#but the reason i haven't been working on song fics is this has been taking up my brain space

[flingpoly]

i never intended to make an ameyume high school au, originally i was just going to use the setting for a one-shot as a shoujo rei song fic, but i accidentally started world building and really enjoyed exploring them as younger/in a transitional period, so it ended up 8 chapters long. so hey here's chapter 1 if anyone is interested :-)

[the-teufort-nine]

My TF2 Fic Rec List [ Fanfics I've Read That You Should Too]

*cracks knuckles* right, let's get started! X Reader fics are not included bc I already did a list of them for an ask. Mind the tags and ratings, as always. I'll add to this as I collect more, but its decently long as is

Symbol Key:

** = Incomplete

~~ = Personal favourite

++ = Under 10k

SpeedingBullet:

~~Running Blind by TheTriggeredHappy

(( Scout's eyes are badly damaged in battle and for some reason, Medic's gun can't fix him. Until they figure out how to heal Scout, he needs someone to look after him and keep him safe.

Sniper is given the job.

[3rd person limited, Scout's POV, some character development done on a whim] ))

The SpeedingBullet fanfic. If you like Scout X Sniper, and you haven't read this one yet, I don't know what to tell you. You are severely missing out on not only a great romance story, but also fantastic team dynamics. Also has an available Podfic!

++From a Hospital Bed by SlightlyLessThanAnon

(( Jeremy wakes up in the hospital, his brain struggling the find coherent thoughts as the world churns around him, in and out of consciousness.

He finds the team may care about him a little more than he thought they did. ))

Short but sweet. More whole team fluff than strictly SpeedingBullet. Very cute.

~~Golden Brown, as well as its sister fic, Take Me Out by Ali_Ker (Alina_Kerrin)

(( After seeing his co-worker in a new light, Scout is faced with unknown feelings and a new, distracting perspective on things. ))

This lovely author can be found here under the handle @alikerao3

Grouped these two together because they are they same story, but told from the perspectives of Scout and Sniper respectively. Definitely a bit of a heavier read, especially for anyone who has dealt with Catholic guilt or internalized homophobia, but my God is it worth it. Don't just read one thinking it isn't worth it to read the other fic. Read both. Also, check out the song that inspired the title.

~~Going Through The Motions by AussieBookworm

(( Working under RED can be repetitive at times - but nothing like this. After a curse is fired his way, Scout is forced to live through the same day over and over and over again. It should be easy for someone as perfect as Scout to break the curse, right? As long as he doesn't have to confront the things he's been feeling towards Sniper it should be a piece of cake! ))

Possibly my absolute favourite TF2 fic right now. Scout gets character development out the ass, Demo has a prominent, important role, and there's a plot twist so good it had me tweaking out. TW for Suicide as a method used to get out of a time loop. Absolutely incredible, and it needs more love.

Gills and Gunpowder by popkeeki

(( Monsters are becoming increasingly rare. Between getting pushed to the periphery of society or being targeted by traffickers, life is hard when you are not (entirely) human. Like many others, Scout tries to keep his true form a secret. It has never really been a problem. That is, until a nosy teammate catches him mid-swim. ))

SpeedingBullet Mermaid AU!! Good luck finding a fic with this premise that also reaches this level of quality.

**~~Pet by Anonymous

(( Sniper's terrified of losing the one person he has in his life. It turns out there's a convenient solution to that: just make sure he has no way out, and the rest will follow.

Scout wakes up in a van he knows all too well, loopy and hungover, and Sniper's waiting for him.

*

Or: Learning to live with claustrophobia in small spaces Or: Making the best of assisted living Or: You can’t outrun a fucking bullet ))

Are you like me? Do you enjoy Scout whump and Yandere!/Possessive Sniper? SpyDad? Do you want more of it in your life? If the answer is yes, than Pet is for you! No NSFW, just pure, delicious kidnapping and one-sided love.

General Fanfic Recommendations:

++Something's Up With Respawn by Camelot_taurus, Old Works (HarveyDangerfield)

(( Respawn starts to glitch, and the Administrator sets Engineer to work fixing it.

It doesn't take long for him to find out exactly what's going ))

Super funny, weird little oneshot. Basically, Respawn starts glitching and producing fucked up, Paperjam Dipper-esque clones of the Mercs.

++Mask Off by MatryoshkaDoll413

(( Scout is sick. Really sick. 'If we can't get this fever under control it's the hospital or the morgue' sick, and Respawn can't help him this time. They'd already tried that. He's gotten so delirious he's fighting Medic every second he's awake, not really lucid enough to remember so much as his own name, much less that of any of the team. Medic is ready to put him under full sedation and try and work things out from there, but Spy has an idea. ))

Wholesome SpyDad fic. Spy actually acts like a dad for once, for his sick little bunny.

~~++Scout, Respond by MatryoshkaDoll413

(( Scout wakes up in a dark, unknown place, with rocks bearing down on him and a spotty recollection as to how he ended up there in the first place. The only thing that keeps him sane is the voice of his team in his ear, telling him to talk, to breath, and, more than anything, to stay awake. ))

Scout gets trapped beneath a collapsed building, and receives comfort from his team over his headset while they race to dig him out. Super cute, definitely a must read, and I've done so more than once.

pick it all up (and start again) by bugbee

(( The clues had always been there, he had just never wanted to see them. Maybe neither of them had, instead content to deny the truth before their eyes for the rest of their days because it was better than confronting the alternative. Except Scout had died, and Spy wasn’t able to keep on pretending for his last moments. A part of Jeremy was glad for it, despite the simmering rage and betrayal and hurt. So when he tried to look God in the eye and tell Him that Tom Jones was his father… He couldn’t. Not really.

(Scout discusses his parentage with God, and stays dead for a little while longer. Well. A lot longer. On the plus side, he gets to attend his own funeral reception.) ))

An alternate take on Scout's death from the comics. Very Scout centric, obviously, and ends happily.

~~A Little Bird Told Me… by the_soup_specter

(( Medic learns a secret— something personal, powerful, big enough to cause a rift in the team of mercenaries that could tear two of them apart. And for once in his life… he’s not sure how to proceed.

With no better ideas, Medic decides to ask his fellow mercenaries for advice. But as dueling viewpoints begin to pile up, will he be able to make a decision before the team is changed forever? ))

Medic learns Spy is Scout's dad, and spills the beans. Everything turns out ok, but man the aftermath initially ain't pretty.

~~seven times he has to explain (and one time he doesn’t have to) by conner_is_alive

(( the trans scout obsession has me in a vice

also if i don’t vent my trans sadness i will literally rip a government building down brick by brick lmao ))

The fic that made me a trans Scout believer. If you're on the fence about that headcanon, maybe give this fic a read.

**~~Kith And Kin by BOREDGrace23

(( Mick never thought much of the BLU team. They were just clones, after all. Designed to be their opponents in a meaningless war.

That's why when he woke up, his vision blurry, his brain blistering from a headache like he'd just woken up from a hangover, and several burning questions about what had happened, he thought it was strange that they hadn't killed him already.

//

Or, BLU are clones and RED are decidedly not. They’re then forced to work together when their teams disappear. ))

If you like Emesis Blue, or horror in general, go read Kith And Kin. And when you finish, go give @boredgrace23 some love for such an incredible fic.

**++Der Junge by UpInFlamesWriting

(( Everyone on the team knows that Scout & Medic do not get along. They're like Sniper & Spy, except less bloodthirsty about it. Medic scares Scout, & Scout doesn't give Medic a reason to like him. When the two of them start being more than friendly all of a sudden, the team starts to worry, especially when it becomes obvious that Medic & Scout are keeping secrets from them. Scout & Medic are not about to tell the rest of the team that they are a pair of transsexual men, especially when Medic agrees to help Scout in his transition. For all the weirdness that goes on in the base, the world is not kind to queer people, & they aim to keep the reason behind their friendship a secret, even if it kills them. ))

Trans Scout and Trans Medic solidarity fic. I need more of this.

Eight Mercenaries and A Toddler by ChaosandMayhem

(( When Respawn malfunctions and their annoying Scout is turned into something far more precocious, it'll take all of the RED team's wits and patience to look after him. At the same time, Engineer must find a way to turn Scout back into an adult before the BLUs-or anyone else-realizes what's happened. No pairings, just a bunch of exhausted trained killers and one hyperactive child. ))

An Ancient Text from 2012 and the only FF.Net fic on this list, EMaAT is a classic for me. Lot's of Spy backstory, if memory serves. Quotes from this live rent free in my mind.

PracticalEspionage:

++Under the Lake by Her_AngelEyes

(( Engineer goes fishing. Hilarity ensues. ))

Don't let the description fool you. This is a non-con/mind break fic. If you like darkfic stuff, than this is for you~

[beomboomboom]

Important

genre: fluff, angst, established relationship

pairing: idol!Jihoon x reader

summary: Jihoon is a busy guy, everyone knows that. But why does it hurt so much when he can't even make time for his own girlfriend? All you want is Jihoon's love and affection, why is that so difficult?

warnings: a bit of swearing

note: This fic includes some lyrics from the song All My Love by SEVENTEEN (If you haven't heard this song, I strongly recommend you listen to it. It's such a good song!!) I hope you enjoy reading the fic <33

"Am I really that important to you?"

There's tears in your eyes when you ask Jihoon the question you've been wondering about for the past few weeks.

Part of you knows you're just being irrational. Jihoon has other things he needs to focus on. He's an idol and a producer for fucks sake, it's practically guaranteed that he's going to be busy with work 24/7. So it's unrealistic for you to expect him to be able to make time for you whenever you feel the need for some company.

But the other part of you feels lonely. Coming home everyday to the sight of an empty apartment without Jihoon isn't exactly the most uplifting sight to see. And even when Jihoon on the rare occasion, does come home, all you are able to see is his passed out figure before he leaves in the morning while you still sleep.

All you want is Jihoon's love and affection, why is that so hard?

You receive your answer to that very question in the way Jihoon sits in a distracted silence when he hears your question. His eyes looking at his computer in a daze, too busy thinking up of ideas for new songs to produce rather than looking at the way you're about to burst into tears.

"Fine. If you can't even give me one second of your time and focus I'm going to leave," you yell angrily as more tears spring into your eyes. You quickly stand up from your position on Jihoon's couch and exit his studio, slamming the door behind you.

"WAI-" Jihoon starts to shout, finally finding his voice. His eyes widen while his hand is outstretched toward the direction of his door as if it's going to make you come back.

But it's too late.

You're gone.

Jihoon knows he fucked up.

More than that actually.

He knows that it's his fault your relationship with him feels so one-sided. He has a habit of overworking himself. Oftentimes minutes in the studio turning into hours before turning into days of being cooped up producing songs, causing him to neglect the very people he wants to spend all his time with.

Jihoon wishes he could tell you how much he loves you, that he's not trying to neglect you on purpose. He just sometimes gets caught up in his work and doesn't realize when it's time to take a break. He wishes he could tell you that he misses you as much as you miss him, even though he doesn't show it.

But now he has no idea what he could possibly do to solve the predicament he's in. Jihoon could talk with you, but he knows he's not the best with confrontation. Jihoon could give you a few days of space, but he knows that it's probably not the best choice since the whole reason you got mad was because Jihoon wasn't around you enough.

So, Jihoon turns to what he's best at doing. What he does when he doesn't have a clue on what to do.

Songwriting.

Sometimes he'll write songs for his members, comforting them through his lyrics. Other times he'll write songs for Carats, wanting to share with them some encouraging and happy tunes.

But this time, he's writing a song for you.

Jihoon knows that writing a song for you won't make you forgive him instantly, but the most he can do is try to make things better a little bit at a time.

It's 3 in the morning when you hear a knock at your front door. As the rain falls softly on your window, the only question that on your mind is, who the heck is outside your house at such an ungodly hour?

Feet shuffling along the cold floor, you sleepily walk over to your door and open it. Your sleepy eyes are still trying to make sense of the situation when Jihoon stands outside your apartment door.

In front of you stands a drenched Jihoon with puffy red eyes carrying his signature black backpack that is absolutely ginormous on him.

"Jihoon? What are you doing here?"

Mumbling something incoherently, you watch, still half-awake, as Jihoon slowly walks up to you and gently wraps his arms around you.

As you feel the wetness from Jihoon's shirt begin to seep into your own shirt, you try to softly push Jihoon away. But that only makes Jihoon hug you tighter. "Don't go...,"you hear him mumble as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, and that's when you realize that Jihoon is crying.

You're torn.

Seeing your boyfriend cry is a rare occurence and as much as you want to hug him tightly and kiss away all his tears, you want to run away because how can he come back to your apartment as if nothing had happened in these past few months.

"I'm sorry," Jihoon says, his voice cracking and mouth quivering, as he cries, letting his tears drop messily into the fabric of your shirt.

Taking Jihoon's face in your hands, you quietly rub away his tears which only makes him cry harder. Leaning into your touch, he takes hold of your wrist and gently rubs it. "I-I'm really sorry. You don't deserve a terrible boyfriend like me."

"No, don't say that. You know what, how about I get you a towel so that you can dry yourself off and then we can talk more, okay?

"Okay"

By the time you return from the bathroom, towel in hand, Jihoon is sitting on the couch and pulling his computer out of his bag. "oh...are you going to be working more?"

He can hear the disappointment in your voice when you ask the question, you're so used to him working all the time that you're not even angry ... you're just disappointed. Jihoon feels a wave of guilt wash over him as he realizes that all the things you said to him before were true, he was just too busy to realize it.

"Ah, no. I have something to show you," Jihoon says with a tired smile as he pats the seat on the couch beside him, inviting you to sit.

Hesitant, you take a seat next to your boyfriend and look at his computer screen where you can see him open a file. You then watch as Jihoon pulls out a pair of earphones and plugs them into the computer.

Putting the earbuds into your ears, Jihoon presses play as his eyes shake, nervously watching your face for any kind of reaction.

The second the melody of the song plays into your ears, you feel like crying out of disbelief. "You made a song for me?" you ask, suprise etched all over your face, as you look towards Jihoon's direction.

Nodding with a small but nervous smile, Jihoon then motions for you to continue listening.

And it's when you reach the part of the song where you can hear the lyrics sung by the sweet honey voice of your boyfriend, when you begin to cry.

Just likе a pouring meteor shower Please be the light in the dark sky I can do everything for you For you I just want to give you everything And that makes me feel small, a fool who only accepts It suddenly makes me hate myself And makes me feel sorrier towards you

"Oh- Jihoon-," you start to say with tears in your eyes as you close the gap between you and Jihoon and give him a tight hug, your face pressed against his chest. "This is beautiful," you continue on to say sincerely.

Blushing, Jihoon quietly mutters with a nervous laugh, "you haven't even finished the song, listen to what i'm trying to say."

Following Jihoon's instructions, you lean on him and quickly refocus your attention back on the song.

Though it was hard writing my feelings down And all I have is this song and these lyrics For you, for you, for you, for you I sing this song for you tonight So I can get closer to your love

My love only amounts to this But my feelings will never change, for you baby Even if my love only amounts to this I'll be your umbrella in the rain I'll protect you on all your days

By the time you finish listening to Jihoon's song for you, you're in shambles. "fuck- Jihoon, I love you so much you know? I'm still mad at you but I still love you so much," you say as tears roll down your cheeks. Pressing your forehead against Jihoon's, you lean in to give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

Jihoon freezes for a moment before immediately tugging you closer to his body and reciprocating your kiss. "I don't deserve someone as precious as you,"he whispers before devouring your lips into another kiss.

When both you and Jihoon finally break away from each other to get some oxygen into your lungs, Jihoon gently takes your hands into his own. "I-I'm really sorry though. I was a terrible boyfriend these past few months, but I'm going to work on trying to improve myself. Even though I'll probably be busy with producing songs, i'll try to make time for you."

You let out a relived smile when you hear Jihoon's sincere words. "Okay, and I understand if you need time for other things too."

Jihoon gives you a small nod and a smile. "And to answer your previous question, of course you're important to me. For fucks sake you're my girlfriend, you're one of the most important people in my life. How can you not be important to me?" Jihoon says while cupping your face before continuing on to say," just because I don't show it, doesn't mean I don't feel it."

"I love you," he finally whispers with a smile as he places a small peck on your lips.

[yeosangs-horizon]

Silhouette (Wooyoung x neighbor!Reader)

Genre: Neighbors -> Lovers | Fluff & Smut Word Count: 4.2k Member: Wooyoung | Group: Ateez Warnings: smut, fem!reader Author's Note: Oops I haven't posted an Ateez fic in ages, hi!! I've had this one cookin in the drafts for a year and never felt like it was good enough to post till now, I hope you enjoy. I've had intense Ateez brain rot recently again. I've also been enjoying writing longer fics with more plot/lore so expect more of that :^)

Your neighbor was quite peculiar, always turning up his music just before your bedtime and going out wearing a black face mask and a hat that shielded his identity. You had never confronted him before, the closest you got was thumping on the wall that connected your room to his when he was playing his music too loud and he seemed to get the hint. You were getting ready to take the trash out when you heard the music playing again, it was the third day in a row and you had an early day at work the next day. 

Grumbling to yourself, you recounted the tasks you had to complete by the end of the work day, knowing that you had to finish your portion of editing a music video for the entertainment company that you worked with. You opened the front door, trash in hand as you strolled by your boisterous neighbor’s apartment. 

You glanced in, curious as to what he was doing with music blasting at such late hours. You saw a tall silhouette moving to the rhythm in sharp and fluid motions. You stood there for perhaps a bit too long, gazing at the mesmerizing motions of your neighbor. 

Noticing that he turned his head and the music had stopped, it snapped you out of your trance as you saw the figure come up to the window that you were staring at. You saw a trace of his red locks before you dipped and ran down to the dumpster on the first floor, feeling embarrassed that you were seen. The thought of you confronting him to turn his music down went out the door after the events that night. 

The next couple nights were quiet, you were accustomed to the muffled rock songs that were playing by this point that you found the silence a bit lonely. You had forgotten your phone charger in your car so you forced yourself to grab your keys and make a quick trip to the parking lot to grab your charger. 

A gust of wind found itself blowing past your face as you huddled to yourself, but not before turning your head to your neighbor’s window and seeing the silhouettes again, this time of two figures standing in the middle of the living room. You turned your gaze away before making your way down to the parking lot as you heard the door to your neighbor’s flat open. You searched around in your car and snatched your charger before walking back up the stairs. 

“Good practice today San, get back safe!” you heard the voice call out. 

“Thanks Woo, get some rest!” the other man’s voice rung out. You briefly made eye contact with the man with a duffel bag in hand as you made your way up the stairs. 

You found yourself gazing at your neighbor, the one with red locks, the silhouette you were staring at a couple nights ago. 

“Oh hey there! You’re my next door neighbor right? Sorry if my music has been bothering you, I’m Wooyoung!” he beamed, holding his hand out. You were taken aback by his forwardness.

“Don’t worry about it. You always manage to turn it down by the time I go to sleep for some reason, so I didn’t bother confronting you,” you spoke out, telling him your name whilst taking his hand in a firm shake. 

“Sorry for uh, staring at you through the window the other night,” you admitted. 

“Ah that was you? I got worried it was some stalker that got a hold of my address…” 

“Does that happen often?” you inquired, wondering more about your mysterious neighbor. Perhaps that would be why he always went out shielding his identity. 

“You could say so, with my profession,” he vaguely hinted. 

“You’re a dancer or choreographer or something of the sort? You looked… really good from that night,” you blurted out, realizing you may have been a little too forward you took a step back. He chuckled and shrugged.

“You could say that. Sorry if I haven’t been too welcoming, I know I moved here a month ago but never got a chance to introduce myself.” 

You felt a bit bad for misjudging a nice character just because he blasted music in the evenings. 

“No worries! I also dance a bit in my spare time but I’m nowhere near as good as you,” you continued. A gust of wind in that moment made you shiver a bit, wanting to get inside, but also wanting to continue to talk to your neighbor. 

“I’d love to see sometime. Ah also let me get your number, it’s always good to have that connection with the people you live closest with!” Wooyoung beamed.

With shaky hands you typed in your number in his phone. “Have a good night Wooyoung!” you called out as you slipped back inside your place. 

Not only was your neighbor mysterious, he was also very attractive and looked somewhat familiar, but you couldn’t place your tongue on it. Wanting to let lose a bit, you grabbed your speakers and picked your favourite song to dance to, ‘Snapping’ by Chung Ha. 

You had memorized the choreo and the conversation you just had with Wooyoung had reminded you that you wanted to practice on your dances again as some of your girlfriends had mentioned that they wanted to get a dance cover group together. You got into the groove of things, moving your body to the beat as you heard a notification on your phone. 

‘Snapping, good song choice, it’s Wooyoung btw, not some weird stalker lol.’ 

You laughed to yourself for a second before turning the volume down, not wanting it to be your turn to be the asshole of a neighbor.

It was a stressful day at work as the deadline to the music video you were tasked with working on was coming to a close. After you would have somewhat of a break and then be put on another project with the cycle repeating itself over and over again. Your thoughts trailed back to your neighbor, as you stared at the music video you were working on. 

You were lucky enough to work at a well known entertainment company, being able to stare at the talented idols that your company manages was a highlight to your day. Your inspiration and love for dancing also came from them. 

You tilted your head, idol… was Wooyoung a part of a group or an upcoming soloist? You kept up with older groups so you had no idea about the newer generation of idols. You shook the thought of your head, perhaps you could ask him later on down the line. Although you didn’t have any direct line of communication with the idols your company manages, you could imagine how invasive fans and even strangers could get about their profession. 

It had been about a month or so since your run in with Wooyoung. The two of you had been texting occasionally and making small talk when you saw him in the hallways, needless to say you grew quite fond of his presence within that time. You found yourself anticipating when the next time you’d see hoping to get any excuse to talk to him when you’d step outside. 

You found that other than dancing, you had other common interests with him such as tending to plants or cooking and experimenting with recipes. You’d sometimes get a whiff of his cooking when you’d crack open the window for some fresh air in the morning. 

Most of your conversations were initiated by him texting you, ‘hey did you hear that noise?’ or ‘was that you hitting the wall?’ He was silly to say the least and you were a little surprised to see him standing in front of your door when you came home from work that day. 

“I texted you but you didn’t respond, but I wanted to see if you wanted some cupcakes. It was one of my member-- I mean coworker’s birthdays at my company and we had a lot of extras!” He asked cheerfully, holding out a plate of sweets in front of him. 

“That’s very sweet of you Wooyoung, sure!” You replied, exhausted from a day’s worth of editing and wanting a snack anyway. 

“Wait, if you’re not busy, you could come in?” he suggested. 

Why not? You shrugged and turned towards him, “I’m down, anything to get my mind off of this deadline at work.” You slipped your shoes off, following him into his couch and coffee table. 

The layout was the same as yours, but the place looked minimalistic and very modest. You turned your head and gazed at the speakers that were the culprit of the noise that you had once complained about. 

“Oh yeah, my speakers have been busted so that’s why it’s probably been quiet for you,” he chuckled. 

“Damn, sorry about your speakers,” you apologetically replied. 

“It’s cool, I’ve been using my phone for music but don’t worry, more speakers are coming in soon,” he grinned. You took a bite of the cupcake Wooyoung had offered you and smiled into the sweetness. 

“Thanks for these by the way,” you mumbled through your bite. He rested his hand on his cheek, staring at you sweetly. 

“I saw you dancing the other night too, you were pretty good,” he mused. You almost choked on the cupcake. 

“I didn’t watch on purpose, you didn’t close your curtains but I’d know that choreo from anywhere, it was Blackpink’s Kill This Love right?” 

You nodded, feeling a bit flustered from being exposed like that. “Yeah um, some of my friends and I wanted to get a cover group together sometime so I was just practicing,” you sheepishly replied. 

“Y’know the guy you walked passed that night that we started talking? He’s my main dance buddy, we practice and hype each other up all the time. If you need anybody at a hand’s reach, I’m here,” he grinned. 

He was a professional and he was offering you a chance to learn from him? 

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer sometime,” you replied back, letting your gaze meet his. 

This was the first time you had the chance to stare at his face without it being awkward. His dimples are adorable, you thought, letting yourself admire his features. A sudden hand on your face pulled you out from your trance as you felt Wooyoung’s finger slide across the corner of your lip.

“Sorry you had frosting there,” he mumbled, removing his hand from your cheek, the warmth still lingering there. 

You gazed down, feeling warmth arise to your cheeks and smiled to yourself. “Thanks, uh, one of my friends really wanted me to learn the choreo to a song that I thought was really difficult, if you wanted to help me with it. I haven’t started but the dance practice looked intimidating,” you spoke out. 

You felt his gaze on you as he spoke, “Of course, which song is it?”

“Hala Hala by Ateez. The music video looked cool but the choreo seemed intimidating so I’ve been putting it off. I wish I could incorporate the editing style in that music video in my work, but my skills are nothing compared to those editors,” you sighed

You trailed your eyes to Wooyoung after your train of thought stops to see him staring at you with his jaw a bit agape. “Yeah sure, of course. I um, know that dance really well don’t worry!” He exclaimed, trying to hide his shock. 

“Does Sunday work for you? I can’t do tomorrow since I got a work thing,” he gestured vaguely. You nodded. 

“I am indebted to you Wooyoung, I should study the choreo a bit and let you know the more difficult parts to make your life a little easier,” you laughed. You felt him tense up a bit across from you. 

“You haven’t studied the choreo at all before?” he asked. 

“Not much, I was only shown the performance music video like once from my friend,” you shrugged. 

“Thanks for having me over by the way, I gotta do some chores back next door but I’ll be seeing you Sunday!” you smiled as you got up from your seat. Wooyoung seemed a bit tense as he sent you off through the doorway. 

“‘Course, see you Sunday…” He was a bit nervous if you would make the connection that he was with Ateez. Any sensible person would put two and two together with the amount of information he slipped out to you already and the fact that you knew his face. 

He hoped that you wouldn’t react badly or sabotage him in anyway, he had developed some sort of feelings for you as your love of music and dance had captivated his attention and you were just as adventurous as him. 

As night rolled around, you were finished with cleaning your apartment and were sat at your desktop ready to relax and study the choreo for Hala Hala as you said you would for Wooyoung. You had heard of Ateez here and there, but you didn’t know any of the members much less their names and what they looked like. 

All you knew was that your friend was obsessed with the song and to do a cover of this song with her dance group was her dream. You clicked on the music video as you saw the members in their outfits popping up one by one. 

You took in their accessories and appearance as they flashed by on screen, suddenly a familiar face popping on screen. You blinked twice and had to rewind. Wooyoung, your neighbor? No way… you thought, as you kept on staring at the face on screen. 

All this time you had thought that he was just a backup dancer for a group or something of the sort, although him being an idol ran through your mind as well. You decided you’d ask him about it sometime later as you started to note down parts of the choreography. 

Sunday had rolled around quickly with no texts from Wooyoung. You had hoped that he was still available and it wasn’t like him to not send you texts. You had been accustomed to texting him replies of the random messages he sends. You hadn’t heard from him even as you were practicing with the music a little louder than usual the night before. You shrugged it off as you stepped outside to knock next door. 

“Wooyoung?” you called out, after knocking a couple times. It took a minute or so, but you were about to head back into your place as the door opened. 

“Hey, sorry about that I was um… cleaning,” he smiled. In truth, he knew you were at the door but was a bit nervous to see you again knowing his identity might be spoiled. He decided he had to come clean. 

He let out a sigh as he spoke, “Listen I…” 

“Can I ask--” the two of you spoke at once. 

He let out a stifled laugh as you walked into his flat. “I wanted to come clean um…” he started. His nervous energy confirmed what you were thinking about. 

“I know Woo, don’t worry. Everything’s still the same between us if you want it to be, I mean I work for an entertainment company so I’m aware of the stress that idols go through. I genuinely didn’t know you were part of a group until recently,” you stammered. 

He let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks for not being crazy about things, I was afraid you’d resent me or leak my address or something,” he mumbled. 

“You guys are humans too, plus I just wanted to add you looked so cool in Hala Hala and I may have been listening to some of your other songs,” you gushed. 

“Makes sense as to why you’d blast music and practice at that time, you work so hard. Don’t worry I haven’t been stalking you online either, I wanna get to know you genuinely,” you smiled. 

“In that case, let me teach you to master the choreo to my song then,” he beamed. You gazed at the openness of his living room, furniture pushed back to the back of his apartment, taking in the new speakers as well. 

“They finally arrived huh? I can be back to listening to your music at ungodly hours of the night,” you jokingly nudged him. 

“Maybe I’ll turn it up just for you,” he grinned, turning the speakers on and putting his song on. 

You had shown him a couple parts that you had picked up the other night, but you fumbled during the chorus and ended up tripping on yourself and falling onto his hardwood floor face first. “Yeah, the chorus was definitely what was intimidating,” you groaned. 

“Shit you okay?” Wooyoung rushed to your side and held out his hand. You nodded as you slipped your hand in his, using his weight to hoist yourself back up. 

“Let me show you how we did it,” he offered, stepping next to you. 

“So when we approach the ground, it’s a slow descent and keep your weight balanced in the middle to keep yourself from falling,” he gestured, showing you the move again. “And when you pop back up, do it lightly or else you’ll have a lot of neck pain, take it from me,” he chuckled. 

You grinned at his enthusiasm for you to learn the choreography, taking in his words and repeating the motions that he eagerly showed you. “Was that it?” you asked, gazing around for him. You felt his hands wrap themselves around your arm to readjust their position at the ending pose. 

“There…” he mumbled behind you. “Now that’s perfect,” he smiled, letting you relax your position. “You dance really well y’know? I’m glad I got to see it up close this time,” he grinned. 

You felt flustered at his compliments, coming from someone who was way more trained than you were. “You’re too sweet Woo,” you breathed out, feeling a bit tired and sweaty from practice at this point. 

“I’ll get you some water, we can take a break for now,” he gestured. 

You nodded, catching your breath and letting yourself slump on his couch that was now pushed back against the wall. A minute later he plopped down beside you with a glass of water. You gulped down the hydration as you noticed his gaze on you again. 

You put the glass down and met his gaze, he was smiling at you as he always did when the two of you had a rare moment like this, you felt the flutter in your stomach again as you heard his soft spoken voice. 

“You’re really gorgeous when you dance.” 

You blinked twice, sure that you were daydreaming. 

“Wait what?” 

“I’m serious, you have good rhythm and flow, and not to mention… you’re so pretty,” he confessed.

You felt flustered as he let his gaze linger on you. You weren’t sure when the distance between the two of you got closer but you knew when it closed as he pressed his lips on yours. Truth was, he had been pining for you for awhile and after realizing he could trust you and that his identity was safe with you, he let his feelings take over. 

You let yourself melt into his kiss and soon his touch that enveloped you in a hug. His lips were soft against yours and he didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss when your mouth parted open. He put his weight against you and pretty soon, you were laying down as he was on top of you, taking in your taste as his digits intertwined with yours. 

“Mm Woo,” you mumbled against his kiss. He pulled back, a bit afraid that he had gone too far to fast. 

“The curtains, people can see,” you breathed out, eyes still hooded. 

“Shit we don’t want that happening again,” he cursed before he closed the curtains, leaving the room a bit dim and nice for the atmosphere that was to come. 

“You’re okay with this yeah?” he mumbled, wanting more of you. You nodded, 

“Yes Woo, please…” you exhaled. He brushed his lips against your cheek before planting a kiss there. 

“Thank god, I’ve wanted you so bad. You’re so hot…” he whispered to you. His breathiness went straight to your core as you squirmed in your arousal. 

“Guess your dancing just does something to me,” he teased before pressing his lips back onto yours. 

He let himself grind his hips on you, relieving you of the ache that you had been missing from your core as you felt his length hardening against his cargo pants. You tilted your head back in pleasure as he started to trail his kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone, still grinding his hardness against your arousal. 

“I want to… feel you,” you managed to breath out. 

You managed to shimmy your pants off with ease as he kicked off his cargo pants. You also got your shirt over your head to toss to the side, even with his touch and kisses around your neck. Wooyoung trailed his hand down to your core, feeling the arousal soaking through your panties. 

“So excited… and all for me hm?” he teased, pressing his finger onto your aching core. 

“Yes Woo,” you moaned out. 

You felt his cock twitch in the confines of his boxers. He quickly stripped off the remainder of his shirt and undergarments. You gazed at his defined muscles, droplets glistening as a reminder of your dance practice now turned into an intimate waltz with one another. You gazed down to see the length of his hardness, now dripping with precum as a result from his arousal. You did your best to kick off your panties as your own arousal ached for him. 

“So pretty…” he mumbled, taking in your form. 

He leaned down to cup his mouth over your breast as he let his cock slide around your folds before finally slipping himself inside you with ease. You let out a stifled whimper as he stretched out your hole. It had been awhile since you had any action but  that didn’t mean that you didn’t have fun by yourself once in awhile, and recently it had been to the thought of Wooyoung. He was attractive nonetheless but you never thought you’d be in this position. 

“Fuck love,, I won’t last if you’re this tight,” he breathed out. Your core clenched around him as an affect of his words to you. 

You let your hands trace his defined figure, taking in his beauty and his red locks that fell inches away from your face. You felt him move and slowly start to thrust in you. He planted kisses on your breasts, even taking the time to suck a love mark onto one. 

You let out a breathy moan as he continued to thrust in and out of you, slowly increasing his pace. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his torso, wanting to feel more of him. You let out a sharp hiss of pleasure as you felt him bottoming out inside of you. 

“Woo… mm, you feel so good…” you moaned. He quickened his pace as your core clenched around him. 

“God you’re so hot like this,” he breathed out, his eyes lustful as he gazed upon your naked form below him. You let your hips take reign as you bucked up to meet his pace. 

“Woo I’m so… close,” you whimpered. 

“Finish for me,” he whispered in a deeper voice. 

That was enough to send you over the edge as your core spasmed around his hardness. You felt him twitch inside of you before he let out a high pitched moan and spilled into you, rocking himself into you to chase the high. 

“Shit, I um, didn’t mean to do it inside of you,” he stammered, feeling shameful of his actions. 

“Wait Woo I should have said something earlier but I’m protected, on the pill so don’t worry. I should have still said something earlier though!” 

You reassured him, running your fingers through his locks as you gazed lovingly at him. He let out a sigh of relief as he slowly slipped out of you. “Some dance practice we had today right?” You chuckled. 

“One that leaves me to clean up my couch,” he laughed along with you. 

You let yourself relax into his touch as he placed an arm around you, pressing a kiss onto your temple. “What does this make us?” you asked. 

“Anything you want it to be, but I should have asked you out on a date before this…” 

“Well I mean our actual dance practice could have been our date,” you giggled at his realization. 

“Let me take you out on a real one then. I like you a lot!”

[from-the-clouds]

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much. 

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction. 

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time. 

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.” 

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway. 

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness. 

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit. 

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care. 

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time. 

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way. 

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to. 

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with. 

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast. 

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder. 

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him. 

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway. 

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened. 

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen. 

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin. 

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder. 

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen. 

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs. 

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes. 

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t. 

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower. 

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering. 

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks. 

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it. 

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous. 

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet. 

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected. 

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time. 

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally. 

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?” 

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement. 

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him. 

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.” 

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts. 

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him. 

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse. 

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces. 

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating. 

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet. 

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that. 

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing. 

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms. 

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it. 

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again. 

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it. 

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?” 

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.” 

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now. 

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger. 

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now. 

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth. 

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed. 

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree. 

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….” 

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top. 

“That’s it, nice and slow.” 

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread. 

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again. 

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him. 

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens. 

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t. 

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows. 

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart. 

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again. 

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange. 

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think. 

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass. 

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession. 

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips. 

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you. 

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there. 

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected. 

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel. 

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger. 

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little –  just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose. 

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture. 

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously. 

“Yes, please, please,” 

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often. 

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.” 

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made. 

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life. 

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper. 

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”  

“No.” 

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much. 

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t. 

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks. 

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t. 

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had. 

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more. 

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this. 

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it. 

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap. 

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’ 

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though. 

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic. 

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response. 

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted. 

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek. 

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.  

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him. 

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head.  Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side. 

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him. 

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?” 

“You do.” 

“So…. I’ll teach you.” 

“....Okay.” 

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around 

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do. 

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. 

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

[cryptictongues]

184 Days

pairing: Clive Rosfield x Flower!Reader Series rating: Mature (angst; tw listed below) word count: 13.6K summary: You have a hard time grieving after Clive's passing, even when you didn't need to grieve at all.

warnings:  reader-insert (sorry lol), angst, hurt/comfort, reunions, grief/mourning, slight suicidal ideation, slight self-harm, depression, panic attacks, happy ending (yay!) - this is part of the Flower!Reader series! You don't need to have read the other two but there are references to them if that interests you.

Spoilers: This is post-game stuff. If you haven't played the game, beware.

TW's: This fic contains major themes of grief, so it is heavy. There is minor suicidal ideation and self-harm, not graphic in nature, but it is there. Depression and panic attacks are more common in this fic. If these topics don't sit right with you, please be cautious when reading. You may also reach out if you want to know specifics if you are worried!

Songs: I just want to share that I was constantly listening to When the Sun Hits by Slowdive, Thick Skull by Paramore, and Wicked Games by Chris Isaak.

LASTLY, I am sharing this on my birthday! My birthday gift to you all <3

[AO3 link]

Day 1

The Hideaway is full of people. People from all over Valisthea arrive in droves, coming to grant supplies, donate gil, and help around the Hideaway because today is the day; the day everyone here sends off Dion, Joshua, and Clive for their leave to Origin.

You are working overtime, helping with the final preparations before they take off. The biggest reason, however, for the hard work is the ever creeping anxiety filling your body as the time ticks closer to Clive’s departure; from his friends and family, and from you. This day has been a long time coming, yet now that it’s here you can barely stomach the thought of him leaving. With that thought lingering, every moment together has been even more precious than the next. 

Every moment of free time has been spent together. With today being the day of departure, your last moments together were last night. You both made love all night, and in between sessions would talk about what you two will do once he comes back; creating the life of your dreams together. Yet, in the back of your mind, all you could think was those thoughts were just that: dreams. You don’t know what will happen during Clive’s mission. But it’s fun to play pretend, and to envision what life could have in store for the two of you. 

The sun was in its golden state before its colors showed, telling you it’s almost time. You see everyone gathering on the main deck, Clive and co included, talking with one another as they say their farewells and safe travels. You start your way there, walking slowly as if it would prevent the inevitable. You know the moment you reach Clive, it would only be a matter of minutes before he is no longer within your grasp.

You see Clive talking to Jill, bringing her in for a tight hug as he continues. You see a shake in her shoulders, telling you she feels the same way you do. Just as hard as it is to wish your lover away, it must be just as hard to watch the man who has become a brother figure leave. They grew up together, after all.

You give a farewell to Prince Dion and Joshua once on the deck, giving Dion a firm handshake and a bow, while Joshua brings you in for a hug. You didn’t know Dion for long, but Joshua is a different story. Getting to know your lover’s brother has brought you closer to the both of them. Seeing how happy Clive was with Joshua around made your heart swell. You wonder if Joshua ever felt the same about you two. 

Joshua let’s go of you, a melancholy smile drawn on his face. “Thank you, _____. Thank you for taking care of my brother.” 

You shake your head. “No, thank you for finding each other again. I will be praying for the three of you to safely return to us.”

“I appreciate that, my lady.” Joshua thanks, yet his eyes shift, and he nods. “Here he comes.”

You turn to see Clive approaching you, and you already feel your chest growing tight and eyes water. He is standing before you, looking as beautiful as he always has, but with a sorrowful look that says everything you feel. It’s unfair, really. It devastates you that he is the one to stop all the madness, when in a perfect world he would stay. You keep telling yourself this isn’t the end, yet your gut keeps telling you otherwise. 

“____.”

“Would it be selfish of me to ask you to stay? To ask to let the world go to hell?”

Clive smiles, solemnly chuckling at your suggestions. “Never.”

You reach for his left hand with both hands, holding it as you rub your thumbs into his palm. “I know it would be futile, all the same.” You utter. “There would be no life worth living for anyone. I just wish things could be different.”

“I am doing this for a better future for everyone. It is what the world deserves.” Clive’s other hand covers your hands in full. “I must do this, so you and I can live the future we’ve always talked about.”

“I wish I could take your place, so I could guarantee your safety.” You choke out, the waterworks starting. 

Clive is quick to react, pulling you into him as you sob softly into his chest. “Knowing you will be safe here will be reason enough for me to make it back to you.” Your hands squeeze his sides, his statement making you want to sob harder. Clive pulls back, taking one hand to lift your head to get a good look at you. “I promise I will be back. Wait for me.”

You nod frantically, sniffling as you take deep breaths to calm down. Clive’s forehead leans against yours, his thumb brushing continuous strokes on your cheek, before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. You accept his kiss, giving it your all knowing the outcome is unknown. Both of your lips linger, not wanting to pull away because once one of you does, he will be on his way. 

Clive pulls away slightly, his lips still lingering near your own. “I love you, ____.”

“I love you too.” You whisper, placing one more kiss to his lips before pulling away. “I have something for you.”

You reach into the pouch you keep attached to your corset belt and pull out a lily. You thread the stem in between the crease of his corset and tunic, the tightness of his uniform keeping the flower in place. You brush his chest, stalling him a little longer before you accept it is time. “Lily represents reunion. With this flower, you shall come back to me.”

Clive sucks in a breath, releasing with a shutter as if he was on the verge of tears. “I will, no matter what.” 

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and you turn to see Jill still sniffling with watery eyes. She smiles at you before looking at Clive. “We will take care of each other.”

You feel something rub against your thigh and look to see Torgal rubbing his head on you. You smile, rubbing behind his ears. “Torgal will look out for us too.” 

Clive hums, appreciating the sight before him. “This is farewell for now. Till then, we have a god to kill.”

Everyone has now formed a semi-circle around the three dominants about to depart, watching as they walk towards the end of the deck. They pick up their pace, all of them running until they are no longer in sight. A bright light goes off and the next thing everyone sees is Bahamut carrying Clive and Joshua towards an event that will shape the world. 

-

You are sitting on the main deck, legs dangling off the side as you continue to stare off into the horizon. You haven’t left since Clive left, the golden hour long gone and twilight having come and gone, dusk now settling in the sky. It feels like it has been hours since his departure, when in reality it has only been a few. You wonder if they have made it to Origin yet, if the battle has started, if Ultima has been defeated… if they have met their maker for good. That thought makes you shiver. 

You hear footsteps coming from behind you before a presence sits right beside you. You don’t look, but the aura alone tells you it’s Jill and you smile slightly. She puts an arm around you, pulling you into her as you both continue to look into the distance, like they would be back any second. She twists your hair, which comforts you in a way, and you hum. It is silent for a while, watching the sky continue to grow darker and darker until the sky is black with its pearls. 

“Have you prayed to Metia today?” You break the silence with a question. Jill’s fixation that Metia answers prayers is comforting in these moments, especially when every prayer she has spoken through her heart has come true.

She shakes her head. “I haven’t, but only because I wanted you to join me. Our hearts combined will help, no doubt.”

You nod your head, and you both move into a position that faces Metia herself, kneeling before her with hands clasped together. You bow your head, and say your prayer in your head, letting your heart translate it in a way that only Metia understands. You pray for everyone’s safe return with little to no injury. You pray they come back healthy and happy. You pray for the dawn of a new age where you and Clive help build a world you two can grow old in. You pray for everything to be okay. You raise your head as you finish, and you admit that some weight has been lifted off your chest, but an uneasiness still sticks. You turn your head to see Jill finishing her own prayer, and she looks towards you with her hand reaching for yours. You give her your right hand and she grips it with a smile. “Metia has listened to our prayers. Now, we wait.”

“Jill, your faith that everything will be okay is admirable. I wish I had your confidence.” You confess, the sour feeling remaining deep in your body. 

“For the longest time, I thought Clive was long dead. I believed that Metia hadn’t listened. And next thing I know, there he is. Granted, it was years later.” She squeezes your hand, and turns so your knees are touching hers. “That’s why I have faith that they will return to us.”

“Maybe your faith will rub off on me, and not the other way around with my worries.” You chuckle, trying to make light of the night. 

“No matter what happens,” Jill reassures, “I will be here for you. We will be here for each other.”

You nod, and bring her in for a hug, squeezing her tightly which she returns. “Thank you, Jill. For everything.”

You both stay there for a minute, until next thing you know you hear running on the deck. You pull away to see Gav running towards you two, panic clear on his face. “Ah fuck,” he breathes in and out as he approaches. “Edda is in labor. All hands on deck.”

You and Jill gasp in unison, both jumping up to run to the infirmary to help bring new life into this world. And hopefully, a new one.

Day 2

“Alright, one more push, Edda.” 

You are sitting behind Edda, letting her use your hands for her death grip as she continuously pushes and wails out in pain. You, Jill, and Mid are giving her words of encouragement as she continues her labor, and after one final push Tarja fully delivers the baby. A cry echoes throughout the room and the atmosphere is full of happiness and relief. 

“Can I come in yet?” You hear Gav yell from the other side of the door.

“She just gave birth, Gav. Give us a minute.” Tarja yells, eyes rolling hard at Gav’s common sense.

“He’s just excited,” Jill chimes in. “As we all are.”

“Congratulations, Edda! It’s a boy!” Tarja finishes cleaning off the baby, kneeling beside Edda as she passes him off to her. You watch Edda admire her baby boy for the first time, her smile brightening up the room as she talks to him. 

Seeing them interact stirs you with an emotion you wish to experience directly. You and Clive have talked about having children, making it clear you two wouldn’t have any until the world has been set straight. But you two would talk about what it would be like to have a little you or a little him running around or both. You imagine cradling a little boy in your arms, giggling as you shower him with kisses. You imagine Clive holding a little girl, swaying her around while singing a melody. Two giggly children to call your own with the man you have fallen madly in love with. You feel as if your heart could burst from the thought. 

“_____, can you go up to the rear stacks to grab more towels off the lines?” Mid asks, taking you out of your sappy daydreams. You snap out of it, humming in the affirmative before moving away from Edda and heading to the door. You could barely get out the door before almost being trampled by Gav, running in like a mad man. “Let me see! Let me see!”

You chuckle to yourself, exiting the room and heading to the linen lines. Even when things seem dark, you can’t help but keep smiling at everyone’s high spirits tonight. You suppose new life being brought into the world will do that to people because it sure as hell is doing that for you. It’s a good distraction, and you accept it with open arms.

You grab some towels from the line, cradling them in your arms securely as you make your descent to the main deck and up the stairs to the infirmary. You reach the infirmary doors when you are once again almost hit by a body, except this time it was Jill. One quick look at her made it apparent she was crying. She doesn’t spare you a glance as she runs down the stairs, sobs fading as she goes further down. You turn to the open door, shock clear on your face. “What happened?”

Gav and Mid look at you like they don’t know what to say. You look at Gav, tears streaming down his face, and it’s like everything hits you all at once. Towels drop from your arms, your arms no longer working as your body starts to erupt. “No,” you shudder. “No.” You kept repeating yourself, not quite believing what’s happening. No words spoken, and yet everyone is saying your worst nightmare out loud. 

You could see Gav wanted to say something, but before a word could break the glass box you were building around yourself, you ran. You ran right out the door, and ran as fast as you could to Clive’s chambers. You slam the door shut, starting to pace back and forth with your fists yanking your hair. You turn to the balcony doors, and run to them, slamming them wide open before looking out into the distance. You see the moon, as bright and big as ever, yet Metia no longer shines in its vibrancy. You hear a howl and see Torgal and Jill, Jill’s head tilted down as her body continues to shake. Jill’s connection with Metia was enough to tell you that something terrible has happened: Clive is dead.

You back away from the door, utter disbelief and pain seeping into your lungs. He promised. He promised he would return to me. Your mind keeps reeling, and next thing you know you find yourself in Clive’s bed, wrapping yourself in his covers tightly to encapsulate his lingering scent. Sobs devastate your body, almost to the point of not being able to breathe. But you embraced it, for you wish you could stop breathing all together in this moment. 

You fall asleep with choked up airways and puffy eyes, dreams full of a future that’s no longer possible. You dream of him and him alone. You fall asleep in the dead of night, missing the sun greet Valisthea into a new era.

Day 5

Clive would’ve thought he was dead if it weren’t for the loud thumping in his head. He slowly comes to, the first thing he sees being light. It takes him a few seconds to adjust, his eyes working overtime against the strain. He feels sand, and hears the sound of waves. He goes to move his fingers when he notices he can’t move the ones on his left hand. He brings his left arm to his view and sees his hand is completely petrified. He couldn’t see the rest of his arm, but could feel the lack of blood and flesh ending right above his elbow. He pushes himself up with his good arm, hunching over in his spot as he breathes the salty air deeply.

Origin. He had defeated Ultima. The crystal in the sky was destroyed and now he finds himself here on this beach. Based on his surroundings, he concludes he is on the coast of Storm, even though the dark coast was no longer dark, but bright. It could have easily been mistaken for a coastline off of Valisthea, but behind him were still the dead brush of the continent. 

He wonders how long he’s been out for. He vaguely remembers waking up, but not long enough to recollect anything. He reaches up to his face to touch his facial hair, feeling the scruff that has grown out slightly. A few days, he thinks. It was a mere few days ago when he left the Hideaway with Dion and his brother, and now he is the only one left. It burns him up inside knowing he couldn’t save them, and the fact he watched his brother die not once, but twice weighs heavy on his heart. Especially because if Ultima hadn’t chosen him as his vessel, he most likely would have become the Phoenix and Joshua would be alive and safe. He couldn’t be sure, of course, but alas.

Clive knows it does no good to think this way. Just like he would have done anything to save Joshua, he knows just as well Joshua would’ve done everything to save him. He knew Joshua would want him to help bring Valisthea and Storm into a new age. And most importantly, he knew Joshua wanted him to be happy, and deserved as much. I cannot delve into what was, but what can. And what he can focus on is the future, especially one with you. 

Clive suddenly remembers the lily you had given him, and scrambles to retrieve it from his pant pouch with some difficulty due to one available hand. He felt its petals, still smooth and soft, and pulled it out to see it still looked brand new. He lets out a stuttered breath, eyes watering slightly. He almost couldn’t believe that after everything it had managed to stay in one piece, but he knew it was because you had blessed him with it. You had grown it, cared for it, and plucked it for him, and it was his turn to care for it. Just as well, it was time to keep his promise: to come back to you. He has been away for too long, and he must make haste now.

Clive sighs and slowly starts to stand up, gathering his bearings so as to not get too dizzy.  He stands still for a moment, breathing in deeply once more to ensure he won’t collapse before assessing his situation. He will need a boat. He thinks he could find a port somewhere, and worse comes to worse he travels to Waloed to get one there. He will need to eat something to gain some semblance of energy to do said travel. The biggest obstacle for him will be his arm, a heavy weight on his body that doesn’t help his fatigue. He will have to find something to make it more manageable until he can get back to the Hideaway.

He starts to walk up the beach towards the woods; body heavy from his wet clothes, stone arm, and tired eyes. But he will move forward, for you are waiting back home for him and his safe return. No matter the cost, he will make it home to you. 

“Darling, wait for me. I’m coming home.”

Day 14

It has been two weeks since the end of Origin, and to say you haven’t been grieving well is an understatement. You have a hard time getting out of bed these days, and your motivation to do anything is abysmal. You know your numbness is unsettling to other Hideaway members, many not knowing what to say when they see you. It’s like they saw you change overnight; your happy, go lucky self now tainted with expressionless reactions.

Gav has officially transitioned as the new Cid, but has yet to move into what will be his new room. He only comes in to do some paperwork, and read his latest messages. Oftentimes he will come to you, asking if he can get you anything, and he gets the same response from you every time: a subtle shake of your head. You are grateful that he lets you stay here as the smell of Clive’s sheets is the only thing keeping you from breaking all together. 

You had forced yourself out of bed today to go to the Backyard. You sat beside the flower bed, staring at the flowers hoping for something to happen. Flowers were your comfort for a long time, and now it is like they have no effect at all. You look at the lilies that are off to the side, and all you can do is scoff. Reunion my foot. 

You hear footsteps and paws coming down the stairs. You know it is Torgal and Jill, especially when Torgal has been stuck to Jill’s side for the last two weeks. You can’t blame him. You wouldn’t want to be around you either. 

“You came to pay the flowers a visit. They’ve missed you.” 

“They aren’t very good at showing it.” You shrug. You have been here for a few hours, and your mood hasn’t changed. You feel empty.

“Hortense is holding a sewing class for some new arrivals. You should come and say hi.” Jill says gently, not wanting to make your mood shift further south. 

Deep down, you know you’ve let Jill down. You had promised to be there for her like she had with you, yet your own self pity refuses to acknowledge your lack of empathy. The demon residing in your brain just tells you that no one understands. It doesn’t matter if everyone is grieving about the three’s passing; your happy ending relied on your lover coming back to you. Everyone else can move on, keeping him in their memory. You can’t because a part of you is now dead with him. 

You move to stand up, not wanting to bring her down with you. “They won’t want to see me. I’ll just make a fool out of myself.”

You move to head upstairs when Torgal blocks your walking route, and Jill gets in front of you. She grabs your shoulders, looking at you intently. You can see she is trying hard not to break in front of you, making that deep part of you scream to get over yourself. “Please, _____. You are an important asset to the Hideaway; the Jack of all Trades. I know they would love to meet you. The more kind people like you they meet, the more comfortable they will be here.”

Even since the end of Origin, new arrivals have continued to come in, many wanting to help with the cause. Even though bearers no longer have the power of magicks, it has led to more violence against those with the mark. This has led to everyone working more tirelessly to make strides for a future with new hope reinstated. You have yet to meet many of them, the motivation to do so never in your favor. 

“Clive would want you to continue his legacy.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to scream how his legacy has taken him away from you. You know your way of thinking is irrational, but the rational part of you is a mountain ready to avalanche. With the last bit you have, you take a deep breath, knowing she is right. He would want you to continue living, even without him. 

“Okay,” you nod. “I’ll meet them. I can’t promise I’ll come off as kind. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the strength.”

Jill smiles, brushing hair from your face. “All I ask is that you try. We miss you.”

You three ascend the stairs, Jill locking arms with you as if you’d run away. You make it to the main deck, seeing Hortense and a few new faces sitting in a circle. Hortense waves, signaling you three to join in. “_____, it is so good for you to join us!”

“It’s, um, great to be here.” You say, trying to come off as happy. 

You, Jill, and Torgal join the circle, quick introductions being passed around before Hortense starts her lesson. She is doing a lesson on basic sewing techniques using cross-stitching circles, showing everyone different patterns, styles, and methods for different types of fabrics. One of the new arrivals, Greta you remember her name being, was looking at your stitching constantly. You turn to look at her, and she quickly turns away. You look at her work, and you can tell she is struggling a little bit. 

“Hey,” you say slightly above a whisper. “Try this.”

You show her a trick when it comes to tightening the thread, making it so it won’t want to fall apart. “Okay, now you try.”

Greta follows your method to a T, going slowly as she does it from memory. She smiles, seeing how well it worked. “That’s genius! Thank you so much!”

You nod, going back to your own work with a subtle smile on your face. You remember when you first learned how to sew, and how difficult it was for you. You remember when you had to learn on your own, Hortense having too much on her plate. You forgot how good it was to help others, and even if this feeling is for a moment, you feel lighter. You face Jill to see her glancing at you, a grin on her face as she continues messing with her circle of fabric. You know she is punching the air in success in her mind right now.

The session lasts for roughly an hour, and Hortense puts it to a close. “I’ll hold another class next week. Feel free to practice in the meantime.”

‘Yes ma'am’ is said in unison, and everyone departs to get ready for supper. You and Jill stay behind, helping Hortense put stuff away and create small chatter. As you all finish up, you pull Jill aside, feeling the need to say something. “Jill, I want to thank you. But most importantly, I want to apologize for not being there for you as well. I promise to do better by you.”

“Oh, _____,” Jill coos, bringing you in for a hug. “It’s okay. I understand your pain. We will get through this.” 

You two continue like this, and all you can think is maybe this is a new start. Maybe you can start grieving in a better way than you have been. You know it won’t happen overnight, but after days of feeling like you’ve been dragged into a hole, you sense you can see the light. 

Someone is yelling from afar, and you pull back to see a woman walking quickly to Hortense, a basket of what looks to be freshly clean linens in her hands. You and Jill walk over to see the commotion, only to see another new face. Hortense motions you two over, grinning from ear to ear with the woman beside her. “Ah, _____! I don’t think the two of you have met. This is Willow. She’s been helping me a lot with many of the laundry duties.” 

“Oh Lady _____, it is so lovely to meet you.” Willow says, bowing her head slightly. “Also, lovely to see you again Lady Jill.”

You bow slightly, not used to such formalities towards yourself. Jill chimes in, glee in her tone. “You as well. Thank you for helping Hortense during this time. I know she surely appreciates it.”

“Of course!” Willow chirps. “I was coming over here to tell her the linens for the beds are done. Lady ____, I was able to clean your sheets as well so you will have a freshly made bed for tonight.”

You stop breathing, your ears deceiving you. “W-what?”

Willow was still smiling, not catching on to the atmospheric shift. “Your sheets! Hortense got me to get all the bed linens for a wash, but I went ahead and had your bed made as a good gesture.” 

Your heart is hammering in your chest, and your vision is starting to blur. She cleaned the sheets. She cleaned Clives sheets. Not yours, but Clives. The one thing you had left of him, the one thing that still smelled like him, the one thing that made it feel like he wasn’t completely gone from the world, vanishing right before your eyes. You are starting to breathe hard, everything around you is no longer real. It is just you being thrown back into your suffocating glass box, and being thrown back into that dreaded hole. You can hear voices, but can’t distinguish what is being said. It’s when you feel a hand on your shoulder that the glass shatters, leaving you bloody in the dark, dank hole. 

You collapse, the flood gates opening with shrieks and agonizing sobs. You are hitting the wood, small splinters digging into your fist as you continue. You didn’t care because no pain was more painful than what you are feeling right now. You hear running, and more commotion in the background.

“There is nothing to see here, take your leave.” It’s Gav. It fucking Gav.

“_____, please get up. What happened?” 

“This is my fault.” Hortense says mortified. “I didn’t tell Willow that room was off limits.”

Your breathing is now rapid, sucking air and pushing it out because it isn’t enough. Arms wrap around you and you thrash around, yelling and screaming to let you go. “Get the fuck off of me!”

Gav has you upright and the rage you are now feeling bubbles out, turning into hitting his chest. “You are the only other person that goes in there, and you didn’t notice the fucking sheets were gone?! How could you let this happen?!”

“Please, _____. I just got back from Lostwing. I haven’t been there since early this morning.” Gav reasons, getting a grip on you with your arms secure so you wouldn’t do something you regret. 

“That was all I had left of him.” You wail. “All I had was his scent and now it’s gone! It’s all fucking gone! He’s gone!” 

“I got her from here. You three go have dinner.” Gav picks you up bridal style, walking up the main deck stairs. You are still crying, and your vision is blurry but you can still make out what is behind you. Willow is hugging Hortense, both visibly upset. But then you see Jill, who is standing there looking at the ground, none moving. Torgal is nudging her, but she won’t budge. 

I’m sorry, Jill. I broke my promise.

Day 31

One month. It has been one month since Clive’s death, and you are no longer alive; a living corpse that lays in bed for days and days on end. You only get up to use the privy chambers, but other than that you lay there. Nothing is enjoyable anymore. The idea of going to the Backyard, to the Shelves, or even the Ale House is unappealing. Gav usually brings you food, sometimes Jill, but you barely touch it. You eat a little, but your appetite is non-existent; you eat only when your stomach tells you to. 

People don’t visit you like they did. Sometimes Jill, Tarja, and even Jote would come in for a short time. They would try talking to you, they would rub your side to bring comfort, they would brush your hair, yet you wouldn’t react. Those visits have slowly dissipated, and you can’t blame them. 

You hate what Clive’s passing has turned you into. You never thought grief would transform you so poorly. Grief isn’t new to you, just as it isn’t new for most people in the realm. You grieved when your parents passed, you grieved when Hideaway members didn’t return from missions, you grieved when Titan and his Dhalmekian goons killed so many innocent people in the Old Hideaway. But Clive is your one true love; the one man that was able to intertwine his soul with yours. They say once the soul has been torn into two, it never fully recovers. 

You get up from the bed with all the strength you can muster. As you stand, you face the mirror from across the room, and what you see makes you shutter. You walk over slowly, not quite believing that it is you in the reflection. Your fingertips drag along the cool surface, slightly dissociating in the process. What was once full and bright features were now hollowed from lack of sleep, crying, lack of appetite, and the grief that’s swallowing you.

“By the Founder, I look dreadful.” 

You want to heal. You want to get better. Your soul is waiting for your shell of a body to hatch, so it may continue to live. But how can you do that in a place where everywhere you look, you see him? Every corner of the Hideaway is covered with Clive’s aspirations, dreams, and ideas. If you want to move on, to grieve healthily, you can’t stay here. You need to be somewhere that takes you back to a time before Clive.

The moon shines brightly in the room, giving you enough light to maneuver around. You pack a small bag of your belongings, only with things that would benefit your travels, and dress yourself in clothes to protect you from the elements. Once situated, you walk over to what was once Clive’s desk and sit down. You grab the quill and a scroll, and look at the blank paper. Your eyes start to water, knowing this decision will ruffle some feathers, and will create a form of worry you won’t be here to satiate. You think about getting back into bed and forgetting about what you are about to do, but you know this is a must. You are holding everyone in the Hideaway back, and you can’t support the cause if you aren’t getting better. 

You must do this, so therefore you write. 

-

“What do you mean she left?” Jill raises her voice, the shock clear in her tone. 

Gav had come into Clive’s old chambers to send some letters out to town leaders when he saw the bed was empty and made, with a scroll lying on top of the pillow. When Gav opened it, and read the words on the page, he immediately called for an urgent meeting with the main Hideaway members. 

“She left this on the bed.” Gav states solemnly, passing it to Otto who is on his right. “Long story short, she doesn’t want to be found. She didn’t give a direct location to where she was heading. All she said is she will send word when she is ready to communicate.”

“She isn’t in the right state of mind to go out by herself!” Tarja says with irritation. “What is she thinking?!”

“How would she have even left? We only have one boat, no?” Tomes questions.

“We have a second boat in case the one Obolus uses is in need of repair.” Otto mutters, looking at the scroll a tad longer before passing it off to the next person. 

Jill stands up from her seat, huffing as she turns to take her leave. Gav stands with her, already reading her mind. “Where the bloody fuck you think you’re going?!

“Rather than us wasting our breath, I’m going to go find her!” Jill shouts, frustration built into her face. 

Tarja stands up quickly to grab Jill’s arm. “Now wait a damn second. We need a plan before we start going out willy nilly.”

“As you said, she isn’t in the right mindset to be out by herself. She could be dead in a ditch for all we know.” Jill seethes, pissed that nobody seems to be as fearful for her friend as she is. 

“She is strong, Jill.” 

Everyone turns to Jote, who is never one to chime in unless need be. She is holding the scroll, looking at it as she speaks. “I don’t know her as well as you all may, but from what I do know she is very resilient. She wouldn’t leave unless necessary, and this letter proves as much.”

Everyone is quiet, thinking caps on as they process Jote’s words. The first words spoken after the pregnant silence is Otto, turning to Gav seriously. “Gav, you are the leader of the Hideaway now. It is your call.”

Gav ponders for a moment, a bit torn of what action is best to take. You are family and he wants to know you are safe. He also doesn’t want to get in the way of what you need to do to get better. He fears sending Hideaway members out to find you will make things worse. 

“I think,” Gav pauses, sighing in the process. “I will alert town leaders around Valisthea to keep their eyes peeled for her. If she doesn’t want to be bothered, we shouldn’t intrude. Getting a location on her though would be beneficial for us to ensure she is at least safe.”

“Gav is right,” Otto agrees. “She will need to go into towns for essentials and will probably pass through a few.”

“If we don’t hear anything within a month's time, we will start sending out some search parties, but as I said we cannot bother her if we find her. We have to hope she will reach out to us when she is ready.” Gav continues, giving everyone a once over to see if his words are reciprocated.

Agreements are shared, some more hesitant than others, before Gav dismisses everyone to their daily duties. When the last person leaves, Gav collapses into his seat, taking deep breaths as he runs his hands over his face. 

“May Greagor be with you, _____.” Gav whispers to himself.

Day 40

You can’t sleep, constantly shifting under the covers with no sense of relief. You feel hot, which is abnormal for this cool night. You start to burn up, skin flaring until it starts to burn. You sit up, panicking as you throw the covers off of you before you freeze, breath caught in your throat. In the moonlight, there is a figure sitting across the room from you, head bowed down with arms in their lap. You panic in silence, not knowing whether to fight or flight.

“You’re awake.” That voice. You know that voice all too well. 

“C-Clive?” You stutter, not trusting your voice to break the quiet. 

Silence suffocates the room. You wait for a response, but he just sits there. You move off the bed and walk towards him slowly, feeling off about what you are experiencing. He’s dead. Metia’s star went out. This can’t be real.

You are standing in front of him now, your bare toes touching his boots. He still doesn’t move, so you move your hands to his head, messing with the strands of hair from his head. “Clive, is it really you?” 

“You left.” You pause, his tone off. Is he not happy to see me?  

“Clive, I thought you were dead. We all did.”

“And yet, you still left.” He growls, finally moving his hands to grip your waist tightly, on the verge of pain. “You promised to wait for me. You broke that promise.”

“Clive,” you choke. “I’m sorry I-”

“You broke your promise to Jill.”

“I didn’t mean to!” 

“You abandoned the Hideaway, my legacy, like it was nothing!”

“Clive, you’re hurting me.” You are crying now. His fingers are digging into your side hard, and you look to see he is shaking with anger. 

“This is nothing in comparison to how you have hurt me!” He yells, and he lifts his head, causing you to gasp. His eyes are orange, glowing bolder and bolder the more worked up he got. You try to pry his grip off of you, but to no avail. 

“Please, Clive!” You cry harder. “I love you, I'm sorry for leaving! I should have stayed!”

“You are too late, _____.” He seethes. 

“Because I don’t love you anymore.”

You shoot up from your bed, screaming in a cold sweat. You look around the room like a mad woman, trying to gauge your surroundings. A wave of nausea overcomes you and you fall to the floor, vomiting from the absolute madness that occurred in your head. You dry heave on the floor, waiting for the next course of nausea to arrive but it never came. You sat up so your back was against the bed, relieved you weren’t going to be sick again, yet frustrated all the same.

You arrived in Dhalmekia four days ago. Originally, you set out to find your childhood home where you grew up with your parents, but when you arrived at the village off to the left of the Northern Velkroy, it had all but been abandoned. Your home, that was left with memories of your old life, ravaged from what you could assume to be bandits. So you kept going, hitchhiking a few rides before traveling on foot. That is when you found a small, two room cottage down in the Fields of Corava, a place you weren’t aware of, having never been south of Dalimil. There was minimal damage; a broken window and some chipped flooring. It was a better place to stay for the time being.

Ever since arriving, however, your mind has conjured terrible dreams with it being the same every time. It was always you and Clive in this room with him degrading your worth. The first night didn’t feel real, knowing that Clive would never act as such with you. But tonight, after having it for the fourth time in a row, your heart is waning.

You stare at the chair you saw Clive in, an increasing amount of anguish washing over you as you look. He’s gone. Your fingers dig into your thighs, trying to ground yourself. He’s gone. You start to choke on air, not wanting the cries of grief released from your lungs. He’s gone.

He’s gone.

He’s gone.

He’s fucking gone!

The shell cracks, the quiet night becomes piercing as you scream. You shoot up to the chair, taking it and bashing it into the floor. You keep screaming, the splinters from the chair and the floor growing with each smack. No matter the ache your body is having, the adrenaline rushing through your it has given your grief new purpose; a cathartic event that is shaping your mentality.

The chair is nothing but wood; the bare bones of it. You get up to open the door, chucking the wood outside the door with rage. The splintered wood digs into your hands, your emotional distress covering any semblance of physical pain. Your screams have turned into wails, angry tears dripping from your face to the floor. 

This rage inside of you stirred by grief makes you feel like you're dying. If anyone told you that Clive’s death would make you transform into the living dead, you’d laugh. How could anyone make you feel dead when you were the cheerful jack of the Hideaway? 

The wood is now dispersed all across the field before you, bathing in the pure light of the moon. You sink into the cottage where the dark swallows you, slamming the door shut and sliding down it as your body continues its assault. Your bloody hands grip at your hair as you rock back and forth, chanting the same two words over and over.

He’s gone.

Day 70

The atmosphere at the Hideaway was the same like any other day. People were up doing their tasks or simply enjoying the day; it has been the same old, same old. 

That is, until the bell on the pier sounded off.

“What is going on?!” Jill yells, everyone looking over the main deck to see the commotion. The bell is only used for emergencies, like if an enemy were to approach the Hideaway. However, Jill sees that people weren’t panicking, but rejoicing. 

Gav runs up to Jill alarmed, trying to get a sense of what’s happening. “Oh fuck me! What’s going on?!” 

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Jill says, her and Gav picking up the pace as they walk to see the situation at hand; both ready to take action. The two of them push through the crowd, finally reaching the railing that sees over the pier. The first instant Jill looks down, a gasp is let out with her hand covering her mouth and eyes bulging. 

“No fucking way,” Gav whispers, not quite believing what he is seeing.

But their eyes do not betray them, for the bell has rang not for an emergency situation, but a message that he is alive. Clive is alive. 

“He made it… Great Greagor he fucking made it!” Gav cheers.

“Clive!” Jill yells.

Clive looks up to the main deck to see two of his cherished friends, and right as he makes eye contact with them, he makes a run for the lift. Gav and Jill follow his lead, running in the direction he is to come to officially greet him. The minute Clive steps out from the lift, Gav and Jill are on him, hugging him tightly to make sure he isn’t here to haunt the place.

“You’re alive!” Jill elates.

“I apologize for my late return. I didn’t realize I’d be sorely missed.” Clive jokes, watching as more people gather around them.

“Are you kidding? This place has been falling apart without you!” Gav exaggerates.

It makes Clive chuckle, placing his hand on Gav’s shoulder as he pulls back. “Seeing all the new faces, I doubt that. And that is thanks to you. Thank you for keeping the Hideaway safe.”

Clive feels something rub his leg, and looks to see Torgal rubbing his head against him. He bends down, using his good arm to rub behind Torgal’s ears. “Torgal, have you been a good boy since I’ve been away?”

“Clive,” Jill gasps. “You’re arm.”

During Clive’s travels back home, his arm had become more of a nuisance if anything. He is a strong man; he can wield swords made of the heaviest metals, no problem. But to have an appendage weigh more than the other, well, that is a whole different situation. He had ripped part of his cape and created a sling to keep his arm in place, making travel more bearable.

Clive stands up straight, rubbing his stoned arm. “Yeah… I didn’t get away completely unscathed.” Clive draws out. “But nevertheless, we won.”

“What of Joshua and Dion?” Jill asks, even though the look in her eyes tells him she already knows. All he could do was shake his head.  

“I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do.” Clive says, having much to tell. 

“You will, but not before we get your arm sorted out.”

“Of course,” Clive chuckles, and turns to see Tarja with her arms crossed and hip out. He is so happy to be back amongst friends and family, ready to truly cherish his time after a battle where he could have easily perished. But most importantly, he is ready to see you.

Truth be told, Clive’s travels back to Valisthea were consumed mostly by you. All he could think about was how he craves for you to be in his warm embrace, giving him kisses and caresses that would heal him for a lifetime. To be away from you for so long is agony, and what has kept him going was knowing the future is now his and yours; one where you both can live lives worth living. 

He looks around and sees a bunch of familiar faces approach, his original crew gathering around him as they welcome his return. He scans the crowd, nodding to everyone and granting a smile. However, he doesn’t see you within the sets of familiar faces. 

“Where’s _____?” Clive asks, scanning the crowd once more for your face.

Everyone goes silent, glancing at one another trying to communicate. An uneasy feeling settles in Clive’s pit, not liking the reaction he got with his simple question. 

Tarja is the first to speak up, diverting the question quickly with urgency. “We can talk about her later, but first we need to do something about your arm straight away. Jill. Gav. Take him to the infirmary. I’ll be up there shortly.” There was a look in Tarja’s eyes that told Clive she wouldn’t be there for a while, which made that uneasy feeling grow bolder. 

Gav and Jill suddenly hook arms with Clive on either side, walking fast so he had no choice but to follow. Clive could feel himself getting frustrated, having wanted to see you for days upon days and not being granted that wish immediately upon his return. 

He leans down to Jill’s ear, needing an explanation immediately. “Where is she?”

“It is better we explain once we are upstairs.” Jill reasons, although there is a shake in her voice.  

The four of them get into the infirmary, Jill and Gav situating Clive on a cot. Gav whispers to Jill, her nodding in response as he jogs out of the room. Clive looks at her, a million thoughts running through his head at their peculiarness. 

“Jill, what is happening?”

Jill twiddles her thumbs, taking deep breaths as she prepares herself. She looks down at the floorboards, and Clive can feel the tension in the room. “Some things happened while you were away, Clive.” Her breath trembles. “You aren’t going to be happy with what I’m about to say.”

“You are worrying me, Jill.” Clive says, trying to stay calm. “Please tell me what’s happened.”

Jill looks up, eyes starting to gloss over. She places her hands over Clive’s right hand, squeezing it gently. “The night of Origin. Metia’s star went out, and I couldn’t feel you anymore after that. I thought you were dead.

“Jill,” Clive says in a low tone. “I apologize for causing so much grief.”

“We all thought you died.” Jill laughs solemnly. “Seeing you right now doesn’t feel real.” 

Clive squeezes Jill’s hands as a means to comfort her, as well as to urge her to continue. She shakes her head, tears as icy Shiva’s magick slipping down her face. “We all took it very hard. Some held hope, but after weeks of no signs of your return, everyone had accepted it.”

Jill’s breath stutters. “But Greagor, Clive. _____ took it so hard.” The tears started to fall, Jill shaking as she continued. “She wouldn’t get out of bed, wouldn’t eat… oh Greagor she wouldn’t talk to anyone. She would just lay there no matter what we tried to do.”

Clive thinks his heart just tore. The thought of you like that made him ill. And the past tense of Jill’s words make the air all the more suffocating.

“Where is she, Jill? Let me see her, please.” He pleads, needing to show you that he lives and has come back to her.

“I’m sorry,” Jill cries, her head bowing onto their intertwined hands. “I’m so sorry, Clive.”

“Jill talk to me, please!” He begs before hearing the door to the infirmary open, only to see Gav with a small scroll in his hand. 

“Gav, you need to tell me what has happened.” Clive says sternly, knowing another second longer with no answer will send him into a frenzy. 

Gav shows him the scroll, making Clive gently let go of Jill’s hands to reach for it but before he could grab it Gav backed away. “When you read this, know that we have plans enacted.”

Gav hands it to him, taking another step back to give Clive more space. Clive unravels the scroll quickly, the need for answers strong. And he gets his answer, but that answer makes his skin run cold and go hot at the same time.

Gav,

I apologize for putting this on you. I know your transition as the new Cid has been a lot, and I am sorry for making it much harder for you. This space is yours now. Not Clive’s, nor mine.

You know as well as the others I am not well. A part of me died the day Clive passed, and being here has made any progress of healing not happen. Truth is, I see him everywhere. Everything here reminds me of him, and it’s killing me because one moment I see him and the next I don’t. The grief that has consumed me has become everlasting. 

By the time you read this, I will be far gone. Please, I beg of you, do not come find me. Do not send anyone to come find me. I will not come back, at least for now. Any chance of me getting better is for me to go out there, not stay here. I know this will cause worry, and I apologize for being a nuisance, but I have no choice. It’s either I die out there trying or I stay here rotting. 

Tell the others I’m sorry, especially Jill, and take care of her. Once I’m ready, I’ll send word of my whereabouts. Until then, please let me grieve in peace.

Much obliged,

_____

Clive is seeing red. His fist starts to squeeze the paper, crackles and the sound of a tear coming from it. “When did she leave?” 

“It’s been about a month.” Gav mutters, and everything that happens next is a blur. Clive shoots up from the bed, charging towards Gav before slamming him into the door.

“Clive, please don’t!” Jill cries.

“She’s been gone for a month?! And you have yet to find her?!” Clive yells, his fist gripping tightly onto Gav’s leathers.

“We have notified people on the outside to keep us posted.” Gav tries to reassure. “That is what the Hideaway members have agreed on.” His words do nothing to soothe him. If he still had his magick, he is sure hellfire would rain on the Hideaway.

“She needed time, Clive.” Jill rests her hand on his shoulder. “We chose to respect her wishes.”

He scoffs, backing away from the both of them, disbelief clear on his features. “You agreed to this too?”

“You were not here to witness what we did!” Jill yells agitated. “Clive, I understand your frustration, but if you saw how she was you wouldn’t think twice.”

He wants to stay angry, put the blame on someone selfishly. You’ve done so much for the Hideaway, the cause, everyone involved. How could they let you leave? But all he feels is defeat. He came too late, and now he needs to make up for lost time.

“Excuse me,” Clive mutters, walking towards the door Gav is still leaning against. 

Jill shoots herself to grab the upper half of his petrified arm, a grunt forced out at the pulling tension. “Clive, you need to stay right here so Tarja can do something about your arm.” 

“No, I am going to go out and look for her! She needs to know I’m alive!” He tries shaking her grip off his arm, but to no avail as she holds on tighter. Panic is starting to set in, not knowing where you are and if you are safe freaking him out. It is almost as if he is experiencing firsthand what you went through. 

Gav steps forward, putting his hands on Clive’s shoulders shaking him slightly. “We have cursebreakers looking for her daily now that the month of her leave has passed. We will find her. And now that you are back, we will bring her home.” 

“Once you are better, we will go with you to search for her. But for right now, you need to rest. Let the cursebreakers do what they’ve been assigned to do.” Jill reassures. “Let’s get you ready for Tarja. The sooner she can fix you up, the faster you can go out.”

Clive takes a deep breath before nodding, and lets Jill and Gav guide him back to the cot. He sits back down, and all he can do is look down at the floorboards. Anger and defeat have turned into a sadness he cannot fully comprehend; a feeling he hasn’t quite felt before. “Do you two mind giving me some time alone? Please.”

“Of course, Clive. We will be outside if you need anything.” Jill says, before the sound of four feet patter across the floor and the creak of the door opens and closes, leaving Clive completely alone.  

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that; unmoving, eyes glued to the floor. All he thinks is he should have found a way to send a message to you so you knew he had survived. Deep down, he knows there was nothing he could have done given his circumstances, but that doesn’t stop the blame game he is putting upon himself. So he sits there, wallowing in his heartache as his shoulders shake and throat lets out faint sobs.

The letter is still held tightly in his grasp. 

Day 71

Waking up early in the morning before the sun makes its greeting isn’t abnormal for you, not when you dream constantly. Sometimes your dreams would startle you. Sometimes they would make you wake up crying. Sometimes they would wake you up with a smile on your face. But the time is always the same; the moon is always there to tell you the time of the morning and you fall back into a deep sleep before the sun shows itself. However, this time is different. 

In recent days, you’ve had nothing but wonderful dreams. Not ones like when you first came here, or ones about a future no longer possible. They were dreams of the past, deja vu in nature. Fond memories of you and Clive ranging from the first time you laid eyes on him to the last. What’s different about your calling back to the real world is your eyes open to hues of yellow and orange shining through the window. It is not the moon’s beams that greet you, but the sun’s rays.

You get out of bed and go to the door, opening it to step out onto the field. The early morning air hits your skin, the grass licking at your feet as you continue forward. You trek to the spot between the elevated land, a v-shape displaying the rising sun as it continues its ascent. Your hand goes out in front of you, watching your skin transform as the sun’s colors grow brighter. You can’t help but smile at the sight before you because all you feel is peace. For once since Valisthea changed forever, you felt like everything will be okay. 

You think about the first time you and Clive watched the sunrise together, holding each other tightly as you both talk about how it is a new day full of hopes and dreams. You remember him telling you how he has never felt more alive than he did in that moment, and you can understand why; you understand because you feel the same. 

You know Clive would want you to live to the fullest, for that was what he wanted all along. Even if things didn’t turn out the way they should have, he would have wanted you to live for him, but most importantly for yourself. He would want you to remember your time together fondly, and that it wasn’t for nothing. It was everything. 

You inhale deeply, the scents of the morning filling your airways before you exhale. You continue to look out on the horizon, mesmerized by the beauty of a new day; a new start .

“I deserve to be happy, right Clive?” You whisper to yourself. “I will continue to live for you and for me. Starting now.”

This is the start of your new life. 

Day 172

“These are absolutely beautiful, my lady. These are so hard to find in Dhalmekia.” 

You smile brightly, watching the woman before you admire your handy work. “I’m pleased that you love them. Morgenbeards are native to the swampy waters in Rosaria, but I was able to get my hands on some seeds.”

“You must know your stuff to get them to grow here.” The lady continues.

You shake your head, grinning at her. “I have my ways.”

To say things have gotten better would be the greatest understatement in history because you are thriving. It is as if everything has fallen into place. You fixed up the small cottage you are residing in so it felt more like a home rather than a temporary visit. You did a lot of prep work to ensure you’d live comfortably. The greatest thing, however, is you found a way to make a living for yourself, the one thing you do best: grow flowers. 

You noticed how flowers grew in the fields, yet you could tell they needed help; the Dhalmeky dirt too dry to keep them alive for long. You were able to get some books on flower gardening, along with different kinds of seeds, all imported from merchants who graciously accepted the little gil you had. It took some time, but those things helped you open a flower shop out of your home. And thus far, it has been a wonderful success.

You had taken a flower cart to Dalimil to get your name out there, and to let people know where to find your business. You eventually want to move your business within the inn’s market, but when you had come to propose the idea, you found out Lubor had been gone on an expedition. The cart will have to do, you recalled thinking. The people there have been nothing but supportive, offering their business in exchange for theirs: vases, business signs, gardening supplies, etcetera. It was a good system that benefitted you and them. You were grateful.

You are sitting at the kitchen table, having closed shop for the day, sipping on some hot tea as you write down your daily earnings. A hard day’s work is rewarding, and knowing your flowers have made your customers happy makes you happy. To be doing things that feel worthwhile feels good, and the last time you felt this way was when you lived at the Hideaway.

The Hideaway. You stop writing as you reminisce about those times. It really wasn’t that long ago, yet it feels like a lifetime. Have I changed that much? 

You miss everyone dearly. You miss Tarja’s tough love. You miss Mid’s inventiveness. You miss Otto’s gruffness. You miss Tome’s stories of his travels. You miss Jote’s coolness. You miss Gav’s banter. You miss Torgal’s way of comforting you. You miss Jill’s faith. You miss everyone. You often wonder if they miss you too.

You are surprised no one has come looking for you, or have found you if they were. You think about what they must have thought when you left that letter. Were they angry? Sad? Worried? All three? Did they listen to you when you said you didn’t want to be found or did they nonstop look day and night for you? You couldn’t tell. Not unless you find out for yourself. 

You set the daily earnings paper aside, and lay out a fresh one, your quill hovering over the paper as you think of what to say. There are so many words to say, yet you don’t know where to start. Do you share everything? Do you just tell them you are okay? Do you tell them where you are? So many questions to answer with little paper to write it all out. So you write something simple, hoping it gets the message across.

I hope this finds you well. Come see me if you wish. You all know where to find me.

Day 179

Clive’s search for you has been non-stop, days and nights spent looking for trails only to find dead ends. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how you could have disappeared without a trace. But that will not deter him. He will not stop looking until he finds you.

Every place that Clive could think of they checked. Areas in Dhalmekia were the first places they looked, knowing you knew the area better than others. The very first place they checked was your childhood home near the Northern Velkroy, but it didn’t look like there were any signs of life there. Different towns within the area were checked but no one had heard or seen you. Hell, they were more surprised to see him alive and well to focus on the whereabouts of a lost woman. He understood, but it grated his nerves. 

Every other place in Valisthea had been scouted and marked as they went, but every location and mark was the same. So here he was, writing letters to town leaders of the cause again to be his eyes. You have to show up somewhere eventually, if you haven’t already. 

As every day passes, his heart wanes further. It yearns for you, calling out its other half to be complete again. When he does rest, granted not for long periods of time, he imagines you are lying with him. He holds a pillow close in his arms, picturing it to be you to subdue his crazed heart and mind. It was nice to pretend, but then he wakes up and is sorely disappointed to see what lies in his arms is just that: a pillow. It’s a cycle because the same thought crosses his mind each and every time: the day you are back in his arms will be a momentous day. That day has yet to come.

He keeps writing the same words over and over on different sheets of paper when he hears commotion from beyond his doors. The fighting instinct in him shoots up, running to the door to see what was happening when he sees Otto, Jill, and Gav running towards him.

“Has something happened?” Clive asks, alarmed. 

Otto reaches Clive first, shoving a piece of paper into his hand. “She has communicated with us.”

Clive couldn’t read the paper fast enough, not quite believing this day had come. He rings out the paper to straighten it before reading her handwriting. “She is staying in a cottage in the Fields of Corava.” 

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go get the lass back!” Gav expresses with full excitement, springs basically on the bottom of his feet with how bouncy he is. 

Jill pats Gav on the back. “Gav, let’s let Clive go alone.” She then turns to face Clive, an understanding smile greeting him. “They will need some time together.”

“Thank you, Jill.” Clive says softly. “I thank all of you.” 

“Well, if that’s the case…” Gav draws out, approaching Clive before slamming his hand on his shoulder, “you better get cleaned up! You have a lady to see.” 

Clive laughs at Gav’s antics, and turns to ready himself; ready himself to return to you once and for all.

Day 184

It’s late in the morning as you gather flowers into your basket, trimming and cutting the ones that have bloomed beautifully. The flower gardens in the field were flourishing more and more every day. The more you work in the gardens, the more fulfillment you feel. You felt this when you helped out in the Backyard, but what you built here is from your own doing. You believe it to be a testament to your growth, showing that you made the right decision all those months ago. You’ve created your own little utopia, and to share it with others is a beautiful thing.

As you cut fresh flowers, you start to wonder if people at the Hideaway got your letter. You would love for them to come visit, and see what you have done with the place. You wonder if they will ever come to see you or if they will send a letter back. It could be any day now, and you will be ready.

You have a full basket of flowers ready to be put in vases, and before you can get up to head inside you see a shadow lingering above your form. “I’m sorry, but I won't be open for another couple of hours.”

There is no reply, and the shadow remains as still as a statue. You sigh, standing up to turn and be more clear with your words. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but I still need to se-”

The flower basket falls from your grasp, tumbling out and falling into a heap by your feet. Time has frozen, not feeling real as you look at the person you have longed to see for months. You question if you are hallucinating, having had moments where you would see Clive one second and the next he was gone. This, however, was different.

The man before you was not in uniform; just a simple white tunic that displayed a few of his chest curls at the v-cut and regular black trousers with his leather boots. His face was clean-shaven, the facial hair he had kept for so long absent from his face making him look younger. The biggest difference, however, was his left arm; from his elbow down was gone. How could this be hallucination?

“Am I dreaming or is this real?” You breathe, blinking a few times to see if he’d disappear. He didn’t.

He takes a step forward, grabbing one of your hands to place it over his heart. He is warm, his heart fluttering quickly. He is looking down into your eyes, where you see his baby blues grow glossy. “This is real.” He murmurs. “I’m home, sweetheart.”

Something about his words break you, your hands latching onto his shirt to hold yourself to reality. He’s home. My Clive is home. 

You can’t help the sobs that leave your mouth as you bury your face into his chest, making him wrap his arm around you as you both collapse down into the flower beds. You are feeling every emotion under the sun, and you can tell Clive does too as he holds you in his lap. He cries with you, sharing a reunion so pure that it is overwhelming. You lift your head and bring his face to yours, kissing him so deeply that your lungs shake. Exchanges of small words come out between the two of you as you give each other kisses that have been longed for. 

“I never thought I’d see this day.” You say with a wobble in your tone, kissing him again and again. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Clive croaks, and goes back in for your lips.

There you both make up for lost time; holding onto each other in a field of flowers where kisses and touches are continuously exchanged.

- 

You and Clive eventually went inside. You turn the sign on your door to ‘close’, so no one can bother you two. You watch Clive look around the place, taking in your little set up of flowers on the kitchen table.

“I apologize for the mess. I’ve had a lot of requests over the last few days believe it or not.” 

Clive looks at you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least. You’ve always had a way with flowers. Speaking of which…”

He reaches into his pocket, only to pull out the lily you had given him all that time ago. You gasp, surprised he has kept hold of it. “You still have it? But how?”

“I protected it with my life.” Clive sets it onto the table. “You gave it to me with the wish that I’d return to you. I wasn’t going to lose it easily.”

“You are so endearing.” You say, but you have so many things you want to know and that alone puts a small frown on your face.

Clives sees the shift immediately, grabbing your hand to console you. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” 

“What happened at Origin, Clive?” You ask, needing to know what he went through for the time he was gone.

Clive exhales, seemingly knowing that question was coming. He pulls your hand towards him as he walks to your bed. “We should sit down. It is a long story.”

The two of you sit down and Clive still has a tight hold on one of your hands. “Forgive me, for this may take me a second. Thinking about certain events there still hurts.”

You bring your free hand to his face, which feels smooth under your touch. His head leans into your palm, turning slightly to kiss the delicate skin. “Take all the time you need. I am here.” You murmur. 

And so, he tells the tale of Origin. He tells you about Dion’s sacrifice. He tells you about what he found out about Ultima’s plans. He tells you about Joshua’s passing, something he had a hard time conveying without his voice breaking, but he pushed on. He tells you about Ultima’s demise. He tells you about how he woke up somewhere off the Shadow Coast of Storm. And he tells you how throughout his journey back to Valisthea, all he could think about was how he couldn’t wait to come home to you. All of it was hard to listen to, hearing what he went through from Origin till now. 

“So, Metia going out was a sign that magick has been lost…” 

“Mmm,” he hums, the both of you lying down now.

“So that’s why you didn’t become wholly petrified? You stopped it in time.”

“Tarja did a great job removing it and ensuring my stub was healed properly, despite my stubbornness.” He jokes, but you don’t laugh. All you can think about is the past.

“If only I waited a little longer,” you start. “I would have saved us so much grief.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself.” Clive shushes, kissing the top of your head and pulling you closer into his body. “Jill told me you had a very hard time grieving. I will not shame you for doing something you felt was right.

You bury your head into Clive’s neck, breathing in something that is so undeniably him. “You know, when I first got here, I would have these dreams. Nightmares really.”

Clive stays silent, letting you continue. “It would always start and end the same. I would wake up with you in the room, and the next thing I knew you were telling me I had betrayed you… and that you no longer loved me.” You start to sniff, not liking to recall those dreams. “For such a long time, I felt I didn’t deserve to be happy because I had left part of your legacy behind. It felt like your ghost was haunting me day and night.”

“Oh, darling,” Clive pulls you into him so you are on top of him with legs on either side of him. Clive brings your forehead to his, his thumb coming up to swipe the tears building up in your eyes. “I could never not love you.” He looks deeply into you, burning the truth of his heart into you. “I am yours even beyond death.” 

His words overwhelm you, and you lean down to kiss him with every passionate fiber in your being. Your hands go to his torso, running your fingers up and down the sides as you continue to show him how much you love him. He grunts into your lips, his arm holding you down to him. Your hands start to slide slowly under his tunic, your fingers slowly ascending until they reach his chest only to go down again. The delicate touch of your fingers makes his hips buck right against your heat, a grunt and a moan echoing together simultaneously. Your hands go back up again, only this time you bring the tunic with you. 

“We have a lot of lost time to make up for.” You say against his lips.

Clive smirks at your boldness, only to flip you over on your back so he is hovering over you. “That we do, darling. Forgive me, though. Having one arm gives me less leverage.”

You hum, bringing him back down to you by his hair. “I’m sure we can manage.”

You two make love into the night and into the morning, not getting enough of one another; making up for lost time.

Day 200

Since you and Clive’s reunion, he had decided to stay for a while. He had sent a letter to the Hideaway to let them know you were well and that he would be staying for the time being, making Gav in charge. 

“He’ll love that.” You had joked.

“He’s his own man. I have all the faith in him.” 

These last few weeks have been sublime. When you wake up, you see Clive snoozing away beside you on your right; always the right so he can wrap his arm around you in his sleep. He has also helped you with the flower shop. You two would go out in the morning before the heat set in to work the ground and water the flowers. You don’t know if the yearning in your body has yet to be satiated, but there have been times when you would come outside to gather more flowers to see Clive with his shirt off, sweat glistening on his burly chest as he works. It takes every bone in your body not to jump his own. Most times, you are unsuccessful. 

You also found out Clive is quite the salesman. When you two would go out to Dalimil to sell from your cart, the way he is able to convince people to make a purchase is astounding. Is it the charm? The looks? A combination of both? You could guess, but it didn’t matter. Every time you made a sale, he would turn to give you a quick peck. 

“I would kiss you for every individual flower we sell, but we don’t want to scare them away now, do we?”

After a long day out in Dalimil, you two are now inside the cottage finishing up dinner. You are cleaning the dishes when you feel him behind you, wrapping his arm around you pulling your hips to his. You hum in a laughing manner, his friskiness showing as he places kisses on the side of your face. “Clive, let me finish these.”

“They aren’t going anywhere.” He hums, his kisses lingering below your ear. 

You sigh but continue cleaning. Clive, on the other hand, was not having it. He pulls you away, soap and water sloshing from your hands as he pulls you to him. He plops down onto the kitchen chair, bringing you into his lap. “Hmmm, I got you.”

“You are such a horn dog. Are you sure Ifrit still doesn’t linger within you?” You laugh, then squeak when he pinches your side.

“In all seriousness,” he murmurs in your ear. “I want to talk about something.”

“About?” You hum.

“About our future.” 

“Go on,” you urge. “What about our future?”

“Well,” Clive starts, “living the way we have the last couple weeks, my mind can’t stop wandering to what I want for us.”

Your hand reaches up to his cheek, only for him to nip at the tips of your fingers causing you to giggle. “Such as?”

“To start the life we’ve always talked about.” He places more kisses on your neck. “One where our lives are strictly ours. One where I come home to my beautiful wife.” 

“I like the sound of that.” You mewl, his kisses making you squirm in his lap.

“One where I get to see you bearing our child.” His hand goes down to your tummy, rubbing just above your uterus. 

“I’ll be surprised if I’m not already with all the love making we have done.” You giggle. 

He chuckles along with you, his hand squeezing your flesh. “You’d look beautiful. You always do.” He continues, “one where I get to raise a little me, a little you, or both.”

“It all sounds so wonderful.” You purr, feeling all warm and fuzzy at his remarks. 

“Then let’s go ahead with step one.” Clive says, lifting you off of him only to sit you back down. He kneels before you, both of your hands in his one. “I don’t have a ring, but I can’t wait a moment longer. _____, will you do me the utmost honor of marrying me?”

You hum, smiling brightly at his question. “Would you have me in a wedding dress? A big ceremony?”

“Anything your heart desires.”

You shake your head, laughing at his insistence. You look at him, letting yourself get swallowed by his eyes. “I’d marry you with just the clothes on my back.” 

Clive grins, bringing your left hand to his lips as he kisses your ring finger. “I cannot wait to marry you, future Lady Rosfield.”

Lady Rosfield. It has a nice ring to it.

[familyvideostevie]

hi hi lovely first of all i would LOVE to read your fluffy joel fic with no smut, i love your writing a lot and it’s just perfect and so comforting. also, if it is okay i would like to request a joel fic where the reader is someone who gets cold really easily and he’s always being a bit bossy and grumpy with her because she doesn’t wear enough layers or always gives him their blankets, and just like very fluffy very cute vibes! i love youuuuu

omg. yay!!! congratulations you are my first joel request!! thank you very much, this was a lot of fun. it's very short and a bit sweet and i hope you like it! (hope you like the fluffy joel fic, too!) joel doesn't get why you won't wear your damn gloves. fluff, jackson au, 0.8k

---

It starts with gloves.

"You okay?" Joel asks. Well, grunts, more like. You're on patrol which is serious business so you're getting serious Joel.

"Uh, yeah," you say. "Why?"

His jaw shifts like he's grinding his teeth. "You look..."

You try not to smirk too much. "How do I look, Joel?"

The two of you have been doing...whatever it is you're doing for a few months now. Gentle flirting turned to drinks turned to dinner turned to nights in his bed or yours, whispers in your hair and lips on your skin, his steady, solid presence at your side around town.

It's nice. You're enjoying it. And, perhaps most of all, you're enjoying how Joel Miller continues to surprise you. The depth of his worry and care, the jokes he tells out of nowhere, how his nostrils flare when he's trying to hide his smile.

You knew him to be a man capable of violence. You're all capable of violence. You've seen it, done it. That's life. It hardens you.

And while Joel is grumpy a lot of the time for good reason he also knows how to laugh loudly and is learning a song you love and haven't heard in twenty years so he can play it for you on his guitar.

So his unamused glare delights you more than anything.

"You look cold," he huffs.

"Well, it is fall in Wyoming, Joel," you say. "It's cold outside and we're outside." You sweep your arm in a wide arc at the beauty of the valley. Your horse snorts as if agreeing with you. He's right, though. You're cold but it's bearable. You get cold pretty easily, in fact, but Joel has no reason to know that. The weather just started to change.

"Well," he says, mocking you. "Why don't you have gloves or a hat or somethin'?"

He knows why. Because you left for patrol from his house without stopping at yours. You know he's going to find a way to make this his fault, for not checking that you had everything you needed, for not offering you the clothes on his back. You also know he's going to file this away and make it his new mission.

"Because I'm fine, that's why." Your tone leaves no room for argument but Joel tries anyway.

"Your hands are red."

"Joel," you snap. "I'm fine. Leave it."

Sometimes it's overwhelming to be cared about by a man with his intensity. He doesn't do things by halves. You're still learning what it means for him to be all in on you.

He says nothing. You glance at him and see he's holding out a pair of leather gloves you recognize.

"I'm not taking your gloves --"

"Just fuckin' take 'em, alright? If your hands are cold then you can't shoot and I don't want to have to leave you out here because someone got the jump on us. Ellie would kill me."

Typical Joel. Covering up his concern with gruffness. But you know better than to take it personally by now -- you see him with Ellie, see him with people in town. You know what he's like in your bed when he wakes up, the way he strokes your jaw and presses his lips to your temple. You know what's underneath this exterior.

So even if it's a little overwhelming you take the gloves and work them onto your hands. But you don't say thank you because you can't let him win everything.

But after that patrol Joel does make it his mission to ensure you're not cold. It's a little overbearing but you know he likes to be useful so what do you do? You lean into it. You do get cold easily, after all. You let him drape his flannels around you when you don't wear enough layers on the way to his house. You let him tug the hat on your head over your ears. You let him tuck a blanket under your feet on the couch. You let him take care of you.

"Feels like you're doin' this on purpose," he grumbles one night as you walk back from The Tipsy Bison. There's a bite to tonight's wind and he's got his arm around your shoulders so you're pressed into his side. You aren't wearing a coat warm enough for the chill.

"Doing what?"

"Being a pain in my ass. Givin' me grey hairs with your fuckin' determination to get frost bite."

"Well if you hate it so much --" You pretend to pull away from him but his doesn't let you go far.

"Didn't say that. Just think you should dress properly for once."

You laugh and pull him to a stop, turning so you're pressed against his chest.. "Why do I need more layers when I have you?"

"I see how it is," he drawls. "Usin' me for my warmth, are you?"

Joel isn't big on public displays of affection. He's a private man and likes to keep his cards close to his chest. But it's nighttime and there's hardly anyone out, so when you lean close he allows it, brushing your noses together.

"Course I am," you whisper.

He huffs. His palms press into your back. "Figures."

The kiss he gives you warms you all the way down to your toes.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[stupidvillainousposts]

Ok so ik that the asks thing was from yesterday butttttttttt....... I thought of something that i could throw at you

So imagine this

Stan wakes up in the middle of the night for some reason and like walks by the twins' room and sees one of them is missing (you pick who)so he wakes up fidds and is like "twin x is missing" so they look all over the house freaking out more and more the more places they check because "oh shit their not here" so Stan *fidds has to watch the other twin* goes to check the woods. And after 15 or so minutes of seaching later he finds twin x. just chilling with a pack of wolves

I'll let you figure out the after

*I may have veered off just a bit from the original prompt, but hopefully it still looks good. Getting back into writing after a while (haven't written anything like this since the smut fic, oof) is taking me a bit longer than expected to get used to. >_>

In the Dark of Night

Silence; it was a rarity in the Pines household, overtaken by the near constant prattling of pups or playful banter amongst Stan and Fidds. It had become the norm for someone to be talking at almost any point in time, an unease would settle over the family that lasted until someone chose to break the ice. The noise and its intensity depended greatly on who it came from; Stan was a loud man, more than willing to ramble about whatever got his mouth running and body moving - it came in handy more often than not, especially when he needed to weasel his way out of an uncomfortable situation. Fidds was more reserved, liked to observe before speaking; with narrowed eyes and intense focus, the southern man could pick apart near anyone after just two minutes. The pups took after Stan clear as day, able to go on and on without stopping unless someone told them to. Their styles, however, varied; Dipper could only rant and cajole if Stan or Fidds was nearby, whereas Mabel could talk regardless of the couple’s whereabouts.

So, to put things simply: Silence didn’t come often, and even when it did someone would always be able to fill it.

At least, that’s how it would normally be, how it should have been. The only difference right now was that it was one in the morning, and no one was awake to do so.

Except, that’s where things started to veer off track.

Nights in the shack were never, absolutely never silent, something was always serving as background noise; a creaky pipe, howling wind, the building groaning and creaking as it settled, typical things that occurred during winter in the woods. Cheeky birds may occasionally chirp as they start waking up or preparing to sing their morning songs, the goat that lived on the property would let out an occasional bray of content, and it would all be tied together by the obnoxiously (and surprisingly) loud snoring that came from Dipper’s tiny body.

Wait.

Stan shot up in an instant, ears standing straight on his head as he honed in all attention to the twins’ room. Despite the wood separating them from an entire floor, Stan was usually able to hear even the tiniest sound from the attic, able to tell when the pups were awake or asleep, when they were sleeping peacefully or having a nightmare, hell, he was even able to catch the beginnings of Mabel’s sleep whispering!

Despite all of that, however, the one thing he couldn’t hear tonight was Dipper. The kid wasn’t a quiet sleeper, always shifting around and whining, trying to keep his face on the cold side of the pillow, occasionally waking himself up by accident when his feet bunny-kicked his own face, the works. Perhaps the silence was a blessing in disguise, but Stan- despite being a gambling man -couldn’t find it in himself to take that chance. He climbed out of bed, slowly so as to not alert Fidds, and started the trip to the attic. Both Stan’s ears and sensitive nose worked double-time with every step, his heart threatening to stop upon his realization that Dipper’s scent was near nonexistent as well.

“C’mon, kid, this ain’t funny.” Stan muttered, gently knocking to announce his presence before slowly opening the attic door and peeking his head in. First glance didn’t show anything out of the ordinary, Mabel was fast asleep in her bed, breathing calmly and snuggling her unicorn toy close. The sight made Stan’s pulse slow down just a bit, and he couldn’t stop the fond smile that wrestled its way onto his face.

One glance at Dipper’s bed snatched the smile away in an instant.

The covers were thrown all over the place, Dipper’s pillow was shredded as if he’d been using it as a shield against some rabid beast, and echoes of claw marks ran along the wall in such a way that made Stan’s stomach twist and flip like an anxious acrobat. A quick apology to Mabel was followed by Stan sneaking into the room and switching on the lamp to get a closer look at the scene, and while Stan acknowledged Mabel’s whine of frustration with an ear twitch, he did little else to turn his focus away from the bed.

“Papa Stan?” Mabel yawned, a squeaky sound exiting her mouth as she exhaled and snapped her mouth shut. “What… Why are you up here so late?”

Stan didn’t answer, was truthfully unable to, now that he’d fallen straight into tunnel-vision. Scenario after scenario after scenario ran through the werewolf’s brain, each worse than the last and leading to horrifying results. What If after What If popped into the open like possessive imps, destroying what semblance of calm Stan had left in his body, though he was unaware of this until he felt a cold hand land on his shoulder. A loud snarl left Stan’s mouth as he turned swiftly, slamming his teeth against stagnant air that replaced what would have been Fiddleford’s hand.

Perhaps Fidds had a point when he commented on his newfound speed coming in handy.

“Stanley! What in heaven’s name is goin’ on with you?! Ya coulda snapped my hand clean off had I been human!” Fidds scolded, less afraid for his own safety and more concerned about his lover’s dilated pupils and wheezing breaths. “Stanley… Stanley, can ya hear me?”

Behind Fidds, Mabel whimpered, hugging the vampire’s leg as she waited for something to happen. It seemed that that one noise was enough to draw Stan out of his fear induced haze, his breaths slowed substantially and his snarling lessened, though it was clear that something had upset him.

“Darlin’, what’s wrong?” Fidds asked, placing a hand on Stan’s cheek and relaxing as Stan leaned into the touch. “C’mon, we talked about this.”

A nod, quick yet hesitant, was followed by a nervous sigh. “It’s Dipper.”

“What? What about- OH DEAR GOD!” Fidds instantly left his place, accidentally dragging Mabel with him- though she didn’t seem too upset about that, if her laughter was anything to go by -as he raced forward to look at the aggressive display. “WHERE IS MY BABY?!”

“Okay, first of all: Ow. Ears.” Stan grumbled, swiveling said appendages back as he received an apologetic expression in response. “Secondly: If I knew, I would have found him by now. These two may be good at hiding for a few minutes, but this nose can track anything down if I have something to go by.”

The last thing anyone expected was for Fidds to shove Dipper’s blanket into Stan’s face, frantically begging him to try and find any sort of trail. Regardless, Stan studied the blanket’s scent and let it guide him. From the bed to the wall, the floor to the door, and even past that. A confused grunt came from Stan as he left the room, tail moving back and forth in both interest and concern. His face nearly touched the floor as clawed hands and feet strode forward, almost of their own accord.

“Well? Whaddya got?” Fidds asked, wringing his hands in the way he did only when things became too stressful for him to handle. “Anyplace in particular stand out?”

“No.” Stan dejectedly replied, grunting and nearly cursing as he reached the living room, where too many scents lingered for him to be able to catch anything extraordinary. “It’s like he just… disappeared.”

“Or jumped out a window.” Mabel chirped, pointing to an open window that had started a draft in the room. She tilted her head slightly, sniffing the air and wagging her tail as she instantly recognized her brother in the air. “Yep!”

“Yes! Good job, sweetie!” Stan exclaimed, leaping up and ruffling Mabel’s hair. He instructed Fidds to stay and keep Mabel safe, pressing a gentle kiss to the vampire’s lips in an attempt to soothe them both before turning and making his way outside.

The sounds of the early morning seemed to come to a standstill the moment Stan stepped outside, and while it pulled a violent shudder down his spine, he continued on. Nose high in the sky and ears moving this way and that; perhaps he would be able to hear Dipper before anything else? The pup was quiet, shy, anything you’d want to label as the opposite of Mabel, but he knew when he needed to use his voice. For now, Stan couldn’t catch any sign of his son nephew, and that terrified him.

“Dipper! Dipper, where are you?!” Stan looked around frantically, moving farther and farther into the forest and eventually finding himself surrounded by nothing but trees. Each one looked the same, especially in the darkness, and while Stan most certainly could have found his way home eventually on any other day, his stress and terror were making his senses go haywire. “DIPPER!”

The pup’s name echoed for ten agonizing seconds, reverberating through the trees and mocking Stan the longer it carried. What if Stan never found Dipper? What if he never found the shack? What would become of Fidds and Mabel if Stan wasn’t able to pull himself together and do something right for once?! Why was everything so-

“Papa Stan!”

It was quiet, it was quick, but boy oh boy was it there. Confirmation that Dipper was out here, was safe, was alive.

“DIPPER! KEEP TALKING!” Stan screamed, racing towards the small voice and caring not as tears started to stream down his face the closer he got. Frantic panting turned into nervous barking, which then turned to excited whining as Stan nearly tripped over Dipper upon reaching him. “Kid! Oh, thank goodness you’re okay!”

Dipper giggled and let himself be lifted into a tight hug, grateful that being part wolf made him just this side of strong enough to bear the pressure. He let Stan hold him as long as needed, yipping and nuzzling against Stan as the grip tightened.

“Okay… okay, sappy stuff’s outta the way. Are ya hurt? If so, where? Anything feel weird inside? Any loss of feeling or smell or taste or-”

“Papa Stan, stop! You sound like Papa Fidds!” Dipper laughed, patting Stan’s face and snickering at the snort his action received in response. “I’m okay! My knee hurts a bit, but other than that I’m fine!”

Stan, ignoring the comment about sounding like Fidds, moved to cradle Dipper, breath hitching at the blood that was pouring down the pup’s leg. “Shit, kid. When did this happen?”

“I think when I fell out the window.” Dipper hummed, his body going lax as the adrenaline that had been driving him started to fade away. “I had a bad dream, and I was trying to find you, but I fell out the window and then had to run away from the monster chasing me. But it’s okay because my new friends protected me!”

It took a moment for Stan to properly process what Dipper had just said, the pups had experienced nightmares before, some worse than others, but none bad enough to send them racing into the woods of all places. Had Dipper seen something after waking up that scared him? Had he been sleepwalking at some point?

Oh, god; had Dipper had a dream about… him?

Stan grumbled at that thought, almost too caught up in the nerve-wracking possibility until he processed the second portion of Dipper’s crazy night. “What new friends?”

Dipper wiggled in sudden excitement, letting out sharp, high-pitched yips that created a frantic rustling in the nearby shrubbery. Stan growled at the noise, stopping only when Dipper explained that it was just his friends, that they were shy like him and were just trying to make sure Stan wasn’t a threat.

Well, isn’t that just dandy?

“Alright, fine. Show your faces, but no sudden movements!” Stan snapped, waiting impatiently for the first ‘friend’ to show their face.

Their first, fluffy, wolf-shaped face.

What in the absolute hell.

“Wolves. Ya made friends with wolves.” Stan deadpanned, looking down at the wolves and avoiding direct eye contact. The last thing he needed was one of them to attack due to unintentional disrespect. “Not the weirdest thing I’ve witnessed.”

“Yup! That’s Dandry! She’s the mama wolf! Her husband is right there, that’s Amarok! They’ve got three pups; Asena, Fenrir, and Morrighan!”

“That is a… violent mixture of mythology.” Stan murmured, scrunching his nose and trying not to come off as defensive. “But even if they were harmless wolves, that doesn’t excuse you running off like you did!”

“Would it help if I said the pack helped keep me from getting too lost?” Dipper asked, moving his head in the perfect way to make his eyes sparkle.

“Ugh, darn those eyes.” Stan turned his face and placed his free hand onto Dipper’s eyes, smiling at the laugh the action earned him. A soft sigh was followed by Stan looking at Dandry and Amarok, sharing a silent conversation with them before nodding.

He could have sworn that Dandry nodded back, but maybe that was a trick of the light.

And, speaking of light…

“Fidds is gonna kill the both of us. Me for bein’ out so long and you for running off. Better hope he falls for the eyes.” Stan teased, bidding the wolves a soft sound of thanks before the two groups went their separate ways. He knew that Fidds was likely going to shout empty threats of grounding for about a minute before caving and dragging Dipper into his own sob drenched hug. Still, it helped to imagine Fidds at home fuming and looking like an overgrown elf who lost his bag of tricks rather than a nervous vampire who was just barely holding onto his sanity for Mabel’s sake. “And, about that bad dream-”

Stan was cut off by a loud snore, signifying that Dipper had fallen asleep, likely due to the sudden drop in adrenaline. The rest of them would soon follow suit the moment all was said and done, but Stan soon decided that it would be best to live in the moment instead of trying to focus on an uncontrollable future.

Especially when that uncontrollable future involved him walking faster the moment he swore he saw a single eye watching him from the remaining shadows, threatening to swallow him up and leave nothing behind but a broken husk of a man.

[thelibraryoferebor]

Rarepairs for When You Wanna Switch it Up

Woah, it's been a while since I posted, but I still haven't stopped reading tolkienverse fics, so I have a large backlog of fics to recommend. It's just the matter of getting them on a list and to you guys that's the trick...For your sanity I encourage you to consider this blog all but retired, even though I am going to try to get out the lists that I've had in the works for a while.

This list is basically what it says: rarepairs. Except, rarepair doesn't actually mean that the pairings are all that rare, just that the central pairing isn't Thilbo, Gigolas, or Barduil, since that's what I recommend the most of!

Enjoy!

~H

Spaces Between Us by Linguistic Jubilee 

|| general - 7.9k - completed - Di/D ||

Thorin pauses. “You have to understand that what I am about to say is so uncomfortable for me that I would almost rather fight the white orc again than continue, but. Dis. You must be blind if you cannot see that Dwalin stares at you the way you stare at him.”

Notes: Ok. So. I love Dis/Dwalin so much. Like I'm not even sure entirely why, but I adore it. This fic especially kinda like encapsulates all the lovely feels of the two of them and I think does really well by both characters and is just so worth reading. Even if you're initially iffy on the ship idea, give it a shot, you won't regret it. Also, mayhaps be looking at a whole Dis/Dwalin post in the future.

In Loving You With My Whole Heart by Lapin 

|| teen - 11.3k - completed - F/O ||

After the song comes on the radio, Ori is determined not to forgive Fíli. But it's not the first song Fíli has written about him, and it likely won't be the last.

Rock Band AU

Notes: This fic guys. It's just. So cute. And I love the Ori centric POV. It's desperately romantic and angsty all at the same time. I want more.

Fear and Family (Or, the One Where Kíli Is the Sensible One) by Lumeleo

|| general - 43.7k - completed - F/O;K/Ta;T/B ||

After the Battle of Five Armies, Bilbo isn't sure of his welcome in the mountain, and thus returns to the Shire as soon as he can. Somewhat to his surprise, Ori goes with him -- but it turns out Ori has his own reasons for leaving Erebor behind. Well, Bilbo's quite used to being the talk of the Shire.

The line of Durin might suffer of thick skulls, but fortunately Kíli is less stubborn than his uncle and brother, and decides to fix things, even if that means taking his newlywed wife for a ride all the way to the Shire and beyond. Of course, he doesn't yet know what he'll see there -- but he does know how to fix things. Even if it means giving up his claim to the throne.

(Let's not kid ourselves -- that's his favourite part.)

Notes: This is a bit of a fandom classic, tbh. I think that Kili is, tbh, the best part of this fic. He's so fun to read and I love the relationship between him and Tauriel (ofc) but also between him and Ori and Bilbo. The bond between Bilbo and Ori is also perfection.

One Hit by littlebrownshoe (Wolfy_Tales) 

|| general - 7.9k - completed - D/O ||

Dwalin was so busy making sure Thorin understood the gifts Bilbo graced the king with that he did not give much time to think over the items Ori gave him. It took the scribe giving Dawlin a punch to get him to finally realize.

Notes: Awww, Dwalin. That's how I felt for most of the fic, though sometimes it became an arghhh Dwalin instead. Definitely worth reading.

Settling Down by Shay_Moonsilk 

|| general - 1.8k - completed - F/O;D/N ||

Dori wants his brothers to settle down with a nice dwarf, but will he like the ones they chose?

Spoiler: Yes he does.

Notes: DORI!! He's so cool. So protective. So traumatized. I love him. And how much he cares for his brothers. Their relationship is explored and discussed in such a lovely way in this fic and I <333333 it.

I’ve Been Looking for You by Resacon1990 

|| teen - 28k - completed - D/O;T/B;D/N;Bo/N ||

It starts on the wrist when you're young. The first words your soulmate will ever say to you are tattooed in a colour, red, green, yellow, blue, any colour each with their own meaning, and the day they're said and the moment you touch your soulmate is the moment they travel up to settle on your forearm.

Five stories, five different bonds, five endings.

Notes: This fic I read a long time ago, but I remember enjoying. I believe that it follows each pair in it's own chapter which is cool. But it also has a lot of interesting discussions about soulmates and almost the impracticality (???) of it, or the ways in which the system is imperfect.

A Perfect Match by Chamelaucium 

|| general - 38.4k - completed - D/O;Bo/N;T/B ||

Bilbo tries his hand at match-making. What he doesn't expect is to find his perfect match in the process...

Notes: This is a classic trope. Almost the reverse of the Dwalin trying to get Bilbo and Thorin together fic from above. Def worth your time, a sweet little thing that just makes you feel fluffy.

In Carven Oak by bubbysbub 

|| not rated - 26.3k - completed - T/B/D ||

It's Yule time when Bilbo arrives back in the Shire- with a host of Dwarrow at his back, the sentimental lugs. Except now the assorted Aunts and Uncles have gotten quite the wrong idea in their excited interrogation, and he's stuck pretending that he's married a few of the hairy fellows.

If he could just get through the assorted required Baggins and Took social events without outing himself as a complete fibber or drunkenly attempting to kiss Dwalin and Thorin under the mistletoe, it may just be a Yule miracle.

Another attempt at writing a common trope fic that went completely off the rails.

Notes: Ok so I know this is still technically Thilbo, but it also includes Dwalin who is epic. I really love how casually the polyamory is treated in this and I think that it is a great introduction to polyamorous ships in fanfiction if you're curious about it.

Heavy with Many Burdens by moonbeam (luvsbitca)

|| mature - 39.8k - completed - D/O;T/B ||

Bilbo leaves Thorin and the company following Thorin’s words before the BoTFA unaware that he is taking more from their relationship than a broken heart. Months later Dwalin finds Bilbo in need of help in the Shire when he is delivering Bilbo’s share of the treasure. He remains in the Shire unaware that he is leaving Ori behind in a precarious situation.

Notes: This is such a sweet fic with Dwalin and Bilbo's relationship especially feeling particularly special. Poor Ori and Thorin, though. It all ends well in the end, though!

Back in My Right Place by frodomybeloved (rosequartzstars) 

|| general - 11.2k - completed - Fr/S;T/B ||

When Frodo is sick in time for Bilbo and Thorin's visit from Erebor, they spend an evening watching over him, along with a presence that has never left his side: Sam Gamgee. It is Sam who finally puts Frodo on the road to recovery with the unlikeliest of remedies— a kiss.

Eleven years later, Frodo is recovering at Rivendell, after being mortally wounded by the Witch King at Weathertop. He has been asleep for three nights, and already Sam fears he might never awaken. But when all looks dire, the same cure might be the thing to restore Frodo to life.

A story of two parallel evenings, years apart, created from art by YamBits (#98) for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2021.

Notes: One extended word: awwwwwww.

[narcosfandomdiscord]

Narcovember Prompt Roulette List

Saalud a mi gente! We in the Narcos Fandom Forever discord server are excited to bring another 30-day challenge: a multifandom event that we’re nevertheless calling Narcovember. Despite its name, this is open to ALL FANDOMS, NOT JUST NARCOS. Creators are encouraged to submit fanworks (fic, art, gifs, vids, op-eds) for any fandom your heart desires!

This event's format is a bit unconventional. Instead of a prompt for each day of the month, there's a Prompt Roulette Wheel and a Prompt Index (☟ below) featuring numbered items with three prompts each. Every day you'll spin the wheel. The number that comes up on the spin corresponds to a number on the index where you can then pick one of the three prompts.

So for example, say on day one, I spin the wheel and get number 8. I’d go to 8 on the index (titled These Damn Restraints). Of those three prompts, I like Yikes best so that's my day one prompt. Next day, I spin and get 14. I find 14 on the index (Decisions, Decisions, Decisions) and pick one of those for day two's prompt. And so on. Note: If, on Day 2, instead of 14 I got 8 again, I’d spin the wheel again to get a new number. If, for whatever reason, you don’t want to spin twice, you can choose another prompt from that "Book of" that you haven't used (e.g. Day 1, I chose Yikes. So Day 2, I’d go for, "Now you know why I never say anything.") Ideally, we think it’s more fun to not repeat index items, but ultimately it’s dealer’s choice. Aka we're not about to get real fascist policing, aint nobody got time for that.

Here's -> the roulette wheel. Or you can make your own! (Just make sure it has 30 slices.)

Use the hashtag #narcovember or tag us to submit your entries so we can reblog them! A note on the masterlist - bc of the Tumblr-imposed link limit, for now we'll only link the fic. BUT at the end of the month, there will be a comprehensive list with all the contributors’ blogs so ppl can find your other work easily. 

Happy spinning, everybody!

❖ Prompt Index ❖

1 — Book of Genesis

Fanwork inspired by someone else’s fanwork (be sure to tag the creator of the OG work!) 

“The fun begins here.” 

Ghosts

2 — Book of Fuck-ups

Righteous indignation glo-up aka fanwork that corrects a plot misstep or writing blunder that bugs the shit outta you 

“It’s not the what-ifs that fuck you up, so much as the what-might-have-beens.” 

Bite

>>>>>>>>>> more prompts below the cut <<<<<<<<<<<<

3 - Book of Stuff That Goes in the Junk Drawer

Fanwork inspired by a song and include why the song sparked the idea (was it the lyrics, genre? something you thought a character would like? etc) 

“It’s never too late to make history.”

Juice

4 — Book of the Uno-Card-Reverse

Fanwork based on your fav reverse/inverse trope**

“Evil isn’t always forever.” 

Mirrors 

5 — Book of Negative Spaces

Fanwork using a line from a diff show/movie as a prompt (e.g. line from Mad Men, “I don’t think of you at all” in a Narcos fic, line from Band of Brothers, “The only hope you have is to accept the fact that you’re already dead,” in a Hannibal fic, etc etc) 

“We gain more from our mistakes than our success, you know that?”

Pitch

6 — Book of (un)Consciousness

Fanwork inspired by a dream you’ve had (include 1-2 sentence summary of the dream at the beginning of the post) 

“Just dream with me.”

Technicolor 

7 — Book of Time-travel

Fanwork inspired by ancient mythology (Greek, Norse, aztec, celtic, etc. Bible counts as mythology, fuck it) 

“It’s only a matter of time.”

Constellation

8 — Book of These Damn Restraints

Fanwork that ends with 2(+) characters trapped in a phone booth with no way out 

“Now you know why I never say anything.”

Yikes

9 — Book of Fateful Conversations

Fanwork where the plot takes place entirely in the back of a cab OR where one character is the cab driver and the other is the passenger 

“You'd be surprised what you can live with.” 

Cursed

10 — Book of Nepo-baby Levels of Incompetence

Fanwork where character is in a profession they have no business being in with no prior training, so they fake knowing what they’re doing – like imposter syndrome except they’re just actually a fraud (e.g. Rust Cohle is a grief counselor, Richie Jerimovich is a hedge fund manager, Roman Roy is a beat cop) 

“And who hasn’t believed a flattering lie?” 

Evergreen 

11 — Book of Pit Stops

Fanwork that starts with a character hitchhiking and getting picked up by another character(s) 

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.” 

Rush

12 — Book of Balancing In Between

Fanwork whose setting is a liminal space (e.g. empty swimming pool, bar or arcade after hours, airport terminal, church confessional, empty elevator, Twin Peaks black lodge, John Wick continental bar, etc) 

“Good things come in threes.” 

Wire

13 — Book of in Urgent Need of Assistance

Fanwork where a character wakes up on an empty submarine, 300ft underwater, thinking they’re the only person aboard until they run into another character(s) 

“One day I’ll wake up and it won’t hurt so much.” 

Desperate

14 - Book of Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

Crossover for 2(+) fandoms you have used before but 2(+) characters you’ve never used or vice versa 

“All we have are our choices.” 

Crossroads 

15 — Book of How tf Did We Get Here

Fanwork that starts off with 2(+) characters waiting in line at the DMV and ends in a completely different, totally unpredictable, why-and-how-tf-did-we-get-here place 

“There’s a moon a mile from here and nobody home.” 

Ambition

16 — Book of Locally Sourced

Fanwork that mimics a bottle episode, so the entirety of it takes place in a relatively mundane setting (e.g. the stockroom of a store, interrogation room, a hotel lobby, waiting room of a doctor’s office, etc etc) 

“Make yourself comfortable while you can."

Notebook

17 — Book of Inception

Fanwork that provides an origin story for a character that doesn’t have one in canon 

“It (he/she/they) made me who I am.”

Improvement

18 — Book of Mysteries

Fanwork where 2(+) characters have to escape a panic room. Depending on fandom, this can be like the innocent party version that you take your friends to for someone’s bday, or can be an actual doomsday shelter 

“I thought they were with you!?"

Endurance

19 — Book of Near Misses

Fanwork with 2(+) characters from the same movie/show/book who’ve never met 

“Looks like we missed our window.” 

Rattled

20 — Book of Sleight of Hand

Fanwork of partners (romantic, profesh, or both) running into each other unexpectedly while both are doing something criminal/something they know they aren’t supposed to do (e.g. burying a body, carrying out a heist, meeting someone they shouldn’t)

“You can't ask the truth from someone who trades in lies.” 

Brace

21— Book of Nerves of Steel

Fanwork where 2(+) characters do a B&E, but get stuck when the owner unexpectedly comes home, and they whisper-yell argue over how to get out

“You won't believe the day I just had.”

Cortisol

22 — Book of Identity Theft

Fanwork where 2(+) characters meet accidentally bc one has accidentally dialed the wrong number (e.g. Syd [The Bear] tries to call Carm to yell at him for Something Dumb He Did but ends up calling Cousin Greg [Succession] instead) 

“I'm not the one.”

Brand

23 — Book of Just Chaos™️™️™️

Cracked crossover/ship with 2(+) characters from very diff genres (e.g. Dwight Schrute [The Office] & Tommy Shelby [Peaky Blinders], Frenchie [The Boys] x Penelope [Bridgerton], etc) 

“You’re my idiot, forever.” 

Untouchable

24 — Book of Revelation

Fanwork where 2(+) characters are stranded in the desert and in a sick twist, must decide which one of them to leave behind in order for the other(s) to be saved

“I like that I don't have to worry about you.”

Rapture

25 — Book of Reciprocity

Fanwork where 2(+) characters play poker (or any card game that has betting) but the chips are magic and the winner gets extra years of life instead of money (e.g. say, in poker, green chips = $500, blue chips = $1k, red chips = $2k, black chips = $5k. In this scenario, green chips = 6mos, blue chips = 1yr, red chips = 2yrs, black chips = 5yrs, etc) 

“Fine, I'll do it myself.”

Quid-Pro-Quo

26 — Book of Abduction

Fanwork where 2(+) characters get kidnapped by a kooky cult, are thrown into the trunk of a car together and have to figure out how to escape

“Somebody has to be paying attention.” 

Spiral

27 — Book of Caretaking

Fanwork where a character accidentally shoots/stabs/otherwise maims another character and has to perform first responder, triage levels of first aid to save them (dealer’s choice as to whether it's successful bc yolo) 

“Don't make me take care of you.” 

 Ritual

28 — Book of Weaponized Passive Aggression

Fanwork where 2(+) characters attend a dinner party and witness that moment when a couple starts passive-aggressively arguing but not outright fighting in front of the whole table and it’s even more painfully awkward than if they just straight up fought OR the 2(+) characters are the ones arguing making everyone else uncomfortable asf

“I wish you the best and I hope you find it far from me.”

Attitude

29 — Book of the (un)Dead

Fanwork where a character dies and another character shepherds them to the afterlife like their own personal grim reaper

“We bury our dead alive.” 

Siesta

30 — Book of There's No Place Like ...

Back from the dead: a character came back wrong or right, but either way, no one else knows how to handle it

“Even if you make it, you’ll never really go home.” 

Homesick

**There will be a reverse trope list in another post for examples.

[bitterbutblue]

anby demara <3

come right on me- i mean camaraderie! ☆ anby demara x reader

~ can u tell im a sabrina carpenter fan yeah im a sabrina carpetner fan COMERIGHTON ME I MEAN CAMARADERIE SAID URE NOT IN MY TIMEZONE BUT U WANNA BE

very dialogue heavy fic guys

song: bed chem - sabrina carpenter ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

The first time you kissed her had Anby wondering if she needed to go to the hospital. You were sitting on the roof of the Cunning Hare's car, talking about the universe and all it's glory under the now corrupted sky. Each person who lives in New Eridu doesn't know which day will be their last, and you knew that you wanted to at least get to know Anby before the worst happened. You told her about your life, your time in high school, your relationships- which lead to her interest in relationships piqued and she asked you about it.

"Is it like the movies?"

"Not really. I mean it feels that way at first, but it's like a star that stops burning as brightly after a while."

Anby just humed in acknowledgement as she took another bite of her burger.

"Have you been in relationships?"

"No. Never had the time to." She shrugged as she swallowed "Seems nice though."

"It's cool."

"Have you ever kissed anyone?"

Your cheeks flushed a light pink at that question.

"Uh- yeah?"

"Is it like the movies?"

"Well, it's not as insane and heart throbbing as they make it out to be." You laughed

Anby stares into the abyss of the starless night, chewing on a now-stale fry before turning her attention back to you.

"Can you kiss me?"

You choked on your drink, sputtering like an embarrassed mess as you wheezed.

"Huh?"

"I wanna know what it feels like"

"It doesn't feel good if you're kissing someone you don't actually, like, love."

Anby muses over that for a bit, but she shrugs.

"I still wanna try."

Who were you to deny her puppy dog eyes she does unintentionally? You haven't kissed anyone in a while, especially after joining the hares. You hope you aren't too out of practice. You grabbed one of the napkins from inside the take-out bag, wiping your lips.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

With the napkin now stuffed in your pocket, you turned around to face her. She looked at you with a look you can't quite read as you move a hand up to cup her cheek.

"You ready?"

She nods.

The kiss wasn't... mind blowing or anything. Your heart fluttered but that's normal when you kiss someone, or anyone, right? It was short but it was sweet. You pulled away pretty quickly, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

"So... how was it?"

Anby just kind of stared. Like just really stared at you for a bit, her eyes practically boring into yours and you were starting to feel a bit intimidated.

"I gotta go."

What a terrible way to end your first kiss, Anby.

A week had passed since then, and Anby could not get you out of her mind for the life of her. She has been avoiding you like the plague while you mentally cursed yourself for fucking up another friendship. She yelps when Nicole suddenly grabs her arm one day, shoving her into a nearby room.

"Nicole-"

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"What?"

"Why are you avoiding the new recruit?"

"No reason."

"Bullshit!"

Anby looks away, suddenly finding the posters about the N.E.P.S. rather intriguing.

"Bitch!"

"What?"

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"LIAR!"

"What's going on?"

Wonderful. Billy Kid had invited himself to join the room- soda cup in one hand (he can't even drink soda, what is he doing????) and Starlight Knight VHS tape in the other.

"Anby was being weird around the new recruit, right?"

"Totally." He nods, his eyes narrowing "I thought you two were getting along."

"We are."

"You guys went on a mission together and she came back complaining that you refused to talk to her the entire time!" Nicole groans, impatient now

"I don't like working with her anymore."

"Why???" Billy whines

"She makes me unfocused."

The two go silent after that, just sorta staring at Anby with '???' eyes.

"What?"

"Elaborate?"

The pair spoke at the same time, and Anby just huffed.

"She's weird. She makes me feel weird and I can't focus. When we kissed-"

"WHEN YOU WHAT?"

Anby winced at how loud they were. And of course, it gets worse because Nekomata pokes her head through the gap of the door that Billy left open.

"Anby kissed who?"

"THE RECRUIT-" Nicole screeches

"WAS IT GOOD?" Billy's question was completely unnecessary

"ANBY YOU KISSED HER??"

They were truly infuriating. Anby shoots them a glare and they shut up, but they don't stop giving her this odd look that she doesn't quite enjoy either. Nicole breaks the silence.

"Why'd you kiss?"

"I asked them to."

"Gay." Billy mutters

"WHY?" Nicole's face was red from anger at this point

"She likes the new recruit." Nekomata cackles from the beanbag she has seated herself on, curling up as she nestles her head into her arms.

"I do not." Anby deadpans, unaware of the shade of pink on her cheeks. "She is just... odd. And makes me feel odd. We should kick her out."

"No." Nicole snaps "I'm not kicking out a valued member in the Cunning Hares because you're feeling gay!"

Anby's face is undeniably red at this stage, huffing as she crosses her arms.

"It is not like that."

"Yes it is."

"No it's not."

"You kissed her."

"As friends."

"You're avoiding her."

"Because she's weird."

"DAMMIT ANBY-" Nicole groans "It's okay if you want to kiss her again! Or hold her hand! Or scis-"

"NO!" Billy shrieks, interrupting Nicole

"They have too much sexual tension! That's the problem!"

"Wha- No!" Anby scoffs, visbly embarrassed now

Truthfully told, Anby could not get that night out of her mind. Every time she saw you, she felt like she was going to combust on the spot- which was definitely not normal. Her heart rate also had her thinking she needed to go to the hospital to get something checked out. Maybe it was a cardiac arrest? Maybe she should check herself into the hospital, she's not sure if she-

"What's going on?"

You peek your head to the room in confusion, seeing all four of them gathered together upset you a little bit. You knew being a new recruit would mean probably being excluded a bit but seeing it happen just sucked. Nicole's eyes widened when she saw the hurt expression on your face you tried so hard to conceal.

"Oh, wait it's not- we're talking to Anby about... uh..."

"Sexual frustration." Nekomata nods, you choke on nothing and Anby hurls a pillow at her

"It's not sexual if I want to kiss someone!" Anby scowls

"Anby's figuring out a crush." Nicole sighs

"I don't have a crush!"

"You wanna kiss them?" Billy questions

"As- as a friend?"

"NO!"

You just watch in confusion, unsure on if you should join the conversation or not. But Anby looked so uncomfortable, the usually calm and stoic girl now face red and looking away. You couldn't help but feel this pang of guilt, even though you hadn't done anything.

"Guys, cut it out." You sigh, walking up to stand next to Anby "Just leave her be."

The three just kinda shoot weird looks eat each other. Nicole opens her mouth but is quickly elbowed aggressively by Nekomata, who flashes you a charming (yet devious) smile as she drags a whining Nicole out of the room, Billy following suit.

"Are you okay?"

You weren't sure how to break the silence. It was way too awkward for your own good. Anby would look at everything but you, acting like as if you weren't even there. Finally, she swallows and speaks as she eyes at the wall panelling.

"I need to go-"

"No."

She freezes at the tone of your voice, a tone she had never heard before. You sounded harsh, irritated, hurt. The last one stuck out the most because it made her feel like her heart was closing in on itself.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not."

You scoff

"You totally are! After the night we kissed, you just stopped talking to me! Did I cross a line that night? Did I make you uncomfortable?"

You can't stop yourself, feeling yourself get emotional now. It hurt to see the person who you grew to admire in the Cunning Hares go from being vulnerable to closed off within the blink of an eye.

"No."

Anby's voice is much softer compared to yours, looking around the room as her eyes dart left to right.

"I don't know how to... deal with what I feel around you."

You huff out angrily, crossing your arms.

"What do you mean?"

She fidgets with her fingers, picking at the skin next to her nails as she bites the inside of her cheek. You feel yourself hesitate in that moment, you want to be mad at her but the way she's looking at you makes you feel like you're suffocating. You step forward, a cautious test, to see if she'll flinch. She doesn't. So you take another step forward, moving to take your hand into yours so that she stops picking at her skin until she bleeds. Her hand is cold in yours, and Anby feels her head growing light.

"What do you mean?" You ask again, less sharp this time.

"I-"

Fuck it, she would die one day anyways, right? Could be tomorrow, could be in two decades.

Fuck it.

"I feel different around you. Like warmer. I keep thinking about that night, and I-" she licks her lips "I want to replicate what we did."

She looks up at last, golden eyes staring into yours.

"You said it wouldn't feel like a movie kiss. But I felt everything you said I wouldn't feel."

She takes a deep breath in, trying to stop her voice from shaking as much as it should be shaking. She feels your hand that's holding her tighten but she can't stop now.

"Maybe something's wrong with me? If I shouldn't be feeling those things then why am I-"

She doesn't even get to finish her sentence because you pulled her hand so that she stumbled forward. You put your other hand on her cheek right before putting your lips on hers, kissing her with the same softness as that night. That night under the now-corrupted sky, a reminder of their inevitable downfall as a species but that sky is so beautiful to her now.

"Nothing's wrong, you dumbass." You say breathlessly as you pull away "God, if you want to date me, just tell me!"

Anby feels the room grow warmer, her face getting even hotter as you brush your thumb against her cheek.

"I am confused about what I'm feeling. I feel very... light." She whispers, and you just smile.

"You're adorable, Anby."

Her blush was so intense, you got a bit worried at how red one's face could get but at the same time it was genuinely the most heart-melting thing you've ever seen.

"Can I be yours?"

Your words knocked the damn air out of her lungs as she stares into your eyes- who knew you could feel so much just from looking at someone? She's learning a lot right now, she didn't realise she could end up like... this.

"Please."

She'll never curse that night sky again, or the corruption that eats away at her future because the present is you, the future will always be you.

[josephseedismyfather]

WIP Music (it's not) Monday (anymore)

It's been a hot minute since I've shared music. Thank you to @simplegenius042 and @noodlecupcakes for tagging me this week! 🥰

This week I'm sharing a song for a different fic! I haven't shared much for anything past my 3 main Far Cry 5 fics, but there are more in the works. There will be bunker years, and New Dawn fics. My main FC5 fics do have alternate endings to the game, sooo. I guess this could be a bit of a spoiler for my friends who don't know details. This fic has been stuck in my head lately and although I'm not writing for it yet, I'm taking all the notes and making sure I keep track of all the ideas.

Untitled Johnny New Dawn WIP.

Sitting in my ivory tower Invincible to fallSome would say my final hour As you scale the wall

Step inside I dare you all And breathe the lies And heed the call

When this all is said and done I will have my way And you will take the blame

You're over the line, under the gun I am the reason for what you've done Truth of a crime you can't outrun Under the spell of my silver tongue (yeah)

I swear to God I'll find a way To prove I still belong I'd rather watch it burn away Than say that I was wrong

You're over the line, under the gun I'll keep on scheming for what's to come Truth of a crime you can't outrun Under the spell of my silver tongue

This alliance built on fear and rage Ends in violence if I have my way

Fear Spite Lie to divide us Hate Strife Bring decay

Opt-in/out of tag list here.

@wrathfulrook, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @trench-rot, @ladyoriza, @cassietrn

@redreart, @inafieldofdaisies, @hotmessteaparty, @g0dspeeed, @buggknife

@insanityofvaas, @malefiquinn, @strangefable, @skoll-sun-eater, @chazz-anova

@aristomal, @ocdemon-747, @evilvvithin, @carlosoliveiraa, @la-grosse-patate

@omen-speaker, @grimmylover7, @3llisarts, @scorpiosleeps, @cloudofbutterflies92

@direwombat, @spookyrares, @simonxriley, @strafethesesinners and anybody else who wants to share. Tag me! 😘

[hd-wireless]

📻🎶 H/D WIRELESS 2024 - WEEKLY WRAP-UP #3

The third week of posting has come to an end! Enjoy catching up with this week's selection of wonderful works. 

There's a work for everyone in this fest (and if you haven't found what you're looking for yet, we're not done with posting).

As always you can listen to the prompted songs for the works we post on two playlists:

Click here for Spotify (many thanks to @evaeleanor for helping us out there) ❤️ And here for the YouTube playlist.

Please enjoy this week’s entries below the cut:

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 A Quiet Life [T, Digital art]

🎵 Song Prompt: A Quiet Life by Teho Teardo & Blixa Bargeld  🎵 Summary: After their relationship becomes public knowledge; after being hounded by the paparazzi; after Draco says enough is enough and leaves London; Harry’s more than happy to follow.  After all, a quiet life is all he’s ever wanted.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 I made loving you a blood sport (so let's play) [E, 3,032]

🎵 Song Prompt: Blood Sport by Sleep Token  🎵 Summary: They sat in an odd kind of silence, comfortable in its discomfort. In the predictability of its recklessness. The thing between them was as palpable as the thick smoke in the air, consumed with every breath, and likely just as bad for them.

📻 Everything that can go wrong will go wrong [T, 5,178]

🎵 Song Prompt: If You Were Mine by Leon Bridges and Miranda Lambert  🎵 Summary: “You can move in with me!”  Shit. Apparently there was still a possibility to make a fool out of himself to his crush despite his best efforts at minimizing contact. Draco and Andromeda looked at him in record speed, showing their own expressions of confusion. Maybe at his appearing out of nowhere, maybe at his panting that made it seem like he just ran a marathon for some reason, or maybe at his abrupt and impulsive suggestion. Shit. Teddy wasn’t even here to take off the edge—Harry was completely alone in this one.  After a pause, Draco fully turned to him with a manner that definitely showed his opinion of how stupid Harry was, and asked, “What?”

📻 Antelucan Ruins [E, 29,453] 

🎵 Song Prompt: Ghost by Justin Bieber  🎵 Summary: From the bloody Prophet, Draco discovers Harry Potter’s death splashed in grey ink printed on the front page. Potter is dead before Draco gets to see him again to fulfil a half-spoken promise. And yet, these days Draco has the power to bend the world to his heart’s desires, and that includes fucking Harry Potter even after he personally saw Potter’s pale, lifeless body lying in a coffin before it got buried under the soil. "Do you realise that you're just as pathetic and insane? You're so hung up on the idea of me that you'd fuck a ghost, Malfoy. You risked your life for it."  Draco puts an arm around Potter's body, "Whoever says I am sane? Certainly not me. It's calculated risk with more success rate than failure. And you are dead, Potter. You refuse to move on to the next realm because you crave for my cock."

📻 I've Been There (sitting in that same chair) [Gen, 2,212]

🎵 Song Prompt: The Village by Wrabel  🎵 Summary: People keep knocking on Draco’s door. Draco just wants to read his book (he doesn’t mind, really).  Or: Draco gets to be the supportive queer person he’d wished for when he was younger.

📻 Lonely Rivers [M, 7,370]

🎵 Song Prompt: 'Unchained Melody' by 'The Righteous Brothers'  🎵 Summary: Six years after the end of the war, Harry takes care of Teddy Lupin and has started to learn guitar. Hermione negotiates with foreign powers. Draco's a trainee Healer with a glam karaoke routine. And when Ron and Parvati decide to get married, they find a job for everyone...

📻 How to Begin [E, 8,478]

🎵 Song Prompt: Blush by Orville Peck  🎵 Summary: Harry is completely, pathetically besotted with his flatmate, Draco. Fuelled by liquid courage, he finally makes his move when he's absolutely sozzled. What could possibly go wrong?

📻 Oneiros [E, 13,125]

🎵 Song Prompt: Enter Sandman by Metallica  🎵 Summary: When contact with a weird vase traps Harry in his nightmares, it's Unspeakable Draco Malfoy's task to rescue him. In order to do so, he will have to face his past and his family history and win a duel of wits against a Morpheus and try to be better than his father each step of the way...

📻 Say When [E, 24,545]

🎵 Song Prompt: Undisclosed Desires by Muse 🎵 Summary: When Auror Harry Potter is sent in undercover to determine if Draco Malfoy is laundering money through his BDSM club, will he be able to keep up the ruse and close the case? Or, more to the point, will he keep from falling in love?

🎶 H/D Wireless Podfic 🎶

📻 [Podfic] Case of You [E, 11:48:56]

🎵 Song Prompt: Case of You by Joni Mitchell  🎵 Summary: Draco was doing just fine working as an Unspeakable in Paris, hanging out with his living and ghostly pals, inventing new spells, and definitely not thinking about Potter. Then, Lucius just had to break out of prison and turn his world upside down.  Now, Draco has to return to England, where he is forced to confront how family ties bind us—and one infuriatingly fit Harry Potter.

[ynscrazylife]

Hey for your 4k celebration could you do purge the poison from marina with anyone from the mcu please?

Poisoned Mind, Poisoned Heart | Chapter 1

Series Summary: Dr. Strange turns to you, Wanda’s ex, to help him stop her before it’s too late. Can you do it or will Wanda corrupt you, too?

A/N: This is what came to my head when I listened to the song! Hope it fits. I'm excited for this series to start. Let me know if you want to be on this taglist.

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist

Doctor Stephen Strange was the last person you expected to see when you opened up your door. For a fleeting second, you considered slamming the door in his face, but that type of rudeness was never in your nature, no matter how much the flight in your fight or flight response was yelling at you to do so. “I should really start looking through the peephole before answering my door,” was what you ended up saying with a sigh. 

Stephen fixed you with a small, knowing smile. “I’m going to pretend that’s just because I might’ve been a stranger and not because you don’t want to see me,” he joked. You knew what he was doing - trying to ease you into whatever reason he had for coming over here when he hadn’t seen or spoken to you in years with humor. 

“Well, this isn’t just you being in the neighborhood and wanting to have a nice chat, is it?” You said, glancing down at the intricate costume he adorned. 

Catching onto the fact that you didn’t want him to beat around the bush, Stephen gave you a slight nod. “May I come in?” He asked politely. 

Despite being still weary and a bit nervous, you stepped aside. You knew that if he was coming here, he must have a good reason. Years ago, after the civil war between Steve and Tony, when you left the Avengers and said goodbye to being a superhero, you had strictly instructed everyone to leave you alone unless there was some threat to the universe. You had gone back briefly to help them fight Thanos, but quickly returned to your civilian life afterward. 

Stephen walked in and you closed the door behind him, but didn’t lock it. You weren’t intending for him to stay long. The sorcerer took a moment to look around your hallway, at all the paintings and photos on your walls. “Nice house,” he murmured, picking up a photo of you on a nearby table and looking at it. 

“Stephen,” you warned gently. 

Stephen cleared his throat and set down the photo, turning back to you. “What do you know about what Wanda has gotten up to recently?” He asked. 

It was akin to him dumping a bucket of ice water over your head - you visibly flinched, taken aback. Wanda. You had worked very hard to get over the woman you once loved, the love that ended due to you being on opposite sides of the Accords. Like Natasha, you had sided with Tony not because you really believed in the Accords, but because you wanted to keep the team together. Wanda hadn’t seen it that way and you didn’t exactly blame her for it, until you two started to get into awful screaming matches. 

“I heard on the news about Westview . . . They say that no one’s been able to reach or find her since,” you answered carefully, remembering the conflicting emotions you had when finding out about it all. Even after all this time, you haven't been able to fall out of love. She stuck with you. A part of you hated it, the other part was enchanted by it. You still wanted the best for her and discovering what happened in Westview was painful. 

“That was true, up until now,” Stephen said, taking a small step towards you. 

You tried to hold back the gasp building up in your throat, but you failed. All you could do was bore your eyes into him as you waited for him to continue. 

“There’s this . . . girl. Her name is America Chavez and she has these powers of accessing alternate realities that Wanda wants. I think she’s been corrupted by the Darkhold . . . If she gets access to these alternate realities, there’s no telling what she’ll do,” Stephen said. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, now confused and feeling a little overwhelmed as his words swarmed your head. “Alternate realities?” You questioned. 

“I can explain everything in detail, but I think you can get through to her, Y/N,” Stephen said. 

No matter if you still loved her, if there was some deep part inside you that wanted to help, you still felt reluctant to return to that life. You started to shake your head. “She doesn’t love me, she fell in love with Vision,” you muttered, trying - wanting - to deny it. 

“She never stopped talking about you,” Stephen revealed softly. 

This caused you to squeeze your eyes shut, feelings and memories of another time washing over you all at once. “Stephen, I can’t-” you started to say. 

“Let me explain everything back at the Sanctum Sanctorum and then we can go from there,” Stephen said, his voice still as sweet as honey. So charming and alluring, “This . . . isn’t just a threat to our universe. It’s a threat to all the universes.” 

That was the nail in the coffin - you would never be able to fully rid yourself of your natural, heroic instinct to help people. “Okay,” you agreed, letting out a breath. Despite just telling yourself that you were only agreeing to hear him, you knew deep down, in your heart, what you got yourself into - you were going to try and help. Help Wanda, help Stephen, help the goddamn multiverse.

[kanronotatsu]

People I'd like to know better!

Tagged by: @andaniellight Thank you so much for the tag! I love to be part of this fandom and getting to know you guys :333

Last song: Bleachers - Don't take the money So, the thing is I have a playlist titled "NohGoh coded" on spotify and uh. I might have been listening to it nonstop for like 2 months (rip my spotify wrapped) 😅 EDIT: I hope the link to the playlist works

Favorite color: Blue, blue, and more blue. Every hue of blue. And teal and turquoise. And more blue. Especially that deep almost black hue when the sky gets dark after the sunset. :3

Last book: DMBJ series, I think I read Notes in Rain Village last. Love the domestic rural retirees Iron Triangle so much 💙💙

Last movie: Venom 3 (in the cinema)

Last TV show: .................. 🫣 Black Out (seriously, I haven't been able to watch anything else 😅😅 and I want to, I have a list, I should be watching stuff, but then every time I am like "hmm, what should we watch tonight" my brain is like "how about Black Out for the 100th time?" and I can never say no 😂)

Sweet/spicy/savory: savory > sweet > spicy (But all of that can come in one dish too.)

Relationship status: hm, yes

Last thing I googled: nothing very interesting, just the specifics and price of a boardgame (Schythe)

Current obsession: well, would anyone like to take a wild f*cking guess 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Looking forward to: Working on and posting new fics, and participating in the black out fandom for a long long time to come :33

Spoiler alert for the title of my next fic 😉 (the title for that AU is blacked out (lol) bc of reasons)

Since @andaniellight has tagged everyone I also wanted to I can only repeat that, sorry guys: @frouponical @zhivchik @existingingrey @mare-sanguis @thedevildeer @angeru-hatake @ikjun @thorneofacre

[immortalbutterflycos]

I've come to realize something important in writing. (specifically in my personal experience)

(TLDR; I have ADHD and writing is hard even though I'm still doing it every single day. Make it make sense.)

If you have a story in your head that means a lot to you, and you need to take more time to develop and fully flesh it out before posting it, that's totally okay! In fact, in my experience, it has the potential to make the story better over time, really forming it into what you imagine it to be.

Here's an example because I just typed a lot of words and right now I can't seem to process whether they make sense or not.

I have a fanfic that I've been working on for a year now. (For the Marauders fandom if y'all are curious)

It's one that I haven't talked about much because every time I do, I end up losing the motivation to write. This is what happened to another one of my fics for the Haikyuu fandom. (well that and the Marauders.. yeah they fucked me up in the best way and Freckles and Constellations has really suffered because of it smh)

So the reason why this fic is taking so long is because it is such a specific AU that I'm out here trying to meld magic systems, and I've got like EIGHT MAIN CHARACTERS to write backstories for to fit this AU while also being true to them and even though I know the basic plot, there are just so many little details and aspects that will make this fic what I desperately need it to be.

And no one knows just how intricate it is or how important it is to me. Which is totally fine. I don't even know if people are going to read it when I finally manage to post it. This fic is purely self-indulgent.

let me just break down for you what I have prepared for this already:

countless drabbles and scenes and plans written on the backs of receipts and on bits of scrap paper

a 3" 3-ring binder that I've been trying to organize it all in

a google doc titled "TAoRfOL Doc Masterlist" that has links to every single doc I have for this one fic. (it's dated back to March of last year and as of this month has 93 total links. Only 5 of those are reference links.)

notes and ideas i have written in my phone to transfer into docs so I can add them to the masterlist

Hero Forge digital models of those 8 main characters because I wanted to see what their group would look like outside of my imagination

Multiple Spotify playlists dedicated to this fic and the characters which I listen to every single day. (currently @ 494 songs)

And you know what? I just recently, at 6 am this morning, finally figured out the solution to a fucking plot hole I could not work around.

Basically what I'm saying is that I needed all of this time. Every single day I see things and get inspiration. Every day I learn new things and fix errors in my own plans.

As much as I crave the validation and recognition for all of my hard work on this project, I know that If I had just bit the bullet and posted the first chapter without having done all of this research and all of this planning, then it would not have lived up to the story I have in my head.

I admire people who can just write without all of the added steps and in some cases, I can do that. I haven't been able to in a while (which is why that Valentine's Day microfic was actually really big for me to have posted) but that's just how my brain works.

I needed all of my experiences and all of my daily thoughts and all of my collective playlists for this fic to be able to write the story I intended and that is exactly what I'm going to do.

(though if I'm being honest, this timeline is rough. I really want to just write and post this first chapter so so so bad. ToT)