting cold. It might rain.” You finished before slipping out of the room, and into your storage room that you also used as a small craft room, your animal friends following. 

For the next hour or so, you stayed in that room, knitting one of the raccoons a scarf from the yarn that you had saved up to buy at the nearby village of Hogsmeade. It was quiet, far too quiet, and you made up your mind that Draco had left. Half of you was disappointed, liking having someone around that could speak back to you, even if they were a bit of a pain. The other half of you said ‘good riddance.’ It was going to be so quiet around the cottage again. You, being a witch and all, didn’t have many friends that had the ability to speak. You had only the Centaurs. 

But, as you sat in your little, wooden rocking chair, warm, brown spun wool in your lap and needles in hand, you paused. Looking out the window, you found droplets of rain running down the glass, the sky was gray as rain continued to fall down from that gray sky. You shivered slightly, tightening your shawl tighter around you. If you were cold, he must have been freezing. But he had been so rude to you, o mean, why should you care if he was cold out in the rain, probably shivering and wandering the dark woods; lost, alone.

You couldn’t help but care. You sort of liked the prince, finding him rather attractive - especially when he emerged from your bathroom, clean of any dirt, and dressed in clean clothes - despite him being an utter jerk for most of the time he was with you; only two days. Being born within a royal family, raised to think those who weren’t royal or of high influence and status were below you, and therefore to act accordingly; he did have reason to dislike the idea of being in your presence. Not only from his forced prejudiced views, but from the school that warned him of the ‘evil’ creatures in the forest.

Still, it wasn’t easy to see how you could ever make him change his opinion. It was true that the prince was very difficult to understand. He was rude and stubborn. He was arrogant, conceited, cruel, and proud. He was the definition of a prince with no heart. The only times that you thought you saw something different in him were the few times that you were able to catch him watching you intently, and that, coupled with the fact that you could tell by the way his eyes shone and darkened that he was curious about you, almost fascinated. Those brief glimpses of light that he gave you made you wonder what else there was behind that stoic exterior. There had to be more than what meets the eye, after all. Deep down, despite yourself, you believed in the good… Of most people. 

Before you knew it, you were standing from your rocking chair, haphazardly setting your knitting down where you had once sat before leaving the room. Turning the corner, you stopped, finding the bed empty, and the extra cloak on the hook gone. You frowned, swiftly moving through the small cottage to grab your cloak before stepping out the door. The harsh, cold wind blew past you as you hurriedly moved the hood of your cloak over your head before you were totally drenched with the bone-chilling rain. 

The sky was dark, with angry gray clouds covering most - if not all - of the sky; blocking all the stars and the full moon. Shutting your eyes, you began to concentrate, feeling the warm and familiar sensation of magic flowing from your fingertips, and into the ground beneath your feet. Within seconds, the ground below you began to snake its way through the woods, creating a pat for you to follow.

Following the light, you held the cloak close to your body with one hand, the other free just in case anything were to try and attack you, which was a rare chance. Sadly, even though you were a powerful being, others would’ve loved to feast on your flesh if you had given them the chance.

Twisting around trees, large piles of brush, and stepping over overgrown tree roots, you finally found him. You breathed out heavily, catching your breath, bracing yourself against the trunk of a tree. Draco sat on a large mossy boulder, shivering with your cloak rung tightly around him as the rain pelted down on him in sheets. You almost felt sorry for him, but you were thankful that nothing had found him. Even though he had every right to leave, you still would’ve felt a bit guilty if you had come to find that he had been killed.

Walking over, the sharp snap of a twig under your feet made Draco turn his head, looking towards the sound, spotting you walking towards him. He rose to his feet, you could tell that he was trying to put on his tough facade as his green eyes narrowed with confusion. He continued to stare at you, his eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. 

“Here to put me out of my misery?” He asked snarkily, only for you to sigh.

“Come with me,” You spoke, offering your hand out to him, but you could see the hesitancy in his eyes as he looked down at your hand, “Please,” You practically begged, Draco looking up at you before slowly reaching you to grab your hand. The walk back to the cottage was a quiet one, as you followed the silver ribbon of light magic. Draco’s eyes widened as his jaw dropped at the sight of it, amazed by your creation, only to clear his throat and look off into the distance and go back to his stubborn self. Only once the both of you entered your cottage, did you speak up, “You surely would’ve caught your death out there,” Draco continued to say nothing, collapsing in front of the burning fire in your fireplace, still shivering, trying to warm up. You quickly began working, reaching out to take the soaking cloak only for him to pull away from your touch. “Let me help you, Draco.” You insisted, “We need to get you out of those wet clothes. Thankfully, I have cleaned your school uniform.”

Draco looked at you silently, and you could practically see the gears in his head turning before he began to untie the cloak from around himself. Only when he took off the said cloak did a small gasp leave you at the sight of the small gash on his forehead, dirt and mud covering the side of his face; which you did not see when you found him in the forest.

He seemed to have noticed that you had noticed his small injury. “I fell.”

“That’s alright. Everyone falls,” You said, grabbing a small bowl and filling it with water before taking a clean rag. Settling beside him in front of the fire, you dipped the soft corner of the rag into the water, squeezing out the excess before carefully raising it to his cut.

The moment the damp cloth touched his skin, Draco flinched dramatically. “Ow! That hurts,” He whined, clearly overreacting.

You rolled your eyes, your tone amused but patient. “Calm down, you big baby,” You muttered as you gently wiped away the blood, dirt, and mud from his face. Despite his protests, you remained careful.

“Why are you being so… Nice to me?” He asked, his voice quieter now, unable to look at you as you cupped his cheek to wipe the rest of the dirt and whatnot off. 

Your movements slowed until you had wiped everything off his face. You pursed your lips as you lean back on your legs. “Well,” You began, reaching up to brush his damp platinum blonde hair from his forehead, your finger just brushing long his skin. You paused, feeling a tingling sensation on the tips of your fingertips as you dropped your hand, placing it in your lap. “I believe that there is good in everyone. Even in princes.” You answered, before collecting the bowl and rag, standing, “I’ll get the bath ready for you again. You stay and rest until it is ready.”

Draco watched you go feeling conflicted with emotions. Your words were kind and understanding, and although he couldn’t quite figure out why, they brought back feelings inside of him that he hadn’t expected to feel again. That fluttered in his stomach, the warmth spreading through his chest. It was strange, but he didn’t hate it. Not exactly anyway. He slowly raised his hand, his fingers just brushing against his forehead where you had briefly touched him, before dropping it back down, returning to stare into the fire.

For the next couple of minutes, you went back and forth, heating up a bucket of water that hung over the fireplace before rushing it over to the room in the back of the cottage, one where Draco had been before yesterday to get all that dirt off of him. Before he knew it, he was once more sitting in a large tub, the warm water soothing his aching muscles and soothing his throbbing head as well.

The room was small, everything about the cottage was small, far different than his home kingdom or Hogwarts. But you had left him a few items before you went to make supper. His princely clothing, washed and dried, and you also had left another large towel, a different color than the one you gave him the day before. He dried himself before pulling the towel on his head, before dressing in his pants. Grabbing his white button-up, he tossed it over his shoulder as he walked out, drying his hair with the towel. 

You looked up when the door opened, sitting in front of the fire, a sleeping rabbit in your lap, waiting for the soup to be ready. Draco said nothing, entering the room, his feet softly hitting the wooden floor. What you couldn’t quite help but notice, however, was that Draco was shirtless. Your eyes lingered longer than they should have, tracing the sharp lines of his toned chest and the way the firelight flickered over his skin. You swallowed, quickly averting your gaze, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you.

Draco, of course, noticed. His lips twitched into a smirk as he ran the towel once more over his damp hair, feigning obliviousness. “Where should I put this?” He asked casually, holding up the towel. “The clothing basket is missing from the bathroom.” His tone was light, but there was amusement dancing in his eyes, and you knew - you just knew - he had caught you staring.

You opened your mouth to answer, but your words caught in your throat for just a second too long. “Oh, um- just- just leave it by the door,” You managed, cursing yourself for the slight stumble.

Draco’s smirk deepened, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Alright,” He drawled, tossing the towel aside by the door with little care, and nearly hitting a chipmunk, before strolling further into the room - still very much shirtless. Was he ever going to put his shirt back on?

“Let me take care of that, okay?” You asked, looking back at him, eyeing the clean cut that was red. “I don’t want you to get infected or anything.”

“What are you giving me this time?” He asked, sitting down beside you as he slipped his shirt on, buttoning it as you shook your head at his question, your hand raising, palm up.

“I won’t be giving you anything this time.” You spoke, your magic flowing through your veins and out of your fingertips, creating swirls of glittering silver. “I know many spells, and one can heal you- well, minor injuries. My magic, sadly, can’t heal internal injuries, which was why I gave you those elixirs.” You spoke, looking up from your hand to the prince, who was already staring at you. Wordlessly, you raised your hand towards his temple, small wisps of silver light floating from your fingers and into his cut, instantly healing him as the cut seemed to fade and then disappear. You smiled as a small sigh escaped your lips, “There. All good as new.” You spoke softly before taking the sleeping rabbit into your arms and standing. Placing the little rabbit on the makeshift bed of wool, yarn, and cotton, you grabbed two bowls from your little kitchen. “Want some soup? It’s chicken, carrot, and potato.”

“Yes, uh, thank you. For… Helping me.” Draco spoke, his words stopping you in your place, with the two bowls in hand.

You seemed pleasantly surprised, your smile widening as you continued your way over, sitting beside him once more before handing him a bowl of steaming soup. “You’re very welcome, Draco.”

~~~

The next morning as the sun slowly rose into the sky, Draco found himself almost wishing that the sun would go back down upon the horizon. Even though he knew himself to be proud, arrogant even, he could admit that he liked spending time alone with you. Spending time with you was easy. Again, he was conflicted. Once he got back to Hogwarts, he and you would have to go your separate ways. 

Walking out of his temporary room, Draco found you already pouring porridge into bowls for the both of you. The warm scent of cinnamon and honey filled the air.

You looked up as he entered, offering him a small, bright smile. “Good morning,” You greeted.

Draco hesitated for half a second before returning a small but genuine smile of his own. “'Morning,” He said, his voice still slightly rough from sleep.

He took a seat at the table, watching as you picked up your spoon and began eating. “I’ll bring you to the edge of the forest after we eat,” You informed him casually between bites.

Draco only nodded, not saying anything - until something small and soft suddenly landed on his head. He tensed instantly, eyes wide in alarm. “What- what’s on my head?” He demanded, his voice bordering on panicked.

You chuckled, covering your mouth with your hand as you fought back a full laugh. “It’s just a sparrow,” You said, clearly amused. Draco stayed frozen as you reached out, extending your finger gently toward the tiny bird. “Come on, little one,” You murmured, and, as if it understood you perfectly, the sparrow hopped onto your finger without hesitation.

Draco could only watch, his expression unreadable, as you handled the creature with effortless ease - like nature itself bent to your will. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Why do the animals like you so much?” He asked, still eyeing the little sparrow as it fluttered up to the rafters.

You watched it go, a soft smile lingering on your lips before you turned back to him. “I’m a Forest Witch,” You said simply, shrugging. “I suppose it’s just a part of my nature for all creatures to bond with me.”

Draco considered that for a moment, glancing around the cottage at the various animals resting comfortably in your home. He wasn’t sure if it was magic or something else entirely - but whatever it was, it was undeniably captivating.

Time moved quickly before he found himself following you through the forest to the edge of it. 

“Well,” You began with a sigh as you stopped at the edge of the forest, Draco could see the willow tree and a few of his peers beyond that. “This is where I leave you.”

Draco felt like blaring alarms were going off in his head, as he snapped his head to look at you, “Come with me to Hogwarts.” The words left his mouth before he had any time to really think them through, surprising not only you but himself.

“I can’t.” You spoke, frowning as you looked out past the trees and bushes, “I’m not like you, or them…” You paused before letting out a sad breath, “Being a witch and all, no fancy school for royalty will allow me to reside there.”

“I’m a prince. It doesn’t matter what they think- what I say goes,” Draco insisted, his voice firm.

But you only hummed softly, giving him that same sad smile. “Even with your status, I doubt your school would allow me,” you said gently. “And even if I went, prejudice follows. It always does.” You glanced back toward the trees, the place you had always called home. “Besides, I have my cottage, my animal friends… My life here in the forest.”

Draco was quiet for a moment, studying you, as if searching for something in your expression. He didn’t argue again - but he didn’t look entirely convinced, either. Huffing, he ran a hand through his hair, giving you a glance, “Will I ever see you again?”

“See me again?” You asked with a little laugh, “Only a couple of days ago you were trying to get away from me.” You teased lightly, making Draco roll his eyes playfully, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. And after a slight moment of silence, you continued, “I’ll find you.”

“Find me?” He asked out loud, turning his head only to see that you were gone. He looked around swiftly, eyes wide in a slight panic as he found himself alone.

“It’s the prince! It’s Prince Draco!” He heard, but he was too distracted, his gray eyes searching for you, only to be swept away from the edge of the forest and into the open; the bright sun blinding him slightly as he found himself in front of Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, and Pansy. 

“Draco!” Pansy exclaimed, “We have been searching everywhere for you. Where have you been?”

Draco raised a hand to his temple, the ghost of your magic still lingering in his mind - a warmth that had yet to fade. But as quickly as the thought surfaced, he dropped his hand, his expression hardening as he returned to his usual stoic, stubborn self. “Nowhere,” He said flatly, brushing past her. “I’m here now. That’s all that matters.” But even as he walked away, he couldn’t shake the feeling that part of him was still back in the forest - with you.

~~~

Sitting on the bench during supper, Draco propped his elbow on the long wooden table, his cheek pressed onto his hand. Normally, he was joining in on the fun, and he had been for the first couple of days, recounting his adventure in the Forbidden Forest, lying that he encountered creatures beyond anyone’s wildest dreams or nightmares - excluding the Nymphs. But, a week after returning, he found himself rather quiet; thinking back to what really happened.

“Draco!” Someone from his Slytherin table called out to him, raising their glass of pumpkin juice, “Tell us again about your adventure!”

Draco sighed, having grown tired of reciting the same thing over and over again. “You’ve all heard the story enough times by now, haven’t you?” He spoke, causing some of the people - especially his friends - to look at each other confused before he suddenly stood. “I’m going to bed.” He quickly left the Grand Hall, finding himself in his room.

Draco took in a deep breath, walking to his bed and sitting down. Running a hand through his hair, he shut his eyes; immediately, he saw you. He snapped his eyes open. What had gotten into him? Why was he acting like this? Wasn’t it supposed to be better? Here? That he should be happy to be back and able to live with his friends and learn at Hogwarts? He didn’t feel like himself anymore… 

You sat on your bed, the one that Draco occupied, now empty and cold. You almost didn’t want to use the bed. You almost believed that he might come back, but you knew that was foolish to think possible. Draco was probably in a class or something, or eating dinner, doing whatever a prince was supposed to do. And you… You were just some witch from the woods to him. He was royalty, after all, you were a peasant. There was no reason for him to remember you or come back. He’d be foolish to do so, he almost got killed once. Though, it didn’t really hurt to dream, to wish that he’d someday come through your cottage door. It didn’t hurt to dream, right?

~~~

One Month Later ~~~

“Draco,” Crabbe said, causing Draco and Goyle to hold their horses. “I don’t think we should go this deep into the forest.”

“Yeah,” Goyle spoke up, “They say that witches and centaurs and werewolves are in here. And it’s also forbidden. I don’t know why you would want to go in here again, willingly.”

Draco scoffed, “If you both are going to be cowards, you can go back. I can handle this myself.” He said, urging his horse forward further into the forest, heading deeper into the thicket that surrounded your cottage. The forest had begun to darken, trees and foliage growing thicker with every passing moment; the sun setting in the sky. Draco, however, unnerved, trotted on, Crabbe and Goyle following behind as an owl hooted somewhere in the distance. The atmosphere was becoming increasingly eerie. “See? Nothing to be scared of-” Draco spoke confidently, turning his head only for his smirk to turn into a frown; Crabbe and Goyle were gone. Turning back round, Draco huffed, “Cowards.” He muttered, swallowing thickly as he urged his horse to continue forward.

With one hand on his horse’s lead, and the another on the hilt of his sword, Draco surveyed his surroundings, as much as he could anyway; the forest was dark, the moon’s light only allowing him to make out vague shapes. As he continued forward slowly, his eyes widened as something flew straight towards his face from the darkness. Instinctively ducking, he pulled back sharply on his horse’s reins to halt his progress forward, his horse rearing up, knocking him to the ground.

With a grunt and a groan, he pushed himself onto his feet, brushing himself off as he stared into the darkness ahead. A low growl filled the air, drawing the attention of Draco who turned quickly and held his blade out protectively in front of himself. Something moved forward out of the shadows, it was tall and bulky and covered in black fur and long claws. It brought its head up, its sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. It was a large wolf. 

“Back, you beast!” Draco yelled, trying to mask his terror as he pointed his sword at the wolf, its teeth growing larger as its snarls grew stronger until Draco was backed up against a tree, his sword pointed down at the wolf. “Get back!”

The wolf continued to snarl, its saliva dripping from the corners of its mouth as its large paws stepped closer and closer towards him. Its tail twitched as it prepared itself to pounce. Draco was frozen as he watched it approach, staring at those red orbs. Eyes that reminded him of fire, glowing fire. The wolf hunched its back, preparing to spring, the prince shut his eyes.

The silence was deafening and for a slight, split second, Draco thought he had died. But he felt no pain, no teeth as sharp as daggers ripping into his flesh, nor did he feel the burning sensation in his throat that signified a wolf’s attack. Opening his eyes, he watched as the wolf stood still, his nose turning into the air, sniffing, smelling the air. Suddenly, the wolf moved its head to the side, its ears turning, listening before he howled. Its howl cut through the air, filling Draco’s ears, making his body tense. 

All of a sudden, a familiar silver ribbon of light began to weave around the wolf’s body, its light reflecting off its fur before continuing its path. Draco then watched as the wolf turned and left, disappearing into the shadows. He took a deep breath, feeling more safe than he had before. He lowered his sword, leaning against the tree, breathing heavily. He shut his eyes, relief filling his chest. 

“I think you owe me another thank you.”

Opening his eyes, Draco sighed, turning his head to find you standing beside him. For a moment, all he could do was stare before he cleared his throat and looked away, puffing his chest a little as he spoke, “A thank you? For what, may I ask?” He asked, still slightly shocked by your sudden appearance. 

You tilted your head slightly, a slight smirk on your face as you stepped closer, “For saving your life. Again.”

“I could’ve handled it.” He insisted, placing his sword back into its sheath. 

“Oh, I knew you could.” You stated sarcastically, folding your arms across your chest. “I never knew you were such a skilled fighter… I’ve never seen anyone attempt to fight a wolf with their eyes closed.” You continued to playfully taunt him, stopping just inches away from him as he looked at you, his gray eyes glinting in the moonlight. You raised your brow expectantly, waiting for him to respond.

“Well, I was going to kill it, I was just waiting for the right chance to do so,” Draco responded, “I didn’t need you.”

You hummed, “Well, killing him was never going to be an option. If you remember, all the animals are my friends.” You shrugged, “But you did need me.” Your eyes briefly raked over his face before returning to his eyes, “Admit it, you missed me.”

Draco rolled his eyes, shaking his head lightly, “No, not at all. Why would I miss seeing a peasant like you?” He asked, feeling a rating, hot tension that made a shiver crawl down his spine.

“Oh, I don’t know…” You teased, looking away coyly, “Why else would you be in the Forbidden Forest, at night, all alone?” You countered, a mischievous smile spreading across your lips as you looked back up at him.

“I’m not alone…” He argued, his brow rising slightly as he glanced around. His eyes stopped on yours, his face becoming warm. “I have my friends.”

Your smirk grew even wider, “Ah, yes, and where are they?”

Draco pursed his lips before wetting his lips, “Ah, uh, we got separated.” He spoke, stammering only slightly hardly noticeable as you raised both of your hands to straighten the collar of his white button-up; the tips of your fingers just barely brushing his burning neck.

“Seperated?” You repeated, your hands resting on his chest as you finished fiddling with his collar, “I’ve told you before… It’s dangerous in these woods.” You sighed softly, your smirk forming a small, sad frown as you stared at his chest. “You shouldn’t be out here. I’ll lead you back to the edge of the forest.” You quickly turned away, only getting so far before Draco grabbed your hand.

Turning your head, you were about to speak when Draco stopped you by tugging at your hand, pulling you close. Your body was immediately pressed against his, your hand flying to land back on his chest. You blinked, taken aback, watching the way his hair fluttered slightly in the wind, the way the moonlight illuminated the contours of his face, his features softening and relaxing as he watched you.

You had guessed right, he had missed you. Your voice, your company. It was addicting. Like the first night that he had met you, the night you saved him, Draco felt a warmth rise from within, a fluttery feeling settling in his stomach. It was an unfamiliar yet exciting feeling, one that made him feel almost giddy inside. 

He felt himself begin to lean in. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you. You didn't move as he placed his hand beneath your chin, tilting your face upward slightly, his thumb racing - brushing - along your bottom lip as your eyelids fluttered shut. Leaning in ever so slightly, you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of his touch as he closed the small gap between the two of you.

His lips brushed gently against yours, a gentle pressure, not wanting to push too far but not wanting to leave completely either. You couldn’t help but return the gesture, placing a hand on the back of his neck - gently carding through the short, platinum blonde hair there - while the other wrapped around his waist, holding him closer as if you feared that if you let go, he might disappear. The kiss lasted a few seconds, neither party was willing nor wanting to pull away. The palpable tension between the two of you was so strong that it almost seemed like it might burst. 

Just when you thought you couldn’t hold back anymore, the spell broke as you felt his lips part from yours, breaking contact with your own and causing your eyes to flutter open. Draco’s eyes remained locked on your lips, lingering before they shifted. 

He gulped, licking his bottom lip before looking into your eyes, searching them before he whispered, “Thank you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, unable to break your gaze away from his soft gray eyes, “You’re very welcome, Draco.” ~~~ “They're going to be looking for you again, Draco,” You murmured, your voice gentle yet firm.

You sat beside him on your bed, back in your cottage - the place he had softly demanded you take him to instead of the forest’s edge. His grip on your hand tightened slightly as he shook his head.

“Let them,” He muttered, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your knuckles. “I don’t care.”

You exhaled softly, watching him. “You should.”

Draco finally looked at you, his stormy gray eyes filled with something unreadable. “The only thing I care about right now is being here - with you.”

You smiled softly, your hand gently coming up to cup his cheek, leaning in to kiss the opposite side of his face. “To think, under all that stubbornness was such a softie,” You teased lightly. “But you have to go back at some point.”

Draco cupped your hand on his cheek, his eyes shutting briefly. “I’ve got one more month until I graduate,” He murmured, his voice low and steady. “And then I’m coming back to you.”

Your eyes widened, a sense of disbelief creeping in. “But… What about your parents?” you asked, worry lacing your voice.

Draco's gaze softened, but you could see the shadow of doubt in his eyes. You knew exactly what their views were on non-royals - they would never allow someone like you to be with him. They would never let him just pick up his life and stay here, away from the rigid expectations of his family.

“They would never allow me to be with you,” You continued softly, your thumb gently tracing his cheek. “They wouldn’t let you just walk away from everything you’ve been taught and brought up to be.”

Draco’s jaw tightened, but his voice was calm, almost determined. “Then I’ll change that.” He slowly brought your hand from his cheek to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver up your spine as he pressed gentle, lingering kisses along your fingertips. His lips brushed each finger with careful tenderness, “If they don’t accept us,” He murmured, his voice a quiet but firm conviction, “Then I don’t accept being Prince.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. His hand, still holding yours, felt steady, certain. He was already willing to make sacrifices, even if it meant defying everything his world had ever taught him.

You swallowed, your heart pounding. “But Draco, this is everything you’ve known. Your future, your family-”

“I don’t care about any of that if it means losing you,” He interrupted, his thumb tracing the back of your hand, each movement deliberate, like he was memorizing the feel of your skin. “I’ve spent my whole life being molded into something I never wanted to be. If I have to lose my title, my name... My family’s approval, so be it.” He leaned closer, his voice low and intense, a whisper just for you. “Because what I want is you. And I won’t let anyone - no matter who they are - stand in the way of that.”

His words stirred something deep inside you, a mixture of hope and fear, but above all, a quiet understanding. You knew Draco wasn’t the same person you first met - the prideful prince, hidden behind layers of arrogance and duty. No, this was a side of him that had been buried, one that only came to life in moments like these, when he let his guard fall.

You let out a soft breath, your chest tight with emotion. “Draco, I-”

He cut you off gently, pressing one final kiss to the palm of your hand before bringing it back to his cheek, his eyes closing as he rested his face against your skin. “You don’t have to say anything,” He murmured. “Just know that I mean it. I will fight for us, for you... No matter what it costs.”

You bit your bottom lip, your eyes watering slightly as you whispered, “One month?”

Draco nodded, opening his eyes to meet yours, a smirk tugging at his lips. “One month,” He confirmed, his voice soft but filled with certainty.

Slowly, you both leaned in, the distance between you closing as your noses brushed together. “If you move here,” You asked quietly, your breath mingling with his, “Are you sure you’re going to like it?” His smirk deepened at your question, and he leaned in just a bit closer, his lips barely touching yours, “Last I remember, you said my cottage was cramped.”

“I did,” He whispered back, smiling against your lips, “But I think we can make it work.”

~~~

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[justsomerandomfanfic]

Thank you so much for the tag @eurydiceauxenfers! This was a lot of fun to do, I love the 70s!

So, I made two, and this first one, I couldn't not make myself Velma from Scooby-Doo!

This second one is what I would wear IRL if I could with my current style!

Some no pressure tags; @all-of-me-why-not-take-all-of-me @certified-juice-box @drfleetflower @eatmyshortsz666 @diabolicaltwink @edgessunflower @rita-lean and anyone else!

I’m starting a tag game!!

Make you in the 60s-70s🫶

🏷️ @deadhands69 @kitkat13001

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hiii Cloe!!! I'm so happy your surgery went well!! Hope you have a speedy recovery!!! Take as much time as you need and remember to stay hydrated!!! <333

Thank you so much for this! Your message really made my day. ❤️❤️❤️

[justsomerandomfanfic]

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Beauty And The Beast - Chapter 5 - Loki Odinson X Female Reader - Fluff/Slight Angst - 1.2k

The Dirt Road - Joel Miller X Female Reader - Fluff/Mini Angst - 5.7k

Just Drowning In Chocolate - Willy Wonka X Female Reader - Fluff/Mini Angst - 2.0k

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[justsomerandomfanfic]

Beauty And The Beast - Chapter 5 - Loki Odinson X Female Reader

Title: If She Doesn't Eat With Me...

Loki Odinson X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Clint, Natasha, Mrs. Potts, Morgan, and Bucky (Mentioned)

Beauty And The Beast Retelling Fanfic

Chap 1 | Chap 2 | Chap 3 | Chap 4 | You Are Here | Chap 6 | Chap 7 | Chap 8 | Chap 9 | Chap 10 | Chap 11 | Chap 12 | Chap 13 | Chap 14 | Chap 15 | Chap 16 END |

WC: 1,297

Warnings: Imprisonment, rude Loki, italics, banter, teasing, nicknames, yelling, mentions of going without dinner/food, mentions of death/killing/murder (very brief), slight angst, and fluff?

Meanwhile, Clint and Natasha sat in the dining room with Mrs. Potts and her daughter, Morgan. The atmosphere in the castle was heavy, but Clint attempted to lighten it with some optimism.

“Your Highness, the table is set for you and our guest,” Clint spoke up, trying to maintain a calm tone.

The Beast’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing with confusion. “You’re making her dinner!?” He growled, completely bewildered. His voice echoed throughout the room.

Clint, caught off guard by the Beast’s reaction, scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Well... We thought you might appreciate the company,” He reasoned, though his words stumbled out under the weight of the Beast’s intense gaze.

The Beast huffed, pacing back and forth. His large frame cast long shadows across the room as his agitation grew. Meanwhile, Natasha, standing by the fireplace with her arms crossed, sighed in frustration. She raised her hands, shaking her head as if trying to distance herself from the entire ordeal. “Your Highness, I just want to assure you...” Natasha began, shooting Clint a glare. “That I had no part in this hopeless plan. Preparing dinner, designing a gown for her, or giving her... A- A suite in the east wing! None of it.” She practically spat out the last part, clearly trying to prove her innocence.

The Beast whipped his head toward her, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. “You gave her a bedroom?” His voice was low, but filled with fire, the anger beneath the surface clear as he loomed over the two of them.

Natasha quickly pointed the finger toward Clint. “No, no, no. He gave her a bedroom.”

Clint raised his hands in surrender. “This is true,” He admitted. Then, attempting to redirect the Beast’s anger, he added, “But if this woman is the one who can break the spell... Then maybe you could start by using dinner to charm her.”

Natasha took a step closer to Clint and rolled her eyes, “Good thinking, Clint.” She couldn’t help but throw in a sarcastic punch to her friend’s shoulder, though her expression softened.

“What?” The Beast growled, baring his teeth slightly as his brow furrowed. “That’s the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard,” He scoffed, his sharp claws flexing with irritation.

Clint took a deep breath, his voice becoming more urgent. “But you must try, your Highness. With every passing day... We become less human.” He gestured to Natasha, Mrs. Potts, and even the young Morgan, trying to drive home the importance.

The Beast glared down at the floor, his fists clenching, the weight of the curse heavy on his heart. He shook his head, his voice growing harsh again. “She’s the friend of a common thief. What kind of person do you think that makes her? That thief friend of hers probably killed someone’s parents or something. I don’t know,” He grumbled, his voice thick with disdain.

Mrs. Potts rolled forward on her trolley, gently nudging Morgan behind her. “Oh, you can’t judge people by who their friends are, now can you?” She asserted, giving the Beast a knowing look.

The Beast let out a frustrated sigh, knowing there was truth behind her words, but he was still too agitated to admit it. He muttered something under his breath before turning on his heel and storming out of the room.

~~~

The Beast hesitated at the door to your room, his large paw hovering in the air. He took a deep breath, trying to muster up some semblance of composure. His furry knuckles rapped against the wood, startling you.

“You’ll join me for dinner. This is not a request,” The Beast ordered, his deep voice barely hiding his frustration.

From inside, you glared at the door, anger flaring in your chest. “You’ve taken me as your prisoner and now you want to have dinner with me? Are you insane?” Your voice was sharp.

Clint, listening in from a distance, leaned closer to Natasha and Mrs. Potts, whispering, “Uh-oh. She’s losing it.”

“Oh, dear!” Mrs. Potts whispered, worry lining her face.

The Beast clenched his jaw, his patience fraying. “I told you to join me for dinner,” He repeated, his tone darker, more demanding.

“And I told you ‘no’,” You shot back, turning away from the door and sitting down on the bed, your arms crossing. “I’d starve before I ever eat with you.”

The Beast let out a furious snarl, his body tensing. “Well, be my guest! Go ahead and starve!” He yelled back, spinning on his heel. He stormed past Clint, Natasha, and Mrs. Potts without sparing them a glance. “If she doesn’t eat with me... Then she doesn’t eat at all!” He spat, his voice echoing down the hall as he retreated.

~~~

A few moments later, a gentle tapping came at your door. You sighed, your heart heavy as you grumbled, “I told you to go away.”

The door creaked open, but instead of the Beast, it was a small trolley that entered, carrying Mrs. Potts, Morgan, Clint, and Natasha. “Don’t worry, dear, it’s only Mrs. Potts,” The older woman said with a kind smile. Her porcelain face seemed to gleam in the dim light as the trolley rolled to your bedside. Quickly, you hid the makeshift rope you’d been crafting from the sashes of the gown Madame Wanda made for you, but Mrs. Potts’ sharp eyes caught a glimpse. “Oh!” Mrs. Potts exclaimed softly, her tone compassionate. “Aren’t you a vision! How lovely to make your acquaintance,” She continued, pouring you a cup of tea as if she hadn’t noticed your escape plan. “It’s a very long journey. Let me fix you up before you go,” She added kindly, her warmth radiating through the room.

You hesitated before taking a sip, grateful for the small comfort. “I have found... That most troubles seem less troubling... After a cup of tea,” Mrs. Potts finished, her smile never fading.

Morgan, full of tea herself, waddled over to you. You couldn’t help but smile down at the small cup.

“Slowly now, Morgan,” Mrs. Potts said with a chuckle, trying to keep her daughter in line.

“Pleased to meet you,” Morgan greeted you, nearly spilling the tea in her excitement. “Wanna see me do a trick?”

You nodded, a small smile breaking through your hardened exterior. Morgan puffed up her cheeks and blew some bubbles, giggling with delight.

“Morgan!” Mrs. Potts gently scolded, though her eyes twinkled with affection. The room grew quieter, and Mrs. Potts sighed, her expression softening. “That was a very brave thing you did for your friend, dearie,” she said, pouring you another cup.

“Yeah,” Clint chimed in, folding his arms with a proud look on his face. “We all think so.”

“I’m worried about him,” You confessed, looking down at Morgan in your hands. “He’s never been on his own. Well... He has, but we’re a team. He has Steve, but I’m the brains. When those two get together, madness erupts.” You let out a small laugh, albeit sadly. “I miss him. And I miss Steve.”

Mrs. Potts nodded sympathetically. “Cheer up, my girl. Things will turn out in the end. You’ll feel a lot better... After dinner.”

You grimaced, mimicking the Beast’s harsh tone. “‘If she doesn’t eat with me, then she doesn’t eat at all,’” You mocked, doing air quotes with your fingers.

“Mmm, people say a lot of things in anger,” Mrs. Potts replied with a knowing smile. “It is our choice whether or not to listen.” She and Morgan hopped back onto the small trolley as Mrs. Potts gave you one last encouraging smile. “You coming, my dear?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly worried. “If the your Highness finds out you violated his orders and fed her, he will blame me!” She said, exasperated.

~~~

@meganlpie @lokixryss @violethaze @johnmurphys-sass @greep215 @giona45-5 @wolfsmom1

Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

~~~

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[justsomerandomfanfic]

The Dirt Road - Joel Miller X Female Reader

Title: The Dirt Road

Joel Miller X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Ellie, Reader's mother (Mentioned), Reader's father (Mentioned), Reader's friends (Mentioned)

WC: 5,703

Warnings: Events set after TLOU, cursing, banter, teasing, could be seen as game Joel or show Joel, mentions of death, mentions of zombies, kind of sad, references, italics, nicknames, crying (very slight), mini angst, and fluff

The road stretched endlessly before you, cracked asphalt swallowed by the creeping embrace of nature, while the rhythmic hum of the truck's tires filled the quiet between you, Joel, and Ellie. She was in the backseat, flipping through a tattered comic book, occasionally muttering the dialogue under her breath. Joel drove in silence, one hand gripping the wheel, the other tapping idly against your thigh. You had your fist pressed into your cheek, your elbow resting on the truck’s door armrest, staring out the window as the trees passed by in a soft green blur. But, your mind was elsewhere. You didn’t know how long you had been driving, but it had been a long time. Just trying to find a safe place to stay for the night. 

You met Joel a year before he met Ellie. You had been scavenging in a run-down mall when you bumped into him, and, to make the story short, you had been stuck to his side ever since. What started as a partnership, turned into friendship, and later a romance of sorts. You would call Joel your boyfriend, and he possibly would call you his girlfriend, but in this world - in a world where the dead walked and everyone’s lives were uprooted and messed up - labels didn’t really seem to fit. All you knew was that you loved him, and he loved you, and really, that was all that truly mattered. 

And, Ellie? Well, after a year or so of spending time with the kid, you saw her as your kid. Speaking of her…

“Where we going?” Ellie called out from the backseat.

“We’re just looking for a safe place to stay for the night,” You muttered, shaking off your thoughts as your eyes flickered to the rearview mirror. Ellie was slouched in the backseat, her head resting against the worn burgundy leather, the comic book forgotten in her lap.

“Road’s so damn long,” She mumbled, voice heavy with exhaustion. “Haven’t even seen a building since that busted-up Shell station.”

Joel exhaled through his nose, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Yeah, well, fewer buildin’s means fewer people. Fewer people means less trouble.”

Ellie huffed, shifting in her seat. “Or fewer beds. Fewer hot meals. Fewer showers.”

Joel shook his head. “Didn’t realize we were takin’ a road trip for luxury accommodations.”

Ellie groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I’d settle for a place that doesn’t smell like old socks and wet dog.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you glanced at Joel. “Guess that rules out the truck, huh?”

Joel just grunted, his hand on your thigh tightening slightly in response to you. “You’re welcome to walk.”

“Yeah, lemme just hop out real quick.” She snorted, sarcasm dripping from her tongue, “Maybe I’ll find a five-star hotel right off the next exit.”

“We’ll find somethin’. Just sit tight.” Joel muttered with a small sigh as you placed your hand on his on your thigh, your thumb brushing along his knuckles.

Ellie leaned back with an exaggerated groan, pulling her comic book up to her face. “Yeah, yeah. I’m going to finish this comic. Wake me up when we hit civilization.”

You bit your bottom lip to keep the grin from spreading, moving your fist to cover your mouth. Joel’s dry humor always had a way of sneaking up on you. Shaking your head, you turned back to the window, watching the endless stretch of road roll by. The next thirty minutes passed in near silence, the only sounds were the low rumble of the truck’s engine and the occasional sigh from Ellie as she flipped through her comic. You really wished the radio wasn’t busted. God, what you wouldn’t give to hear a song - any song. You’d even listen to “The Hamster Dance Song.” It had been so long since music filled the air, since something other than the noise of the world ending played in your ears.

Your eyelids grew heavier with each mile, the gentle sway of the truck lulling you into a slow descent into sleep. You fought it at first, but exhaustion won in the end. When you stirred awake, the afternoon sun had shifted, casting warm golden light through the cracked windshield. You blinked groggily, rubbing at the crease on your cheek from where the seatbelt dug into it.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Joel’s voice pulled you fully back to reality. You turned to him, still drowsy but smiling, and he smirked slightly before nodding toward the backseat. You twisted around to find Ellie slumped against the door, her comic book resting open on her stomach, completely knocked out. “She went out like a light,” Joel murmured, keeping his voice low.

You exhaled softly, turning back toward the window. The scenery had changed slightly - fewer cracked highways, more overgrown patches of grass and trees reclaiming the land. 

Then you saw it.

Your gaze flicked past a line of trees before snapping back. A run-down playground sat just beyond the road, rusted swings swaying gently in the breeze, vines twisting around the skeleton of an old slide. Nature had begun to swallow it whole, but the remnants of something familiar still lingered.

A piece of the past, frozen in time.

Your drowsiness vanished in an instant. Your eyes widened as you sat up straighter, staring out the window, suddenly more alert than you had been in hours. Joel noticed. You felt his gaze flick toward you, then back to the road, then back to you again. His eyebrows furrowed, a mix of confusion and concern creasing his face.

“The hell’s got you all worked up?” He started, voice cautious.

“Turn right. Up there,” You cut in, pointing ahead.

Joel’s frown deepened. “What?”

“Just- turn right at the next road,” You insisted, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Joel hesitated, his grip tightening on the wheel. “You mind tellin’ me why?”

“Just do it,” You said, eyes still fixed on the overgrown playground disappearing behind you in the small side mirror.

Joel muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue further. With a reluctant sigh, he flicked on the turn signal - an old habit, even out here in a world where no one was around to care - and steered the truck down the road. You kept your eyes fixed on the windshield, scanning the path ahead, your heart thudding a little harder than before. 

“Left,” You instructed suddenly, spotting the upcoming fork in the road.

He turned onto the narrow path, the cracked asphalt giving way to a rougher, less maintained stretch.

Not long after, you spotted it - an old dirt road, barely noticeable through the overgrown grass creeping at its edges. You hesitated for only a second before pointing. “Take that.”

Joel let out a low grumble. “You do realize this thin’ ain't exactly used to off-roadin’, right?”

You ignored his complaint, too focused on the road itself. “It’s still drivable,” You murmured, almost more to yourself than to him. It was surprising, really. After all these years, nature should’ve swallowed it whole, vines twisting through the cracks, tree roots splitting it apart. But somehow, it remained intact, like it had been waiting for you. For this moment.

Joel shot you a glance but didn’t press further. With a slow, measured turn, he guided the truck onto the dirt path, the tires crunching over loose gravel as you pressed yourself against the window, anticipation filling you.

Joel carefully maneuvered the truck down the dirt and pebble path, his eyes sweeping the dense forest lining either side of the road. His grip on the wheel was steady, but you could tell he was on high alert, scanning for any movement between the trees. Walkers could be anywhere, lurking in the underbrush, but - so far - there were none. At least, none that he could see. The further you went, the thicker the air seemed to get, a strange mix of unease and familiarity settling over you. Then, the trees thinned, and the path opened into a large clearing.

It wasn’t well-kept. Grass had grown wild, reaching up past your knees in some places. Nature had begun reclaiming the space, but beneath the overgrowth, remnants of order remained, somehow. The road gradually shifted to cracked concrete, worn by time and weather, leading straight to a large farmhouse. Despite everything - the years, the outbreak, the world falling apart - the house was still standing. Weathered, but intact. Its white paint was almost entirely gone, stripped away by the elements, leaving behind a patchwork of flaked, chipped, and stained wood. A dark oak wrap-around porch stretched along the front, an old bench swing hanging motionless in the still afternoon air.

Beside the house sat a small barn, its faded red siding barely clinging to its original color. This was where the animals had been kept, back when this place was still alive. And next to it, the remains of a small garden, overgrown but still somewhat distinguishable - rows where vegetables and fruit had once been carefully planted and tended. But it was the lake out back that caught your attention most. Even from here, you knew it was there, just beyond the farmhouse, where the trees thinned out again. It had always been peaceful. A place where ducks would gather before migrating for the winter. A place filled with memories.

You swallowed hard, your fingers unconsciously gripping your jeans as the truck rolled to a stop.

Joel shifted in his seat, glancing between you and the house. “Alright,” He said slowly, his voice edged with suspicion. “Mind tellin’ me what exactly we’re doin’ here?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you just stared at the house, your expression unreadable. The past came rushing back all at once, heavy and suffocating, but you forced yourself to breathe through it. Finally, in a quiet voice, you said, “This was my home.”

Joel’s brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face, but before he could respond, you reached for your gun and pushed open the door. Without another word, you hopped out of the truck.

Ellie stirred in the back, groggy from sleep. She blinked a few times, then leaned forward between the seats, watching you with curiosity. “What’s she up to?” 

Joel exhaled sharply, already unbuckling his seatbelt. “I don’t know,” He muttered, grabbing his own gun before stepping out. “C’mon.”

Ellie wasted no time scrambling out after him, her boots hitting the ground as she hurried to catch up. By the time they reached you, you were standing at the base of the porch steps, staring up at the house with an expression neither of them had seen on you before - soft, distant, but touched with something bittersweet.

Your fingers traced the edge of the wooden railing, worn smooth by time and weather. “We built this when I was a kid,” You murmured, more to yourself than to them. “Took the whole summer, but my dad wanted a sturdy porch. Said we’d be sittin’ out here every evening, watching the sunset, drinking my mom’s famous iced tea lemonade.” Joel and Ellie exchanged a glance. Neither of them said anything, letting you have the moment as you stood there, caught somewhere between past and present. With a quiet sigh, you pushed your gun into the waistband of your jeans and finally stepped forward, climbing the worn wooden steps. At the door, you hesitated, your fingers hovering over the rusted silver handle. “I knew we were in the state,” You murmured, voice tinged with disbelief. “But I never thought I’d end up anywhere near here again.”

Joel stayed a step behind you, watching carefully, while Ellie fidgeted beside him, glancing between you and the house. Taking a breath, you pushed the door open. It groaned in protest, the sound loud in the heavy silence. Inside, it was still. Dark, save for the slivers of natural light breaking through cracks in the curtains. Dust coated every surface, the air thick with the scent of wood and time. The house had been abandoned for years, but somehow, stepping inside made it feel like no time had passed at all.

And yet, the emptiness was suffocating.

The weight of old sorrow settled on your chest, memories flashing behind your eyes. You had left this place years before the outbreak. You said goodbye to your parents and moved out, going off to college. You visited from time to time, but when the outbreak happened… Well… You tried calling, but no one answered. You knew that it was possible that they escaped, that they were surviving somewhere, but still… That was a fifty-fifty chance. However, your parents were not as young as they used to be… You had feared the worst, and you had done your time of grieving. 

The words slipped out before you could stop them, numb and hollow. “Seems no one’s home.”

Joel took point as the two of you carefully moved through the house, clearing each room with methodical precision. You took downstairs and the basement, and Joel took the upstairs and the attic. Ellie stuck close to you, her footsteps light as she scanned the dusty corners and empty hallways. But the deeper you went, the clearer it became - no one had been here. Not walkers. Not survivors. It was odd. Places like this - secluded, intact, untouched - didn’t exist anymore. The world had a way of finding every last hiding spot, whether by the dead or the desperate. And yet, here it stood. Your childhood home, frozen in time. And for once, you were thankful.

When the last room was checked, you made your way to the kitchen, your fingers trailing absentmindedly over the wooden countertops. Without thinking, you reached for the third drawer to the left of the sink - ‘The Button Drawer,’ as your mother used to call it. It was where she kept all the little things that didn’t quite have a place; random buttons, knick-knacks, an old key, and so on.

And below that, was the drawer that you were looking for. Pushing it open, you weren’t surprised to find them still there. Your mother’s special candles. The ones she only brought out when company was coming. Their faded labels still bore the familiar names -’Vanilla Bean,’ ‘Summer Breeze,’ ‘Lavender Mist.’ There were at least a dozen twelve ounces of them. You could almost hear her voice playfully scolding your father for lighting them on an ordinary evening, saying they were meant for guests, not just ‘Thursday Night Spaghetti.’ You swallowed down the lump in your throat, grabbing as many as you could. The lighter was in the same spot it had always been, tucked in the back. One by one, you lit the candles, their soft glow adding to the dim light of the setting sun. The scent of vanilla, fresh linen, and lavender slowly filled the air. It was warm. Comforting. Familiar.

Lighting the last wick, you took in a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut as the memories washed over you. For a moment, if you tried hard enough, you could almost pretend. Pretend you were eighteen again. Pretend you were still standing in this very room, telling your parents goodbye before heading off to college. Pretend that when you opened your eyes, nothing had changed.

You were pulled from the depths of your thoughts, ripped away from old hopes and forgotten dreams, by the sound of the front door creaking open. Your gaze shifted, watching as Joel stepped inside, his arms full with freshly chopped logs. He must’ve found the woodpile beside the barn - right where your father always kept it. Kicking the door closed with his heel, he didn’t say anything, didn’t ask if you were alright, but he didn’t need to. The quiet understanding in his gaze said enough. Instead, he just walked past, setting the logs down beside the fireplace, stacking them.

From the kitchen, Ellie emerged, practically bouncing on her heels. She jabbed her thumb back toward the pantry, her face lighting up with something close to excitement. “Pantry’s completely stocked,” She announced, her voice full of wonder. “Like, full full.”

Joel huffed out a small, barely-there smile at her enthusiasm over the food. It was rare to see something so simple bring joy these days. Then, turning his attention back to you, he stepped closer, resting a warm, steady hand on your shoulder. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips - gentle, reassuring. “Go on,” He murmured as he pulled away. “I’ll call ya when dinner’s done.”

You tried to smile at him, silently thanking him for the space to breathe, to take it all in without an audience. Before you turned away, you hesitated just a second, nodding toward the kitchen. “Gas stove,” You reminded him softly. “Matches are in the top shelf, right cupboard.”

Joel gave a small nod of acknowledgment, already making his way toward the kitchen. “C’mon, kid, let’s make dinner.” He called out to Ellie, who followed close behind.

And with that, you turned toward the staircase, letting your fingers trail along the wooden banister as you took the first step up. You took your time climbing the stairs, fingers gliding along the wooden banister - the same one your hand had trailed down the night you left for prom, your dress swishing around your ankles, nerves and excitement buzzing in your chest.

Your gaze flickered to the wall beside you, lined with framed memories, a timeline of a life that once was. There was a picture from your first day of kindergarten, your tiny hand clutching the straps of a too-big backpack, your smile wide and missing a front tooth. Another of you and Persephone, your beloved horse, standing in the old pasture behind the barn. You highly doubted that any of your barnyard animals had survived the many years that you and your parents have been gone. A few baby photos - chubby cheeks, bright eyes.

Then there were the ‘J.C. Penny’ portraits.

You paused in front of one, staring at the happy, carefree grins of you, your mother, and your father. You must’ve been around eleven - front and center, sitting in front of them, your father’s arm draped around your mother’s waist, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder. A perfect, frozen moment of a time when everything was simple. 

You sighed, your fingertips grazing the dusty glass, smudging it, before you pulled away, pushing yourself up the rest of the stairs. The hallway greeted you with even more photos. You used to groan every time your mother insisted on snapping pictures of every little thing, especially when you got older - every birthday, every school event, every lazy Sunday morning. “Do we really need another one, Mom?” You used to complain. Now, standing here, surrounded by the proof of all those moments, you wished she had taken more.

You stepped into your parents' room, the door creaking softly on its hinges. Your mind immediately conjured up memories of rushing in here as a child - whether from a nightmare, seeking comfort between them in the middle of the night, or early in the morning when you were too excited to let them sleep in. Their bed had been a fortress, a safe haven, a place where laughter had rung out as you bounced on the mattress, eager to start the day. Now, the bed was still, untouched, the blankets covered in a thin layer of dust.

You didn’t want to rummage through their things, didn’t want to pry into what remained of them. Despite everything, despite the years that had passed, despite the world being what it was now, it still felt wrong - disrespectful. So, you only opened the closet door, eyes scanning the clothes hanging inside. And then you saw it. Your breath hitched as you reached out, fingers brushing the fabric before pulling it carefully from the hanger. Your mother’s sweater. A cable-knitted, faded yellow sweater, worn and soft from years of love. She had worn it often - so often that it had become a part of her, a part of the memories you cherished. You lifted it to your nose, inhaling deeply, and for a moment - just a moment - it still smelled like her. Soft, warm, familiar. Your bottom lip trembled as you bit down on it, just enough to hurt. You lingered for just a moment longer before turning away, swallowing the lump in your throat as you made your way toward your old room.

Stepping into your old bedroom, everything was exactly as you had left it when you packed up for college. Your eyes roamed the walls, taking in the faded posters that still clung to them - ‘U2,’ ‘Britney Spears,’ ‘Green Day,’ and a handful of others, all more worn now, their edges curling and colors slightly dulled. But they were still there. Still yours. Your closet doors stood slightly ajar, revealing clothes you had left behind, ones you hadn’t thought twice about when you were rushing off to your new life. Your dresser, too, was filled with forgotten pieces of your past. The bed still had blankets tossed over it, though dust had settled into the fabrics. Your desk was just as you had left it - random trinkets scattered about - even an old Rubix Cube.

You moved toward your bookshelf, fingers grazing over the spines of books long abandoned. Without thinking, you pulled one free, surprised when recognition hit you. It was one of your favorite copies - worn from being read over and over again, pages dog-eared and creased. You ran a thumb over the cover, swallowing against the emotion creeping up your throat.

Then, you looked up. And there they were. The little glow-in-the-dark stars your father had carefully placed on your ceiling when you were in the first grade, just because you had told him you were still scared of the dark. You had begged him to leave the light on at night, but instead, he had bought a pack of stickers and spent thirty minutes sticking them up one by one, promising that they would keep you safe.

Even now, even after all these years, they still clung to the ceiling - faint, dusty reminders of a childhood that felt like a dream. You let out a shaky breath, pressing the book against your chest, letting yourself take it all in.

Joel called your name, his voice pulling you from the haze of memories. You glanced around your old room one last time before gently placing the book back on the shelf. With a quiet exhale, you turned and made your way downstairs. As you reached the bottom, the scent of Spaghettios filled the air, and your stomach let out a low rumble in response. The warm, familiar smell was oddly comforting. Stepping into the dining room, you found Ellie already sitting at the table, her eyes lighting up as she took in the meal. Joel, standing by the counter, had clearly taken the time to wash the dusty bowls before serving. You slid into your usual seat, fingers running along the aged wood of the table as you looked at Joel. Finding a bit of courage, you managed a small smile.

“I see you found the wood burner.”

Joel gave a nod, scooping some of the canned pasta into a bowl for himself. “Figured it’d come in handy. Got us some hot water to clean up with.”

At the mention of “hot water,” Ellie’s head shot up, her eyes wide with excitement. “Wait… So I can shower?”

With a small nod, you confirmed, “Yeah, honey. You can shower.”

Ellie let out an exaggerated gasp before dramatically clutching her chest. “Oh my god, I might actually cry.”

Joel huffed out an amused chuckle as he sat down across from you, shaking his head at Ellie’s antics. “Guess I was wrong, kid,” He said, scooping another bite of Spaghettios. “We did find a five-star hotel.”

Ellie grinned, dramatically stretching her arms over her head. “Yep. Hot water, a real bed, and a gourmet meal? This place is luxury.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head as you took another bite. “Think this is gourmet? Wait until I find the ravioli from the one and only Chef Boyardee.” It felt good, even just for a moment, to have something that resembled normal.

~~~

After dinner, you led Ellie upstairs, her excitement barely contained as she followed close behind. Stopping near the bathroom, you opened the pantry and pulled out a clean towel and washcloth, handing them to her.

“Here,” You said, before turning toward your old room. Pushing open the closet fully, you rummaged through the clothes still hanging inside, searching for something that might fit her. After a moment, you pulled out a few pieces of old pajama-like clothes and turned back to her. “These should work,” You said, meeting her back in the hall, handing them over. “I think they’ll fit.”

Ellie took them eagerly, hugging them to her chest. “Man, I might actually die of happiness.”

You smirked, then stepped into the bathroom with her, pointing to the knobs. “Okay, so the handle closest to the wall is the hot one. Just turn it slowly so you don’t burn yourself. I remember it being kind of finicky.” Ellie nodded, listening intently. “And you can toss your dirty clothes in the hamper. I’ll do laundry for us in the morning.”

Ellie’s eyes widened again. “Laundry too? Alright, that’s it - I’m never leaving.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Just enjoy your shower, honey.”

Ellie gave you a thumbs-up before shutting the door, and you headed back downstairs. 

The next couple of hours were a blur of quiet movements and the sound of water running, each of you finally feeling clean. You had used the time while Joel showered to fix up your parents' room. You replaced the sheets, blankets, and pillowcases in both your room and your parents' room, making everything as fresh as you could.  When you had finished with the beds, you ventured into your father’s closet, pulling out a pair of his pajamas. You hoped they would fit Joel, wanting him to feel as at home as possible - if that was even possible anymore. Finally, you descended the stairs to find Ellie in front of the fire, sitting cross-legged in front of the crackling warmth, wearing a mix of your old pajamas; a worn band shirt and your panda pajama pants. The light from the flames danced across her face as she absentmindedly looked outside the window, the moon was full, however it looked as if it might rain. 

Standing at the doorway, you called out softly, “Hey, I got your room all done up.”

Ellie turned her head toward you, a small smile spreading across her face. She stood up slowly, stretching her arms above her head before walking toward you. When you reached your room, Ellie stopped, letting her gaze wander over every inch of the space. She moved toward the bed, sitting down with a soft exhale as she grabbed one of your old plush toys - Mr. Bunny.

“Your room is really cool,” She said as she hugged the plush to her chest. “I wish I had something like this. You know, if the world hadn’t turned to shit.”

You sat down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Well, thank you,” You began, your voice warm and gentle, “I have no doubt that we’ll stay here for some time. I mean, I would like to at least. We’ve got enough food - canned and whatnot - and hot water, to stay here for a good while.” Ellie nodded slowly, brushing her thumb along Mr. Bunny’s ears. “And while we’re here, you can have my room,” You continued, offering her a smile. “I’m more than happy to pass down my things to you.”

“Really? Thank you,” Ellie looked around your room, taking in every detail before her curious gaze landed back on you. “What was it like? You know, before everything went to shit?”

You smiled, but it was bittersweet, the weight of memories pressing against your chest. You shifted slightly, making yourself more comfortable, knowing this wasn’t an easy question to answer - especially since Ellie had no real frame of reference.

“Well… Everything was simpler,” You started, speaking plainly. But even as you said it, you knew that didn’t quite capture it. You pursed your lips, waving your hands in the air as you searched for the right words. “There was structure. Routine. You woke up, went to school or work, came home, watched TV, ate, went to bed, and did it all over again the next day. But it wasn’t bad - it was just… Life. You could go to the store whenever you wanted, get food that wasn’t in a can, and take hot showers every day if you so wanted.” You chuckled softly. “Aside from the government, you’d probably think that was a dream.”

Ellie smirked. “Oh yeah. Hot showers and fresh food? Sounds fake.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It was real, I swear.” You sighed, your fingers absentmindedly picking at the fabric of your blanket. “And people had things to look forward to. Concerts, birthdays, road trips… Little things that don’t mean much when you have them but feel huge when they’re gone.”

Ellie was quiet for a moment, processing. Then she asked, “Did you ever go on a road trip?”

You smiled softly. “Yeah. A few, actually. My parents and I would pack up the car, and we’d drive for hours, sometimes to visit family, sometimes just to see new places. I used to complain about being stuck in the car, but now I’d give anything to have one more road trip with them.”

Ellie nodded, thoughtful. “Sounds nice.”

“It was,” You agreed. “It really was.”

Ellie was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. “What else did you like to do? Y’know… Before?”

You smiled, thinking back to all the little joys you once had. “Riding my horse. You’ve seen it, we have this big open field near our house, and I used to go there every afternoon after school. It was peaceful - just me, Persephone, and the wind.” You sighed, lost in the memory. “And going to the mall with my friends. We’d spend hours there, just wandering, trying on clothes we couldn’t afford, eating pretzels at a place called ‘Auntie Anne’s’, and talking about the dumbest things, like boys, school drama, or the newest movies.”

Ellie hummed softly, resting her head on your shoulder as you spoke, her cheek meeting the soft fabric of the muted yellow of your mother’s sweater. It was a small gesture, but it made your heart ache. You knew she had never had those kinds of experiences - carefree days filled with nothing but laughter and possibility.

You exhaled, nudging her gently. “Alright, enough questions for one night. You should get some sleep.” You smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face before standing up as she got comfortable, pulling the covers up to her chin. A small, contented sigh escaped her as she settled in. With a soft smile, you turned toward the door. “Goodnight, honey.”

“’Night,” She murmured sleepily.

You lingered for just a second before quietly shutting the door, the warmth of the moment settling deep in your chest. You moved down the hall, your steps heavy with the weight of the day. As you approached your parents' room, you spotted Joel standing by the bed, already in your father’s pajama pants and a random white t-shirt. He was waiting for you. Exhaustion hit you hard, your body feeling like it had been holding everything together just long enough to let you breathe. You rubbed your cheeks, feeling the roughness of the day settling in.

Joel met your tired gaze as you stepped into the room, exhaustion weighing heavy in your bones. Without a word, he crossed the space between you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. You sank into him, pressing your face against his chest, breathing in the faint scent of soap and something unmistakably him. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. Instead, he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head, his grip tightening just slightly - just enough to tell you everything he wasn’t saying. “I’m here. I got you. You’ll be alright.” You closed your eyes, letting yourself believe it.

Joel helped you into bed, tucking the blankets around you gently, his movements soft as he made sure you were comfortable. You curled up into his chest, feeling the familiar warmth of him surround you, his arms wrapping around you with a sense of protection and care. With your legs tangled with his, it had been so long since you all had the luxury of sleeping in a real bed. A contented sigh escaped your lips as you let your muscles relax, sinking deeper into the softness of both Joel and the mattress. His fingers brushed through your still-damp hair, slow and gentle, grounding you in the moment.

"Thank you," You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's hand stilled for just a second before resuming its soothing motion. "No," He said quietly, his lips ghosting against your temple. "Thank you. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have an actual safe place to stay." 

You smiled faintly, your fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I still can’t believe it,” You admitted, voice hushed. “I never thought I’d see this place again.”

“Yeah,” He finally muttered, his voice rough but soft in the dim light. “‘S funny how things work out sometimes.”

You hummed sleepily, your fingers loosening their grip on his shirt as exhaustion crept in. “I’m really glad you’re here, Joel,” You murmured, your words heavy with drowsiness but filled with warmth.

You felt Joel’s lips press against your hair again, “Me too,” He muttered, his fingers trailing from your hair down to your back, rubbing slow, absentminded circles over the thick comforter. He stayed like that for a while, even as your breathing evened out against him, long after you’d slipped into sleep.

~~~

Main Masterlist | The Last Of Us Masterlist

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Just Drowning In Chocolate - Willy Wonka X Female Reader

Title: Just Drowning In Chocolate

Willy Wonka X Female Reader

Additional Characters: The Chocolate Cartel (Mentioned), Ms. Scrubbit (Mentioned), Lofty (Mentioned), and the gang (Mentioned)

WC: 2,061

Warnings: Chocolate vat death mentioned, death mentioned, italics, nicknames, slight insecurities, yelling, crying (very slight), slight spoilers to the movie?, Reader can't swim, confessions, mini angst, and fluff

You never thought you'd ever be dragged into this situation. Literally. The chocolate cartel had caught you and Willy, and now you were standing in a giant vat filled with their watered-down chocolate. You held onto Willy’s arm, fingers digging into his shirt as you were slowly pushed further into the room before the large metal door was slammed shut behind you with a resounding clang. The sound echoed ominously, sealing your fate in more ways than one.

This was it. This was how you were going to die.

Your breath hitched, and your fingers trembled against the fabric of Willy’s shirt, the warmth of his body the only thing grounding you.

Going back to the topic of death, you were going to die. And you hadn’t even had the chance to tell him how you felt.

Really, there had been plenty of opportunities, moments where you could have blurted it out or let it come out naturally. But you were a rather nervous person. You didn’t know if he would like you back. You didn’t want to ruin anything. And, of course, you were, well, you. You, the seamstress with the dream of becoming a fashion designer, only for your dreams to shatter when you got caught up in Ms. Scrubbit’s contract. All you had wanted was a room for the night... And instead, you were locked into twenty-eight years of debt and servitude. You thought your future was doomed to be nothing but aching, dull, monotonous hell. But then you met Willy, and your whole life changed in an instant.

The moment he tumbled down that chute, you had been gone for. Those bright eyes, that boundless energy, those untamed curls? You would follow him anywhere - to the ends of the earth, and apparently, to the bottom of a chocolate vat. You had trusted him with every fiber of your being since the moment he thought up the plan to sneak out.

But he was Mr. Willy Wonka, soon-to-be world-famous renowned chocolatier. Why would he ever be interested in you? The doubt gnawed at you, more persistent than ever now. Maybe it was just the stress and thought of dying that made your heart feel heavy, or maybe it was the creeping chocolate lapping at your ankles. Either way, the panic was rising fast.

“Willy!” You yelped, gripping onto him tighter, voice bordering on hysterical. “It’s rising- why is it rising?”

His head snapped toward you, curls bouncing as his hands found your face, cradling it between his palms and forcing you to meet his gaze. “Hey, hey- look at me. Don’t worry. We’re going to be okay.”

Your chest rose and fell in sharp, panicked breaths, but his touch - his warmth - kept you from spiraling completely. Without him, you were sure that you would be running around like a chicken with its head cut off. “Don’t worry?” You repeated, incredulous, your fingers tightening around the sleeves of his shirt. “Willy, there’s no- I can’t-” You tried to move your head, tried to look down at the ever-rising chocolate, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Listen to me, darling.”

Your breath caught at the sudden nickname, Willy’s grip was firm yet gentle, his hazel eyes, usually brimming with excitement and wonder, held something different now - something fierce, determined.

“We’re going to be alright. I’ll find us a way out! Can’t be that hard.”

Your heart fluttered for half a second before the chocolate sloshed higher, now pooling at your shins. Willy turned away from you and rushed to the door, pressing his hands against the cold metal. He pushed, pulled, even kicked at it, but it didn’t budge.

“Willy!” You tried again, voice more urgent as the chocolate lapped at your knees. But he was muttering to himself, hands flitting over the door’s hinges, searching for a weakness, an escape. His curls bounced with every frantic movement. He spun around, taking in every inch of the room, all while you could feel your chest tightening. It was at your thighs now. “Willy!” You practically screamed, and this time, he finally turned back to you.

In an instant, he was at your side, his hands grasping your arms as if anchoring you. “We’re gonna get out of here, don’t you worry.”

Your hands clutched at his sleeves again, knuckles going white. “How? Because I have zero ideas.”

His head whipped up toward the ceiling, eyes scanning, gears turning at a rapid pace. Then- “I got it!”

Your breath hitched in hope. “What? What is it? What’s your idea?”

Willy’s hands flew into his pockets, rummaging for something. “If we’re gonna drown in chocolate, Y/N,” He started, pausing to look at you briefly, “And let’s face it, we’re gonna drown in chocolate-”

Your stomach twisted, frowning, “Willy-”

“-then it’s gonna be Wonka chocolate!” He triumphantly pulled out a small vial of something, sprinkling something in but you quickly grabbed his arm, yanking him toward you.

“Willy, please.” You begged, and he blinked at you, the chocolate now at your waists.

“Right,” He said, shaking his head before glancing upward again. His eyes locked onto something, and he pointed. “There’s light above us! That window! If we let the chocolate lift us, we can bang on the glass - I bet someone’s bound to notice us!”

Your stomach churned violently. It was probably not the best time to tell him, but- “Willy,” Your voice was barely above a whisper, “I can’t swim.”

Willy froze. His wide eyes snapped back to yours, hands gripping your upper arms again. “You can’t swim?” You shook your head frantically, and he inhaled sharply, before nodding, determination settling over his features once more. “Alright. Well. That puts a slight damper on things.”

“No kidding,” You muttered.

“But! Not to worry!” He continued, flashing a grin, even as the chocolate rose to your chests. “You’re gonna hang onto me. Don’t let go.”

Your arms wrapped around him without hesitation, pressing yourself against him as your heart pounded violently. “Willy, I’m scared,” You admitted, voice trembling. You felt the burn of tears pricking at your eyes. “I don’t want to die.” The thought of chocolate filling your lungs was not the not the best thought to have crossed your mind at the very moment.

His arms wound tightly around you, his hold strong, secure. “You’re not going to die.” The chocolate surged higher, and suddenly, you were weightless. Your grip on Willy tightened instinctively as you both began to float. You let out a small, panicked whimper, burying your face in his shoulder. “Do you trust me?” His voice was right by your ear, warm and reassuring.

“With my life,” You said without hesitation.

Willy glanced up. You were so close to the glass now. “Then believe me when I say that I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Your breath hitched as you looked at him. Even now, in the face of death, his eyes gleamed with the same look that had won you over from the start. And despite everything - the rising chocolate, the locked door, the imminent drowning - somehow, you believed him.

With Willy, anything was possible.

Instead of saying anything back, you kissed him.

It was instinctive, fueled by adrenaline, fear, and something far deeper - something you had buried for far too long. Your lips pressed against his in a desperate, fleeting moment, warm and soft despite the chaos surrounding you. The second your mind caught up with your body, realization struck like a bolt of lightning.

Oh my god. You just kissed Willy Wonka.

Mortified, you pulled away as fast as you could, your face burning hotter than molten caramel. Your eyes were wide - his were even wider, cheeks terribly flushed pink. He was staring at you, shocked, surprised, and all other words above. Neither of you spoke. The moment stretched on, thick and heavy. Maybe it was the looming thought of death. Maybe it was the adrenaline, the sheer insanity of everything that had happened in the past few hours. Or maybe - just maybe - it was the overwhelming love you had for him, bubbling over at the worst possible moment.

Whatever it was, you were not expecting that.

And you were definitely not expecting what happened next.

Before you knew it, the little orange man - Lofty, as you would later come to know - appeared as if out of thin air, freeing you and Willy from your soon-to-be chocolate prison. And just like that, it was over.

The chocolate cartel was no more.

And you were so happy to be on solid - not chocolate - ground.

Outside, the townspeople erupted into cheers as Willy sent the cartel soaring into the sky, their screams fading into the clouds. The fountain in the center of the square burst forth with rich, velvety chocolate, bubbling and spilling over. People rushed forward, laughing, dipping their hands or cups in. You stood off to the side on the steps of the cathedral, watching the scene unfold. A small, exhausted smile played on your lips, your hands clasped loosely before you. Willy had done it. Against all odds, against every ridiculous, impossible thing that had come your way today - he had won.

Then, as if feeling your gaze, Willy turned.

His eyes met yours, bright but full of something else you couldn’t quite name. You bit your lip, tasting the remnants of chocolate that clung to your skin. It was going to take forever to clean off of you, but right now, that was the last thing on your mind. Willy moved. He slipped past the celebrating townspeople as they clamored toward the fountain, but his eyes never left yours.

Your heart stuttered, butterflies erupting. You held your breath as he climbed the cathedral steps two at a time, closing the distance between you with quiet determination.

You opened your mouth - to speak, to apologize, to say something - but before a single word could escape, Willy’s hands were on your face, warm even through the sticky layer of chocolate. His fingers pressed gently against your skin, tilting your head up as his mouth captured yours.

It wasn’t just a kiss - it was him, all of him. The impossible, brilliant, maddening man who had turned your life upside down, who had swept you into something far beyond your wildest, purest imagination. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that sent a shiver down your spine, tasting of chocolate and something sweeter, something uniquely Willy.

He made a small, breathless sound against your mouth, chocolate smeared between you both, sticky and sweet, mixing into the heat of the kiss. Willy’s lips moved fluidly, unhurried but precise, as though savoring every second, every touch. His breath came uneven when he finally pulled back just a fraction, both of you breathless; his gaze flickered down to your lips, then back to your eyes. A soft, chocolate-stained smile tugged at the corner of Willy's mouth as he pulled back, his breath uneven.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while," He murmured, "But you beat me to it."

Your heart fluttered, realizing he felt the same. A giggle escaped, and your smile widened. You pulled him in for another kiss, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer. Willy responded eagerly, his hands wrapping around you as you deepened the kiss. When you pulled back, he chased your lips, eyes sparkling with a mix of desire and affection, unwilling to let you go.

When you pulled back, Willy chased your lips, his eyes sparkling with a mix of desire and affection, unwilling to let you go.

"You did it," You whispered, a soft smile spreading across your face.

He shook his head lightly, a warm, loving look in his eyes. "No, darling, we did it."

"We did it," You echoed, your thumbs brushing along his cheeks, trying to wipe away the dried chocolate, but only smearing it further. You chuckled softly. "Getting all this chocolate off is going to take forever, isn't it?"

Willy grinned, his gaze flickering to the mess on both of you. "Well, at least we made some sweet memories along the way."

You groaned playfully, rolling your eyes at his pun. "Willy..." You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head at him. However, you couldn’t help but agree, lots of sweet memories indeed, and you couldn’t wait to make more.

~~~

Main Masterlist | Miscellaneous Masterlist

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Author's Update P2 - 3/21/25

I am back from my short break!

I will be back to my usual posting schedule, and later today, I will be posting fanfics for Fanfic Friday! So stay tuned!

For those who are interested, yes, my surgery went well. I will need to take another break in the future, but I will make sure to let you all know before logging off.

Thank you all for your kind words and support!

-Chloe

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Big Author's Update - 3/21/25

Hello again, everyone,

I wanted to take a moment to address something that’s been on my mind. Despite my post on 5/25/24, I’ve realized how much I miss writing for the Harry Potter fandom. The stories, the characters, and the world we’ve built together through fanfiction still mean so much to me.

That being said, I want to be very clear: my feelings about J.K. Rowling have not changed. I will forever stand against her harmful words and actions, and nothing about my return to writing in this fandom should be mistaken as support for her. My love for this universe comes from the fans who have reimagined and reclaimed it - not from the person who created it.

So, with that in mind, I will be resuming my Harry Potter fanfiction.

Thank you all for your support.

—Chloe