#or spirals down into evil again

[laurelonde]

Since I get nothing done right now, have some old art.

Mairon before he became the copper-haired menace. Tho, the mopey expression means he was restored from his poltergeist stage post 4th Age. Now, what to do with life? Fight on Melkor's side and go out with a bang during the Dagor Dagorath? Void? Mandos? Scrubbing the floors of Valmar for all eternity? How do you redeem such a character? Can they even be redeemed?

[gooseintime]

in gooseverse both is true

[rxttenfish]

started making a post about the specific care needs i have but then deleted it halfway through the third paragraph because i started going down the spiral again of "but you NEED to be independent you CANT force anyone to take care of you or be the main source of your emotional care youre being abusive and you should just be happy with what you have already and all the people fulfilling your needs in piecemeal instead stop expecting anyone at all to want to take care of you for nothing in return"

[pyrotechnotomy]

they lied. im not going to college to get more knowledge. im going to college on jupiter to get more stupider.

[ray-elgatodormido]

WIP Wednesday. Tagged by @lucien-lachance it’s always a pleasure!

Felt the need for something self indulgent in the form of redoing LEGO but no longer LEGO Nexo Knights into what fuels too much brainrot for me. So forgive me mommyfying the half naked snake lady who whips the heroes into submission terror.

Best way to describe LEGO Nexo Knights is that it’s an incoherent shitshow with a lot of potential and I love it (and love fixing it in my brain) Very tempted to pick up writing again just to rewrite everything in my way. Now that sounds awesome.

[violetsandshrikes]

When I was a kid, my mother used to make a point of teaching me and my brother outside of schooling. She came from an incredibly progressive family, and has always been a big believer that ignorance always leads to a lot of the evil we see in the world

Basically, we’d do…what I guess you call additional study, after school? Which might sound tedious or bad, but we loved it, even my brother who didn’t enjoy school or academics and had a serious learning disability.

We used to use some old encyclopaedias we thrifted, but nowadays you could use Wiki or something similar. We’d open the book, choose a random topic, and spend the next month or so learning about it.

My mother would often have it so we had a few different things we were learning about in month: a place/culture, a religion, a historical event, a person, etc. My brother and I had those cheap, A4 spiral books, and we’d go to the public library and research, write down little notes, draw diagrams. We’d do activities like paint maps of new places or new animals we’d learned about.

I’ve been getting back into this again, and I cannot stress enough how enriching it is. It’s easier now with the internet available, but I still have an A4 book I jot little notes in. It’s alleviated a lot of boredom and restlessness. I can highly recommend.

[grimdarling69]

Another deaged Ellie and Dan, but Danny was reincarnated as Damian Wayne

Danny Damian because he was Damian now, wasn't he? He remembers now the Fentons, the GIW, Sam and Tucker, jazz. He wonders if they could have also followed him here. A part of him longs to see his fraid again, but are they his fraid still? He was a new person. Son of The Bat and Heir to the Demon Head. Something Dami he remembers reminding people of. If only Sam could see him now, he knows she'd love that. "Who's edgy now?" He can picture her saying. He can almost see Tucker laughing so hard he'd fall out of his seat.

Crack

The sharp sound of the thunder brings him to the present. He looked over at his clock, 3:00 A.M. The witching hour he can hear Ellie tell him with a mischievous smile on one of their flights around Amity Park. She loved to drag him and Dan sometimes Vlad if he was feeling friendly. Dan, his future evil self tormented by the deaths of all his family and friends, so hurt he got Vlad to rip his human half out so he didn't have to feel the pain. Ellie, his clone, created by Vlad to be the perfect son, too bad she was a daughter. Looking down at his stomach where their cores are now incubating, he couldn't help but wonder if Vlad had anything to do with this.

He shook his head as if that would rid himself of that thought. Vlad was a real fruitloop,but he would never purposefully endanger Dan or Ellie. Vlad, in his twisted and weird ways, did love them in his own ways like kidnapping and keeping him hostage to save Ellie. He had forgiven vlad for the desperate attempt to save his daughter, but incubating Ellie and Dan's cores would make him their father now, too. Ew, coparenting with Vlad does not sound like a fun time. He glanced down and lifted his shirt hesitantly. If he focused on his stomach, he could see a faint blue and red glow emanating from his stomach. Red, Vlads' color, he thought distantly. Hopefully, it didn't mean much. As if signaling him, the envelope they had carried with them to him fell off the bed carried to the floor by the slight breeze.

Lighting lumineating the bedroom, making the crisp white color shine for just a second. He tentatively reached down to grab it. He was being a baby. He was a trained assassin from birth, and his fear trained beaten out of him a long time ago. Some part of him whispered his father and Richard's teachings of being brave but not without fear.

He paused. Father would want to know everything. His past life, Ellie and Dan, the ghosts, being a halfa. He wouldn't understand, Richard would try to, but not even he could never really understand. He couldn't subject his babies to that. He couldn't live with the threat to being ripped apart molecule by molecule. His father's lack of emotional intelligence certainly would not help young halfas. He was fourteen again the age he was killed in his first life. The age he started facing ghosts from another dimension.

He started younger in this life. Killing younger, he learned to fight his whole life. Jazz would hate that. Jazz... he wondered if she was alright if she survived the attack... no, there's no time to think of that right now. He ripped open the envelope( like a band-aid, Richard would remind him), and he noticed Vlad's familiar fancy fruitloop writing immediately(he had fancy fruitloop writing now, instead of the chicken scratch Jazz chided him over). So he was right about one thing this had vlad all over it.

Dear Daniel,

Though I understand you might not be Daniel when this letter finds you. I have been reincarnated into another life as I believe you have as well. My new name is Alexander Luther. I own a corporation called Lexcorp. I unfortunately can not change the name according to my board. The idiot lot of them.

He snickered at that. His smile dropped immediately. Vlad was Lex Luthor, the archnemesis of Superman. Jon would most certainly not like this. He forced himself to read on before he spiraled further.

I regained my memories after an experiment went wrong. I know how original. My new incarnation was able to open a small portal that grew in size, and eventually, somehow Danielle and Dan fell through. The portal then exploded, and I regained my memories. Unfortunately, it destabilized their clone bodies. I couldn't grow working bodies in time, and eventually, I had to hope they could find you. I hoped somehow that the yeti doctor would have imparted some of his strange knowledge onto you that might save them.

Vlad, no Lex still wrong. Vlad was somewhat right about that. During one of his all things ghostly lessons from Frostbite, he told him of how in the old ages ghosts often incubated their ghostlings. A protective measure back when magic and spirits were more prevalent. He didn't really understand it back then, and he doesn't understand it much now, either. Apart from the fact he was doing it, he supposed. What if he did something wrong and he lost them? He doesn't think he could live out his half-life if he lost them again. He needed to get to Vlad, and quickly too so they could start building a new portal to the infinite realms.

If this letter finds you. Come find me immediately at these coordinates. I've gone deep underground to escape my new archnimesis's suoer senses. I've m started research on a new portal, but I'll need your endeneering skills. This world is severely lacking in ectoplasmic science and engineering. I am once again forced to start from scratch on my own. Once we get the portal open, you'll need to go straight to The Far Frozen.

It's as if he's reading my mind, I think jokingly.

P.s. One of my experiments may or not have regiven then my new DNA in an attempt to restabilize them.

Only Vlad.

Well, it looks like they actually were going to be coparenting after all. This was going to go great.

I sigh and lean my head back down on my pillow. He committed the cords to memory before lighting the letter on fire with the lighter he kept in his bedside drawer. Point to assassin training. Jason would be proud. He supposed he could stay for a month or so before leaving, which would give him enough time to get away or think of some kind of mission to give himself. He shoots up. Todd had died and came back. He was a revenant. He couldn't stick around if he were to visit he'd know something was wrong immediately even if he didn't understand it.

He sprung out of bed quickly, but quietly, his foot steps perfectly silent despite his rushed mood of packing a bag. He packed a few pairs of clothes and lots of hidden weapons, some snacks he kept hidden for that should keep him fed on his journey but leaving any sentimental things behind. He glanced longingly at his sketch pad, but Vlad was most likely under the water judging by the coordinates he was given. Who knows if it would survive.

He checked the pack, making sure he got all he needed. He promptly checked it again. Twice. After deeming it sufficient, he willed himself to open the door. He mentally cataloged everyone in the manor. Pennyworth was most likely still in Father's room, making sure he actually listened to his insructions. Richard and Todd in Bludhaven and Crime Alley, respectfully. Cain and Brown in Hong Kong. Thomas was sleeping after his dayshift.

Everyone accounted for except Drake. He was most likely using Pennyworth's attention on Father to work cases. He just had to take the risk. For his ghostlings, for himself, Vlad. He crept down the hallways. He was opening the grandfather clock in record time. He went slower this time. He would use his powers, but his father had supernatural wards of all kinds in the cave. Who knows what they did. He was also admittedly trying to save his little energy for his voyage on the open sea. Light snoring hit his ears as he peered around the corner.

Thank ancients.

Drake was sleeping at the batcomputer, still in his Red Robin suit sans mask surrounded by his poor choices. Empty coffee cups and files spread around. He would still need to be quiet, Drake was a light sleeper, as was everyone else in his family. He grabbed the keys to his bike quickly, sneaking by. If he wasn't ditching his bike at Gotham Bridge, he would have disabled his trackers. He checked the gas and made sure he could make it. That's when he made his first mistake.

Putting the gas jug back down, he accidently hit another of one of his siblings' tools to the floor. He tried catching it without success, but it fell anyway, the loud clang echoing. Mistake number two.

Shit.

"Huh? What's happening?" Drake arose sleepily rubbing his eyes.

He froze. Mistake number three.

"Damian? What are you doing down here?" His eyes landed on him, and he spoke confusedly with his voice heavy with sleep or lack thereof.

He panics. He's blaming the pregnancy hormones on this.

He runs.

"Damian!" Drake responded to his dead sprint with his own. "Stop!"

He reaches his bike, and he turns the keys and prays. Luckily, it comes to life. He fumbles with his helmet it would hide his tears he needed it. who knows if he'll ever get to see them again. He shoots off down the tunnel. Flicking the cave door open remotely.

Another bike rears to life behind him. "Damian wants going on?" Drakes voice echoes in his ears. He can almost taste the concern in it amplified by the helmet. He ignores it and accelerates. He ignores the returned acceleration behind him.

----------------

Tim has no clue what made Damian panic enough to run away. He quickly ran to his own bike while swearing. Damian is already gaining distance on him. After another attempt at getting Damian to calm down and talk, he calls the only person Damian would actually listen to.

He hopes Dick will forgive him for waking him at five o'clock in the morning on his day off.

[goldfades]

I feel like we need to have a TikTok trend blurbs I just love the ones you did already.

Like when the reader and Luke is going to bed and he says “goodnight I love you and she says thank you”that one can be good

i love these sm HAHAHHAHAA

the apartment is quiet, the kind of stillness that settles over everything once the day is officially over. you’re in bed, tucked under the covers with the bedside lamp casting a warm glow across the room. luke’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth—you can hear the faint sound of the faucet running and the occasional shuffle of his feet against the tiles.

you’re scrolling through your phone, aimlessly thumbing through videos, when you hear him pad into the room. he’s shirtless, wearing the same old pair of gray sweatpants you always threaten to steal, and his hair’s still slightly damp from his shower. it’s a sight you’ve seen a hundred times, but it still makes your chest do that stupid little flip.

“you on tiktok again?” he teases, climbing into bed and nudging your shoulder with his.

“maybe,” you reply, locking your phone and setting it on the nightstand. “what’s it to you?”

he smirks, leaning back against the pillows and pulling you closer so your head rests against his chest. “just wondering what you’re plotting this time. you’ve been suspiciously quiet lately.”

you roll your eyes, poking his side until he squirms. “not everything’s a scheme, hughes.”

“uh-huh,” he says, voice laced with skepticism but too sleepy to argue further. instead, he wraps an arm around you, his palm warm against your shoulder.

there’s a long stretch of silence, the kind that’s comfortable and familiar. his breathing starts to even out, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you think he’s on the brink of sleep when he speaks up. your phone is already recording, showing half of your face and the curls behind you.

“goodnight,” he murmurs softly, voice low and drowsy. “i love you.”

you pause for just a second—just enough to be noticeable—before answering in the most nonchalant tone you can muster:

“thank you.”

the room goes still.

his hand stops moving, and you feel his chest rise as he takes a slow, deliberate breath.

“...what?” he asks, his voice sharper now, tinged with confusion.

you shift slightly, pretending to adjust the blankets. “i said thank you.”

he pulls back, just enough to tilt his head and look down at you. “that’s not what you’re supposed to say.”

you blink up at him, feigning innocence. “what do you mean? it’s polite to say thank you when someone says something nice.”

his brows furrow, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. “but—but that’s not how this works,” he argues, his tone half exasperated, half bewildered. “i say ‘i love you,’ and you’re supposed to say it back!”

“huh,” you say, tapping your chin like you’re deep in thought. “weird. i don’t think that’s a rule.”

“it is a rule,” he insists, sitting up now, the sleepiness completely gone from his face. “it’s literally, like, the rule.”

you bite back a grin, watching as he spirals into full-on disbelief. “are you saying you don’t love me?” he asks, his voice cracking slightly at the end.

“no, i didn’t say that,” you reply, stretching the words out.

“then why didn’t you say it back?!”

you shrug, trying to keep a straight face. “felt like switching things up.”

“switching things up?” he repeats, his voice going higher, and you have to physically turn your head to avoid laughing in his face.

“yeah, keeps the relationship interesting,” you explain, patting his hand like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“oh, my god,” he groans, flopping back against the pillows dramatically. “you’re actually evil. you’re trying to kill me. this is emotional warfare.”

you finally let out the laugh you’ve been holding in, and he turns his head to glare at you, though the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s fighting a smile.

“i hate you,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite to it.

you lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “love you too, babe.”

he groans again, but this time he pulls you back into his arms, his chin resting on the top of your head. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbles.

you grin, snuggling closer. “thanks, love you too.”

“stop saying thank you!”

[finelinevogue]

hi!! can I get an azriel fic where he and the reader had a fight before a battle or mission and then she is presumed dead so he spends his days spiraling with guilt and he misses her a lot and that stuff. And then when she makes it back he finally confesses his feelings to her and happy ending :) bonus if she's rhys' sister but not necessary. thank u so much and happy new year!!

please come back

thank you so much for your request - i hope this lived up to expectations since i’ve wanted to write a fic like this for ages 💫

word count - 1.6k

“Where is she?”

“Az.. We… We don’t—.”

“I said where is she?” Azriel bellowed, readying Truthteller for anything.

Rhys rubbed a bloody hand over his chin whilst Cassian hung his head low.

Rhys looked at Azriel with those deep violet eyes, conveying a whole conversation to him without having to use any words.

Truthteller dropped to the ground.

Azriel followed.

His knees let out an earth shattering crack as he crumbled onto the floor. His whole body went slack, his entire demeanour changing from how he had been seconds before.

How evil a few seconds could turn life into.

“No.” He whispered to the wind.

“Az…”

“No!” He screamed, spit and blood flying from his lips - blood from the battle which he didn’t feel like they’d won anymore.

Why had any of that been worth it?

Days of war and fighting, and for what?

The peace and safety of the Night Court wad restored once more, but was life worth truly living without his person living beside him? He couldn’t even comprehend the thought of figuring that question out.

He could feel the bond slipping away. That once golden-feel thread, rusting and greying away.

Azriel tried pulling on the bond with all he had, whispering pleads under his breath. “Please, please.” He pulled and pulled, but the void when nothing pulled back was too empty to deal with.

“I’m sorry, brother.” Rhys said, kneeling down in front of Azriel. “I’m sorry.”

“Tell me it isn’t true.” Azriel looked from his blood-caked hands and into his brother’s eyes once more.

Azriel’s own eyes pooled with tears. He didn’t think he had any energy left to think, let alone cry and yet the tears would not stop falling.

His body rocked as his cries took over him.

He felt like the world was ending and he was ending with it.

He pulled that bond again, wishing for anything to give him a sign that you were at least trying to pull back - to give Azriel reason to believe you were still there - but all he felt was nothing.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

The sun was setting when Azriel woke up.

He sat up in your once shared bed, holding himself up by his hands behind him.

He looked from the setting sun to your side of the bed. He’d set up your pillows so it looked like your body was underneath the sheets. They had dents in from where he’d been holding them at night - trying to replicate the feeling of you.

He can’t believe you were gone.

Azriel took one of his hands and placed it over his heart, tugging at that thread - he wasn’t giving it up so easily. He could feel it still there, only it felt distant. Distant didn’t mean forever gone, though.

And so he pulled.

Every morning - or evening - he rose, he pulled.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

“You look…” Cassian started as Azriel entered the kitchen.

Cassian was sat at the table eating some bread and sauce - forever snacking.

“Handsome?” Azriel asked in a teasing voice

“You don’t want me to answer that honestly.” Cassian shook his head, tearing off a bit of bread and throwing it across the table for Azriel to catch.

Azriel caught it with one hand and immediately took a bite from it. It didn’t take an intelligent someone to know that Cassian was just trying to make sure Azriel remembered to eat, seeing as he kept ‘forgetting to’ recently.

Azriel hadn’t attended family dinner in 2 days - the battle having ended 3 days ago.

Cassian was impressed that Azriel was even out of bed - proud, even.

“Answer me this, then.” Azriel counter offered, “If… If you thought there was still a small chance the bond was still alive between you and Nesta, even though she’d… gone, would you pull it? Persue it?”

“Without hesitation.” Cassian nodded.

Azriel nodded in agreement.

“Why—.”

“It’s nothing.” Azriel shook his head, leaving the bread on the table and disappearing from the room once more.

“What a weird guy.” Cassian spoke to no-one as he dipped his bread into a spicy-red sauce.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

You looked peaceful.

Madja had dressed you in lilac robes - traditional to your homeland for your upcoming memorial service.

You were lying to rest in a room away from the main part of the House of Wind. You looked so beautiful. Your Fae skin had not yet withered or cracked.

“Hello, my love.” Azriel said, brushing the tips of his fingers over your cheek.

Azriel had been coming down to speak to you every spare moment he had, not wanting to miss a single second he had to watch over you.

“Are you ready to come back yet?”

He tugged that bond and he tugged it hard.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

It was the third morning.

Azriel was at his desk, writing away as he often did in the mornings. His diary was the one constant - other than you - that he had always known he could turn to each day.

Now with you gone, he–

Mor burst through the door, panting like she’d run up the steps to reach the House of Wind.

Azriel hadn’t noticed he’d dropped his pen and spilt the ink everywhere. Mor had startled him, but his shadows had calmed him.

Mor caught her breath long enough for her to speak two words.

“She’s awake.”

And that’s when he noticed he could feel it; the bond.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

Azriel was running faster than he had ever before.

He sprinted down the halls, apologising when he knocked over a vase but continuing nevertheless.

When he approached the end of the hallway that led to that door, he spotted Rhys speaking to Madja just in front of it.

Azriel slowed down his pace until he was actually apprehensively approaching the door.

He looked at Madja first, needing medical reassurance more than anything. If this was real, how did the Mother pull this off? He would owe his soul for this.

Madja gave Azriel a knowing look that made Azriel want to crumple to the floor and kiss at the feet of the Gods.

Madja, Rhys and Mor stood beside the door as Azriel didn't waste a single moment more waiting behind the doors. He pushed them open widely and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he saw your eyes open.

You smiled at him from across the room and he was done for.

Azriel's shadows went into a frenzy to reach you and you laughed as they hugged and tickled you, moulding around your body in a protective cocoon.

"I came back." You said.

Azriel nodded, not understand how this was even possible. How was this possible? Could Madja even explain this phenomenon?

"You.. You were..."

"I know." You nodded sadly. "I can't imagine how that must have been for you."

"I pulled on the bond every other moment." Azriel walked towards you slowly, careful to tread carefully in case he blurred the dream that he was sure he was dreaming.

"I know." You rested your hand on your chest. "I could feel it."

"You could?"

"I'm certain that you brought me back, Az."

His shadows met back with him but only because he was so close to you now. Close enough to be able to reach out and make sure you were real.

He brought a scarred hand up to your cheek, hesitating in case this was some cruel trick. His hand hovered where he wanted to cup your cheek, like he was internally stuck with choosing what to do next.

"It's okay. I'm here."

You moved for him and pressed your skin into his.

Azriel gasped as he felt how real you were beneath his own body. He quickly brought his other hand to cup your other cheek and greedily bring your lips close to his so he could seal this moment with a kiss.

The kiss poured all of his love for you back into him.

He felt that bond grow tighter in his chest, begging to burst out and fill the room with the endless happy that you brought him.

"You're here." He said between kisses, not letting you go for a moment.

"I am."

Azriel's kisses were hungry and desperate. It was almost like he refused to believe this was real and that he would lose you the moment he stopped. As much as you loved him and his kisses, you did need to breathe and so you reluctantly pulled away.

"No..." Azriel whined, desperate to pull you back.

You cupped his cheeks this time, grounding him to you. "Hey, sweetheart, I am here. I am right here. We have all the time in the world. I'm okay."

"We're okay." And he sealed the fact with another kiss.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

"Az, get off!"

You laughed as you tried to push him off of your side of the bed.

"You're too big." You grunted as you tried to move him off you, but he was too big of a lump of muscle to move. Of course you were only struggling to suffer - you actually quite enjoyed the feeling of him on you. If it comforted him then it comforted you.

"I am, aren't I." He said cheekily, like a teen Illyrian.

"Ugh." You rolled your eyes, but were glad to see he'd gotten his spark back. "I give up."

You stayed laid down, Azriel's body completely wrapped over yours and his legs intertwined with yours. His arms were wrapped so snug around you that you couldn't move even if you did want to. Seemed like he was attached to you from here until forever.

"Good." He said. "Now, let's sleep."

He gave one last tug on the bond before you tried to go to sleep and he was only comfortable enough to go to sleep when he felt you tug back.

[synthetickitsune]

svt + when they see you walking down the aisle a/n: a tiktok i saw sent me down a delulu spiral

Seungcheol ❧ His world stops and the universe crashes down and the stardust settles in his eyes as he watches you approaching him slowly. It’s just stars. It’s not the lights reflecting in the hint of tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. Love is pain, Seungcheol realizes. His cheeks hurt so much from the effort to keep himself from smiling too widely, too like a lovesick fool that he is. He can’t take his eyes off you, which makes it hard to keep a straight or at least decent face that won’t betray how embarrassingly excited he is for this moment. Then again, maybe that’s good - he thinks when he notices you biting back your own smile. You didn’t want him to see the final look before the actual thing and would it be too inappropriate to tell you how gorgeous you look and kiss you before he gets the blessing? Perhaps, and he wants your wedding to be perfect so he’ll be patient but you’re making it ridiculously hard. He’s already failing to hide how unbelievably in love he is and how impatient he is to put that ring on your finger.

Jeonghan ❧ His lips part and he loses his breath. His racing mind comes to a stop, the time does too. He doesn’t care that he’s showing all the people around his rawest emotions, because he knows nobody is looking at him. They’re all looking at you. They must be. What could be more important than you right now? You coming towards Jeonghan slowly. You, who will be his - who chose him, who accepts him. He swallows the lump in his throat and looks towards his friends for support. Does he deserve this? He wants to have the ring on his finger already. Something, anything to reassure him he’s not dreaming. Maybe he’s not ready. Is he enough? He can’t cheat his way out of this one. What if he tricked you into believing he’s worthy of you? He’d never lie to you, but what if he did this entire time and you fell in love with someone he isn’t? You’re perfect. You’re perfect to him, and you’re perfect with him. He wants to tease you, even here and now, like he always does but he can’t. He gets too bashful when you look at him with this much adoration.

Joshua ❧ Standing straight and awaiting the moment the love of his life will appear and walk down the aisle towards him, towards your shared future, Joshua doesn’t feel nervous at all. It’s fate, it was all predestined from the beginning until now. You will exchange your vows and seal the promises with a kiss. There’s no reason for anxiety, no reason to feel nervous. Yet the moment the music plays and he sees you, he can’t help but swallow thickly and feel a pang of displeasure at the strained way he smiles. He doesn’t want to be nervous, but his hands start to tremble. You’re so beautiful, you’re glowing like the sun. It’s blinding him but he can’t look away. He can’t because he needs to take you in, and he needs to know it’s real and you’re not running away. He knows you won’t. He knows it, but what if? He’s too blessed, something is bound to get ruined - and he prays it won’t be you and him. You’re everything he wants, isn’t it unfair he gets to achieve his dream? You always tell him to be more selfish. Perhaps he should listen to you more and doubt himself less.

Jun ❧ He barely stops himself before he can move towards you, his hands twitch subtly in their longing to hold you. Jun knows he can’t mess this up - you’re supposed to be given away to him, you need to be the one to come to him. That’s the whole point. He knows you love him, feels blessed for it every second of every day. He has no doubt the ceremony will go just as he imagined - better even because it’s real! No one will take you away from him, there’s no evil plot in place. It’s just a ceremony - it will take a while. But he simply wants to hold you already. You must feel so awkward in the unfamiliar clothes you’re wearing. The shoes look uncomfortable too - what if you stumble? Wait. You’re so beautiful. He finally focuses on looking at you and not worrying about you. And suddenly he can’t move. It would be too daring to approach you. Is it really alright to let someone else guide you for the last time before you’re his to protect for a lifetime? He’ll have to take it this time, but never more afterwards. His lips stretch into a proud smile. You’re really his, and it makes him giddy like a child.

Hoshi ❧ He’s breathing slowly and deeply to calm himself, to stay still despite the waiting stretching on forever. He thinks he’ll feel relief when he sees you, but when the moment arrives… Soonyoung laughs, blinking up at the ceiling to stop the tears that flood his eyes from spilling. He does feel relief, but more than that he feels overwhelming joy, gratitude, and pride. He needs to be fast with his little breakdown because he needs a second look. He needs to enjoy the opportunity because it’s only today that he’ll get the chance to experience it. You’re blurry through the unspilled tears but he still sighs a soft woah that makes his best man sigh in exasperation that he ignores completely, desperately wiping away his tears. He’s beaming at you, and he envies you for looking much more composed than he is, with only a slight pink blush adoring your face. He wants to kiss it away. Would that be too improper to do? Yes. So would be screaming for the whole world to hear that you’re marrying him today, so suck it up everyone who isn’t him. Yet that’s what he wants to do the most - right after saying the ‘I do’.

Wonwoo ❧ It feels like the first time he saw you. You wear the same bashful smile, nerves just radiating off you like you can't believe he's waiting for you. Wonwoo remembers that back then he felt the same - in disbelief you'd actually come. He feels no such foolish feelings today as he smiles at you warmly and appreciates how beautiful you look. His chest is filled with pride knowing you chose him, and that the people that matter the most to him will witness the moment that you become his in yet another way. It's not the most important, he tries to think, just a formality. What matters most is that you agreed to spend your life with him, this is just a celebration. Yet with all eyes on you both, it's impossible not to feel pressured. Maybe he lied. He is nervous like he was back then, but now he can look at you and find the promise of a future filled with love in your eyes. He has it all planned out - the peaceful mornings and quiet nights. Bickering about new furniture, sharing chores. Forever suddenly doesn’t sound so scary - it sounds like too short of a time.

Woozi ❧ He needs to look up, but he knows that once he does he'll be damned. He waits for the moment the music starts with dread that has nothing to do with any doubts and everything to do with the fact he feels himself getting emotional. Jihoon refuses to cry. He’ll make an exception for you, as he always does, and he’ll allow his emotions to show but he will not cry. And yet the moment you appear, he almost feels his efforts go to waste. You’re so beautiful, and he’s hit with memories from your first meeting all the way to where you’re now walking towards him. It feels more like the reverse is true - like he’s the one running towards you, towards your embrace that he learned to call home. He takes a deep breath, lets it out in a wistful sigh that gives him enough strength to smile without cracking. It feels too much like he’s showing off. He told you before that he could’ve lived forever and he’d still feel he didn’t do enough to deserve the privileges he can currently enjoy. You most of all. How did he get so lucky? He won’t cry. So why are you looking so blurry…

The8 ❧ Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly, methodically. Minghao is nothing if not a master of self-control. So he doesn’t allow his cautious excitement to be ruined by his rising anxiety. It’s just the expectation of everyone. He’s not performing, but it almost feels like he is, and he feels guilty for putting so much pressure on you too. On the other hand, he feels his chest swell with pride just seeing how many people will witness you and him intertwining your lives together until death do you apart. As much as he wants to appreciate how breathtaking you look, he holds your gaze. You need his support, and he can worship you later too. He smiles without realizing. It finally feels real, and he feels calm. His life is finally clicking in place. He sees nothing but trust in your eyes, and it’s all the reassurance he needs that everything will work out. You trust him to take care of you for the rest of your life, and he knows he can rely on you to do the same. He can’t wait to grow old with you. All those years later, he’ll still tease you for telling him he looks handsome before he could compliment you first.

Mingyu ❧ He knows there’s a bet in place whether he’ll cry or not, but surprisingly for everyone (including himself) Mingyu doesn’t feel anywhere close to tears. What he feels is a sense of accomplishment. He has the love of his life walking down the aisle to where he’s waiting at the altar, both of you looking immaculate - although if he’s honest, he feels like he’ll look like a fool next to you. Like a piece of dirt next to a diamond. Honestly he forgot about the room. He can’t take his eyes off you, but he’s worried he’ll say something embarrassing if he doesn’t look away. The ground is nowhere near interesting enough though, so he bites his tongue and looks up again. You look even more beautiful. He grins at you at least, because he needs you to know that he’s obsessed with you - like you (or anyone in the room) can not see the heart eyes he’s giving you. It’s not his nature to be possessive of you, but something in his chest can’t stand that he’s not the one leading you down the aisle. Showing off his pretty love like that? Boasting who he pulled? Unthinkable. He would’ve cried then.

DK ❧ He is trying to get it together, he swears he is. He told himself he won't cry, he told his friends he won't cry. But damn, is it hard when he hears the music… and it's impossible when he sees you. Seokmin knows you're everything he ever wanted and everything he'll ever need when he sees you and the tears come way too easy. Barely stopping himself before he can ruin his suit by wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he laughs and just keeps looking at you. There’s nothing he can do, he’d just keep crying anyway. He sees how you try to speed up, to be given away to him if just a second sooner, but the person next to you won’t let you, and he chuckles. Just like he always runs to you when you need him, you always do the same for him too. Did he forget that when he cries, you cry as well? He tries to calm down, you can’t both be a mess. He wouldn’t do that to you. Suddenly he wishes it could be just you and him. Would that be not enough? You started calling him your husband a long time ago anyway.

Seungkwan ❧ He's been a mess since morning. He's probably been bottling it up for months though - through the chaos of wedding planning and everyday life, all the way until now. The moment he sees you, the dams just break. He reminds himself to breathe, manages to smile at you, and even watch every step you take through the tears. You are gorgeous. You kept hyping him up for this moment but Seungkwan will need to have a talk with you - how could you fail to mention he'll be overwhelmed by love and adoration the second he lays eyes on you? He wipes off his tears carefully and hopes he still looks presentable. He'd hate to ruin your photos. He doesn't know what to do with himself. Even out of the spotlight, very honored to stand in your shadow, he feels nervous. It feels silly to stand and wait, he can't stop his racing mind that floods with memories of you two. Your loving gaze on him does little to help. Your smile is so bright, and he realizes that despite the tears he's smiling too. He wants to kiss you already. It feels like a waste that he can't, but perhaps he'll talk you into making it up to him later.

Vernon ❧ It's not a big deal. He promised that to you and he promised that to himself. So why is he getting nervous? The crowd is full of familiar and supportive faces, and yet the one who'd chase away his nerves is missing. Tension keeps building up in Vernon's body all the way until the music plays and he sees you lead in to be entrusted to him. That might be a tad dramatic, but it's an interesting part of the ceremony nonetheless and he can't wait to mention it to you and get your opinion on it. Your lives are merging, so why act as if you're being given away, as if you're a burden to be passed around? You could never be a burden to him, which is rare for him but then again you are a miracle. He feels his cheeks burning. All it took was one look at you and suddenly the tension is gone, isn't that crazy? How are you his anyway? You're so beautiful he would've approached you even if you were strangers. Again - you are a miracle. He feels a smile settle on his face and he thinks how you're the only one to make him smile by simply existing. He's in for a good life, that's for sure.

Dino ❧ His chest is filled with pride and his entire life flashes before his eyes in the few moments between the music start and you entering. Chan feels lucky. Not for the first time in his life, but the feeling now is so intense his whole body tingles. He sees you and he sees the rest of his life. He loves you unconditionally, the feeling washes over him just as strongly as when he first realized it. Isn't it foolish that even though you'll exchange your vows in just a few minutes, he wants to propose again? How can he let you know how much he loves you? He knows loving takes time, and he’s excited beyond words to spend the rest of his days loving you. He can’t wait to spend his time with and on you. But what can he do right now? He wipes under his eyes, laughing at himself before standing straight again. He'll be the best man he can be for you, and he’ll start right here. His smile is wobbly, but he hopes you can feel its sincerity. He runs his vows through his head again, but he thinks he'll improvise and add more anyway. You look too beautiful not to promise you the stars - a promise he will keep.

[peonysgreenhouse]

-`♡´- return.

summary: the obey me datables & luke react to mc coming back to life!

tags: obey me datables (simeon, solomon, diavolo, barbatos) x gn!reader, luke & gn!reader, hurt/comfort, implied character death, mentions of violence in solomon's parts, solomon goes a little crazy teehee

i. simeon

he sees you there, in the celestial realm. he had known your soul was pure from the very beginning, but seeing you among the angels was like a knife to his gut, a reminder of his failures to protect you. 

you weren’t supposed to be here, not now, at least. it was far too early for you to die. simeon can’t help but feel bitterness well up within him as you turn from michael to look for someone in the crowd (he knew it was him. he hoped it was him).

your features light up – simeon feels his heart skip a beat. even now you were just as he last remembered you, he had always taken the time to visit you in the devildom, even after his internship was over. you more beautiful than any angel he had ever seen. 

you embrace him tight, and the tighter you squeeze the more he feels like he can’t breathe, the combating feelings waging a war in his mind. he should’ve been watching over you; what kind of guardian angel was he to let his human die like this?

“i’m sorry,” he doesn’t know why his voice cracks when he says it. simeon? losing his composure? he had garnered many millennia of years of experience working to keep it up. “i’m sorry i didn’t protect you.”

“it’s okay simeon,” he feels your hands squeeze the back of his cloak. a wicked thought crosses his mind; maybe if you dug your nails in harder he would have some penance for his failures. if you cut through the bone and marrow and reached his heart then maybe his father would forgive him – maybe you would forgive him for his short-comings. “i’m here now.”

“right,” he breathes you in as if to convince himself. simeon feels the strength of his bond with you overwhelm him, he can feel how much you care for him and he feels his chest fill with warmth, chasing away his guilt, if for the moment. “you’re here forever. with me. nothing can hurt you here, i promise.”

ii. luke

luke had always told you to be mindful of demons, that they were evil creatures who would take any opportunity to kill you. it had seemed that his warning had proved true in the worst way. if only he hadn’t been a cherub; if uriel had promoted him to be your guardian angel like he had asked, maybe this could’ve been avoided.

but he was overwhelmed with how happy he was at the fact that you would be spending time with him forever in the celestial realm. he had wanted nothing more ever since you had become friends in the devildom. you were the one light for him in the exchange program.

“you’re here!” luke chirps, sprinting down the golden bricks of the road to the archangels’ house. “you’re really–!” you’re suddenly enveloped in a hug as luke wraps himself around your waist. 

“hello luke!” you smile from ear to ear, ruffling up his neat hair. usually, he’d make a comment about you not treating him like a child, but for now it seems he’s too busy nuzzling into you. “it’s good to see you again.”

“yes! i’m happy to see you,” he pulls away, cheeks visibly flushed. “i’m sorry that i wasn’t there to protect you from those mean old demons but… everything will be fine now that you’re here!”

“would you like to give them a tour of the celestial realm?” michael chimes in with a smile, the younger angel’s eyes lighting up like a christmas tree.

luke nods excitedly, taking your hand in his, already tugging you out of the estate: “we have so much to do! we can’t waste any time!”

iii. solomon

solomon spirals hard.

there was a reason solomon pushed everyone away, why most people in his life were kept an arms length apart. he got too attached to things; to power, to magic, to anything that gave him that needed adrenaline rush… why would you be any different? you, the only person he has ever loved had been snatched out of his hands.

and worst of all, he had been powerless to save you. 

all the magic and demon pacts and connections in the world couldn’t stop you from bleeding out in his arms. humans like you were much too fragile for his liking; he had worked tirelessly his whole life to be anything but.

if he couldn’t get what he wanted from the damned, he would have to turn his eyes to the celestial realm. if he had to tear down the heavens and bring you crashing back down to earth, he’s sure he would. 

making bonds with angels was much more difficult than that of demons, but he found after nights of endless research that plucking a few of their feathers would get them to sing. 

he’s covered in golden ichor when he manages to bring you back – a life for a life. he finally was able to do it, not only to bring a human back to life, but to bring you back. solomon rises, shakily, as you feel your body materialize out of the magic sigil etched into the floor. he smiles gently, looking at you as if you were the only thing that mattered.

so why do you look back at him with such horror?

iv. diavolo

he had bargained with the archangels before, but never for a life.

in all accounts, a human choosing to leave the celestial realm and go to the devildom was unheard of. being cast out of heaven was notoriously the worst punishment anyone could receive.

but you do, you would always choose him over all the luxuries and beauty of the heavens every single time. it was true that love made people do stupid things.

michael sends you back to the devildom months after diavolo’s terms were set, a gift with the price of owing the ruler of the celestial realm a favor. michael was known for his kindness, but diavolo knew that there was more to him than that. he was smart enough to know that michael would never jeopardize the devildom, but angels never forgot debts owed. it was a risk, but one diavolo had no choice but to take. 

above all the benevolence and good-will he draped himself in, at his core, he was a selfish demon; perhaps moreso than anyone else in the devildom. 

he holds you against his chest the whole night. in the morning, he’d have duties and meetings to go to. but for now, you were his. 

“little one,” he mumbles into your hair, hands tight around your waist, “make a pact with me. that you may be at my side forevermore.”

v. barbatos

in so many other timelines he sees you, shining, alive. he starts to resent the other versions of himself for being happy with you (or even worse, happy with any of the others). barbatos could pull you out as easily as he could breathe; he had a mastery over his powers that other lower demons could only imagine. 

but it wouldn’t be the same, he reminds himself, it wouldn’t be his version of you. 

he knew the way to get you back, it’d be to break his own rule: do not interact with the past. diavolo had given him permission to bring you back, it would be a stain on the exchange student program if one of the humans came back dead after the second semester. but he wasn’t so sure, what if the you he brought back wasn’t the you he remembered? 

barbatos does it anyways, knowing he can’t refuse an order from his lord. the you in the celestial realm will be erased from existence replaced with the you of the past, the one who doesn’t know what it’s like to die. the two can only hope it doesn’t cause drama in the celestial realm.

“barbatos?” you question as you walk in the gardens with him, completely oblivious to it all. if he hadn’t been so happy that you had returned, he would feel guilty for not telling you of your death. sometimes, ignorance was bliss. “are you okay? you seem more quiet than usual.”

“do i?” he muses, forcing a soft smile for you. “i’m afraid i’m simply just a bit tired. sleep evaded me last night.” the last part wasn’t a lie.

“sorry to hear that,” you pout, “if you want to go nap, you should!

“do you not wish to spend time with me?”

“it’s not that…” you kick at the ground, arms crossed behind your back. “it’s just we have all the time in the world though, right? i want you to be rested when we’re together.”

he feels as if you’ve struck him with an arrow to his chest. barbatos sees your lifeless body in his mind, did you know and were trying to taunt him? or were you simply just this sweet?

“i suppose you’re right.” he nods his head, “but you’re coming with me.”

[earlysunshines]

strawberry-flavored kisses

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: it's valentines day so you and your amazing beautiful awesome lovely girlfriend bake cookies for your friends and loved ones (while also sharing sweet kisses in between)

warnings: noneeee pure fluff lolz ; established relationship ; they're so in love it PAINS me; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: happy valentines day!! (same y/n and dani from sunshine girl but also you don't have to read it first LOL it doesn't rly matter k bye enjoy!)

working on valentines day–especially as a barista—is like willingly walking through the gates of hell. the sheer number of couples waltzing in with their fingers intertwined, muttering sweet nothings while ordering the cherry blossom latte special is enough to send any single person in a spiral. 

unfortunately for your coworker soobin, today that barista is him.

he’s been stuck taking orders during the afternoon rush, forcing a polite smile each time a customer leans over to press kisses to their partners temple, hand, cheek, or even lips (which earns the most noticeable reaction from the guy). it happens more times than you can count on both hands, and each occurrence earns a subtle, annoyed scrunch of his nose.

you’re more than grateful that you work with your girlfriend, danielle, because if you didn’t—you’d probably be on the floor dying from heartache one hour in.

you and danielle share a knowing glance each time since you’re stuck together making all the drinks and serving the pastries in the display, both of you stifling laughter with each look. danielle is much sweeter than you are, so she tries to be subtle about her amusement. you, on the other hand, are not as merciful, watching soobin’s growing misery with shameless amusement.

soobin slides down the last receipt after the line of four couples is tended to, giving you a glare. “you guys are evil and i hate you both so much.” he groans before reaching over to grab a piece of strawberry tiramisu for another order. 

“it’s not my fault love is in the air~” you tease as you tamp down grinded beans, nudging danielle with your elbow.

danielle grins, lingering against you. “yeah, soobin. maybe you should try being happy for them! look at how cute they all are.”

soobin gives you both a deadpan look before calling out an order, and once he’s done, he says through gritted teeth, “easy for you lovebirds to say.”

just as you’re about to respond, another couple walks through the door, giggling as they gasp in awe at the pastries laid out. soobin sighs, putting on his customer service demeanor, and bracing himself while you and danielle bite down your laughter.

“i feel bad for him, y/n.” danielle mutters as she pours steamed milk into a cup, making a beautiful heart design. “he looks like he’s in actual, physical pain…” she adds, looking over to see the couple in front of the register sharing a quick peck before scanning the menu again.

“i think he’s going to pass out, or air out the place.” you murmur, watching as his fingers claw at the counter.

danielle looks around, then leans closer, her breath warm against your ear. you shiver at the proximity, feeling her lips brush against you just barely as she says, “maybe we should order the cherry blossom latte and hold hands while doing it. you know, just to mess with him.”

“i like the way you think.” you chuckle, smiling down at the shot you’ve just pulled. “maybe a kiss too?”

“you just want an excuse to kiss me, don’t you?”

“i don’t need one. after we clock out i’m gonna kiss you soooo much. just wanted to let you know.” you shrug, moving back to the other side of the espresso machine to weigh out coffee grinds. “my valentine’s day special.”

danielle rolls her eyes but smiles at you, biting her lip at your bold remark.

—

all three of you clock out at the same time when the other three evening shift workers clock in. you all head to the back, and soobin dramatically leans against the wall with his heart shaped doughnut that he stole from the display. you and danielle giggle, earning a defeated look from your poor coworker. 

danielle kisses your cheek in front of soobin before you two head out, earning another groan from him. even if he’s in lots of emotional pain, the tips from the dreadful shift were wonderful. you and danielle know how lovely the tips are on holidays, so you two made a plan prior to bake cookies for your friends, which is why you’re immediately on the way to the grocery store to spend your combined cash tips.

(you make sure to let soobin know that you’ll save some of your treats for him, telling him he can come by your place anytime he wants. it’s only fair considering he was on register duty most of the shift.

plus, it’s valentine’s day! it’s only fair to spread the love you two have for your loved ones.)

the grocery store is also filled with a handful of last-minute valentine’s day shoppers, but you and danielle still manage to fill your basket without much waiting or trouble. she sings along to can’t take my eyes off of you—which is playing louder than usual on the speakers—with a packet of chocolates in her hand as the microphone. you laugh, taking a video of her when she skips down the aisle singing happily. 

by the time you get back to your house, the kitchen smells like butter and sugar, and the speakers are playing your carefully curated valentines playlist. can i call you rose? starts playing and you suddenly stop stirring the strawberries you’ve been boiling on low, gasping dramatically, “this is my song.”

danielle giggles at your antics and squeaks when you pull her away from the counter suddenly to serenade her lovingly.

“can i call you rose?” you sing, before twirling her around. “cause you’re sweeeeet like a flowerrrr in bloooom~”

“you’re so cheesy,” danielle giggles, twirling you around right after she says it. “you’re going to burn the jam!”

“soobin’s disease spread to you,” you joke.

“and what disease would that be?”

“being single.”

she rolls her eyes at your response before leaning in to kiss your nose. “i’m immune to that because of you, silly.”

not so long after you sway side to side playfully, you return to your baking duties. she mixes the wet ingredients while you finish up the jam, and you steal loving glances at her when she’s too focused to notice.

both of you are side by side again once you bring out the finished jam, placing it on the counter she’s now rolling the dough on. she hands you golfball-sized piece for you to shape, laughing at how carefully you work with it.

“you’re putting extra effort into these, huh?” danielle teases, watching as you carefully press your thumb into the dough.

“i have to. hyein will insult me like crazy if they’re ugly.”

she laughs, bumping her shoulder against yours. “true. minji and hanni will definitely do the same if they turn out deformed…”

you snicker, then continue to perfect your first cookie out of many. 

you and danielle work silently as the music in the background hums. you glance at danielle, who’s sleeves are rolled up as she pours jam into the small, heart-shaped dent in the cookie. there’s flour on he cheek, and when you reach over to brush it off, she scrunches her nose at the ticklish feeling.

“you have some on your sweater too.” she teases, pointing at the flour on your clothes.

“yeah, yeah.” 

the two of you fall into an easy rhythm, shaping the cookies together and pressing small hearts into the center for jam. you’re focused on the start of your seventh cookie when you catch danielle sneaking a spoonful of jam in the corner of your eye.

“that’s for the cookies!” you scold, nudging her playfully. 

“i had to make sure it’s good!” she argues, licking jam off the corner of her lip. 

“oh, so you don’t trust me? wow…” you huff.

“i just needed to make sure!”

“there’s only a limited amount of—” before you can finish your sentence, danielle suddenly leans in, using her fingers to tilt your chin down before kissing you softly. you get a taste of the jam, it’s almost as sweet as the person kissing you—literally. you hum, feeling your shoulders relax as her fingers sneak to the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

she pulls away and grins like she’s just gotten away with something. “there,” she murmurs against your lips. “good, right?”

your brain short-circuits for a moment before you blink at her, your face heating up. “you’re so—”

“amazing? yes, i know. now stop distracting me! we have to finish these cookies…”

“you’re the one who—” she cuts you off again, kissing you a little longer than last time before parting fully. you giggle at her antics, nudging her. “do you like the jam or did you just want to kiss me?” you question with feigned annoyance.

she hums thoughtfully, tapping her chin with her finger like a cartoon character. “all of the above.” she says while flashing a cheeky smile.

and just like that she gets back to work, leaving you flustered and giddy. you angle yourself weirdly to press a kiss to her cheek, earning a giggle before she tells you to finish up your cookie.

—

once you finish making a little over three dozen cookies, you and danielle are beat.

you both clean up a bit before washing your hands, set a timer, and then danielle flops onto the couch. you follow after, sitting next to her and leaning your head against hers. she shifts and puts her arm around you, pinching your cheek with two fingers.

“tired?” she asks.

“yes…” you respond. “but not too tired to kiss you…?” you add, turning your head to stare at her lips.

she leans closer, pecking your lips quickly before responding, “wow, cupid must’ve hit bullseye on your heart.”

“now look who’s so cheesy.” you giggle, nose brushing against hers. 

“yes because i love you, my valentine.”

“i love you too.” you say before meeting her lips in a tender, loving kiss.

your playful exchange of kisses lasts a few minutes, and you plan to continue until the timer rings. what you didn’t take into consideration was the fact that your younger cousin—hyein—would be back home so soon. 

and so, when you hear a dramatic groan along with the door closing, you two pull apart with flushed faces.

“oh my god, gross…” you hear from the entrance, turning around to see hyein with a half-disgusted and half-amused look on her face. “just because it’s valentines day doesn’t mean you get to be all lovey-dovey on my couch.”

“but we made cookies to share…” you respond defeatedly.

“were you guys being lovey-dovey while making them?” you open your mouth to reply, but pause, and hyein takes that opportunity to groan even louder. “gross…”

“oh shut up, i know you’re gonna devour like five of them in the same minute.”

“hey!” 

danielle giggles at the banter, and then all of you turn your heads toward the oven when the timer rings. 

“i promise the cookies are good. please take some as an apology?” danielle suggests, “there’s strawberry jam on them, and it’s really good.” she adds as she pinches your forearm, reminding you of the strawberry-flavored kisses from earlier. you blush.

hyein laughs, then happily sets her bag down before rushing over to the oven. you give danielle a look and she gives you the same one back before kissing you quick enough so hyein doesn’t notice.

“happy valentines day. i love you.” she says, tugging at your hand. “let’s go eat these cookies… we might need to make another batch if they’re too good.”

you laugh, following her to the kitchen island. “yeah, i was thinking that too. maybe being considerate wasn’t the best idea.” you joke, then kiss her forehead before muttering, “happy valentines day. i love you more.”

you hear hyein groan once more.

“i’ve seen enough couples at school today and i do not need to see another show of pda in the comfort of my own home.” hyein says loudly. “can you take the cookies out now?”

you scoff playfully before finding the oven mitts, smacking hyein on the head with them before you open up the oven to take out the first tray. the scent of the cookies fill the house with a sweet, irresistible aroma.

(but not as sweet or irresistible as your lovely valentine.

nothing can beat her at that.)

[lxxiezz]

I want to see Sonic scared.

You're evil.. I love it.

I'm gonna make it Sonic shitting his pants OVER reader, if you want him generally scared then please have me know!

Sonic x mobian!reader (It's not really specified but i see that more fitting)

Sonic was never one to get scared easily. Sure, sometimes he can get startled when caught off-guard.. but that's not the point! Sonic portrays himself like the brave hero he is, always fighting for what's right. Yet it all changes when he sees you getting striked down by one of Eggman's whacky concoction he created to destroy Sonic.

But how did you wind up in that situation? Let's run it back, no?

It was a calm afternoon as usual everyone was doing their own thing, until they get notified that Eggman is yet again, up to no good. Sonic and his partner - you, were the first ones to arrive, fighting side by side through the array of robots, the rest of the team soon arrived aswell, but they all got seperated, including you, from Sonic. You defeated the enemies with a bit of struggle, but nothing too terrible, until you spot that blue blur being attacked a bigger, seemingly stronger killer machine, he was taking it head on so he couldn't notice a random blast of what it seems like a laser beam, heading straight at him.

If someone asked you what were you thinking, you would'nt be able to answer that yourself, since you weren't thinking at all, in that moment everything seemed to slow, as you jumped over an enemy and flung yourself in Sonic's direction, taking the blow instead of him, you could hear him yell out your name before everything went dark.

Sonic has never felt panicked, or scared. But for the first time ever.. when he sees you sprawled on the ground motionless, it all washed over him in one huge wave, he notifies the others to get out of there and grabs you and runs at a inhumane speed away from all the danger and stops once he's a safe distance away. "(Name)!! (Name)!!"

He'd call out, shaking your body by your shoulders, but you remained unresponsive. He felt real panic and fear for the first time ever. It was horrible. Tails soon flew over an took you away to patch you up. Your condition was critical. It took hours of whatever it is that they were doing to get you fixed up, and when he saw you again.. bedridden and unconsious. He didn't feel relieved, not yet. He was terrified for your wellbeing.

Panic was going through his system in waves, just when he thinks everything's okay he'd spiral back into the same thing.

It was only 2 days later when you finally woke up, Sonic was by your side holding your gloved hand and staring out into the abyss. When he felt your hand twitch his green eyes snapped to look at your face, your eyebrows furrowed as you opened your eyes, letting out a little grunt as you slowly tried recollecting the past events. You didn't have enough time to wake before you feel a certain hedgehog jump on top of you and hold you in an embrace. "Ack- ow- Sonic!" You yelped at the pain in your torso, looking down at the hedgehog as he hurriedly backed off to not hurt you "(Name), (Name).., i was so worried!" He'd exclaim, looking at you.

"I'm fine Sonic, I'm okay now."

You reassured, holding out your hand to caress his cheek. You saw the worry and fear in his green irises finally wash away. You were okay.

Ok so this turned out way different than i initially thought it would but oh well. I'm too tired to think thoughts right now anyways.. Hope yal like this!

[dreaminguponlilypads]

HOW DIFFERENT COD CHARACTERS WOULD REACT TO THE “SHE’S BUSY BRO” PRANK

i am feeling evil tonight, this is about to get fun

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Ghost is in the middle of a briefing when his phone vibrates. He checks the message, expecting something normal—maybe a quick “stay safe” from you.

But instead:

“She’s busy, bro.”

Ghost just stares. Expression unreadable. The room around him goes silent as his grip tightens around the phone. Soap notices immediately.

“Mate, you good?”

Ghost doesn’t answer. His mind is already racing. Who the fuck is bro? And why the hell are they answering your phone?

Instead of replying, he just stands up and leaves. No words. No excuses. Just gone. And God help you, because he’s on his way.

—

John “Soap” MacTavish

Soap is cleaning his rifle when his phone pings. He checks, sees your name, and smiles—only for it to vanish the second he reads:

“She’s busy, bro.”

The gun in his hands creaks from how hard he grips it.

Gaz, sitting next to him, raises an eyebrow. “You alright, Johnny?”

Soap slams his phone down. “Aye, peachy.”

Then, he picks it right back up and starts blowing up your phone.

“Busy how?”

“Who the fuck is ‘bro’?”

“ANSWER ME”

He doesn’t calm down until you FaceTime him, laughing and explaining it’s a prank. Even then, he’s still glaring at you the whole time.

“You think yer funny, lass?” he grumbles, rubbing his face. “Aye, we’ll see who’s laughing when I get home.”

And you know you’re in for it.

—

Captain John Price

Price is sitting in his office, enjoying a rare moment of peace with a cigar in one hand and his phone in the other. Then—

“She’s busy, bro.”

He doesn’t even react at first. Just blinks at the screen. Slowly exhales a puff of smoke.

Then, in the calmest, most terrifying way possible, he dials your number.

When you don’t answer? He texts.

“Busy?”

“With who?”

“Pick up the phone. Now.”

And the moment you do, all you hear is a low, unimpressed, “Explain.”

—

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Gaz is mid-mission, crouched behind cover, waiting for the go-ahead when his phone buzzes. He checks it quickly, thinking it might be an emergency—

“She’s busy, bro.”

He freezes. Forgets where he is for a second. Soap has to nudge him. “Gaz, mate, what the fuck you doin’?”

Gaz just stares at the message, brain buffering.

Then, he starts typing.

“LMAO who’s bro???”

“Wait actually what”

“Nah u got me fucked up, answer rn.”

He’s spiraling. He’s rethinking everything. He’s ready to risk the mission just to get an answer. It’s only when you finally reply,

“Chill it’s a prank”

,that he finally breaths a sigh of relief.

“Ur single now lol”

(Don’t worry, he’s joking. But barely.)

—

Konig

Konig is in the middle of lifting at the base gym when his phone goes off. He sees your name, smiles, and checks the message—

“She’s busy, bro.”

The dumbbell in his hand nearly slips. His stomach sinks.

Oh. Oh no.

His first instinct is to shut down. Did he do something wrong? Did you move on? Who the fuck is “bro”?

But then—his second instinct kicks in.

Possessiveness.

Konig immediately calls you. No texts. No waiting. Just straight-up calls like his life depends on it. And when you pick up, giggling, saying it’s a prank?

He lets out the deepest breath. “Maus,” he groans. “Do not—do not scare me like that again. I nearly had a heart attack.”

He’s so relieved, but yeah, you’re gonna have to make it up to him later.

—

Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro is strategizing with Rudy when his phone vibrates. He checks it, smirking when he sees it’s from you—only for the smirk to vanish when he reads:

“She’s busy, bro.”

The room temperature drops immediately.

Rudy notices the way Alejandro’s entire posture changes—shoulders stiff, jaw clenched, grip tightening on the phone.

“Todo bien, hermano?”

Alejandro doesn’t answer. He’s already typing.

“Quién carajos es ‘bro’?”

“Mándame tu ubicación. Ahora.”

Rudy sighs, looking over his phone. “Dios mío, Alejandro—”

“I just want to talk,” Alejandro says, already grabbing his keys.

You have three minutes to explain before he’s in his car, speeding to your location.

Safe to say, none of them handle it well.

[joelsrose]

Guns and Roses: Chapter 5

Masterlist

Summary: You wanted nothing to do with Joel, determined to keep your distance after everything that had happened. But when a new threat to Jackson arises, you're forced to put aside your anger and work together. What starts as a reluctant alliance quickly becomes a test of survival, pushing both of you to your limits and uncovering feelings that are impossible to ignore.

TW: swearing, blood, fighting, broken bones, mentions of death, insinuation of s***** abuse, knives, guns, being tied up and gagged, physical violence, blood

also in this story the dining hall has a bar in it to avoid confusion lmaoo - ALSO to everyone who hates joel i understand he is evil sometimes and reader will not forgive him easily i swear some of yall never want her to forgive him but this is a slow burn!! So pls accept some affection ok ily enjoy

13k words i know im crazy - enjoy

The cool night air hit your skin as you stumbled out into the darkness, but it did nothing to soothe the searing ache in your chest. Each breath came in ragged gasps, your cheeks slick with the tears that refused to stop. The world around you blurred, Jackson's streetlights turning into hazy, shimmering halos as you half-ran, half-staggered your way home. But no amount of distance could drown out the sound of Joel’s voice echoing in your mind—sharp, cutting, merciless: Always in the way. I could never be with someone like that.

The words played over and over, slicing deeper each time, as if trying to carve out whatever fragile hope you had let yourself hold onto. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, as though the pressure alone could stop the hurt from swallowing you whole, but it was a losing battle. The more you tried to suppress it, the more it surged, threatening to burst out in uncontrollable sobs.

Why did I ever let myself believe things could be different? you wondered bitterly, swiping at your tear-streaked cheeks with trembling hands, the frustration twisting inside you like a knife.

Why did I let myself get close to him, let my guard down again?

You had clung to the small moments—his lingering gaze at the lake, the unexpected warmth in his touch—as if they meant something, as if he had really cared. But it was all an illusion, shattered in a single breath, a single sentence that now echoed like a cruel taunt.

The walk to your house seemed to stretch on forever, each step a reminder of how foolish you’d been, each breath another blow to your already bruised heart. It was embarrassing, too—knowing that Maria and Tommy had witnessed everything, that the entire bar had seen you storm out with tears streaking down your cheeks. You thought you’d grown past this—past letting anyone reduce you to a mess of trembling hands and tear-stained eyes. But here you were, crumbling under the weight of rejection, your mind spinning with a relentless torrent of what-ifs and should-haves.

Why did I ever think I could be more to him? You chastised yourself, your thoughts spiraling. Why did I let him in at all?

You reached your front door, your vision so blurred with tears that it took you several tries to fit the key into the lock. When the door finally gave way, you stumbled inside and shut it behind you, the latch clicking into place with a finality that only seemed to deepen the loneliness pressing down on you. Sliding down to the floor, you hugged your knees to your chest, burying your face as the sobs wracked your body. It was as if all the pain you'd been fighting to keep at bay had come crashing down at once, and now there was no holding back.

You cried until there were no more tears left to fall, until the ache in your chest was replaced by a hollow numbness.

Yet one thought remained, circling endlessly in your mind:

Why did I ever think I could be enough for him?

It wasn't just the pain of rejection—it was the devastation of having let yourself hope, only to be reminded of how small and insignificant you felt in the eyes of the person you had dared to let your guard down for. And that, more than anything, was a wound that cut too deep to heal.

•••

“What the hell was that, Joel?” Tommy’s voice cut through the lingering tension like a knife, sharper and angrier than Joel had heard in a long time. He took a step closer, his entire body rigid with fury. The broken glass still lay scattered across the floor, the beer pooling around the jagged shards, a stark reminder of what had just happened.

Joel rubbed a hand over his face, his voice rough and low as he spoke. “I didn’t know she was there,” he muttered, his gaze darting to the door you had fled through, as if he could will you back to explain himself. But he couldn’t meet Tommy's eyes; shame had already begun to settle like a heavy stone in his chest.

Tommy threw his hands up, the gesture dripping with exasperation. “Well, she was,” he snapped, his voice climbing with each word. “Jesus, Joel, when did you turn into such a goddamn asshole?” He raked his fingers through his hair, the frustration etched in every line of his face. “She didn’t deserve that—none of it—especially after everything.” His voice faltered at the end, the anger breaking, revealing a raw edge of something deeper, something more personal.

Joel’s frustration flared, his hands curling into fists. “You kept pushin' me on it, Tommy!” he shot back, his tone edged with defensiveness. “I didn’t—”

“Stop,” Maria interjected sharply, stepping forward with a look that was equal parts anger and disappointment. Her gaze flicked down to the shattered glass at their feet before locking onto Joel, her voice hardening. “That’s not an excuse, Joel. You didn’t just hurt her—you broke her.” The word hung in the air, sharp as a knife, cutting through the tension and daring him to look away.

Joel's jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he searched for any justification, any explanation that could make sense of what he’d just done. But the words wouldn’t come. The truth was lodged too deep, tangled in a place he didn’t know how to reach without tearing himself open. His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, the weight of Maria's words landing like a blow. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he said quietly, his voice raw and unsteady. “I just—” But even as he spoke, the rest of the sentence seemed to slip away, lost in the silence that followed.

“Then why did you?” Maria's voice softened, though the disappointment still lingered in her eyes. She tilted her head, studying his face as if searching for answers in the lines of his furrowed brow and the shadows beneath his eyes. “What is your problem with her, Joel? Because from where I’m standing, your words and your actions don’t add up.” Her gaze deepened, probing further as his head hung low, the weight of guilt pulling him down. “I saw you at the lake today—whatever’s going on between you two, it’s not nothing. But you keep pushin’ her away, like you’re scared of what’ll happen if you don’t.”

Joel's mind raced, the weight of his mistake pressing down harder with every breath. His hands dropped to his sides, clenching and unclenching in a futile search for something solid to grasp, but they felt heavy and useless. His gaze stayed fixed on the broken glass scattered at his feet, but all he could see was the look on your face, replaying in his mind like a wound that refused to close. He had to physically squeeze his eyes shut, as if trying to block out the image that had seared itself into his memory.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Tommy’s voice broke through the tense silence, softer now but edged with a grim finality. “You better figure your shit out, Joel,” he said, his tone carrying a weight that made the words hit harder. His finger pointed sharply, underscoring the gravity of what he was saying. “Find a way to make this right, because if you don’t, you’re not just losin’ her. You’re losin’ us, too.” There was a quiet threat woven into his words, an ultimatum that laid bare all the bridges Joel was dangerously close to burning.

Tommy's words landed like a punch to the gut, leaving Joel reeling. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his thoughts churning with a mix of regret and something that twisted in his stomach, making him feel sick. But as his gaze fell back to the mess of shattered glass and spilled beer, a grim determination took hold. One thing was certain: he had to find a way to fix this, no matter what it took.

•••

You couldn’t say how long it had been since that night at the Tipsy Bison. The days bled into one another, a blurry procession of empty hours, each blending seamlessly into the next. The only sign that time was still moving was the growing pile of empty cups and plates cluttering your side table—a silent testament to how deeply you’d withdrawn from the world outside. You ignored the calls, the handwritten notes Maria slipped under your door, and even the bowl of fruit Ellie had left on your porch, topped with a cartoon dinosaur exclaiming, “Get up, ya fossil!” It had made you smile, if only for a fleeting second, before the familiar heaviness sank back in. Ellie, blissfully unaware of the events that had unfolded between you and Joel.

You knew you shouldn’t have shut them out. Maria, Tommy, Ellie—they hadn’t done anything wrong. They were your family, the closest people you had in this place. But you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, couldn’t summon the strength to open the door and face their concern. Because if you did, you might have to admit that you weren’t okay.

And the truth was, you weren’t.

You hadn’t left the house in days. The thought of stepping outside, of running into him, twisted your stomach into knots. Some might call it pathetic, and maybe it was—maybe you were hiding from a problem that you should have confronted head-on. But every time you even thought about walking out that door, the memory of Joel’s voice—his cold, dismissive tone—resonated in your mind like a bitter echo, sending you spiraling back into the hurt you’d been trying so hard to avoid.

How could you face the world when his words were still fresh in your ears, like open wounds you couldn’t heal? Always in the way. I could never be with someone like that. They looped in your mind, over and over, until the doubt became something almost tangible, wrapping around your heart like a vine, squeezing the life out of it. You had started to wonder if he was right—if you were a burden, someone who didn’t belong.

So you stayed inside, pacing the small space until you knew every creaking floorboard by heart, staring out the windows as the sunlight shifted across the room, bringing with it the constant reminder that life outside was moving on without you.

Maria had left notes, her handwriting slanted and rushed, as if written between tasks. “We miss you, please call,” one had read. You’d crumpled it in your fist the day you found it, but hadn’t been able to throw it away. It still sat on the table, a small, wrinkled reminder of the people who were trying to reach you. Tommy had come by too, knocking softly and calling your name, his voice gentle. You hadn’t answered. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you couldn’t bear the thought of opening the door and seeing pity in his eyes.

But despite all of their gestures—Maria’s notes, Tommy’s knocks, Ellie’s quirky little gifts—he hadn’t come to see the mess he’d made. Joel Miller hadn’t made any effort to check on you, to face the aftermath of the hurt he had caused. That, in some twisted way, almost made it worse. It was like you weren’t even worth the apology, as if your hurt didn’t matter. The silence from him was deafening, each day that passed without so much as a word deepened the wound.

It felt deliberate. Like he’d said what he needed to say, like he’d hurt you on purpose, and then walked away, leaving you to pick up the pieces alone.

You were angry—no, furious—not just at him, but at how thoroughly he had managed to upend your entire life. Before Joel, things made sense. You had your place here; Jackson was a sanctuary, a place where you could heal, and Tommy and Maria were the family you had chosen. But now, because of him, everything felt off-balance, as if the ground had shifted beneath your feet. Ever since you met him, the way you saw yourself had completely changed, and you hated it. You couldn’t even face the people you loved, not when the thought of running into him hung over every decision like a dark cloud, suffocating any sense of normalcy you’d tried to hold onto.

The worst part wasn’t just that he had dismissed you so easily—it was that you had allowed him to get close enough to hurt you in the first place. You had let down your guard, let yourself almost believe in him, and in doing so, you’d given him just enough space to break you. Now, you were paying the price for that mistake, and it was a steep one. It felt as if he’d reached inside your chest and torn out the part of you that still dared to hope for something more, leaving behind a hollow ache where that hope used to live.

You had decided you were done with Joel Miller.

Done with his gruff indifference, done with trying to make sense of the rare, fleeting moments when he seemed to care, only for him to snatch it all away the next moment. You couldn’t keep going back and forth, couldn’t keep letting yourself hope for something that was never going to happen.

You were done giving him the chance to hurt you again.

•••

It was almost as if they had planned an intervention. Tommy and Maria knocked on your door, and even though you didn’t answer, it didn’t stop them. They knew you too well; knew you wouldn’t let them in, but they came prepared.

The sound of the door creaking open downstairs carried up to your room, followed by Maria’s voice—playful yet edged with firmness. “You shouldn’t leave a pregnant woman waiting,” she called out, her footsteps echoing in the quiet as they made their way through the house, up the stairs, and down the hall to where you lay.

You were sprawled out on your bed, the blinds shut tight, casting a dim, muted glow over the room. It was stifling, the air thick with your despair. When Tommy and Maria entered, they took in the sight of you: hair unkempt, eyes shadowed with exhaustion, the same clothes you’d been wearing for days clinging to you. The blankets were tangled around you, a pile of untouched books and empty mugs crowding your bedside table. You hadn’t even bothered to pick up the crumpled note Maria had slipped under the door days ago, which now lay discarded on the floor.

Tommy’s gaze swept over you, his expression hardening with concern. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. He stepped closer, kneeling by the bed as if he could physically draw you out of whatever dark place you had sunk into. “Hey, kid,” he said, his voice softer now, but heavy with worry. “How are you?”

You didn’t respond at first, your eyes flicking up to meet his before dropping away again. “What are you guys doing here?” you mumbled, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as if it could shield you from their concern.

Maria hovered in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, her brow creased with worry. She took in the state of the room—the mess, the dimness, the weight of defeat hanging over you—and sighed. “Just checking up on you,” she said gently, her voice laced with that familiar warmth. “We’re worried.”

Tommy nodded, exchanging a quick glance with Maria before turning back to you. “How about we go out tonight, huh?” he suggested, his tone striving for lightness even as the concern slipped through. “Just dinner—nothing fancy, I promise. But you need to get some fresh air.” His brow furrowed slightly, the worry deepening in his eyes. “Have you been eating?”

“Yeah, let’s get you out for a bit,” Maria added, stepping closer to your bedside and gently brushing a few strands of hair from your face. “It’ll be good to get some fresh air, get out of this dark room for a while.” She tried to offer an encouraging smile, but there was a quiet plea in her eyes, a silent insistence that told you they weren’t leaving without you.

You hugged your knees to your chest, turning your face away from their worried expressions. The thought of going out felt overwhelming, like stepping back into a world you weren’t ready to face. It wasn’t just about Joel anymore; it was about everything—the quiet hurt that had seeped into the cracks, the loneliness that had settled over you like a heavy fog these past weeks. It felt easier to stay in the safety of this dark room than to confront everything waiting for you on the other side of the door.

“I don’t know…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

Tommy leaned in a little closer, his voice soft but resolute. “Come on, kid. Just one dinner, that’s all we’re asking,” he coaxed, his tone carrying a gentle insistence. “You don’t have to say a word if you don’t feel like it. We just miss you, that’s all.” There was a quiet sincerity in his eyes, a warmth that reached out to you even as you pulled further inward.

You didn’t need to ask if Joel would be there; you already knew he wouldn’t. They wouldn’t put you through that—not after everything that had happened. But as you hesitated, the anxiety was clear in your eyes, and they noticed the way your fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket, clinging to it like a lifeline.

Tommy cleared his throat, a reassuring tone creeping into his voice. “He’s on patrol,” he said, as if that settled the matter, not even needing to mention Joel’s name for you to know exactly who he meant. “He won’t be around tonight. You don’t have to worry.” His words hung in the air, offering a small measure of comfort, a quiet assurance that at least one thing would be a little easier to face.

You nodded slowly, the tight knot of anxiety in your chest loosening just a little. The thought of facing Joel was still too raw, too close to the surface, but maybe—just maybe—you could manage to face Tommy and Maria. They were trying to help you, reaching out with open hands to pull you out of this darkness, and it wasn’t fair to keep shutting them out. They didn’t deserve to be kept at arm’s length when all they’d done was care.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Just dinner.”

Maria's relief was palpable as she gave you a small, reassuring smile, squeezing your hand gently. “Just us tonight,” she promised. “No surprises.”

It should have comforted you, and in a way, it did. But even as you nodded, a shadow of doubt clung to you, the world beyond your door still seeming too bright, too unforgiving. No matter how hard you tried to push it away, the ghost of Joel Miller lingered in the corners of your mind, a reminder of everything you were trying to forget.

But maybe tonight, you could let it go—even if just for a little while.

•••

Dinner was at the dining hall, where the familiar buzz of conversation and the clink of glasses filled the air. You sat at a small wooden table, dimly lit by the flickering glow of candlelight that cast soft shadows across the room. You didn’t say much, and that seemed fine by Tommy and Maria, who carried the conversation with an easy rhythm, filling the silence for you.

The meal was simple but comforting: steaming bowls of hearty stew with a side of freshly baked bread. Tommy and Maria seemed content just to see you eating, casting the occasional glance your way as you slowly picked at your food. Tommy's grin widened as he spoke about the baby, his excitement palpable even though it was still too early for Maria to be showing. His hand rested lightly on her arm, and he beamed like a proud father already, talking about all the things he couldn’t wait to teach their child—fishing, horseback riding, even passing on his collection of bad jokes that made Maria roll her eyes but secretly smile.

You found yourself quietly listening, letting their warmth and hope wrap around you like a safety net, offering a small reprieve from the heaviness that had been weighing you down. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to sink into their joy, let the sound of their voices ease the ache in your chest. You could almost feel the tension slipping away, replaced by the comfort of their laughter and lighthearted banter. Just for a moment, you allowed yourself to forget—forget about the heaviness pressing on your heart, forget about Joel and all the hurt that came with him.

But then, the door to the dining hall swung open, and the moment shattered.

There he was—Joel. He looked awful, with dark circles under his eyes that suggested he hadn’t slept in days, and his hair was a mess, sticking out in uneven tufts as though he’d been raking his fingers through it in frustration. His beard was thicker and more unruly than usual, as if he’d stopped bothering to trim it, letting it grow out in uneven patches.

The mere sight of him sent your heart plummeting to the floor. He hadn’t seen you yet, hadn’t even glanced in your direction as he stood at the bar, his broad shoulders and familiar figure casting a long shadow over the room. He was nursing a whiskey, his back turned to you, and there was something about the way he stood—his frame tense and hunched, as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders—that made it impossible to look away. The sight of him was a punch to the gut, stirring up everything you’d tried so hard to bury.

Your hand trembled, and the fork slipped from your grasp, clattering onto the plate with a loud clink that seemed to echo through the room. Maria’s eyes darted toward you, concern flickering across her face as she followed your gaze. Slowly, she turned until her eyes landed on Joel, standing alone at the bar, his back still turned.

“Tommy…” Maria whispered, her voice tense and low, a quiet urgency in the way she said his name.

Tommy, who had been caught up in the conversation, turned in his seat to look over his shoulder. His easy smile faded the second he spotted Joel. His brow furrowed as he watched the scene, and he shifted in his seat, angling himself to block your view as if to shield you from the sight.

Maria leaned in close, her voice soft and urgent. “We can leave, honey,” she murmured. “He hasn’t seen us yet. We can duck out before he notices.” Her hand rested lightly on your arm, ready to guide you away, offering a quiet escape from the situation unraveling before you.

Tommy nodded in agreement, his voice gentle but edged with concern. “Yeah, we can head somewhere else. Go back to ours, maybe?” He kept his gaze on you, ready to leave at a moment’s notice, his worry evident in the way he searched your face for any sign of what you needed.

But you shook your head, swallowing hard against the lump forming in your throat. “No,” you said, the word coming out firmer than you’d expected. “I’m not letting him ruin our night.” There was a defiance in your voice, a spark that flared up despite the heaviness in your chest. You weren’t going to let Joel take this from you, not when you’d finally managed to step outside and try to find some normalcy again.

Maria’s hand tightened around yours, and she exchanged a worried glance with Tommy, but neither of them pushed further. You tried to focus on your meal, but your appetite had long since disappeared, the bitter sting of seeing Joel even from across the room making it impossible to ignore the knot tightening in your chest.

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to swallow the flood of emotions threatening to rise. “I’ll be fine,” you whispered, more to reassure yourself than them. But even as you said the words, you couldn’t help but feel the undeniable truth that Joel Miller had already changed everything—and you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to forgive him for it.

As the night wore on, you found yourself glancing over at the bar again, despite your best efforts to focus on anything else. Joel had turned slightly, his profile now visible. His expression was a mix of exhaustion and something else you couldn’t quite place.

It was infuriating—how he could be there, so close yet so distant, as if nothing had happened, as if you weren’t sitting just a few feet away, struggling to hold yourself together. The sight of him drinking alone, looking every bit the picture of the gruff, haunted man he always seemed to be, made your heart clench with a confusing mix of anger and something else you weren’t ready to name.

You turned back to Tommy and Maria, who were watching you closely, their faces etched with concern. You forced a smile, tried to push the emotions back down, and focused on the easy conversation again. But even as you pretended not to care, you couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how hard you tried, Joel Miller had already woven himself into your life, and there was no going back.

“I’m full,” you said, pushing your plate aside with a dismissive gesture.

Then, a determined edge crept into your voice. “Let’s get drunk.”

It was as if you were daring the night to offer you something else to focus on, something to drown out the thoughts swirling in your mind. Maria and Tommy shared a brief, uncertain look, but they didn’t argue. Maria gave a small nod, and Tommy signaled for another round, silently agreeing to let you decide how the rest of the night would go.

•••

The alcohol dulled the sharp edges of the hurt that had lingered for weeks, numbing the ache in your chest and quieting the voice in your head that kept replaying his words. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t the healthiest way to cope, but right now, you didn’t care. It was working, and that was all that mattered.

Yet, every time you caught sight of Joel—alone in the corner, nursing his drink with a distant look in his eyes—it sent a fresh wave of anger and hurt crashing through you. He hadn’t seen you yet, oblivious to your presence, which somehow made it worse. It wasn’t fair that he could sit there as if nothing had happened, like he hadn’t shattered your heart and left you to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t fair that he seemed so at ease while you were struggling to keep yourself from falling apart, each breath feeling like a battle you weren’t sure you were winning.

You threw yourself into the night—into the drinks, the laughter, and the comforting noise that filled the bar. As you scanned the room, your gaze landed on a familiar face: Sam, one of the residents Tommy had tried to set you up with a few months ago. You hadn’t given him a chance back then, though it wasn’t because he wasn’t attractive. He was—tall and lean, with dark hair that fell messily across his forehead, a boyish grin, and a dusting of freckles that stretched across his cheeks like a constellation. His crooked smile had a way of lighting up his entire face when he laughed, giving him an easy charm that was hard to ignore.

Back then, you’d been too fragile, nursing wounds that hadn’t even started to heal. The idea of dating felt impossible, even unfair—like dragging someone else into the mess of your heartache. So when Tommy had suggested introducing you to Sam, you’d politely declined, knowing deep down that you weren’t ready to let anyone in.

But now, seeing Joel across the bar—his presence stirring up the hurt you were barely managing to keep at bay—awoke something reckless inside you. You wanted him to notice you, to see you with someone else, to know that his words hadn’t broken you. Even if he didn’t want you, you wanted to show him that someone did, that you weren’t just the damaged person he’d left behind - broken and bruised.

The dim lighting of the bar and the haze of alcohol softened the edges of Sam’s face, giving his eyes a darker, more inviting warmth. There was a quiet confidence about him, an easy charm that almost dared you to take a chance on something new. In that moment, all you wanted was to feel desired—by someone who didn’t see you as a burden. Maybe it was impulsive, maybe it was even a little spiteful, but you couldn’t shake the need for Joel to see it.

You leaned closer to Tommy, doing your best to keep your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you. “Hey,” you said, nodding subtly in Sam’s direction. “See that guy over there?”

Tommy followed your gaze, his eyebrows lifting in surprise when he spotted Sam. “Sam?” he asked, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, that’s him. What about it?”

You shrugged, aiming for casual even as your pulse raced. “Think you could introduce me?”

Tommy’s surprise gave way to a slow, knowing smile. “Well, well,” he chuckled, the amusement clear in his tone. “Looks like you’ve had a change of heart.”

“Maybe,” you replied, forcing a playful smile to your lips. “Figured it’s worth a shot.”

Without missing a beat, Tommy waved Sam over, and you watched as he navigated his way through the crowd toward your table. Your heart pounded with a mix of nerves and anticipation—not just because you were about to meet Sam, but because you were keenly aware that at some point, Joel’s gaze would inevitably land on the two of you. There was a certain thrill in that thought, a defiance simmering just beneath the surface. You wanted him to see this, to see you moving on from his words, even if it was just for show.

As Sam approached, you straightened in your seat, a more confident smile spreading across your lips.

For once, you wanted to be the one in control, to be the one who chose to walk away on your own terms.

•••

Sam was kind, cute, and effortlessly charming—the kind of guy who could put anyone at ease. As he settled into the chair across from you, his crooked grin and playful eyes made slipping into the rhythm of conversation almost too easy. He had a way of making you laugh, keeping the mood light and flirty, even as the drinks you’d had earlier started to blur the edges of the night. But beneath the surface, something was missing. You could sense it, a faint tug deep inside, reminding you that despite his charm, you didn’t feel anything real. It was as though you were going through the motions, trying to convince yourself of a spark that simply wasn’t there.

“So,” Sam said, raising his drink with a playful glint in his eye, “Tommy tells me you’re quite the rider. I guess I’ll have to see for myself one of these days.”

You shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “I’m alright,” you replied, your tone carrying a hint of challenge. “But I’m not exactly volunteering to give you any lessons.”

He chuckled, leaning in closer, his gaze sweeping over you with a clear spark of interest. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to earn that, then,” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur, adding a quiet heat to his words that lingered in the air between you.

It was obvious he was into you.

His hand lingered on your arm, his eyes glinting with something more than casual interest, and his attention never wavered from you. A part of you welcomed it—the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room. It felt good to be seen, to be desired, even if only for a night.

You wished his words had an effect on you, wished they stirred the butterflies caged in your stomach. But the flutter never came, and you could only feel the emptiness where that spark was supposed to ignite. There was a hollowness there, an emptiness that no amount of attention from Sam could fill. The ache inside you hadn’t faded; it had merely dulled to a hum in the background.

You glanced away from Sam, and your eyes found Joel once more. He was still at the bar, in the same spot he'd occupied for what felt like hours, nursing a whiskey. But now, he wasn’t alone. A blonde woman—pretty, with an easy smile—had appeared beside him, leaning in close, her hand lightly resting on his arm as she spoke. The sight sent a pang through your chest, a sharp reminder of how everything had unraveled. It wasn’t quite jealousy—it was something darker, a bitter realization that while you were struggling to pick up the pieces, he seemed to be doing just fine.

Maybe that was the type of woman Joel preferred. What did it matter? You told yourself it didn’t, but the truth was painfully clear—it did. The thought twisted in your chest, pushing you to act.

“Let’s dance,” you said abruptly, shoving back your chair and reaching for Sam’s hand, desperate to be anywhere but sitting still, anywhere that would let you forget, even if just for a moment.

Sam grinned, springing to his feet as if he’d been waiting for you to make the first move. He followed you onto the small dance floor, where only a handful of others swayed to the music. His hands settled on your hips, pulling you closer as the beat pulsed through the dimly lit room. For a few moments, you let yourself get lost in the rhythm, the thrum of the music, and the warmth of the liquor coursing through your veins. Sam guided you, his body pressing closer with each sway, his breath warm against your cheek as he leaned in.

As you spun around, the world blurred, but through the haze of lights and music, you caught sight of Joel across the bar. Everything else seemed to fall away. His gaze was locked on you, dark and unflinching, with an intensity that sent a jolt through your veins. It wasn’t the indifferent, dismissive look you’d grown used to; it was raw and unguarded, as though he couldn’t quite mask whatever was simmering just beneath the surface. Anger, jealousy, hurt—you couldn’t tell, but the emotion was unmistakable, etched in the hard line of his jaw and the darkness of his eyes. It reached across the room, pulling you into its grip, and a shiver raced down your spine, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

For a moment, the room around you seemed to dissolve, leaving just the two of you locked in a silent, electric exchange. Joel's gaze seared into you, and your pulse quickened, a volatile mix of defiance and something far more tangled swelling in your chest. You didn’t even know what you were hoping to find in his eyes—regret, maybe, or longing—but there was something there, something that made it hard to breathe.

Without thinking, you turned and grabbed Sam, pulling him into a kiss. He hesitated, surprised for a heartbeat, but then leaned into it, his hands tightening around your waist as if he’d been waiting for this all night.

When you finally broke away, your gaze flicked back to Joel, and for a heartbeat too long, you held his stare. He had seen everything—every movement, every breath—and you knew he hadn’t missed the way you had thrown yourself into Sam's arms, as if trying to prove something. To him, to yourself—you weren’t sure.

And then, just like that, Joel was gone, slipping through the back door and vanishing into the night before you could fully register the emptiness left in his wake.

Sam’s voice broke through your thoughts, concern softening his tone. “Everything okay?” he asked, leaning in closer to catch your eye.

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as brittle as it felt. “Yeah,” you lied. “I’m fine. Let’s keep dancing.”

You kept dancing with Sam, but the moment Joel disappeared from the bar, the illusion of control you had clung to crumbled, leaving you feeling hollow. The music pulsed around you, Sam's hands gripped your waist, and yet it felt all wrong—like you were trying to use him as a lifeline, but the rope had already frayed. You needed air, needed to escape the suffocating haze that seemed to cling to you.

“Let’s go outside for a bit,” you said abruptly, pulling away from Sam.

“Sure,” he replied, his eyes glinting with anticipation, as if he thought this was the moment things would get interesting.

You stumbled into the cool night air, your head heavy from the alcohol and the heat of the bar. You scanned the surroundings, your gaze flicking around for Joel—pathetic as it was, some part of you couldn’t stop searching for him. But he wasn’t there, and you weren’t sure whether that made it better or worse. The sharp breeze did little to soothe the chaos roiling inside you.

Sam was close behind, his footsteps crunching on the gravel. Before you could say anything, he was already there, his hands gripping your waist as he pressed himself closer.

“Let’s find somewhere private,” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear as his fingers tightened around you.

Your body tensed, a cold dread slithering down your spine. “Sam… wait,” you said, your voice barely a breath. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He chuckled, a rough, dismissive sound that sent a shiver down your spine, making your skin prickle with unease. His grip tightened as he shoved you back against the wall, the cold surface pressing into your shoulders. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice hardening with a dangerous edge. “You’ve been all over me tonight. Hell, you just kissed me. Don’t act like you’re not asking for this.” The words dripped with entitlement, twisting the air around you into something dark and suffocating.

Your thoughts swam, disoriented by the alcohol and the sudden, unsettling shift in his tone. It was like a jolt of ice water spilling over you—the stark realization that he wasn’t the charming, kind guy you’d thought he was. His hands moved lower, rougher, pinning you against the wall as panic clawed its way up your throat. You struggled to gather your bearings, but the situation seemed to close in around you, suffocating and dark. Where the hell was Tommy? you thought desperately, your pulse thundering in your ears.

“Stop it, Sam,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with fear. “I said no.”

But he didn’t stop. His mouth grazed your neck, and his grip tightened painfully, digging into your skin as he leaned in closer. “God, you’re all the same,” he sneered, his breath hot and foul against your ear. “Act all innocent, but deep down—”

This can’t be happening. Panic surged through you as you tried to push him away, but your arms felt like lead, your mind clouded and sluggish.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

The voice sliced through the night like a blade, low and vibrating with barely contained fury. Before you could even process what was happening, Sam was wrenched away from you, his body hitting the ground with a brutal thud.

Joel.

He loomed over Sam, his chest heaving, every muscle tense with rage. His fists were already clenched, knuckles white under the dim light. “She told you to back off,” Joel growled, his voice a dangerous rumble that seemed to shake the very air around you. His eyes burned with a fury so raw it was almost terrifying.

Sam scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with a volatile mix of anger and fear. “What the hell is your problem, old man?” he spat, stumbling back as he tried to regain his footing. His lip curled into a sneer, a flash of defiance in his gaze. “Go to hell,” he snarled, and without a second thought, he swung his fist at Joel.

The punch connected, snapping Joel’s head to the side, but he barely flinched. In an instant, he surged forward, seizing Sam by the collar and driving him down onto the gravel with a bone-rattling force. The crack of Sam’s head against the ground echoed sharply in the still night air.

Joel didn’t hesitate.

He dropped to his knees, pinning Sam beneath him as he unleashed a barrage of brutal blows—once, twice—the sickening thud of bone meeting flesh reverberating through the darkness. Blood sprayed across the gravel, and Sam’s body began to go limp, his resistance fading under the relentless, punishing force of Joel’s fists. But Joel didn’t let up, a feral rage burning in his eyes as each strike landed with merciless precision, as if he were trying to erase the very memory of Sam's touch.

“Joel, stop!” you screamed, your voice desperate and raw, but it was as if he didn’t hear you. His rage had taken over, his eyes dark and wild, completely consumed.

At last, Joel grabbed a fistful of Sam's shirt, yanking him up until their faces were mere inches apart.

“If you ever come near her again,” he snarled, his voice low and rough with barely restrained fury, “I swear to God, I will fuckin' kill you.” His words dripped with venom, a promise as much as a threat. Then he shoved Sam away, letting him crumple back onto the gravel in a limp, trembling heap.

Panting heavily, Joel straightened, the fury that had consumed him moments ago ebbing away as his gaze fell on you. The sight of you—pressed against the wall, cheeks streaked with tears, your entire body trembling—seemed to drain the fight out of him in an instant.

Concern flashed in his eyes, raw and unguarded, chased swiftly by regret. His hands, bloodied and still shaking at his sides, hung there uselessly, as if unsure of what to do. All he wanted was to reach out and cradle your face in his hands, to wipe away the tears and assure himself that you were okay. But he stayed rooted where he was, afraid to cross the distance, afraid he might break whatever fragile thing existed between you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and rough with emotion, a jarring contrast to the violence that had just shattered the night. The tenderness in his tone was almost painful, as though each word scraped against something deeper that he couldn’t quite bring himself to say. His eyes searched yours with a desperation he couldn’t hide, needing to know that you weren’t as broken as he felt.

But the space between you seemed to grow, an unspoken divide filled with all the things left unsaid—the reckless rage, the bruised history, and the unbearable longing he could never quite put into words. His hands trembled with the urge to reach for you, to close the gap, but instead, he stayed frozen, the ache in his chest echoing in the silence between you both.

The question hit you like a blow. How dare he act like he cared now, after everything he’d put you through? The ghost of Sam’s touch still clung to your skin, making your stomach twist with revulsion, and the adrenaline surged bitterly in your throat.

“Fuck off, Joel,” you snapped, your voice cracking as you scrubbed at your tear-streaked cheeks. “I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t need you to save me.” The words came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t care. Anger burned behind every syllable, masking the pain that roiled beneath.

Joel’s expression tightened, his jaw clenching as a flicker of hurt crossed his eyes before he could bury it. “He was gonna—” he started, his voice rough, as if he was struggling to explain himself.

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, your voice trembling with fury and something deeper, something you refused to name. “You don’t get to just swoop in and play the hero after treating me like I was nothing.” Your breath hitched, words breaking apart like shattered glass. “You don’t get to decide when I need saving, or when I need anything from you.” Each word tasted bitter on your tongue, leaving a raw ache in your throat as they spilled out.

Joel’s face tightened, frustration simmering just below the surface. “You’re drunk,” he said quietly, almost like he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” you shot back, your voice cracking. The tremor in your hands betrayed you, giving away the storm raging inside as you struggled to hold back the tears. “Just like you knew what you were doing when you said those things.” The sob that escaped your throat made the words rough and ragged, but you forced yourself to keep going.

“You can’t treat me like garbage one day and then show up the next, acting like you give a damn.” Your breath shuddered, your voice breaking again.

“I don’t need your pity, Joel. I don’t need anything from you.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving, and you saw the way they hit him by the way his expression faltered, his eyes narrowing as if he were bracing himself against the blow. But he didn’t fight back, didn’t offer a single word in his defense. He just stood there, his breath heavy and uneven, the night swallowing up whatever he might have said. The look in his eyes was haunted, as though he knew he deserved every bit of your anger and more.

You didn’t wait for him to recover. Without another glance, you turned on your heel, stumbling toward the entrance of the dining hall. Each step felt unsteady, the warm night air doing nothing to clear the fog in your mind. It was as if the world had narrowed down to just you and the echo of your own ragged breaths, the silence growing louder and louder the further you walked from him.

Something had broken between you and Joel—something fragile that had barely held together to begin with. It splintered under the weight of all the hurt, leaving shards you weren’t sure could ever be mended. And as you walked away, a voice whispered in the back of your mind, small and bitter: Was there ever anything worth salvaging at all? The question lingered, twisting painfully in your chest, as the distance between you and Joel stretched wider with each faltering step.

•••

A few days had passed since the night outside of the dining hall—since Joel had saved you, yet again. But the anger hadn’t faded; if anything, it had deepened, festering like an open wound that refused to heal. You replayed the events over and over in your mind—the shame, the fear, the helplessness.

It was a vicious cycle, one that left you feeling more fractured with each passing day.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sharp ring of the phone. You snatched it up, the tension already twisting in your gut. The voice on the other end was laced with urgency.

"Hey, we got a big problem," Tommy’s voice crackled through the line, sounding uncharacteristically frazzled.

Your stomach dropped. “What is it, Tommy?”

“Some of our patrol didn’t make it back.” His voice was grim, a heavy silence hanging in the air. “They’re hours overdue, and we haven’t been able to reach them on the radio.”

There was a pause on the line, a faint crackle filling the gap. “Could be raiders,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Could be worse. We don’t know what’s out there.”

He took a breath, the sound faint but telling. “Whatever it is, it’s getting close to Jackson’s perimeter.”

His tone sharpened, urgency seeping through. “We need to head out today and figure out what the hell is going on,” he said, his words heavy with the weight of the unknown. “We can’t afford to wait any longer.”

Your pulse quickened at the thought of the community—your home—being in danger. The idea of losing more people, of watching the fragile safety of Jackson unravel, filled you with a dread that settled like a stone in your chest.

“When are we leaving?” you asked, already moving to pack your bag. You grabbed your rifle from its place by the door, the familiar weight of it a small comfort as you slung it over your shoulder.

•••

By the time you reached the stables, Tommy and Maria were already there, saddling the horses with grim determination etched into their faces. Joel was there too, cinching the strap on his saddle, and the sight of him stoked the simmering anger you’d been harboring. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it—there was too much at stake. A few of the other men stood nearby, their expressions tense as they readied their own mounts. The atmosphere was thick with urgency and unspoken fear; everyone understood what was at risk.

“I’m coming with you,” Maria said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument as she adjusted the strap on her saddle.

Tommy turned to her, his face drawn with worry. “Maria, you can’t go. Not in your condition.”

She shot him a stubborn look, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m pregnant, Tommy, not helpless,” she snapped.

The concern in Tommy’s eyes was unmistakable, and you could see the conflict written all over his face. Maria was strong, no doubt about it, but the risk was too great, and he wasn’t about to put her or the baby in harm's way.

“Maria,” you said gently, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “Stay here. You’re needed more in Jackson, with the baby—and with Ellie. The rest of us can handle this.”

At the mention of Ellie, Joel’s head snapped up, a reaction you caught from the corner of your eye.

Maria’s gaze met yours, her expression hardening for a moment as though she was ready to argue. But beneath the defiance, you could see the worry—the fear of what might happen out there. After a tense pause, her shoulders sagged, and she let out a resigned breath. “Fine,” she whispered, her voice tight with strain. “But you all better come back in one piece. I swear to God if anything happens to you, I'll finish the job myself.”

You gave her arm a squeeze before turning back to the horses, a sense of urgency propelling you forward. As you swung up into the saddle, you could feel Joel's gaze still lingering on you, but you refused to meet it.

As you rode away from the safety of Jackson, a knot of unease tightened in your stomach, growing with each step your horse took. It wasn’t just the threat looming out there in the woods—it was the unsettling reality that once again, you were heading into danger with Joel by your side.

But this time, it was more than just your life hanging in the balance; it was the lives of people you cared about, people who depended on you to make it back safely. The weight of that responsibility pressed down on you, and the thought of having to trust Joel when so much was at stake sent a bitter taste to the back of your throat. Yet there was no turning back now. Whatever lay ahead, you’d have to face it—and face him—whether you were ready or not.

•••

The silence between your group was unsettling, broken only by the soft clop of hooves on the dirt path and the whisper of leaves rustling overhead. The tension hung in the air, thick and stifling, like the oppressive heat that lingers before a storm. This wasn’t just another patrol; it was a dangerous mission, and you could feel it in the way everyone gripped their reins a little tighter, their weapons kept close at hand.

Your rifle rested against your shoulder, its weight both a comfort and a constant reminder of the stakes. You kept your focus on the path ahead, doing your best to ignore the occasional glances Joel sent your way. His gaze was hard to miss, like a heat at your back, but you refused to acknowledge it, steering your horse closer to Tommy’s for a semblance of reassurance.

As the path began to curve, Tommy raised his hand, signaling everyone to slow. The horses came to a cautious halt, hooves shifting restlessly in the dirt. Up ahead, just beyond a small ridge, you spotted the outline of a structure—a dilapidated farmhouse with boarded-up windows and a sagging barn beside it, both looking as though a strong wind could knock them over.

But there was movement around the buildings. Flickers of shadows, a brief glint of metal in the fading light. Your heart sank as the realization hit you like a cold wave.

“Shit, there’s a bunch of them,” you breathed, your voice low and tense. The words hung in the heavy air as the reality of the situation settled in—there was no turning back, and whatever waited beyond the ridge was about to test every ounce of resolve you had left.

“Could be more,” Tommy muttered, his eyes scanning the area. “Shit, we need a plan.” He glanced over his shoulder at Joel, who had edged his horse closer, positioning himself beside Tommy.

Joel’s voice was steady, despite the tension simmering in the air. “We’ve gotta be smart about this. Can’t just go in guns blazing. If our people are in there, we risk hitting them by mistake.” His gaze swept over the group, calculating the best course of action. “Here’s what we’ll do. The three of us”—he gestured to you, Tommy, and himself—“will circle around to the west and try to get a look inside. The rest of you, keep a lookout here and be ready to provide cover if things go south. Understood?”

The others nodded in silent agreement, the urgency clear on their faces. Without wasting another second, you adjusted your grip on the reins and urged your horse forward, following Joel and Tommy as they led the way toward the ridge. Your pulse quickened, each step drawing you closer to the farmhouse and whatever waited beyond. There was no room for hesitation now; you could only hope that the plan would hold, and that you’d find your people alive.

You dismounted and quickly tied the horses out of sight, then followed Tommy and Joel on foot, moving silently under the cover of the trees. As you approached the farmhouse, the three of you ducked low, creeping closer to the building’s side.

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy breathed, his voice barely a whisper as he peered inside through a crack in the boarded-up window. You crouched beside him, your pulse thundering in your ears, and saw what had caused his reaction.

The familiar sight of your men lay before you—bound and bloodied, their faces pale and bruised. The dim light inside the farmhouse revealed them slumped against the wall, barely conscious, while armed figures paced nearby, rifles slung over their shoulders. Your heart clenched at the sight, a mix of dread and anger surging through you.

Tommy turned to you and Joel, his expression grim. “Alright, here’s the plan,” he whispered, his eyes darting back to the captured men inside. “We split up. Joel, you head around back and take out the guard by the barn. You,” he nodded to you, “stay here and keep an eye on the entrance. If anyone makes a move, you take the shot. I’ll go in through that side door, see if I can get to our guys and cut them loose.”

Joel gave a curt nod, his jaw clenched tight. “Be quick about it,” he said, already shifting towards the barn.

Here's a revised version to heighten the build-up and emphasize the tension:

Tommy glanced at you, his voice low and urgent. “Don’t engage unless you have to,” he warned, his gaze flickering to the farmhouse. “We need the element of surprise.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry, and nodded. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, as you positioned yourself by the corner of the building. Every breath seemed louder than it should have been, and the seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. You watched Joel vanish around the back, his silhouette blending into the shadows, while Tommy crept toward the side door, his steps deliberate and noiseless.

You gripped your rifle tighter, the slickness of sweat coating your palms. The plan seemed simple enough, but as the silence dragged on, a chill of doubt began to coil in your chest. What if this was a trap? What if they were waiting for you?

Just as Tommy reached for the door, a sudden crash exploded from inside the farmhouse, followed by the chaotic sound of shouts. Your pulse surged, panic seizing your chest as you saw a figure lunge toward the entrance, rifle raised. Instinct took over—you swung your weapon up, finger tightening on the trigger, and fired. The crack of the shot shattered the silence, and the man crumpled to the ground, but the noise had blown your cover.

The night erupted in chaos. Shouts filled the air, followed by the staccato of gunfire. Two figures burst from the back of the barn, weapons blazing. You fired again, catching one of them in the chest, but the other dove behind a stack of crates, unloading his clip in your direction. You pressed yourself against the wall, heart pounding in your ears as bullets tore through the wooden boards just inches from your head.

But then everything went terribly wrong. As you fended off one of the advancing men, swinging your rifle like a club to knock him off balance, you didn’t notice the other sneaking up behind you until it was too late.

A cold blade pressed against your throat, the sharp edge biting into your skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood. Panic surged through you as you froze, your pulse hammering in your ears.

“Drop your gun!” the voice snarled, his breath hot and foul against your ear, his arm clamped around your waist, trapping you against his chest.

In an instant, Joel whirled around, his gun snapping up, aiming squarely at the raider's head. His eyes were wide, and you could see the fear flashing there, a stark contrast to the deadly calm in his voice. His heart must have been pounding in his chest as fiercely as yours, but his grip on the gun remained steady.

“Let her go,” he growled, the roughness in his voice betraying a hint of desperation, sounding more like a plea than a command. His gaze burned with an intensity that could cut through steel, and you caught the subtle movement of his finger inching closer to the trigger. The tension in his stance was palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

The man sneered, the cold steel of the blade biting into your skin as he pressed it harder against your throat, a sharp sting radiating out from where the edge threatened to break the surface. “What’s the matter? She your girlfriend or somethin’?” he taunted, his breath hot and foul against your ear. His gaze drifted over you with a lewd grin that made your skin crawl, a sickening wave of revulsion twisting in your gut. “She’s a pretty one… bet she’d be real nice to take for a spin.” His voice dropped to a menacing murmur. “Maybe I’ll do you a favor and—”

“Don’t,” Joel cut him off, the word like a whip crack in the night, edged with a barely restrained fury. His voice was a dangerous growl, but you could see it—the hesitation flickering behind his eyes. He couldn’t shoot. Not like this. The risk of hitting you was too great, and the weight of that possibility hung heavy in the air.

"Joel, it's okay," you began, reaching out to reassure him. But before the words could leave your lips, a sudden, searing pain shot through Joel’s leg. One of the other men had crept up from behind, driving a knife deep into his thigh and twisting it viciously. Joel cried out, collapsing to one knee as the world blurred around him. He tried to raise his weapon, but the agony ripped through him, and his grip slackened, the gun slipping from his fingers. His strength was ebbing fast, and darkness crept in at the edges of his vision.

“Joel!” you screamed, your voice raw with panic as you struggled against the hold of the raider dragging you away. You kicked and twisted, desperate to break free, but it was no use. The grip around your arms tightened, pulling you backward as the chaos of the moment swallowed you whole.

The last thing you saw before everything went black was Joel crumpling to the ground, blood spreading like a dark stain beneath him, his eyes flickering shut as he lost consciousness. Then the darkness took you, too.

•••

Joel awoke sometime later, his clothes clinging to him, soaked with sweat and blood, his skin clammy and pale. The cold, uneven ground pressed against his back, and a dull, throbbing pain pulsed from his leg, radiating up his spine. His head pounded as he struggled to piece together where he was, each breath ragged and shallow.

Through the haze of confusion, a voice broke through—Tommy’s. Joel blinked, his vision swimming as he saw his brother crouched beside him, his hands stained red as he frantically wrapped a torn piece of cloth around Joel’s leg, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding.

“Tommy…” Joel’s voice was barely more than a rasp, rough and broken. He tried to push himself up, but his strength failed him, and he collapsed back onto the ground, his pulse racing with a sickening dread. “Where is she?” The words escaped in a desperate whisper, as if they were being torn from his chest. He didn’t need to say your name; the urgency in his voice made it painfully clear who he was asking about.

Tommy’s face was a mask of grim resolve, but his eyes betrayed the pain lurking just beneath the surface. The set of his jaw tightened, his gaze flickering away from Joel’s as though he couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. “They took her,” he murmured, his voice rough and edged with a helpless anger. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t get to her in time.”

The words slammed into Joel like a blow, the breath leaving his lungs in a ragged gasp. For a moment, everything else seemed to fall away—the throbbing in his leg, the cold chill of the air—it all became secondary to the suffocating realization that you were gone. Taken. His stomach twisted with a raw, gnawing fear that was almost unbearable, and a cold sweat broke out across his skin.

“I have to find her,” Joel choked out, his voice splintering with a desperation he couldn’t contain. He tried to push himself up again, his hands trembling as he braced against the ground, but the agony in his leg sent a white-hot burst of pain through him, forcing him back down.

Tommy placed a firm hand on Joel’s shoulder, his grip steady but trembling slightly from the adrenaline coursing through him. His voice was low and urgent. “You can’t move, Joel. You’re losing too much blood.” His fingers tightened, pressing down as if to keep Joel anchored in place. “If we don’t get that leg treated, you’re not gonna make it.”

“I don’t care,” Joel growled, his voice fierce despite the weakness seeping into his limbs. His chest heaved with the effort to draw breath, each inhale laced with panic and fury. “I’m not leaving her out there with them. I’m not—” His voice cracked, the weight of his own helplessness crashing down around him.

But Joel's mind was already spiraling, his worst nightmare unfolding right before his eyes. This was why he’d kept you at arm’s length—why he’d pushed you away with harsh words and cold distance. He’d done it because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, of failing to protect you when it mattered most. And now, despite everything he’d done to keep you away, the very thing he feared was happening.

Regret twisted in his gut, more excruciating than the searing pain in his leg, as the truth crashed over him: keeping you at a distance hadn’t saved you. It hadn’t saved either of you. Because now, you were out there—alone, vulnerable, and for all he knew, lost forever. The thought tore him apart, knowing you might never hear the words he’d kept buried deep, the truth behind every harsh word and cold gesture.

He wanted to hold you in his arms, to tell you everything—about Sarah, about Tess, names he couldn’t utter without his insides twisting painfully, without feeling the weight of all that he’d failed to protect. He wanted you to understand how the scars of his past had shaped the man he was, and why he’d been so terrified of letting you in. But more than anything, he wanted to promise you, right there in that moment, that he would never lose you. That if he could just get to you, he’d fight with every last breath to keep you safe.

•••

When you came to, the world felt cold and unforgiving. The rough texture of rope dug painfully into your wrists, and the taste of cloth filled your mouth, stifling your breath and choking off any cry for help. Your hands and ankles were bound tight, leaving you utterly helpless, and each small movement only seemed to tighten the knots, rubbing your skin raw as you struggled in vain.

Then, the pain slammed into you—sharp and all-consuming. As you glanced down, you saw the unnatural angle of your leg; it was unmistakably shattered. The sight made your stomach twist, and the agony radiating from the broken bone was so intense it seemed to pulse through every nerve, setting your whole body alight with a searing, relentless pain that left you gasping for air.

The dimly lit room reeked of damp wood, sweat, and something sour that twisted your stomach. The rough-hewn walls around you suggested this wasn’t a makeshift hideout—it was an old cabin, likely seized by the raiders as a base. The faint light filtering through a cracked window was just enough to cast long, menacing shadows that seemed to close in on you.

You could hear them outside, talking in low, guttural voices. Their laughter was harsh and cruel, mingled with lewd comments that made your skin crawl.

“She’ll fetch a good price,” one of them drawled, his voice raspy and bitter, like gravel scraping against metal.

“Not sure I wanna sell her just yet,” another one added with a twisted chuckle. “Could have some fun first.”

Their words pierced through you like ice, chilling you to the bone. Panic clawed at your throat, and you bit down hard on the gag to stifle a sob, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. You forced yourself to breathe slowly, fighting the wave of dread that threatened to overwhelm you. There had to be a way out—there had to be—but as you tested the bindings, they only seemed to tighten, the rope digging deeper into your skin.

You were trapped, surrounded by men who saw you as nothing more than an object, a bargaining chip, or worse. The reality of your situation crashed over you, heavy and suffocating. All you could do was lie there, helpless, and wait. Wait and hope.

In the back of your mind, a tiny flicker of hope struggled to stay alive, like a candle flame sputtering in the dark. It was irrational, fragile, but you clung to it desperately. You didn’t know if it was because you believed Joel would come for you, or if it was because the thought of never seeing him again without knowing how he really felt was too unbearable. The last real words between you hung in the air, unresolved and sharp, a bitter reminder of everything you hadn’t said.

The memory of Joel’s fierce gaze, the raw desperation in his voice when he had called your name, played over and over in your mind. You didn’t know if he was hurt, or if he was even alive. But the thought of him out there, somewhere, fighting his way to you, was the only thing keeping that flicker of hope alive. It trembled and threatened to die out, but it persisted, just as you did, lying there in the dark, bound and helpless.

You swallowed against the gag, forcing the tears back, and stared at the crack of light in the cabin’s wall. You didn’t know if rescue was coming, but if there was even the smallest chance, you had to hold on. You had to believe that somewhere, out in the night, someone was coming for you. Because if you didn’t hold onto that hope, the darkness would swallow you whole.

•••

The night was pitch-black as Tommy and Joel reached the outskirts of the cabin. They had followed a grim trail—blood droplets and trampled footprints in the mud—that led them deeper into the woods, the sight of it all turning Joel’s stomach with a sickening dread. Each step brought a mounting urgency that tightened around his chest like a noose, pulling tighter with every breath. Time stretched unbearably; each passing minute felt like an hour, and every crack of a branch underfoot was a cruel taunt from the darkness, as if mocking their desperation.

The cabin loomed ahead, its silhouette jagged and menacing against the night sky. Joel’s pulse hammered in his ears, the sound blending with the whispering wind as it rustled through the trees. His focus narrowed to a single, driving need: to find you and get you out alive. He could feel the weight of that need pressing down on him, pushing him forward even as his body screamed from exhaustion and pain. Nothing else mattered. Not the throbbing agony in his leg, not the icy chill seeping into his bones—only the thought of you, somewhere inside that cabin, waiting to be saved.

The pain in his leg throbbed with every step, searing up through his thigh and making his movements stiff and uneven. His face was pale and clammy from blood loss, sweat trickling down his temples, but he ignored it, gritting his teeth against the pain. Tommy had tried to convince him to turn back, to get medical help before it was too late, but Joel had barely listened. Nothing short of being dragged unconscious would have kept him from coming after you.

“Joel, you’re in no shape to do this,” Tommy whispered harshly, grabbing his arm as Joel stumbled over a root. “You can barely walk.”

“Don’t matter,” Joel growled, jerking his arm free. His voice was hoarse, raw with a desperation he couldn’t disguise. “I’m not leaving her.” His eyes burned with a fierce determination, a reckless glint that bordered on madness. It wasn’t just the thought of you in danger that drove him—it was the thought of failing you, of being too late. The idea of losing you tightened in his chest like a vice, suffocating and unrelenting.

Tommy shot him a worried glance, his jaw clenched. “Alright,” he conceded reluctantly, “but we’ve got to do this smart. We go in quiet, no mistakes.”

Joel nodded, his grip tightening on the handle of his knife as they crept closer to the cabin. The faint murmur of voices drifted through the still night air, each muffled word stoking the fire that burned deep in his chest. His hands trembled—not from the cold breeze or the blood loss, but from the sheer, uncontrollable fury that coursed through him, mingled with a fear so deep it threatened to tear him apart. He forced himself to focus, to push down the panic rising inside him. He couldn’t afford to think about what might be happening to you in that cabin. He had to believe you were still alive, still fighting—because the alternative was unthinkable.

Guilt gnawed at him, the weight of his own words echoing in his mind. This was his plan. If you were hurt—or worse—it would be his fault. The things he'd said, the way he'd pushed you away, only made the guilt press harder against his chest.

But there wasn’t time to drown in that regret. Not now.

Shoving those thoughts aside, Joel clung to one truth: he would tear through anyone standing between him and you. There was no room for doubt, no space for hesitation.

As they neared the cabin, Joel crouched low, his breaths coming fast and shallow. The voices were clearer now—gruff, laughing, too casual, as though this was just another night for them. The sound of it made his skin crawl, and a cold rage swept over him. He edged closer, peering through a narrow gap in the boarded-up window.

Tommy laid a steadying hand on Joel’s shoulder, grounding him, pulling him back from the edge. “Looks like there’s six of them,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent. “Three each. Can’t see her—they must have her deeper inside. And who knows, there might be more.”

Joel gave a tight nod, his jaw clenched so hard it sent a dull ache up to his temples. The muscles in his neck tightened, his pulse a relentless drumbeat as his gaze shifted back toward the cabin. Even without seeing you, he could picture you in there—vulnerable, surrounded by danger. The image ignited something primal and ferocious inside him, a raw need that burned hotter than the pain tearing through his leg or the exhaustion weighing down his limbs.

It wasn’t just the instinct to protect; it was a deeper, darker desperation—a refusal to let anything happen to you, to let anyone touch you or harm you. The thought of you in the hands of those men made his blood boil and his vision blur with a barely restrained fury. There was no room for hesitation, no space for anything but the resolve to get to you, to tear apart anyone who stood in his way.

He whispered a silent promise to you there in the darkness—I’m coming for you. Just hold on. I won’t fail you like I did them.

Joel took a breath to steady himself, the burn of his leg wound fading into the background as the raw determination surged through him. With a final nod to Tommy, they moved like shadows, slipping around opposite sides of the cabin. The night was silent but for the faint murmur of voices inside—voices that would soon be silenced.

Tommy signaled from the far side, his fingers held up in a countdown. Three, two, one—

They burst through the doors simultaneously, weapons raised. Joel’s first shot hit the nearest raider square in the chest, dropping him before he even had a chance to react. The others spun around, scrambling for cover, but Joel was already moving, firing with ruthless precision. The cabin erupted in chaos, gunfire cracking through the air, splintering wood and shattering glass.

A raider lunged at Joel with a knife, and he met the attack with a vicious swing of his own blade, slashing across the man’s throat before shoving him to the ground. Blood splattered his hands, but he didn’t flinch—didn’t even slow.

“Joel!” Tommy’s voice called from the other side of the room as he grappled with a raider, slamming the man’s head against the wall until he went limp. “I think she’s in there!” He pointed toward a heavy wooden door at the back of the cabin, reinforced with a rusted padlock.

Joel's heart pounded as he shoved his way past the last raider, slamming him against a wooden beam before rushing to the door. He fired a round into the lock, the metal shattering as the door swung open.

The sight before him made Joel’s blood run cold. There you were, lying on the floor, bound and gagged, your face pale and streaked with blood. Your leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, the bone jutting grotesquely beneath the skin—a broken, mangled mess. The sheer fragility of you in that moment, so helpless and shattered, knocked the breath from his lungs and sent a cold terror coursing through him.

“Jesus Christ…” Joel breathed, rushing to your side and dropping to his knees. His hands trembled violently as he fumbled to cut the ropes binding your wrists and ankles. His movements were frantic, desperate, and when the last knot fell away, he ripped the gag from your mouth, tossing it aside like it had burned him.

“Hey, hey, it’s me,” he whispered, his voice rough and ragged, trembling as he reached for you. He cradled your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over the grime and blood on your cheeks. “You’re okay now. I’m here. I’m not leaving you.” But the words felt hollow, even to him.

How could he say you were okay when you looked so broken, when your body was crumpled like a discarded doll?

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused, and a soft, pained moan escaped your lips. The sound tore at Joel’s chest, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt, narrowing to the hollow ache in your voice. He could feel the panic clawing at the edges of his composure, but he forced himself to stay steady, his hands cupping your face as though he could will some of his strength into you.

“You’re gonna be alright,” he murmured, the words barely holding together as he stroked your hair. “I’m gonna get you out of here.” But there was a crack in his voice, a desperation that slipped through despite his best efforts. He couldn’t stop looking at the jagged break in your leg, the sight of it making his gut twist with guilt.

I should’ve been here sooner. I should’ve protected her.

He tore his gaze away from you just long enough to shout over his shoulder, “Tommy! We need to get outta here, now!” His voice was raw, urgent, echoing through the cabin like a desperate plea. He looked back at you, and his eyes held a fierce, unspoken promise. “Just hold on for me, alright? Stay with me.”

But he could see you slipping—the way your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open, the life in your gaze dimming with each passing second. Panic clawed at his chest as he reached for you, as if his touch alone could keep you tethered to him.

Tommy’s footsteps pounded closer, his voice tight with concern as he entered the room. “Jesus, Joel, she’s in bad shape. We need to move now.”

Joel nodded, his jaw clenched with grim determination. “I know. Help me lift her,” he said, his voice barely steady. His hands were gentle but firm as he slid them beneath you, his touch trembling with the effort to keep his emotions in check. “We’re gonna get you somewhere safe,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve got you, baby.”

The word slipped out, raw and unguarded, a reflex that seemed to rise from some deep, unspoken part of him. It hung in the air for a moment, catching Joel off guard even as it left his lips. He didn’t dare look at Tommy, but he felt his brother’s gaze shift, a flicker of surprise that didn’t go unnoticed.

But Joel didn’t care. The word was out there now, and it carried with it a truth he couldn’t take back—a truth that had lingered in the space between you for far too long. His grip on you tightened, his breath hitching as he looked down at you, his expression fierce with a mix of tenderness and desperation. “I’ve got you,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. “I got you, darlin’. I promise.”

And as he and Tommy lifted you, Joel’s heart hammered in his chest, the realization settling in with a weight that was both terrifying and undeniable. He had called you baby—and, deep down, he knew he had meant it.

You couldn’t speak; you could only manage a weak nod, the effort draining what little strength you had left. Your throat felt parched, each breath rasping in your chest, and the pain in your leg was a deep, throbbing agony that made it hard to think, hard to even breathe.

Joel’s gaze dropped to your leg, and his stomach clenched at the sight. The bone was badly broken, a jagged protrusion pressing against your skin, and blood had pooled beneath you, soaking into the floorboards. Your skin was cold and clammy to the touch, a chill that seemed to seep into his bones as he realized the full extent of your injuries. He’d have to be careful—one wrong move could make everything so much worse.

“Easy, now,” Joel murmured, his voice low and strained as he and Tommy prepared to lift you. He slid his arms beneath your shoulders, supporting your upper body while Tommy carefully took hold of your legs. The instant they moved you, a sharp cry of pain escaped your lips, and Joel’s heart cracked at the sound, a deep ache settling in his chest.

“I know, I know,” he whispered, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. “I’m sorry, darlin’. We’re gonna get you out of here. Just hold on for me.” His voice was rough with emotion, each word like a plea.

As they stumbled back through the forest, Joel felt his strength waning, the pain in his leg growing sharper with every step, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He would carry you all the way back to Jackson if that’s what it took.

Tommy’s words echoed in the darkness, but Joel barely heard them; he was too focused on you, on the way your body felt so small and fragile in his arms. It wasn’t lost on Tommy—the desperation in Joel's voice, the raw fear etched across his face. It reminded him of a time long ago, a grief and terror that Joel had carried through the years. And now, as they pushed forward, stumbling over roots and through the underbrush, Tommy saw that same haunted look in his brother’s eyes, the kind that spoke of loss too deep to name.

"Stay with me, darlin’," Joel whispered, the words coming out like a plea as he felt your head loll weakly against his chest. It wasn’t just a command—it was a desperate promise, a vow that he would get you to safety no matter what. Each step through the forest felt like a mile, and the sharp pang in his leg was nothing compared to the fear twisting in his gut.

By the time they reached Jackson, you were barely conscious, slipping in and out of awareness. Your breathing was shallow, your skin clammy to the touch, and Joel had to grit his teeth to keep his own body upright as they carried you into the clinic. The warm glow of the lights felt harsh against the night’s darkness, and the doctor rushed in, barking orders and asking questions, the chaos swallowing him whole.

But even as the people swarmed around you, Joel refused to let go of your hand. He stayed by your side, gripping your fingers tightly as though you might slip away if he loosened his hold for even a second. When Tommy tried to pull him aside, insisting that Joel get his own wound looked at, he shook his head fiercely. “I’m not leavin’ her Tommy,” he said, his voice rough with exhaustion and emotion. “Not for a damn second.”

Tommy didn’t argue. He had seen the look in Joel’s eyes, the raw desperation and guilt that burned there—a reflection of a promise too deep to break. So he stayed silent, watching his brother hold onto you like you were the only thing anchoring him to the world, knowing full well that in some ways, you were.

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[httpvomitello]

fred weasley x y/n

Enemies to lovers trope but she uses George to get Fred jealous and it worked but make it seem that George doesn't like y/n too but agrees to do it thanks !!

Oooh, that's evil... And i loved 😈. Hope you like it ~ ♡

Red-Handed *⁠.⁠✧

Summary: You and Fred Weasley have never gotten along. Ever. You’re convinced he exists solely to annoy you, and he’s convinced you’re the most frustrating person alive. But when you start spending more time with George, something shifts. Fred is acting differently—more irritable, more possessive, more… jealous. And that’s exactly what you wanted. The only problem? You might have underestimated how far you’d go to get his attention.

fred weasley x f!reader

Fred Weasley had a way of getting under your skin.

Maybe it was his constant teasing. Maybe it was the way he always had a smirk on his face when you were annoyed. Or maybe—just maybe—it was because he knew exactly how to push your buttons.

Whatever the reason, your rivalry with Fred was legendary at Hogwarts.

“You do know there’s an easier way to mix that, right?” His voice came from behind you as you stirred your potion in class, his tone dripping with amusement.

You gritted your teeth but didn’t look at him. “And you do know there’s an easier way to shut up, right?”

George, sitting beside him, stifled a laugh. Fred, however, only grinned wider. “Feisty today, aren’t we?”

You ignored him. You always ignored him. But that didn’t stop him from continuing his endless torment.

Until one day—you got an idea.

A stupid idea.

An idea that was destined to go horribly wrong.

You were going to make Fred Weasley jealous.

And George? He was going to help.

"Are you mental?" George asked, arms crossed as he stared at you.

"A little," you admitted. "But mostly determined."

He sighed, rubbing his face. "You do realize that messing with Fred’s head is like poking a sleeping dragon, right?"

You smirked. "Good. I hope he burns."

George gave you a long, calculating look before shaking his head. "Alright, fine. But I’m not actually interested in you. You get that, right?"

"Crystal clear."

"And when this backfires spectacularly?"

You shrugged. "We’ll deal with that later."

He sighed. "Merlin help us."

It started small.

A lingering touch on George’s arm. Sitting closer to him during meals. Laughing at his jokes just a little too hard.

Fred noticed almost immediately.

His usual teasing became more aggressive. His jokes at your expense were sharper. His glances toward you and George lingered longer.

One afternoon, as you and George sat in the common room, Fred plopped down beside you, eyes narrowed.

"What’s this, then?" he asked, gesturing between you two.

George leaned back lazily, playing along perfectly. "What’s it look like, dear brother?"

Fred’s jaw twitched. "Looks like someone’s lost their bloody mind."

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "Why do you care, Weasley?"

His mouth opened, then shut. For the first time ever, he seemed… lost for words.

Oh, this was too fun.

The next few days were even better.

Fred was spiraling.

He was glaring at George constantly. He was snappier than usual, even with his own twin. And—most interesting of all—he had stopped teasing you entirely.

But the real victory came one evening at the Gryffindor common room.

You and George were sitting close—too close. Fred, across from you, was gripping his quill so hard it looked like it might snap.

"So, Y/N," George said loudly, nudging you. "Tell me again how brilliant I am at Quidditch?"

You smiled. "Oh, you mean how you’re the best Chaser on the team?"

Fred’s quill did snap.

That was when you knew you had won.

The next day, Fred cornered you outside the library.

"What the hell are you doing?"

You blinked up at him innocently. "What am I doing?"

"With George," he snapped, stepping closer. "Since when are you two so—" He gestured vaguely, as if the idea physically pained him.

You smirked. "Does it bother you, Freddie?"

His jaw clenched.

"You know what?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. If you want to waste your time with him—"

"George is a great guy," you interrupted, tilting your head. "Better company than you, at least."

His eyes darkened. "Bullshit."

You raised a brow. "Oh? Care to elaborate?"

His chest rose and fell, hands clenched into fists. Then, before you could process it, his hands were in your hair, and his lips crashed against yours.

Hard.

Possessive.

Like he had been waiting for this moment forever.

You barely had time to react before he pulled away, breathing heavily.

"Happy now?" he muttered.

You stared at him, heart pounding. "Not even close."

His lips curled into a smirk. "Good."

And then he kissed you again.

Fred Weasley was an idiot.

A complete, bloody idiot.

Not only had he kissed you, but he had kissed you in a jealous rage, right after you had spent days parading around with George. He had played right into your hands, and now he was completely at your mercy.

And you knew it.

Which was why, the next morning at breakfast, you sat across from him with the smuggest look on your face, twirling a piece of toast between your fingers like you owned the world.

"Good morning, Freddie," you said sweetly.

Fred gritted his teeth, stabbing at his eggs with unnecessary force. "Don’t call me that."

"Why not?" you mused, resting your chin on your hand. "You seemed to like it last night."

George snorted into his pumpkin juice.

Fred shot him a glare.

"You know," George said, wiping his mouth, "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up over a girl before, Fred."

"I’m not worked up," Fred said immediately, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth.

You leaned forward, lowering your voice just enough for only him to hear. "Then why do you look like you’re about to explode?"

Fred choked.

George howled with laughter, clapping him on the back while you simply sat back, smug as ever.

Fred avoided you for two whole days.

Which, honestly? Was hilarious.

The same Fred Weasley who lived to irritate you, who thrived off your annoyance, was now too much of a coward to even look at you.

So, naturally, you decided to make things worse.

"George," you sighed dramatically in the common room that evening, stretching your legs across his lap. "Do you think I could ever find a decent man at Hogwarts?"

George, playing along perfectly, hummed in thought. "Hmm. Tough question."

Fred, who was sitting nearby but definitely pretending not to listen, stiffened.

"You know," you continued, tapping a finger to your chin, "I did hear that Cormac McLaggen is interested—"

Fred’s head snapped up so fast you thought he might get whiplash.

"Absolutely not," he said immediately.

You blinked innocently. "Excuse me?"

Fred scowled. "McLaggen? That arrogant twat? You could do better."

You smirked. "Oh? And who exactly do you think is better?"

Fred’s mouth opened. Then shut. His ears turned red.

George bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"That’s what I thought," you said, standing up and dusting off your robes. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date to arrange."

Fred stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled over. "Y/N—"

But you were already gone.

Fred found you before you could even think about talking to McLaggen.

It was late, the castle dimly lit as you walked back. And then, suddenly—

A hand grabbed your wrist, yanking you into a hidden alcove.

You gasped, heart racing. "What the—"

"Enough," Fred growled, pressing you against the wall.

You blinked up at him, a little breathless. "Enough what?"

His jaw was clenched, eyes burning with something fierce. "This. The games. The flirting. The McLaggen nonsense. You’ve made your point, alright?"

You stared at him, expression unreadable. "And what point is that, Fred?"

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "That I—I can’t stand seeing you with someone else."

Your stomach flipped.

Finally.

You tilted your head. "And why is that?"

He let out a bitter laugh. "You know why, Y/N."

You did. You just wanted to hear him say it.

You reached up, brushing your fingers against his cheek. He leaned into the touch—barely, but enough to make your chest tighten.

"Say it, Freddie."

His breathing was uneven. His hands tightened at his sides.

"I like you, alright?" he muttered. "You drive me absolutely mad, but I—I can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s infuriating."

You smiled. "I knew it."

Fred groaned. "Merlin, I hate you—"

And then you pulled him down into a kiss.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, kissing you like he had been holding back for years. It was hot, desperate, needy—and, bloody hell, if you had known it would feel this good, you would’ve done it ages ago.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, Fred rested his forehead against yours, hands still tight around you.

"No more games," he murmured.

You smirked. "No promises."

He groaned. "Merlin help me."

You laughed, pulling him back in.

"Game over, Freddie," you whispered against his lips.

"And guess what?"

Fred smirked. "I think I won."