#all art i do of them is too soft i need to make them suffer

[bubba-draws]

A warm embrace

[stylesispunk]

"Did the love affair maim you too?"

Joel miller x f!reader

next part

Summary: Joel doesn't like you until he loses all his memories.

w.c: 14k> (longest piece I've written and my eyes are dry)

warnings: fluff, mention of amnesia, memory loss, ANGST and angst, and more angst because I love angst. There is smut but you already know I'm bad at writing that. No proof reading, I'm lazy, sorry.

a/n: hello! I got inspired by this "memory loss" type of story. It was supposed to be a one shoot, but I had to split the whole thing so another part is more likely to happen. I know there has been some drama surrounding writers and I want to say that every single person who writes and makes an art with that is amazing! Everyone who is reading this, please give creators here your flowers. With that being said, Happy reading or not 😭💌 Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. (come on, talk to me)

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel didn't used to hate women, but man, when he met you for the first time, you crawled under his skin. He had fun with you, making jokes, trying to get on your nerves. For his hell, everyone in Jackson loved you; after all, you were the nurse and the sweetheart. Always looking after everyone, always being sweet to everyone.

It was a sunny afternoon when you first arrived in Jackson, your kind demeanor and skilled hands quickly gaining the trust and admiration of the townsfolk. Joel watched from a distance with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. He couldn't understand why everyone was so taken with you. To him, you seemed too soft, too gentle for the brutal world they lived in.

"Hey, Joel," Tommy called out one day, pulling Joel from his brooding thoughts. "We're heading out on patrol. You should meet the new nurse. She's something else."

Joel grunted in response, not bothering to hide his disinterest. He didn't need to meet you to know what kind of person you were. In his mind, you were just another naive newcomer who wouldn't last a week.

But fate had other plans. That very evening, a group of raiders attacked the outer perimeter. The town was thrown into chaos, and Joel found himself side by side with you, defending the walls. He couldn't help but notice your bravery and the way you handled yourself under pressure.

After the attack, as the town counted its injuries and losses, you worked tirelessly, tending to the wounded. Joel watched you, his irritation growing as he saw the way everyone fawned over you, thanking you for your care.

"Think you're some kind of hero, huh?" Joel muttered as he approached you, his voice laced with sarcasm.

You looked up at him, exhaustion evident in your eyes, but you offered a small, tired smile. "Just doing my job, Joel."

"Your job?" Joel scoffed. "You think patching up a few cuts and bruises is going to keep these people safe? This world doesn't care how sweet you are."

You met his gaze, unwavering. "And what would you have me do, Joel? Let them suffer? We're all trying to survive here, and we all have our roles to play."

Joel huffed and walked away, but your words lingered in his mind. Despite himself, he couldn't deny that you were right. Over the following weeks, Joel continued to watch you, his annoyance slowly giving way to a grudging respect. He noticed how you never backed down, how you always stood your ground, even when faced with his relentless jabs.

One day, during a particularly harsh winter storm, you and Joel were sent out on a supply run. The weather was brutal, and the path was treacherous. As the wind howled around you, Joel found himself instinctively moving closer, his protective instincts kicking in despite his irritation.

"Watch your step," he warned, his voice gruff.

You nodded, shivering against the cold. "Thanks, Joel."

As you both trudged forward, the wind picked up, and visibility dropped to almost nothing. You focused on placing one foot in front of the other, barely able to see Joel a few steps ahead. Suddenly, you heard a sharp crack and a thud.

"Joel!" you shouted, fear gripping your heart.

Rushing forward, you found Joel lying on the ground, unconscious, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. He must have slipped on the ice and hit his head on a rock hidden beneath the snow.

Panic set in, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You needed to get him back to Jackson quickly. You checked his pulse, relieved to find it steady, then did your best to bandage the wound with the supplies you had. With great effort, you managed to lift Joel and drape him over your shoulder, carrying him back through the storm.

By the time you reached Jackson, you were exhausted and freezing, but you didn't stop until you got Joel to the infirmary. The doctors took over, treating his wound and monitoring his condition.

You sat by Joel's bedside, watching him closely. Hours passed, and eventually he began to stir. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked around, disoriented.

"Joel?" you said softly, leaning forward.

He turned his head to you, his brow furrowing in confusion. But then, a slow, almost lazy smile spread across his face. "Well, hello there, beautiful," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Did I die and wake up in heaven?"

You blink, taken aback by his words. "Uh, Joel, it's me. Do you remember what happened?"

Joel's smile didn't waver as he looked at you. "I remember everything... except meeting you before. Are you sure we haven't met in a dream?"

You glanced at Tommy, who had just walked into the room, and saw the same confusion mirrored on his face. "Joel," Tommy said cautiously, stepping closer, "do you know who I am?"

Joel's eyes shifted to Tommy, his smile fading into a look of mild frustration. "Of course I do, Tommy. You're my brother. But I'm more interested in getting to know this doll here."

Tommy exchanged bewildered looks with you. "Joel, this is… Ah. She's... well, you two never really got along."

Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? Well, I must've been an idiot then because I can't imagine not liking someone like you."

Your heart raced, unsure how to respond to this flirtatious side of Joel, the same who hours ago was trying to crawl under your skin, the same one who had rejected you all this time. "Joel, you really don't remember me at all?"

Joel shook his head, still gazing at you with that same enamored look. "Not a thing. But I gotta say, I feel like I'm seeing you for the first time, and I like what I see."

Tommy scratched his head, clearly at a loss. "This is... something else. We need to figure out what happened to his memory."

You nodded, trying to process the sudden shift in Joel's demeanor. You knew the hit on the head did something to his memory, but you didn’t know how to face it. "Joel, you hit your head pretty hard. The doctors said you might have some memory loss. Maybe this is part of it."

Joel reached out and gently took your hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Well, if forgetting the past means I get to start over with you, I think I can live with that."

You couldn't help but blush, feeling a mix of confusion and something else you couldn't quite place. Perhaps butterflies are flying all around inside your tummy. "We'll take it slow, okay? There's a lot you need to know."

Joel's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "As long as you're the one teaching me, I'm all in."

Tommy coughed awkwardly, breaking the moment. "Alright, let's give Joel some time to rest and recover. We'll figure this out together."

You nodded, reluctantly pulling your hand away from Joel's. "Get some rest, Joel. We'll talk more later."

As you and Tommy left the room, you couldn't shake the feeling of Joel's gaze following you. Tommy put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We'll get to the bottom of this. Just... be careful. He's not the same Joel right now."

You nodded, your mind racing with the implications of Joel's memory loss and his sudden interest in you. The days ahead were sure to be challenging, but you couldn't deny the flicker of excitement at the thought of getting to know this new, more open version of Joel.

A version where he could get to know you and maybe, like, a new story waiting to be written with the both of you becoming friends, and not just acquaintances just having to tolerate each other for the community’s sake.

The days following Joel's accident were a whirlwind of confusion and unexpected emotions dancing on your mind. Joel's flirtatious comments and affectionate demeanor were a stark contrast to the gruff, often combative man you had known before.

You had started to get used to feeling his nice demeanor towards you. You found yourself happier than before, smiling at the thought of him when you weren’t with him, and he had become your last thought on your bed just before going to sleep, but you were aware his condition perhaps wasn’t permanent and he was going to recover his memories of you, so you didn’t want to take advantage of that, nor did you want to fall for Joel, not when the fear of him waking up one day and hating you as usual was a threat.

His recovery was slow but steady, and you spent a lot of time by his side, helping him piece together the fragments of his memory. Every interaction felt like walking on fire, with Joel's behavior making your heart flutter and your mind racing at thousand miles per hour.

As you were changing the bandage on his head, Joel watched you with a soft smile. "You know, you have the gentlest touch. It's like you're an angel sent to take care of me."

You blushed, avoiding his gaze. "I'm just doing my job, Joel. Making sure your pretty head heals properly."

Joel reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're more than just a nurse to me now. I don't know what it is, but I feel this connection with you. Like we're meant to be."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "Joel, a few days ago I was nothing to you. You don’t remember me, so please just focus on getting better."

Joel's expression softened; his eyes filled with earnestness. "I get it, but I can't help how I feel. This connection—it's real to me, even if I don't remember our past."

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of frustration and affection. "Joel, you're vulnerable right now. Your mind is trying to make sense of everything, and it's confusing. We need to take things slow."

Joel nodded reluctantly, his hand lingering near your cheek before he pulled it back. "I trust you. Just know that I'm here, and I want to get to know you, past or no past."

You gave him a reassuring smile. "One step at a time, okay? Let's focus on getting you back on your feet first."

Just then, Tommy walked in, carrying a tray of food. He cleared his throat, causing you to step back from Joel. "Brought you some lunch, big brother. How’re you feeling?"

Joel's eyes lit up at the sight of his brother. "Thanks, Tommy. I'm feeling better every day. And with this sunshine here, it's hard not to feel good."

Tommy gave you a knowing look, his concern evident. "Glad to hear it. Mind if I have a word with you outside?" he asked, looking towards you.

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. "Of course, Tommy."

As you stepped outside the room, Tommy closed the door behind you, his expression serious. "How are you holding up?"

You sighed, crossing your arms. "It's... complicated. Joel is so different now. He's kind, attentive, and he seems genuinely interested in me. But he doesn't remember our past—how much we clashed."

Tommy nodded, his face lined with concern. "I can see how that would be confusing. But you have to be careful. This might just be his way of coping with the memory loss. He's latching onto the one constant he has right now—you."

You looked down, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I know. I'm trying to keep my distance, but it's hard. He's... he's different, Tommy. And I can't deny that I'm starting to care for him."

Tommy placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "I get it. But you need to remember that his memory might come back, and when it does, he could revert to the Joel we knew before. You have to protect yourself, too."

“Am I that unlovable?” you sighed.

Tommy's expression softened, and he shook his head. "No, you're not unlovable. Far from it. But the Joel we knew before... he had his walls up, and you know how stubborn he can be. If his memory comes back, he might go back to those old habits, those old defenses."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "I understand. It's just... complicated."

Tommy gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Just take it slow. Don't rush into anything, and remember to take care of yourself too. You suffered a lot before arriving here."

You managed a small smile. "Thanks, Tommy. I needed that."

Tommy smiled back. "Anytime."

Returning to Joel's room, you found him sitting up, his eyes lighting up as you walked in. "Hey, everything okay?"

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just had a chat with Tommy."

Joel's expression became thoughtful. "You know, I'm really grateful for everything you're doing for me. I can't imagine what it must be like, dealing with me like this."

You sat down beside him, taking a deep breath. "It's not easy, Joel, but it's worth it. You're worth it."

Joel reached out, taking your hand in his. "You know, even though I don't remember everything, I feel like I'm seeing you for the first time. And I like what I see."

Your heart raced, and you struggled to keep your emotions in check. "Joel, we need to take things slow. Focus on your recovery first."

Joel nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I understand. But I can't help how I feel."

He has repeated the same phrase as before, and you couldn’t help but feel yourself diving into a deep ocean for him.

You squeezed his hand gently. "One step at a time, okay?"

Joel's eyes held a determined glint. "One step at a time."

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Jackson settlement as you walked briskly toward the main gate, your medical bag slung over your shoulder. You spotted Joel waiting for you, his arms crossed and a scowl already etched on his face.

"You're late," he growled as you approached.

You rolled your eyes. "I'm five minutes late, Joel. I had to take care of a kid with a fever."

Joel grunted, clearly unimpressed. "We have a schedule for a reason. Being late puts us at risk."

"Don't lecture me about risk," you shot back, your patience wearing thin. "I know the dangers out there just as well as you do."

Joel's eyes narrowed. "Do you? Because sometimes it feels like you're too soft for this world. Always stopping to help every stray animal and sick kid."

"Excuse me for having a heart," you snapped. "Not everyone wants to live like a damn machine."

"Having a heart can get you killed," Joel retorted, his voice rising. "Out there, you need to be tough. Focused."

"And maybe if you lightened up a bit, people wouldn't be so scared of you," you shot back, your frustration boiling over.

Joel took a step closer, his jaw clenched. "I don't care if people are scared of me. I care about keeping them safe. And you, with your bleeding heart, make that harder."

You felt a surge of anger and hurt at his words. "You know what, Joel? Maybe the problem isn't me. Maybe it's you. Maybe you're so wrapped up in your own pain that you can't see anyone else's."

Joel's face darkened, a mix of anger and something else—something like hurt—flashing in his eyes. "You don't know anything about my pain."

"And you don't know anything about mine," you replied, your voice trembling with emotion. "So maybe you should stop judging me and start seeing that we're all trying to survive in this hell together."

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the tension crackling between you like a live wire. Then Joel turned away, his shoulders stiff. "Let's just get this patrol over with."

You followed him out of the gate, your heart heavy with unresolved emotions. The silence between you was thick and uncomfortable, but neither spoke. The rift between you seemed insurmountable, and you couldn't see how things would ever change.

You woke up with a pain on your neck. You had fallen asleep on a chair next to Joel’s bed where he was now lay resting, his breathing even and steady. His recovery was going well, but the emotional landscape was far more complex and you wanted to take the risk to discover it.  

You watched him for a moment, taking a mental picture of his face, the creases on his skin, how peaceful he looked like this. feeling the weight of uncertainty and guilt within you.

In that exact moment, Joel stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked around, his gaze settling on you with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. "Hey, sunshine."

"Hey," you replied softly, mirroring his smile "How are you feeling?"

Joel stretched, wincing slightly but smiling nonetheless. "Better. Thanks to you."

You couldn't help but smile back, the tension easing a bit. "Just doing my job, Joel."

His eyes softened as he looked at you. "You're doing more than just your job. You've been taking care of me, looking out for me. I appreciate it."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "It's what anyone would do."

Joel shook his head slightly. "No, not everyone. You're special, and I... I think I’m starting to understand that."

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, a mix of emotions swirling within you. "Joel, you don't need to say that. You're still recovering, and things are confusing right now."

Joel's gaze remained steady, his expression earnest. "I mean it. There's something about you... something that's been here all along, and I was too stubborn to see it."

Your heart ached with the weight of his words, knowing how complicated the situation was. "Joel…”

“Did I care about you before?” he asked, gaze locked with yours.

You shook your head “No. Not really.”

You shook your head, feeling the sting of the truth. “No. Not really.”

Joel looked troubled, his brows knitting together. “I find that hard to believe. Because right now, I can’t imagine not caring about you.”

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Things were different before, Joel. We didn’t get along. You were... closed off, and I guess I was just someone who got under your skin.”

Joel’s expression softened with regret. “I’m sorry. For whatever I did to make you feel that way. I wish I could remember, but all I know is that right now, I see you, and I feel... connected.”

A memory from the past surged forward, vivid and painful. It was a cold evening in Jackson, just after a particularly difficult supply run. You and Joel had been at odds all day, and the tension between you was palpable.

"Why do you always have to be so damn difficult?" Joel snapped; his voice harsh as he slammed the door behind him.

You bristled at his tone, your own temper flaring. "Maybe because you treat me like I’m incompetent! I’m trying my best out there, Joel. We’re supposed to be a team."

Joel scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "A team? You’re a liability more than anything."

The words cut deep, but you stood your ground. "That’s not fair, and you know it. I’m just trying to help, like everyone else."

Joel’s face twisted with frustration. "Help? You call what you do helping? It’s a wonder anyone here can stand you."

The hurt was immediate and sharp, but you refused to let him see how much his words affected you. "At least I’m trying to do something good. You just push everyone away."

Joel stepped closer, his expression dark. "Maybe there’s a reason for that. I find it hard to believe anyone could actually love you."

The silence that followed was deafening. You stared at him, disbelief and pain warring within you. Without another word, you turned and left, unable to bear the weight of his cruelty.

Back in the present, you blinked, trying to dispel the memory. Joel was watching you closely, concern etched into his features. "What’s wrong?"

You forced a smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. "Just... remembering something."

Joel reached out, gently taking your hand. "I wish I could remember too. So, I could make it right."

You looked down at your joined hands, the warmth of his touch grounding you. "Maybe it’s better this way.

Joel squeezed your hand gently. "A fresh start sounds good. But I still want to know everything. About us, about what I did wrong. So, I can be better."

You nodded, taking the risk and pushing your luck.

You and Joel could become friends, right?

"You and I... we could become friends, right?" you asked.

Joel’s eyes softened even more, and he smiled. "Friends sounds like a good start. We can build from there."

You felt a surge of relief. "Friends it is, then."

The days passed, each one bringing closeness between you and Joel. He had got better, slowly starting to get back to his tasks. The community noticed the change in him, how he was more open and approachable. You often found yourselves working together, whether it was on supply runs or him visiting the infirmary when you were there working.

One afternoon, you were busy organizing medical supplies when Joel walked in, a smile spreading across his face as he saw you. "Hey, need any help in here?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

You looked up, smiling back. "Joel, what are you doing here? I thought you were out patrolling.”

Joel shrugged, stepping further into the room. "Finished early. Thought I’d come by and see if you needed a hand."

He, in fact lied. He switched places with another guy just to spend time with you again. He could feel your fear irradiating but he wanted to get to know you better. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact he didn’t like someone like you and he wanted to change that.  

You chuckled, shaking your head. " Sure, you can help me with these supplies. There are some boxes that need to be sorted."

Joel rolled up his sleeves and joined you, his presence filling the small room with a comforting warmth. As you worked side by side, you found yourself stealing glances at him, marveling at the changes in him. He was more relaxed, more open, and undeniably more attentive.

"You know," Joel said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence, "I think I like helping out here more than patrolling."

You raised an eyebrow, teasingly. "Oh? And why is that?"

Joel grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Because I get to spend more time with you."

You blushed, focusing intently on the box in front of you. "You’re just saying that."

"No, I mean it," Joel replied, his tone sincere. "I like being around you. You make everything better."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you couldn't help but smile. "Well, I like having you around too."

The truth was that stealing glances at him now felt like interlocking fingers without even touching his skin, there wasn’t precisely a sexual tension or possessiveness over him, but a warm incandescent glow within every time he smiled at you. That was something you hadn’t felt in so long, and this time felt so right yet so wrong.

You both continued to work in comfortable silence, the rhythm of your tasks interrupted only by the occasional exchange of smiles or a shared joke. The closeness was undeniable, and you could feel the lines between friendship and something more starting to blur.

One afternoon, you were out on a supply run together, scanning the area for anything useful. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the landscape. As you bent down to pick up some supplies, Joel suddenly appeared by your side, his proximity making your heart race.

"Need a hand?" he asked, his voice low and warm.

You looked up at him, finding it hard to concentrate with him so close. "Sure, thanks."

As you both worked, the conversation flowed easily. Joel's presence was comforting, and you found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn't before.

"You know, I never really thanked you properly," Joel said, his tone serious.

"For what?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"For saving my life. For being there for me when I needed it the most," Joel replied, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart ache.

You shook your head, a soft smile on your lips. "You don’t need to thank me, Joel. I did what anyone would do."

"Not anyone," he insisted, his gaze intense. "You went above and beyond. You always do."

You blushed, the warmth spreading through you once again. "Well, I care about you. I can’t help it."

Joel's expression softened, and he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I care about you too. More than I ever thought possible."

The moment hung in the air, filled with unspoken words and emotions. You could feel the pull between you, the undeniable connection that had grown stronger with each passing day.

"Joel, this is complicated," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "We need to take things slow."

"I know," he replied, his hand lingering near your face. "But I’m not going anywhere, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Joel's feelings for you had grown stronger. He found himself being smitten and completely in love by you, by your beauty, your strength and your soft heart. You were everything that was good with this world. Where everything and everyone was people with shadows dying out of melancholy, you were an angel wrapping your warm arms around him, making his world brighter. He had learnt how to savor the colors again.

As you continued your days together, Joel couldn't help but find ways to be close to you. He would always volunteer to accompany you on supply runs, ensuring you were safe and cared for. He would show up at the infirmary with small gifts – a flower he found on his patrol, a cup of your favorite tea, or a book he thought you might like. His gestures were always thoughtful and sincere, each one a testament to the depth of his feelings.

Joel couldn't take his eyes off you. You were kneeling in the ground, your hands deftly cleaning something you had found, your face serene and focused. Joel felt a swell of emotion, unable to keep it to himself any longer.

"You know," he began, his voice gentle, "I used to think this world had nothing left to offer. But then I met you."

You looked up, your heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his gaze. "Joel..."

He knelt beside you, his hand covering yours. "You make everything better. You've brought light into my life, and I can't imagine going back to the way things were."

You felt a mixture of warmth and apprehension. His words were everything you wanted to hear, yet the uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on your heart. "Joel, this is all so new and complicated. We need to be careful."

Joel's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes full of determination. "I know it's complicated, and I know we've got a lot to figure out. But I can't ignore what I feel. I want to be here for you, with you, through everything."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. "I want that too, Joel. But we need to take it one step at a time."

He nodded, a soft smile spreading across his face. "I will make you fall in love with me," he said, his voice full of determination and warmth.

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a mix of hope and apprehension. "You're quite confident, aren't you?"

Joel chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "When it comes to you, I am."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest at his words. "Let's get back to Jackson," you said, standing up and brushing off your clothes. Joel stood with you, offering a hand to help you up.

As you made your way back to Jackson, the conversation flowed easily. Joel told you stories from before the outbreak, sharing pieces of his past he hadn’t opened up about before. You found yourself laughing at his anecdotes, feeling a growing sense of connection.

When you finally reached the gates of Jackson, the sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the community. People greeted you both warmly, noticing the change in Joel's demeanor. He was more relaxed and more present, and it was clear to everyone that you had a positive influence on him.

Tommy approached, a knowing smile on his face. "Good to see you both back safe and sound."

Joel clapped his brother on the shoulder. "It was a good run. Found some useful supplies."

Tommy nodded, then looked at you. "And how about you? Everything alright?"

You smiled, feeling the warmth of Joel’s gaze on you on your face. "Yeah, everything's good."

As the evening settled in, you and Joel made your way to the communal dining hall. The chatter of the community filled the air, and you found a spot to sit together. Joel’s hand lingered near yours, his touch reassuring and steady.

Tommy, Ellie, and Maria soon joined you at the table. Tommy was carrying a tray laden with food, Ellie trailing behind him with a mischievous grin, and Maria gave you a warm smile as she took a seat.

"Good to see you two back," Elli said, setting down the tray and passing out plates. “How was the run?" Ellie asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"It went well," Joel replied, his gaze briefly meeting yours before he continued. "Found some useful supplies and had some good company."

Ellie smirked, elbowing Tommy. "I bet you did."

You blushed, focusing on your plate as you filled it with food. Maria, ever perceptive, glanced between you and Joel with a knowing smile. "It's good to see everyone together," she said, her tone light and warm.

As you all began to eat, the conversation flowed naturally. Tommy and Maria talked about the latest updates in the community, Ellie shared stories from her day, and Joel occasionally chimed in with his dry humor, making everyone laugh.

At one point, Ellie leaned over to you, her voice low enough so only you could hear. "Joel's been different lately. In a good way. You've been good for him."

You looked at her, surprised by her observation. "I hope so. It's been... a journey."

Ellie nodded, her expression sincere. "Just keep being you. That's all he needs."

The meal continued, filled with warmth and laughter. Joel's hand occasionally brushed against yours, sending electricity down your body.

Just as you were starting to relax, a woman approached the table, her presence causing a ripple of unease. It was Lori, one of the women Joel used to date. Joel visibly tensed, his gaze dropping to his plate as Lori stopped beside him, her smile a mix of surprise and something else you couldn't quite place.

“Joel," she said, her voice smooth and confident. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Joel looked up, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Lori. Uh, hi."

Lori glanced around the table, her eyes settling on you for a moment before she looked back at Joel. "I was just passing by and saw you all together. Mind if I join?"

Before anyone could respond, Tommy jumped in. "Sure, why not? There's always room for one more."

Lori pulled up a chair and sat down, her presence adding a layer of tension to the dynamics. Joel seemed uncomfortable; his usual confidence was replaced by nervous energy.

"So, Joel," Lori began, her tone light but probing. "How have you been? It's been a while."

Joel cleared his throat, glancing at you briefly before answering. "Yeah, it has. I've been... good. Just busy with everything here."

Lori nodded, her gaze shifting between you and Joel. "I can see that. Looks like you've made some new friends." She said, bitterly, “The last time I knew from you was when you left my house after our night, and then you hit your head and never spoke to me again.”

The table fell silent, tension crackling in the air. Joel looked uncomfortable, his gaze dropping to his plate. You could see the guilt and confusion in his eyes as he tried to process Lori's words.

"I'm sorry, Lori," Joel finally said, his voice low. "I don't remember much from before the accident. It's been... complicated."

Lori's expression softened slightly, but the hurt in her eyes remained. "I get that. But it still stings, you know? You just disappeared."

You felt a pang of empathy for Lori but also a fierce protectiveness over Joel. "It's been hard for him,” you said gently, trying to ease the tension. "Joel's been working hard to piece things together. He's different now, and we're all just trying to move forward."

Lori glanced at you, her expression unreadable. "I can see that, but it seems like you had taken advantage of the situation; he couldn’t stand your ass before his accident, and suddenly you have him like a little puppy following you everywhere.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, feeling warm spreading to your cheeks.

Joel's jaw tightened, and he quickly interjected, his voice firm. "That's enough, Lori. You don't know what you're talking about."

Lori raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "I just find it convenient, that's all."

Tommy leaned forward, his tone calm but authoritative. "Lori, we're all trying to move forward here. It's not fair to make accusations."

Ellie, always quick to defend those she cared about, added, "You weren't here to see what she did for Joel. She saved his life and has been helping him every step of the way."

Lori's gaze softened slightly, but the tension remained. "I'm sorry if I overstepped. I just needed to understand."

Maria nodded, her voice gentle. "We all get that, Lori. It's been a tough situation for everyone."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "It's okay. "You took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ll take some fresh air,” you said, standing up, not even looking down at Joel, who seemed sad at your whole dementor.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "It's okay. I—" you paused, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on you. "I’ll take some fresh air," you said, standing up abruptly. Avoiding eye contact with Joel, who looked sad and concerned, you made your way outside.

The cool evening air was a welcome relief, and you walked a little way from the dining hall, finding a quiet spot to gather your thoughts. You leaned against a tree, closing your eyes and taking deep, calming breaths.

After a few moments, you heard footsteps approaching. You opened your eyes to see Ellie standing there, her expression filled with concern. "Hey, you okay?"

You nodded, managing a small smile. "Yeah, I just needed a moment. That was a bit embarrassing."

Ellie walked over and leaned against the wall next to you. "Lori was out of line. You've been amazing with Joel. Anyone with eyes can see that."

“So, don’t you think I’ve been taking advantage of him?” You asked, really concerned.

“What are you talking about? He is the one completely enamored by you.” She replied, laughing.

Ellie laughed, shaking her head. "What are you talking about? He is the one completely enamored by you."

You sighed, leaning back against the wall. "I know, but sometimes it feels like I’m walking on eggshells. It feels like he is going to wake up from his trance and he will hate me again."

Ellie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Listen, I've seen the way he looks at you. He’s happier, lighter. You’ve brought out a side of him I didn’t think existed. And trust me, if he didn’t want this, he’d make it clear."

You took a deep breath.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Ellie asked.

“Me, falling in love with him,” you answer.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Ellie asked, her tone light but sincere.

You sighed, the weight of your fears pressing down. “Me, falling in love with him,” you answered quietly.

Ellie gave you a sympathetic look. "And why is that so bad?"

"Because," you began, struggling to put your feelings into words, "what if his memories come back and he realizes he doesn’t feel the same way? Or worse, what if I fall in love with him and he changes back to the old Joel, the one who couldn’t stand me?"

Ellie nodded, understanding. "That's a risk, sure. But you can't let fear keep you from living. You've been through so much together, and it's clear he cares about you deeply now. Maybe that won't change."

You bit your lip, the turmoil inside you reflected in your eyes. "I just don't want to get hurt, Ellie. And I don’t want to hurt him either."

Ellie squeezed your shoulder. "I get it. But if you keep holding back, you'll never know what could be. Sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith."

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. "Maybe you're right."

Ellie grinned. "Of course I'm right. Now, let's get back in there. Joel's probably worrying himself sick."

You smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. "Okay, let's go."

As you walked back into the dining hall, you found Joel still sitting at the table, his eyes lighting up when he saw your return. He stood up as you approached, his concern evident.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed a breather."

Joel looked relieved, and he gently took your hand. "I'm glad you're back."

The evening continued with easy conversation, and as you all eventually made your way out of the dining hall, Joel walked beside you, his presence a comforting constant.

"Thanks for dinner," he said softly as you approached your door.

"Anytime," you replied, feeling a warmth in your chest at his words. "It was nice, being with everyone."

Joel nodded, his eyes lingering on you. "It was. And I meant what I said today. I’ll make you fall in love with me.”

You chuckled softly, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement at his words. "You're really set on that, aren't you?"

Joel nodded, his expression serious but with a hint of a smile that made you go crazy. "I am. Because I know what I feel now, and I’m not going to let it slip away."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. "Joel, this is new for both of us. We need to take it one step at a time."

He took a step closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. “Am I that unlovable?”

You blinked, taken aback by his question. "What? No, Joel, you're not unlovable at all. It's just... complicated."

Joel's eyes softened, and he took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "I get that. But I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait as long as it takes."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "I appreciate that, Joel. And I do care about you. A lot. It's just..."

"Scary?" he finished for you, his voice gentle.

You nodded.

Joel's expression turned thoughtful, and he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I get it. It is scary. But sometimes, the best things come from taking a leap of faith."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. "It’s not just about taking a leap. It’s about making sure we’re ready for whatever comes next."

Joel squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving yours. "I understand. And I'm ready to take it slow to give you the space you need. Just know that I’m here for you, and I’m not giving up on us."

You felt a mix of relief and trepidation, but Joel's unwavering support gave you strength. "Thank you, Joel. That means a lot to me."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, his breath warm against your skin. "We’ll figure it out, one step at a time."

You nodded, closing your eyes for a brief second, allowing yourself to savor the closeness and the promise of what might come. When you opened your eyes again, you saw Joel’s smile—a smile that made you believe in the possibility of a new beginning.

"Goodnight," he whispered, his voice tender, holding back the desire to cupp your face and kiss you.

"Goodnight, Joel," you replied, your heart fluttering, feeling the same as him.

Now standing, this close, face to face, skins touching. One of you would give in before, and once that happened, there was no going to be a way to stop two hearts beating this fast.

Joel's eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze revealing the depth of his emotions. You could see the conflict within him, the longing that mirrored your own. His hand lingered near your face, his fingers almost brushing against your skin, his breath warm and steady.

The moment felt suspended in time, the air between you charged with unspoken words and electric anticipation. You both stood there, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from each other, your hearts racing in sync.

Joel’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to push you, but I also don’t want to pretend like I don’t feel this.”

You swallowed, your own voice trembling slightly. “I feel it too, Joel. But we need to be careful.”

Joel nodded, his expression a mix of desire and restraint. “I know. And I want to respect that. I just...” He hesitated, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady himself. “I don’t want to miss this chance with you. I’ve never felt this way before.”

Joel’s gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, the desire and uncertainty evident in his expression. His hand gently cupped your face. His touch was tender, as if he were afraid to break the spell that bound you both.

You felt your heart race, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. Joel’s fingers brushed softly against your cheek, and you could see the struggle in his eyes as he fought to keep his emotions in check. His breath grew shallower, and his eyes closed for a brief moment, savoring the closeness.

Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, a whisper of warmth and affection that sent a shiver down your spine. The moment felt both exhilarating and comforting, the culmination of all the unspoken words and feelings that had been building between you.

You responded instinctively, your lips moving softly against his. The kiss deepened gradually, a sweet exploration of new and uncharted territory. His hands moved to frame your face, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he were cherishing every second of this newfound closeness.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your eyes locking in a moment of shared understanding. The kiss had been more than just a physical connection; it was a promise of something more, something that neither of you fully understood yet but were both eager to explore.

Joel’s smile was tender and full of warmth. “I’ve wanted to do that since I woke up that day at the infirmary,” he admitted softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at his confession. His words made your heart flutter even more, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"I'm glad you did," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been feeling the same way."

Joel's smile widened, and he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. "I didn’t want to rush things or push you. But now... now that we’ve shared this, I hope we can figure things out together."

You nodded, feeling a surge of hope and warmth. "I think we can. I want to see where this leads."

He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "No pressure, just... being here with you."

You smiled, feeling a sense of calm and excitement. "I would like that.”

Joel nodded; his expression full of affection. "Good. Now, how about we get some rest? Tomorrow's a new day, and I want to spend it with you."

You felt a burst of warmth at his words and, inspired by the new closeness between you, you hesitated for just a moment before speaking up. “How about we go inside for a bit? I’ve got some tea. It might be nice to relax and talk more.”

Joel’s eyes lit up at the invitation, and he nodded with a smile. “That sounds perfect.”

You led the way to your house, the familiar surroundings now feeling different with Joel by your side. Once inside, you made your way to the kitchen and began preparing the tea. Joel watched you with an easy smile, clearly content.

As you waited for the water to boil, you and Joel chatted about lighter topics—how his recovery was going, plans for the community, and small anecdotes from your days. The conversation flowed easily, and the atmosphere between you was comfortable and warm.

When the tea was ready, you poured two cups and handed one to Joel. He took it with a grateful smile, his fingers brushing against yours. You both settled into a cozy corner of your living room, the soft light of a lamp casting a gentle glow around the room.

Joel sipped his tea, his gaze occasionally meeting yours. “This is nice,” he said softly. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Joel looked around your living room, the peaceful ambiance a stark contrast to the harsh world outside. He took another sip of his tea, then turned his gaze back to you. “You know, before all this, I had a pretty normal life. A family, a daughter named Sarah. She was... everything to me.”

His voice carried a tinge of sadness, and you could see the pain in his eyes. You nodded, sensing the weight of his memories. “I’m sorry, Joel. I can’t even imagine.”

Joel’s expression was somber but grateful. “Thanks. She was everything. When the outbreak happened, she... she didn’t make it. It’s been hard, you know? Trying to keep going and make sense of it all.”

You felt a pang of sympathy for him, knowing how devastating such a loss could be. “I understand. I lost my fiancé in a storm during the outbreak. We were caught outside, and he was... gone before I could do anything.”

Joel’s eyes softened with empathy. “That’s so tough. I’m really sorry you went through that.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your own memories. “It was the storm that made me afraid of them. Every time the weather changes, it reminds me of that day. I try not to let it control me, but sometimes, it’s hard.”

Joel reached out, placing his hand gently on yours. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that. It’s brave of you to face it every day.”

You looked at his hand on yours, feeling a comforting warmth from his touch. “It’s been a struggle, but having people like you around makes it a little easier.”

Joel nodded, his gaze steady. “We all have our battles. But we’ve found ways to keep moving forward. And maybe together, we can make those battles a little less daunting.”

+++++

The days turned into weeks, and your relationship with Joel grew stronger. The bond you shared was evident in the way you looked at each other and the ease with which you interacted. People in Jackson had noticed the change in both of you, and there was a sense of warmth and contentment surrounding your partnership.

One afternoon, as you were working in the infirmary, organizing supplies and checking on patients, Joel walked in. He had that familiar, easy smile on his face, and his presence was a comforting one amidst the hectic pace of the medical work.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorway. “Thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.”

You looked up, your face lighting up at the sight of him. “Hey, Joel. Just busy as usual. How’s everything on the patrol?”

Joel shrugged, walking over to where you were working. “Not too bad. But I figured I’d come by and keep you company. I know you’ve been spending a lot of time here.”

You nodded, your smile softening. “Yeah, I’ve been needed here more often lately. But it’s good to see you.”

Joel moved closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. “I’ve missed you. It’s different when you’re not around.”

You felt a surge of affection at his words. “I’ve missed you too. But this is important. People need help, and I want to make sure I’m here for them.”

Joel nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I get it. Just remember to take care of yourself too. I’d hate to see you running on empty.”

You chuckled, appreciating his concern. “I’ll try. But having you here now brought a smile to my face.”

He smiled, his gaze lingering on you. “Well, I’m glad to be here. Can I help with anything?”

You thought for a moment, then nodded. “Actually, if you could help me restock some of these supplies, that would be great.”

Joel moved closer, his hand gently brushing against yours as he began helping with the supplies. The shared task created a comfortable silence between you, with only the soft sounds of organizing supplies filling the space.

As you worked side by side, Joel’s gaze lingered on you with an intensity that made your heart race. Without warning, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender, affectionate kiss. The kiss was a sweet proof the connection you shared, and you responded with equal tenderness, savoring the closeness.

Just as the kiss deepened, the door to the infirmary swung open, and Dr. Ramirez walked in. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of you and Joel but quickly masked her surprise with a professional smile.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, her tone warm but slightly teasing. “I came to check on things and see if you needed any help.”

You and Joel pulled away; a bit flustered but smiling nonetheless. “We were just finishing up,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Everything’s in order.”

Dr. Ramirez nodded, her gaze flicking between you and Joel with a knowing look. “Alright, if you need anything, just let me know.”

As she moved to her office, you glanced at Joel, your cheeks still slightly flushed. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

Joel chuckled, his hand still resting lightly on yours. “Yeah, but I guess it’s a good thing everyone know you’re my girl.”

You looked up at Joel, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I suppose it is. It’s nice to be able to be open about us."

Joel’s expression softened; his gaze warm. “It is. And I’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”

You squeezed his hand gently, feeling a sense of contentment. “Me too. It makes everything feel more real, more... solid.”

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Do you want to have dinner at my place?” he asked.

You looked up at Joel, a smile spreading across your face at the thought of spending more time together. “Dinner at your place sounds wonderful. I’d love that.”

Joel’s face lit up with a warm smile. “Great. I’ll make sure to have something good ready for us.”

You both made your way to Joel’s place, the evening air cool and crisp. The walk was filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, a comforting routine that had become a cherished part of your days.

When you arrived at Joel’s house, he opened the door and gestured for you to enter. The interior was cozy, with soft lighting and a welcoming atmosphere. He led you to the kitchen, where a simple but inviting dinner was laid out on the table.

Joel’s cooking was surprisingly good, and as you enjoyed the meal together, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You talked about everything and nothing—your favorite memories, plans for the future, and the little things that made you both laugh.

After dinner, you moved to the living room, where Joel had set up a comfortable spot with blankets and pillows. You both settled in, the atmosphere relaxed and intimate.

Joel looked at you with a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

You snuggled closer to him, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “Me too. Tonight has been perfect.”

He wrapped his arm around you, his touch warm and reassuring. “Here’s to many more nights like this.”

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’d like that.”

As the evening wore on, you both talked about your past experiences and shared stories from before the outbreak. Joel spoke about his life before everything changed—his family, the dreams he had, and the struggles he faced. You shared your own experiences, including the loss of your fiancé and the challenges of adapting to this new world alone.

Joel listened intently, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as if to reassure you. “It’s amazing how much we’ve both been through,” he said softly. “And yet, here we are.”

You nodded, feeling a deep connection. “Yeah. It feels like we’re building something meaningful despite everything.”

After some time, you both decided it was time to call it a night. You stood up, stretching slightly as you gathered your things. Joel walked with you to the door, his presence a comforting constant.

As you reached the door, Joel hesitated for a moment, then gently grabbed your wrist, stopping you from leaving. He looked at you with a mix of hesitation and hope in his eyes. “I was wondering… would you like to spend the night here? It’s been nice having you around, and I’d love to have you stay.”

You looked at him, surprised but touched by the invitation. The warmth in his eyes and the sincerity of his voice made it hard to resist.

“I’d like that,” you said softly, a smile spreading across your face.

Joel’s expression brightened, and he pulled you into a gentle hug. “Great. Let’s get you settled in.”

Joel led you to his bedroom, a space that felt both lived-in and welcoming. The room was simple but comfortable, with a bed covered in worn but clean linens and a few personal touches that spoke to Joel’s character—photos of his family, a well-loved guitar leaning against the wall, and a small stack of books on the bedside table.

He gestured to the bed with a slightly sheepish grin. “Sorry, it’s not much, but it’s home.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of warmth and acceptance. “It’s perfect.”

Joel nodded, his expression softening. “I’m glad you think so.”

You both prepared for bed in comfortable silence, the familiarity of the routine helping to ease any lingering tension. Joel showed you where you could find anything you might need—extra blankets, a lamp for reading, and a small cabinet for any personal items you might want to keep nearby.

As you both settled into the bed, Joel turned off the lights, leaving only a soft glow from a nightlight on the dresser. He slipped under the covers, and you followed suit, the warmth and comfort of the bed providing a welcome respite from the day’s events.

Joel turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said softly, his voice tender.

You smiled, feeling a sense of peace as you settled closer to him. “Me too. It feels right.”

He reached out and gently took your hand, interlocking your fingers. The simple gesture was filled with meaning, and you could feel the connection between you growing stronger.

“Goodnight,” Joel whispered, his voice carrying a note of affection.

“Goodnight,” you replied, your heart fluttering with contentment.

A few days later, you and Ellie were seated at a table in the bustling dining hall, enjoying a well-deserved lunch. The room was filled with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of utensils, creating a comforting background noise.

Ellie, always full of energy, was animatedly talking about a new comic she’d found. “You won’t believe this,” she said, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin, “but this one hero has the power to control weather. I’m telling you, if I had that power, I’d totally make it sunny all the time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds like you’ve been reading too many comics. But I suppose a bit of sunshine wouldn’t hurt.”

Ellie grinned, grabbing a bite of her sandwich. “True, true. But, seriously, how are things going with Joel? You two seem... really happy.”

You smiled, feeling a warm flush at her question. “We are. It’s been nice, spending time together. He’s been really supportive, and I think we’re figuring things out.”

Ellie’s eyes lit up, clearly pleased with your answer. “I’m glad to hear that. He’s been a lot happier since you two started spending more time together. It’s like he’s found a new spark.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment. “It’s been good for both of us. We’re still taking things one step at a time, but it feels right.”

Ellie’s expression turned thoughtful. “I know it’s been rough with everything that’s happened, but it’s nice to see people finding happiness again. Especially you and Joel.”

You appreciated Ellie’s support and her ability to lighten the mood. “Thanks, Ellie. That means a lot.”

Ellie glanced around the dining hall, then back at you with a mischievous grin. “So, are you guys planning any big adventures together? Or just sticking to the small stuff for now?”

You laughed softly. “We’re sticking to the small stuff for now. Just enjoying the moments, we have together.” You paused, “I’m still a little bit scared of him waking up hating me again.”

Ellie’s eyes softened with understanding. “I get that. It’s natural to be scared after everything you’ve both been through. But you’re doing great, and Joel is different now. He’s not going to just wake up one day and hate you.”

You sighed, a mixture of relief and lingering concern in your expression. “I hope you’re right. Sometimes, it’s hard to shake that fear, especially after everything that’s happened.”

Ellie nodded thoughtfully. “I think you both just need to keep talking and being honest with each other. The more you communicate, the more you’ll build that trust. And remember, it’s okay to have those fears. It just means you care.”

You managed a small smile. “Thanks, Ellie. It’s reassuring to hear that.”

Ellie grinned and took a bite of her lunch. “Anytime. And if you ever need someone to talk to or just need a distraction, you know I’m here. We can have a comic marathon or something.”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of Ellie’s support. “That sounds like a plan. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

As you and Ellie finished your lunch, you stood up to clear your plates, the conversation easing into a comfortable silence. Just as you were about to head to the serving area, you suddenly felt two strong arms wrap around your middle, pulling you into a warm embrace. A soft, affectionate kiss was placed on your cheek, making you feel a surge of happiness and surprise.

You turned your head slightly, finding Joel’s smiling face close to yours. “Hey there,” he said, his voice full of warmth and affection. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, just wanted to steal a moment with you.”

Ellie watched with a grin, clearly pleased with the sight. “Looks like someone’s got a fan club.”

You blushed slightly, leaning into Joel’s embrace. “Hi, Joel. I was just catching up with Ellie.”

Joel’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his hand gently resting on your side. “I figured I’d come and see how you were doing. Plus, I wanted to see if you’d be up for a walk later.”

You smiled, feeling content in his arms. “A walk sounds nice. I’d love that.”

Joel nodded, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Great. Let’s finish up here and head out.”

You and Joel exchanged a tender glance before you both started to clear your plates. Ellie gave you both a playful nudge. “I’ll leave you two to your walk. Enjoy, and remember, I’m always here if you need me.”

+++++++++++++

“So?” you asked, as Joel was smiling in complete silence.

“So what?” he asked without erasing that smile from his face.

“Aren’t you going to talk?”

Joel chuckled, his smile widening. “I guess I’m just enjoying the moment. It’s not every day I get to be this content.”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully nudging him. “Oh really? And why’s that?”

He looked at you, his gaze tender. “Because being with you like this, just walking and talking, it’s exactly what I’ve wanted. It’s simple and perfect.”

You smiled, feeling a warm glow from his words. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it. So, what’s on your mind?”

Joel glanced around, taking in the scenery before meeting your eyes again. “I was thinking about how nice would be if you go to my place tonight. Ellie’s gonna spend the night with Dina and I want to spend the night with you.”

“That sounds wonderful,” you said with a smile. “I’d love to spend the night with you.”

Joel’s face lit up with a genuine smile, and he took your hand, gently squeezing it. “Great. I was hoping you’d say that.” He leaned and kiss you on the lips, “No I gotta go helping Tommy, see you later, sunshine”

You pouted, grabbing his hand before he could go anywhere “Wait? That was all?”

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I thought I’d surprise you with the invitation, and I wanted to make sure you knew how much I enjoy spending time with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully teasing. “Well, I didn’t realize the evening was just an invitation and a kiss goodbye.”

Joel grinned, clearly amused. “Alright, alright. If you want more, I guess I’ll have to come up with something better.” He pulled you into another kiss, this one longer and more lingering.

You smiled against his lips as you pulled away. “That’s more like it. But seriously, I was looking forward to spending time with you.”

Joel’s gaze softened, and he cupped your face gently. “I’m looking forward to it too. Just had to help Tommy out with something. I promise, I’ll make up for it.”

You nodded, still holding onto his hand. “I’ll hold you to that. See you later, Joel.”

He gave you one last smile before heading out, leaving you with a warm feeling and the anticipation of the evening ahead.

+++++++++++++

When you arrived at Joel's place, the sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the surroundings. Joel greeted you at the door with a welcoming smile and a quick, affectionate kiss.

"Hey, glad you could make it," he said, taking your coat and hanging it up. "I’ve got a few things planned, but we can start with something simple if you’d like."

You stepped inside, feeling the comforting familiarity of Joel’s home. “I’m sure whatever you’ve got planned will be perfect,” you replied, smiling at him.

Joel led you into the living room, where he’d set up a cozy area with blankets and cushions. The room was softly lit by lamps, and the atmosphere was inviting and warm. A few candles were flickering on the coffee table, casting a gentle glow.

“I figured we could start with some dinner and then maybe just talk or something else” Joel suggested, his eyes reflecting the soft light.

You nodded, feeling content with the simple but thoughtful setup. “That sounds great.”

Joel moved to the kitchen and returned shortly with a plate of homemade food—something comforting and hearty. He set it down on the table, then joined you on the couch.

As you both ate, the conversation flowed easily, just like it had during your earlier moments together. You talked about your days, your plans, and even some light-hearted topics. Joel’s presence was reassuring, and you felt completely at ease.

After dinner, Joel suggested putting on some music. He rummaged through his collection, finally settling on a classic that he thought you’d enjoy. You both snuggled up under the blankets, the music playing softly in the background.

Joel occasionally glanced at you, his hand resting casually on your knee. The song played, but most of your attention was focused on the comfort of being next to him, the warmth of his touch, and the quiet contentment that filled the room.

Joel turned to you, his gaze tender. “You know, I’m really glad we’re doing this. Just being here with you, it feels right.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “I feel the same way.”

Joel’s hand moved to gently brush your hair back from your face. “What’s your biggest fear?” he asked out of the blue?

You sighed, leaving his gaze for a moment “You waking up and forgetting you love me”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly at your answer, a mix of concern and curiosity in his eyes. “Why would you think that? I don’t see any reason why that would happen.”

You took a deep breath, feeling vulnerable as you shared your fear. “It’s just….you knew I told you we didn’t get along before, in fact you hated me, Joel.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he listened to your concern. He took a moment before responding, his voice steady and reassuring. “I know things weren’t easy between us before. And yeah, I didn’t handle things the best way back then. But that’s in the past. What matters now is how we are right now.”

He reached out and gently took your hand in his. “The truth is, I’ve changed. And I see you differently now. I see you for who you are, and I realize how much you mean to me. Whatever those old feelings were? They’re gone. What we have now is real, and I’m committed to it.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for the truth in his words. “But what if one day you wake up and those old feelings come back? What if something changes?”

Joel shook his head, his gaze intense and full of conviction. “I don’t believe that’ll happen. I’ve come to understand how much you mean to me, and how deeply I care about you.”

He squeezed your hand gently, his expression earnest. “I’m not going to let those fears control us. We’re building something strong, and I want to keep building it with you. I’m here, and I’m committed to making sure we have a future together.”

You felt a wave of relief and warmth at his words. “Thank you, Joel. That really means a lot to me.”

Joel smiled softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’m glad. And if you ever need reassurance, just ask. I’m always here to remind you of how much you mean to me.”

You nestled closer to him, feeling a deep sense of comfort and closeness. The fears that had been troubling you began to fade as you focused on the warmth of his embrace and the sincerity in his voice.

Joel’s gaze lingered on yours, his eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and resolve. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, a careful exploration of newfound trust and affection.

As the kiss deepened, it became more passionate, conveying all the emotions and reassurances that words alone couldn’t fully capture. Joel’s hand cupped your face, his touch warm and reassuring as he pressed closer.

You responded to the kiss, your own hands moving to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The kiss felt like a promise, a shared understanding of where you both stood and where you hoped to go.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads touching as you gazed into each other’s eyes. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in this moment of closeness.

Joel’s smile was soft, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I needed to do that. To show you just how much you mean to me.”

You smiled back, your heart full. “I needed that too.”

Joel gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering.

After that, everything happened in a flash. Neither of you realized when you removed your clothes, but there was too much desperation in your touch; you wanted to discover how his fingers could leave a mark on you, tracing invisible lines across your body.

He kissed you again, slipping his tongue past your lips, gasping when he felt your fingers running your fingertips across his bare chest, tracing the lines of a map leading to where you couldn’t stop.

With one of your hands, you pulled him down by his neck to hold you against your lips again. Once you tasted them, you couldn’t get over the taste of them over yours, and you couldn’t get over the whimpers he left in your mouth.

He was hovering over you, giving you a passionate kiss. He was between your legs, exactly where you wanted him.

He pulled his lips away from yours for a moment to glance down at you. To appreciate the features of your face and the nature of your body to admire the features of your face, and the nature of your body being displayed just for him right now. You felt the crimson color rushing up to your checks and for a moment you felt embarrassed under his stare, but he smiled at you.

“You look beautiful”. He swallowed hard, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

His hands on your tights only increased the sparks in the place you wanted him the most, you wanted to follow the path even when you knew it was leading to a treacherous destination.

You continued kissing slowly as he caressed your thighs with his gently touch, as he wanted to worship your body and devour every single sound coming out from your mouth. He kissed you down over your neck, kissing, nipping your skin between his teeth.

And God, he loved the way you were making him feel. The fact this time was different to everything you had experiencing before. At this moment, you weren’t driving for only passionate reasons, but for caring feelings for each other. You weren’t in a rush and that turned him on. He was hard for you and he wanted to meet where religion was, between your thighs.

This time he was making love because he had drowned himself on your religion.

Both of you gasped aloud the moment he began to push slowly inside you. His hands reached for yours, interlocking them as he kissed you softly, muttering, "You're so beautiful like this". He was mesmerized by the way you were nervously giggling and cocking your head back in delight. He bit your neck, prompting your hands to move up to his neck, and his hands ran down your entire body without a layer of clothing on you, focusing on every thrust and diving deep to ensure he was making you happy.

You opened your eyes and stared back at him, entirely focused on you. You couldn't help but roll your eyes as his hands massaged your breasts while he continued to devour your lips. Your back arched, followed by a moan against his lips. Every thrust felt so fantastic, you couldn't help but think you were in the celestial realm You could tell you were getting closer as you squeezed him and kept your gaze fixed on each other. He pushed harder, one hand caressing your cheek and the other gripping your knee to guarantee you fell apart.

The noises you made drove him insane, as he felt himself reaching the edge of the cliff. He wanted to stare at you under him as you came and with a loud gasp, he did it at the same time falling over your exposed chest, your heartbeats mingling.

You moaned softly beneath him, and Joel raised his head to look at you, flashing him a cute smile he hadn't tired of, as you kissed him on the lips.

"I love you so much," he replied, gazing at you with admiration. “I’m so in love with you.”

I love you.

I’m so in love with you.

Those three words were echoing in the shadows of your mind. Your expression softened and you felt your blood rushing. You were sure they had had an impact on you.

“And I love you so much” you whispered back, your voice trembling slightly with the depth of your emotion.

Joel’s expression softened even further, and he brushed a tender kiss against your lips once more. The connection between you was undeniable, a blend of passion and deep affection that had grown stronger with each passing day.

You rested your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath you. The world outside seemed distant and unimportant in the warmth of his embrace. For a moment, everything felt perfect, and you allowed yourself to fully embrace the love and happiness you had found with Joel.

Joel gently ran his fingers through your hair, his touch soothing. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

You nodded, your eyes closing as you savored the moment. “Yeah, we have. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Joel’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. “Neither would I. Here’s to more moments like this, and to whatever the future holds for us.”

You smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment and anticipation for what was to come. “To us,” you agreed, your heart full of love and hope.

+++++++++++

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You stirred, waking up with a smile on your face. The previous night’s intimacy and love still lingered, and you turned to look at Joel. He was sleeping peacefully beside you, a contented expression on his face.

As you watched him, you felt a surge of happiness and affection. You reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, your heart full of love for him.

But as Joel’s eyes fluttered open and he met your gaze, his expression shifted dramatically. His sparkly brown eyes filled with love, widened in horror, and a look of confusion and fear crossed his face. He pushed himself up, scrambling back slightly.

“What...What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, his voice trembling with a mix of shock and fear.

You were taken aback, your smile faltering as you tried to make sense of his reaction. “Joel, what’s wrong?”

No. It couldn’t be that, right?

Joel’s eyes were filled with a pained realization. “Oh my god, you came to my house trying to seduce me into sleeping with you?”

You felt a sharp pang of pain at his words, and your heart dropped. The warmth you had felt earlier was replaced by a cold, unsettling feeling.

“No, Joel, that’s not what happened,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the hurt. “We’re in love”

He chuckled. “In love? Me in love with you? I could never” he said.

Your chest tightened, and the hurt in Joel’s words felt like a physical blow. You struggled to keep your composure, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

“Joel, you can’t mean that,” you said, your voice shaking. “Last night, you said you loved me. We shared something real.”

Joel’s expression was a mix of confusion and pain. “I don’t remember saying that. Last night I was with Lori”

That’s it. You were back at were you used to be.

The weight of Joel’s words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt a mix of betrayal and heartache, as the realization sank in. The warmth and affection from the night before felt like a cruel illusion.

“So, what? You’re saying last night meant nothing?” you asked. The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over. “You really don’t remember? You don’t remember how we talked, how you told me you loved me?”

“I don’t love you.” He said, sternly.

“But I’m your sunshine” you sobbed.

Joel’s laughter pierced through you like a blade, and you could barely stand the weight of the realization. Each word he spoke seemed to tear away at the fabric of your heart, unraveling the dream you’d clung to so desperately.

The room felt colder, the air heavier, as you fought to control your sobs. Every touch, every shared moment that had once seemed so real was now reduced to nothing more than painful echoes of a memory that never truly existed.

He didn’t remember the stealing glances, the kisses, the touches and the promises than now seemed to fade with the cruel destiny meeting the ending meant to be.

You had taken a risk at falling in love with the version of a Joel who loved you back, and he didn’t exist anymore. He had faded just when he had told you he loved you.

He didn’t remember falling in love with you, he didn’t remember all the time you spent together, and he didn’t remember loving you, but you didn’t think this would hurt this much.

“Joel” you said, pleading him to remember.

“Out.” He said, gritting his teeth.  

You stood there, the pain in your chest almost unbearable, as Joel's harsh words echoed around you. The warmth and affection you had shared just hours before now seemed like a cruel illusion, shattered by his denial.

"Joel, please," you said, your voice trembling. "Just think about everything we shared. It was real."

Joel’s eyes were hard, and he crossed his arms defensively. “I don't remember any of it. And I can't fake feelings I don't have.”

You felt a deep, profound sadness, the weight of his words making it almost impossible to breathe. The life you had envisioned, the love you had felt, seemed to slip away like sand through your fingers.

“Please, just—” you tried to reason with him, but the look in his eyes made it clear that any further pleading was futile.

Joel’s expression remained firm, a mix of regret and frustration. “Everything I know is that you took advantage of me.”

The sting of Joel's words cut deep, each one echoing the finality of a dream you had cherished. The accusation of taking advantage of him felt like a betrayal, intensifying the emotional agony you were already struggling with.

You took a shaky breath, trying to hold onto the fragments of your composure. "Joel, I never did that. We have something—"

Joel interrupted; his voice cold. "I don’t want to hear it. You need to leave. Now."

The finality in his tone left no room for argument. With a heart heavy with sorrow, you nodded, unable to find the words that might change his mind.

You were only on one of his shirts, trying to find your clothes.

You stumbled through the room, your movements disjointed as you searched for your clothes. The pain and confusion made every action feel like an immense effort. Joel’s gaze remained fixed on you, his face a mask of distant resolve.

You found your jeans, but it was crumpled and stained, and you struggled to put it on with trembling hands. The fabric felt rough against your skin, a stark contrast to the comfort you had felt just hours before. You glanced around for your other belongings, the room now feeling foreign and unwelcoming.

“I... I can’t find my blouse,” you said again, your voice a whisper filled with desperation and trembling.

Joel’s eyes flicked to you briefly before he spoke with a tone that brooked no argument. “Don’t worry about it. Just wear my shirt. I won’t wear it again.” His voice was cold and icy, not more softness as when they used to whisper things on your ear.

The coldness in his words made it clear that there was no room for negotiation or further conversation. You nodded numbly, the shirt you were already wearing now feeling like a heavy shroud setting your skin on fire.

As you finished dressing, you glanced around the room one last time, trying to memorize the space you were leaving behind. The sight of the room, so filled with the promise you fooled yourself onto believing.

There was an intensified the ache in your chest.

Joel stood by the door, his posture rigid as if he were bracing himself for something. His eyes didn’t meet yours, focusing instead on some distant point. The silence between you was heavy with the weight of the broken bond that never existed.

As you pulled on your shoes, your heart cracked completely sank in deeper. You looked up, meeting Joel’s eyes one last time.

“Joel, I’m sorry for everything,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never meant to cause any harm. I just wanted—”

Joel cut you off with a slight nod, his face still set in a hard expression. “Just go. Please.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat almost making it impossible to speak. The intensity of Joel's gaze, filled with a mixture of pain and indifference, made it clear that any further words would be futile.

With one last, lingering look at him and the room that just yesterday had witnessed three empty words that now didn’t meant anything, you turned and made your way down the hall. Each step felt like a weight lifting off your shoulders, even as the burden of what you were leaving behind pressed heavily on your heart.

As you reached the front door, the cool morning air hit you, providing a stark contrast to the warmth you had felt just hours before. The quiet outside was a jarring reminder of the world that continued, indifferent to the personal turmoil you were experiencing.

With every step, you tried to reconcile the reality you faced with the memories of what you had thought was true, a momentary field of dreams. The pain was sharp and immediate. How would you continue life after losing another love?

+++++++

[frogchiro]

I hope I’m not bothering you with my ancient greek mythology stuff my little brain is going into overdrive👉👈

Just…sculptor/painter reader using the gladiators as her nude model…running your hands over their muscles and gushing how strong they are and how amazing your latest piece is going to come out!

You don’t even notice they’re getting hard as you run your fingers over their adonis belt commenting how they’re your new muse for your art

I almost (s)creamed the moment I saw this ask nonnie dear you're a genius ;;

Also I feel the need to mention this; please do keep in mind that this is only my silly au and most probably will have historical inaccuracies so if you're a true history/ancient greece/roman enjoyer, please go mild on me ;;

But back to the drill...You are so right??? Like...I imagine that reader would be a young, aspiring artist with a knack for painting. Maybe she doesn't come from a wealthy family so any true school for it is out of the question, your own parents only came along when you started selling your painting and doing commissions for nobles and it actually started to bring in money. Your road to success is still long but you're managing! Plus you're 'stupidly determined like your father' as your mother says so you try to stay positive!

The one problem you had was something you believed many artists suffered from; inspiration and models. Specifically human models. The human body and physique fascinated you from an early age, the moving muscles, facial expressions to different stimuli and so much more but...the problem were the models, or rather the lack thereof.

You could probably hire someone but the money spend on that would be way too much for your limited budget so the next best thing was the coliseum! It was a blessing in poor disguise, the gladiators trained there almost daily and luckily the head keeper of the arena begrudingly let you stay there and practice in exchange for a satchel of money but to be honest...the practice wasn't the only thing you longed for when visiting the coliseum almost daily, it was the gladiators.

They were huge, burly men in their prime, all of them looking like they were born with a sword or spear in hand and to grow up to become warrior and you'd be lying if you said that warmth didn't spread through your body and centered in your lower belly whenever these big, loud and boisterous men didn't call out for you and purred in dripping, low voices how pent up they are and what they wouldn't give for a pretty soft thing like you :((

The worst (or best) part was when you were practicing nude drawings which were equally fascinating and hard to draw, especially with all these men being so...shameless with it. You loved the human body, all artists do but still you were a young lady and watching all the gladiators walking around the barracks all naked and proud was...an experience to say the least and brought a pang of warmth between your thighs, especially when they were so happy to parade themselves like proud stallions in front of you :((

Strong, toned bodies glistening with sweat and water, their hardening cocks proudly on show whenever you run your soft hands over their toned torsos to study the way muscles move and twitch whenever you run your fingers over a sensitive spot, the most reactive being two of the many foreign gladiators, Johnny or like he insisted to be called 'Soap' and Kyle or 'Gaz', like he wants to be called.

These two are always purring low withing their chests to you as you look all over them, their backs, chests, stomachs, making you promise to do a special commission only for them but you're just nodding dumbly because you're too transfixed on the god-like bodies to draw :(

Another gladiator you're very fond of is a huge, blonde foreigner named Simon, or 'Ghost'. A formidable warrior, a veteran for sure, it looked like Ares himself send this one here to grace the people with a demigod of war. He was always incredibly patient with you, letting you roam your hands over his body and all the numerous scars decorating his skin. Once you saw Simon up close you immediately realized why people called him a demigod-he was beautiful. A strong and powerful man in his prime, his muscles jumping and twitching beneath his thick skin and a layer of fat, power and virility was literally radiating off of this man, and you insistently tried not to look at the long and thick cock hanging between his legs, twitching and pulsating with arousal whenever you marveled over his body and your fingers ran over his adonis belt <3

[harksness]

Distraction

A/N: i suffer from severe agatha harkness brainrot 24 hrs a day 7 days a week. i also couldnt help but make this one a little sweet too ajsadkgj im so down bad for her

the request!

Warnings: hand kink, quickie, slight mommy kink bcs im a hoe who can't write smut with agatha without working that in at least a little bit. lmk if i missed any warnings as per usual <3

WC: 3.5k

You find every little thing about Agatha to be insanely attractive. How could you not? She’s absolutely perfect. Her smooth, sultry voice and calculated words. Her pretty blue eyes that always seem to have that mischievous glint to them. Her tempting pink lips that are almost always quirked into that evil little smirk of hers. And oh God her hair, her wild hair you could play with for hours. 

She's ethereal. Agatha Harkness is the definition of beauty and all of its synonyms. Alluring, lovely, heavenly, ravishing, irresistible, beauteous, divine, bewitching and as ravishing as they come. Something pulled right out of your dreams, or some grand work of art.

But something about her hands just stuck out to you. They drove you crazy.

Her long, nimble fingers.. Watching how deftly they work her magic, the fluid movements she makes with them always has you biting your lip and wondering if she’d repeat those same movements elsewhere. 

As if you didn’t have a hard enough time keeping your eyes off of her hands, all of those pretty rings she found recently aren’t helping. They draw more of your attention to how skilled she is with her long digits, the soft silver, the pretty jewels and carvings into the metal always catching your attention. The problem is that once that happens, you just can’t seem to get your attention off of them.

You clear your throat, catching yourself staring at her hands… Again. Reluctantly, you refocus your attention back to the meeting at hand as you quickly cast your gaze over all of the people sitting around you, Agatha’s voice background noise.

Your lover finds your gaze as she’s speaking to the group, sending a quick wink your way.

Immediately you feel your cheeks flushing when you realize that’s her way of telling you that you’ve been caught red handed. Billy, of course, catches on right away with a little gasp as he raises his hand into the air, a sly grin overtaking his features as he interrupts Agatha.

“Can you two stop flirting with each other for five minutes? It’s so distracting for the rest of the class.”

You pinch your lips together at his words. Ever since you two became a thing and he figured out about your relationship, he’s really taken to the two of you as his “gay aunties”, loving to tease you every chance he gets about your sappy romance.

There’s a few beats of dead silence in the room as everyone waits for Agatha to say something.

“What are you talking about?”

She’s so obviously just trying to mess with the younger wiccan.

But still, even knowing this you try so hard not to smack your hand to your forehead at her response. She’s had over three hundred years to master the art of snappy comebacks and witty one liners, her charisma is off the charts. You’d personally say she’s more skilled with how she uses her words in conversation than magic itself, it’s one of her greatest weapons.. But that’s what she decided to say?

“Really.”

Billy says, less of a question and more of a statement. You release a big sigh, and you can feel Rio rolling her eyes from the spot next to you.

“I mean.. Of course I can’t go five minutes without flirting with my girl.. Have you seen how gorgeous she is? How impossibly perfect?”

Agatha says, gesturing towards you dramatically. You’re surprised that you haven’t passed out from the amount of blood rushing to your cheeks, a bashful smile crossing your lips at how outspoken and dorky she is. 

“Eugh! You two are too cute.. I need to go vomit…”

Billy is smiling regardless of his teasing.

“Oh! Absolutely feel free to do so! Meet back here in ten minutes!”

Agatha claps her hands together excitedly, a puzzled look crossing the boy's features.

“I was only joking..”

No one seems to pay any attention to the words he mumbled under his breath. Agatha was just so eager to take him up on the offer.

She’s being so dramatic with her hands- waving them around and gesturing so much more than usual. Not many other people would notice, considering how dramatic Agatha just is as a person, but you do.

Rio rolls her eyes at you, the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“You two are worse than lovesick teenagers.. Disgusting.”

You smile softly, watching Agatha shoot you a look before she leaves the room, her gaze lingering against yours as she quirks an eyebrow at you suggestively. Slowly she presses down on the door handle and pushes it open, the door swinging closed behind her a moment later with a soft click.

“I know, it’s so disgusting…”

You’re barely paying attention as you get up to follow your witch. You cross the room, winding between the fold out chairs and the women stretching and mulling about as they take advantage of their free time. Pushing the door open, you scan the room quickly before finding her leaning on a wall across from you.

“Sooo…”

She starts as you approach, holding her hands out in front of herself, as if examining her nails. You cross your arms over your chest, pouting slightly at her incessant teasing.

“Someone seems to be fixating on my hands..”

Agatha holds them up, palms facing her as she wiggles her ringed fingers at you, and wiggling her eyebrows to match. You roll your eyes playfully.

“No..”

You simply say, once again as you feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment. She lets out a disappointed hum.

“Shame. Because if you were.. I was going to suggest that we go into the back room and take your mind off of my hands for a little bit.. And put my hands on something else…”

Agatha implies suggestively, your eyebrows shoot up and your eyes widen at her suggestion.

“With everyone in the next room?!”

You hiss at her in surprise, terrified that someone was going to walk in on your conversation, let alone catch the two of you in the act. She shrugs, indifferent.

“Two rooms over.”

You watch for a moment as she slowly saunters over to the next door, leaning against it with her back to push it open and hold it ajar for a moment. She raises her wrist, shrugging down her sleeve to check her watch as two strands of her curly brown hair fall over her features, blue eyes lidded as she looks down.

“Eight minutes..”

She trails off suggestively, and that’s all you need to remind yourself this isn’t a daydream as you run after her, following her into the dingy little storage room.

The door falls shut. It’s dark, and you’re about to start groping around for a light when suddenly a warm orange glow fills the room with a little click as Agatha pulls on the string hanging from the lightbulb on the ceiling. 

The room is filled with random boxes and equipment piled up and leaning on the walls, and conveniently- a worn, plush, yellow chair that used to sit out in the main room. You raise an eyebrow at Agatha as she plops herself into it, leaning back and spreading her legs as she leans one arm on the armrest, the other coming up to her mouth as she bites one of her gaudy rings.

Her hair is piled on top of her head, two strings of hair hanging in her face. Her coat is unbuttoned and fanning to the sides as the purple fabric of her nice dress pants stretch around her soft thighs perfectly.

She’s smirking around the ring she’s biting, eyebrow quirked curiously as she gazes up at you with her mischievous blue eyes. Agatha pats her thigh invitingly.

“Come have a seat, baby.”

You could’ve melted into the ground right then and there.

You’re sure you look a lot less put together and sexy as she does as you basically scramble to jump into her lap, your knees sinking into the plush cushion of the chair as you straddle her thighs. She smiles warmly up at you, humming happily as a hand comes up to rest on your waist.

“Good girl..”

Agatha praises, looking up to meet your gaze as she trails a hand up your waist lovingly. Her other hand comes up to stroke at your thigh, sliding slightly up under the hem of your skirt. Your breath hitches in your throat.

She raises the hand from your waist, fingers curling around the back of your neck as her thumb caresses your cheek… The cold of her rings digging into your skin. You lean into the feeling.

“C’mere..”

Agatha speaks softly as she pulls you down to meet her lips, your eyes fluttering closed as her soft lips move against yours. You hum into the kiss, raising your hands to rest on her shoulders.

She runs her hand further up your skirt, her soft skin smoothing over your hips and across your ass as she squeezes the plush skin lovingly. Your hands caress the exposed skin of her neck, toying with the loose hairs hanging from her bun.

Her warm hands run along the line of your lacy underwear, tracing back up over your hips, then down between your legs. Your breath hitches, breaking the kiss as a soft, breathy moan escapes your lips when her fingers trail downwards and start to grind her fingers up against your center. Gently she presses her fingers up against you, and you rock against her, little sighs of pleasure falling past your lips. Agatha’s eyes are lidded, but fixated on your features, her gaze flickering to your lips and her smile quirking upwards just the littlest bit every time you let out a desperate noise. 

“You make the prettiest noises, angel..”

Agatha whispers against your skin as she starts to leave lingering kisses along the exposed skin of your neck. You raise your hand to cradle the back of her head as she presses her fingers into you more firmly, your hips rolling against her hand desperately as you toy with her hair.

“Mmm.. Ag’s, please.”

You plead into her hair, all you can focus on is the sparks of pleasure you’re receiving, just enough to keep working you up but not get you anywhere. Your features twist in frustration.

“What’s wrong baby, is this not enough?”

Leaning back, you notice the taunting smirk etched onto her lips. You narrow your eyes at her, unable to help the little pout that overtakes you.

“Please.. We don’t have a lot of time..”

Agatha hums in thought, moving her hand that was cradling your neck to wrap around your jaw. The metal of her rings have heated against your skin, and it feels good to have them bite into your cheek just a little bit as you press back against her hand.

“Oh, sweet pea, I know you can do better than that.”

She quirks an expectant brow at you and you know what you have to do.

“Please… Agatha I- I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and how good you are with your hands... I’m so desperate for it.. Mommy, please, I need you..”

You do your best to pour your heart out, knowing you sound like a scrambling mess, but also knowing Agatha loves it when you sound that way. When you're desperate and keening for her, and she always melts when you call her Mommy. You know her weakness just like she knows yours.

You were right because you can feel the air around her shift a little bit, her lips hanging open and blue eyes clouded with desire as she looks up at you.

“Such a good girl, baby..”

Agatha says lowly, crashing her lips onto yours one more time in a desperate, frantic kiss before she pulls back, splaying her fingers out as she makes a show of taking off her rings. Your eyes drop to her hands.

She pinches her fingers around one, twisting it to the side as she slowly drags it off of her long fingers before setting it on the armrest to her right. She repeats the action over and over, until a little line of rings is forming.

Once she has her dominant hand free of rings except for one, you grab her wrist shyly.

“Here.. Let me help..”

Agatha gazes up at you curiously as she waits to see what you’re going to do.

You carefully bend her fingers so that they’re all curling in towards her palm, her pointer finger the only one sticking out. You raise her hand to your mouth, biting down softly onto the chunky metal ring pressed down to her knuckle, and using your teeth, you slowly pull it off of her finger, dragging your tongue along her soft skin as you do.

She watches you intently, eyes locked onto your movements. When it’s off of her finger, you raise your head and take it from your mouth, placing it with her other rings, completing the little line. Agatha’s staring up at you with parted lips and a wide smile.

“Well, that was insanely hot..”

She says breathlessly before pulling you down to kiss her again, your lips melding as you moan into her mouth. You don’t think you could ever get tired of how good her smooth, warm mouth feels against your own as she claims you, quickly taking control of the kiss. You also don’t think you could ever get sick of her taking what she wants from you, because you’ll gladly give her anything and everything you can.

Agatha’s hand starts to travel up the plush inside of your thigh, running her fingers over your skin lovingly as she reaches your center once again. Pulling your underwear aside, you gasp against her lips as she runs her fingers through your wet folds, softly parting you and gathering your arousal on her fingertips before finding your clit.

“Oh my poor girl.. You really were so worked up just from looking at my hands and imagining what I could do to you with them, hm?”

She asks you with such a cocky grin on her face. You moan softly, desperately as she toys with you, experimentally drawing patterns over your clit before dragging her fingers back to your soaked entrance.

“Ohhh, oh yes…”

You let out a long moan as she gently, carefully eases one finger into you. She’s smirking up at you, leaning down to press sweet, wet kisses into your neck as she starts to move, experimentally, getting you used to her touches before she can really fuck you.

“I’ve really got a hold on you, don’t I?”

She speaks against your skin, shifting forward a bit as she carefully slips another finger into you, and you moan at the stretch. She curls them with every thrust, the pads of her long fingers brushing against your sweet spot with precision. You brace yourself, mouth falling open in a silent moan as you curl your fingers around the top of the chair, gripping it tightly as you begin to feel your orgasm building, tension winding in your abdomen.

“Haa.. Oh, yes, Ag’s.. You do, more than you know.. You’re my everything..”

You pant out desperately, the rough fabric of the old chair scratching your knees but you don’t care. Being the center of Agatha’s attention, being touched by her like this, is the most important thing in your world. It’s all you want and you’ll savor every moment of it. Rugburn can be a future you problem, and you won’t regret it one bit. You know you’ll smile at your scraped up knees when the injuries remind you of how you got them.

“Am I now?”

She has that taunting tone to her voice that you fear but also adore so much at the same time. You hum in agreement, nodding your head in affirmation as your eyes pinch shut, an overwhelming amount of pleasure starting to make you slip and lose control of your senses as she keeps working at your center.

“Oh- Shit!”

You gasp out a bit louder than intended, throwing your head back when you feel the familiar sensation on your clit- her magic pressing into your sensitive nub has you digging your teeth into your bottom lip hard.

“Please, baby.. Tell me more about how much you adore me..”

She ghosts her lips against your ear, working her fingers faster, lingering her thrusts so that they can curl against that sensitive spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. You don’t know how much longer you’re going to last, you can feel your legs beginning to tremble. Agatha raises a hand under your skirt so that she can fondly caress your hip, her fingers savoring the soft feeling of your skin under her hand. You love her warm hand pressed against you, and the metal of her rings against your skin.

You’re letting out short and desperate moans of pleasure as you attempt to speak. You try to form a coherent sentence, but fail.

“You’re everything to me, Agatha… God.. Oh my God, you’re so perfect.. So beautiful… So, so good to me..”

You mumble out, your thighs tensing as you desperately try to focus your attention on keeping your balance. You can’t help it, all of the stimulation is so much, you can feel yourself tumbling towards the edge as you lean against the back of the chair. Agatha plants her lips against your neck, her free hand running over every inch of exposed skin she can reach as she speeds up her movements, your hips rocking intime with every thrust of her long fingers deep into your waiting cunt. 

“Haa.. Oh, Agatha… You take such good care of me.. Ag’s.. Love you so much..”

She laughs softly against your skin, her tone laced with so much fondness and adoration.

“You can’t even form coherent sentences… I love seeing you like this.. My girl, so desperate for me and anything I’ll give… I love seeing you so wrapped around my finger..”

Agatha leans back to watch you as you become overwhelmed with the pleasure she’s giving you, to enjoy the mess she’s made of you as you desperately paw for her. You whimper out as you nod your head, feeling the pressure on your clit intensify. Your lips for a wide o, your movements becoming frantic as you rock against her hand, but her movements remain controlled and steady to guide you through your high.

“Yes! Yes I am! Yes, anything.. Anything, Ag’s..”

You babble mindlessly, your nails digging painfully hard into the soft fabric of the chair, nearly biting into the wood underneath.

“Oh! Cumming! Oooh..”

You moan out, your movements sloppy against her hand as you feel electric pleasure shoot through you. You tense up, your thighs trying to clamp shut but finding themselves unable to, so instead they just violently tremble as Agatha guides you through your orgasm, peppering sweet kisses up and down your neck, an arm wrapping around your waist to support you and a smile toying on her lips as she talks you through..

“Such a good girl for me, baby… Oh, you’re so pretty when you cum.. I could never get sick of seeing you like this.. So pretty..”

You let out a pathetic hum as you collapse and melt into her lap, your body limp and exhausted as you relax. Agatha guides you to lay against her chest as she slips her fingers out of you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you as close to her as possible. 

“Oh, sweet girl.. You did so good for me..”

She speaks into your hair, leaving little kisses along your head as she guides you to lay against her chest. You smile, burying your face into her neck, trying to take in as much of her as you can.

“Mmmm.. You also did so good for me..”

You cast her a knowing look and she grins in response.

“Happy to be of service.”

You’re desperately trying to catch your breath as Agatha lovingly runs her hands along your body, petting your hair into place, giving you little kisses wherever she can reach to help you calm down and catch your breath. You’re mushy, overflowing with love for the older woman as you wrap your arms around her middle and bury your face into her neck.

Suddenly there's an insistent knocking on the wooden door.

“Okay, lovebirds… Or horndogs.. We’ve been waiting on you two for twenty minutes. Make yourself decent and come on out.”

Rio’s familiar voice calls from the other side of the door, agitation lacing every word.. You groan out, embarrassed as Agatha laughs.

[mosaickiwi]

Hi again! Hope you've been doing okay!

First off I just wanna say that you always deliver, I mean "Fall Unto Me"?? Four part+an epilogue of me being torn between wanting to baul my eyes out and wanting to melt into a puddle from the feels :')

But as for the request, could I ask for Angel and [REDACTED] redecorating his appartment? Getting rid of the gaudy furniture once and for all!

Don't forget to drink water and take breaks whenever you need to! My brain is also 105% filled with this skrunkly but the trick is to keep two neurons in a cell reserved for this >:] /silly

HEHE I’ve been ok! Hope you are too!! <3 thank u for appreciating my (deranged) brainrotting fic c: the suffering is my favorite part. I’m drinking lots of water cause summer hates my ass. 💖 Also sorry this is long I am clearly not winning at the "be normal" challenge.

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Redecorating

“This one?”

The dark haired man peered at the laptop in your hands for a long moment. “It's… nice.”

“Yes…? You called the last three couches nice, too. Any other thoughts?” You gently goaded your partner.

Choosing new furniture with [REDACTED] was supposed to be easy. You'd pick something, and he'd agree. Except you wanted it to feel like home for both of you. He didn't have to say the mushy, obvious line: as long as you were there, it was home. So progress was challenging with some things. You were sitting together on the current couch—the ugly, lifeless one that came with his apartment for some reason. 

His brow crinkled as he searched for different words. Those soft blue eyes went back and forth across the screen until he said, “It’s cozy yet functional.”

“Did you just summarize the description to me?”

He confessed to the crime with a sigh. “Angel, all I think when I look at it is you. And how cute you'd look sitting on it. Like y’do right now.”

“I'm always cute. Focus on the couch, please. Not me,” you insisted.

“No promises.”

“Let's see…” You had to find some way to get through to them. An idea came to mind that you knew he wouldn't like very much, but you had to try. “Pretend we're not dating. Or maybe I don't exist? You come home—don't make that face! I said pretend—so, you come home after a very terrible day and you see this couch. Is it nice then?”

[REDACTED] still made that face as he answered you. “Annoying as fuck to clean.”

It was progress. You didn't want to dwell on why that would be what they thought about after getting home. “Did the first one I showed you seem annoying to clean?”

“Mm... a bit.” They reached forward to change the webpage back for another look. “Y’never showed me these.” 

You leaned over to see what he was talking about. There were a few humongous bean bag chairs on the furniture wish list you’d made. “I just thought they looked fun to take a nap in. But I’m not sure we’d both fit, so it’d be silly," you explained and tapped the mouse to continue skimming through your other selections. “We can think about the couch later. I found some wall art that doesn’t look like it came from a dentist’s office.”

His eyes carefully followed the scrolling page until the bean bags disappeared at the bottom of the screen, but he didn’t protest.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

The new furniture had arrived—and been efficiently assembled by your boyfriend, despite your protest—while you were at the library, so you were excited to get home. [REDACTED] held one hand over your eyes as he unlocked the apartment’s door.

“I already know what all the furniture looks like, Ren.” Even so, you didn’t wave their hand away.

You could hear the door click as he guided you into the foyer. “I may have added a few extra things,” he hummed while you blindly struggled and failed to take off your shoes. “Actually… close your eyes f’me.”

“O—kayy?!” Just as you closed your eyes the floor slipped away under you, replaced by familiar arms cradling you to their chest. His quiet footsteps barely echoed against the marble as you got your wits about you. The living room wasn’t that far, so you were certain where he took you without seeing anything. You just didn’t know where exactly in the room.

They turned and came to a stop, rooted in place for a moment as if thinking to themself. “Y’gonna scream if I drop you?” 

“...Yes. Maybe.”

Without another word he let go. There wasn’t enough time to scream as you immediately landed against plush fabric with the faint crinkle of something below it. The fabric crinkled some more as you felt your shoes being taken off.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” you asked. You could already tell what one of the ‘extra things’ was. It felt like heaven.

“Sure, love.” Their voice was a little farther away than you expected. Probably from hurrying to put your shoes in the closet.

You found yourself nestled on one side of the room, with a perfect view of his handiwork.

A couch that was easy to clean, in a color you insisted he decide on, draped with a luxurious looking blanket that wasn’t in your list. A coffee table with rounded corners so they wouldn’t keep hitting their leg on it. Some wall art of Attack on Giants—with extra pieces from a show you sort of recognized, but definitely suited the man's tastes. A few shelves to show off merchandise from another of your favorites. And the enormous, navy blue bean bag he’d so rudely dropped you in moments ago.

Your darling hacker stepped in from the foyer and tossed their hoodie onto the new couch. “Everything good?” he asked, piercings pulling up in a smile.

“I think I love it.” Your eyes scanned the room again and eventually landed on the pictures. “And I love that you added your own stuff.” It didn’t seem to be a clone of your apartment that he just happened to live in, like you worried about. “What about you?”

“S’better than before. ‘Course, the best part is that I don’t have t’see some shitty couch when I open the door—I get to come home to you, trapped in a bean bag.” He stood up and walked over, eyeing you playfully from above. “Comfortable?”

You nodded, then immediately yelped when he fell forwards. Just before you were squished, he caught himself on tattooed arms, caging you in the crinkly, soft material. You only felt some of their weight on you like a heavy blanket. A soft laugh slipped past your lips as he got comfortable himself, clinging to you as best he could while you both sank further into the depths of the bean bag. It’d be impossible to get out.

You wiggled your legs, straining to even find the damn floor. No doubt a futile effort, you had to sigh, “At least we both fit on it."

[REDACTED] didn’t speak, already yawning from the exhaustion of setting everything up before meeting you at work. The walk to and from the library certainly didn’t do him any favors, either. In a matter of seconds, he was fast asleep in what surely felt akin to a nest, all four lanky limbs wrapped around you like a snake.

[charliemwrites]

I had a BRAIN BLAST on the way home today. So!

In the category of Readers Who Get To Do What They Want:

(CW for dark Simon, johnny, and “reader” with unhealthy relationship dynamics, gaslighting - not from who you suspect - and threats of violence)

A pair of identical twins who are basically opposites from birth. Twin 1 is obviously favored by their parents for being the “easy” twin that tries to appease them and keep the peace. Twin 2 a little hellion from birth, they think this kid is basically broken. Try to test for psychopathy but nope, their own kid has just picked up on the accidental favoritism from birth and just seems to dislike their own parents. But they still love their twin.

The twins grow up as complete opposites. Different social circles, hobbies, interests, clothes, attitudes. They’re incredibly close, but twin 2 will (and has) gotten violent on twin 1’s behalf because their parents are raising them to be “well behaved”.

By teen years, twin 2 is being sent to the countryside most summers to be handled by the grandparents. (Jokes on them, farmlife is nice and the grandparents aren’t exactly strict - mostly because twin 2 actually likes them and doesn’t see much need to rebel).

Meanwhile twin 1 is doing summer programs and learning arts, developing this intense aversion to conflict and has trouble standing up for themself. Especially without twin 2 there to lean on.

Come university, their parents insist on twin 1 staying close by for uni, essentially make the choice for them. Twin 2 decides to ship out of the country and plans on breaking off all contact. (Maybe due to some sort of unforgivable drama at the grandparents’ funeral?)

Before leaving, twin 2 gives twin 1 a burner phone with one number programmed in. Promises that if twin 1 ever needs to disappear, to be free of it all, they can call and twin 2 will be there in a heartbeat with bolt cutters for those chains. And then they just sort of… disappear.

Twin 1 doesn’t see them for *years*. Never uses that phone but keeps it.

So twin 1 lives their quaint pre-determined life with their acceptable job and it’s all mostly okay. Not bad at all. Quiet, if lackluster.

And then Simon comes along. Simon, who takes one look at this little angel and decides they have to be his. Theyre too good, too soft, unable to take care of themselves properly in this big scary world. And after all he’s suffered, doesn’t he deserve something sweet to protect? And hell, Johnny could use a kind touch every now and then too.

So he “seduces” twin 1 (aka, the dark!Simon move of just deciding someone is his and acting like it whether they like it or not). Manipulates them into stepping right into their own collar and leash, with him at the other end.

It’s too late by the time Twin 1 realizes what they’ve become - this man’s pretty pet. An agreeable little doll for him and his teammate to play house with. It’s not always bad, but it’s suffocating and scary. They feel trapped; they are.

It takes months until they get enough privacy to dig the old phone out of the place they nearly forgot about it.

Twin 2 picks up on the third ring.

In the intervening years, twin 2 has gotten into all sorts of trouble and mayhem. Become the demon their parents always accused them of being. Has, somehow along the way, joined up with KorTac and gotten all their files scrubbed. “Twin 2” no longer exists to the world at large. Nothing that anyone, even Kate Laswell, could dig up.

They get the call from their twin and break their contract on the spot. Get on a flight within hours. Sneak their twin out of the homey prison they’ve been locked up in.

Take twin 1 to a sunny, public cafe and get the story through their sibling’s nervous stuttering. Gets angrier and angrier with the more they hear, eyes fixated on the thin leather collar around their twin’s throat.

“Please just… I know it’s selfish and I’m sorry, but-”

Twin 2 already has a plan. They have a quiet, cozy cabin with comfortable funds in a rural part of Canada. Twin 1 will go there, rest and recover and be free. Twin 2 will take their place with Simon and Johnny to throw off suspicion and searches.

The scars from living the life they have? No worries. twin 2 will stage a car accident, reopen some of them to make it seem legit. Lie about head trauma to account for any lapses in their twin 1 act.

It’s decided within three hours. Twin 2 sends their sibling off to the airport and sets everything into motion. They’ve been dying to do something like this for years, after all the times their sibling stuck by their side and tried to stick up to them, to no avail.

Twin 2 instantly hates that fucking collar. Lets Simon put it on but not without the most dark look at the wall, thinking of all the ways to break his hands. Fingers twitching by their side.

The boys sit them down to watch scary movies because they always think it’s fun to spook twin 1 and fuck them while they’re all tense and shivery and but twin 2 is just watching, almost bored. Makes a few attempts to fake jump but keeps forgetting because all their focus is on not slamming a hand into someone’s dick for grinding on them.

Pretends to be asleep in the big bed they’ve been herded into when they kick Johnny or Simon off in the middle of the night. Purposefully aims for soft spots and bruises.

They try to act like twin 1 for a bit but the persona is so difficult to keep up when every little condescending comment from Simon or Johnny makes them want to start stabbing. The inside of their mouth is all torn up from biting onto their cheek and running their tongue over their teeth to resists snarling and snapping.

One day they’re going to snap… and it’s going to be so good to see these bastards bleed.

[misserabella]

okay hear me out abby x tattoo artist reader!!

okay hear me out 🩷 (so much fluff!!)

tattoo love

abby anderson x fem! reader

abby who is just starting to get her tattoos years after finally getting into medicine. (she’s become a re known surgeon and so her skills finally being recognized, she doesn’t need to keep ‘images’, so after years of suffering and hard work she finally gets her first tattoo appointment’)

abby who, mindlessly scrolling though instagram, finds your account and falls in love with how beautiful you tattoo and decides that if she’s going to get a tattoo her first should be yours.

abby the pretty girl that hits you up with a ‘hey! i just wanted to say that i really love your art and was wondering if i could book an appointment with you! :)’

abby who smiles widely when you hit her back with a ‘sure! what are you looking for? :)’

abby who sends you pictures of little tattoos that her friend ellie had made for her and quotes that she loves with which she would like to do a sleeve. minimalistic, all black and white and small. she even had one for her mother, who had sadly passed away years prior.

abby who blushes when you tell her that the artwork is beautiful and that she’s really brave to go all in due to this being her first time being tattooed.

abby the nervous wreck who keeps spacing out during work due to how excited she is.

abby the tall pretty blonde that sits on your waiting area for you to finish your prior appointment to go inside.

abby the intelligent surgeon who flushes when she sees you, all smiles and pretty with skin littered in tattoos.

abby the clumsy mess that makes an scene when you call out for her and she quickly sits up, hitting the center table on her way to you and making the magazines on top of it fall to the floor.

abby the apologizing wreck who can’t stop saying sorry as she kneels and starts to pick them up, cheeks, neck and ears going all red when you help her and your hands meet. shit. was she a fucking teenager?

abby, the amazing surgeon that forgets how breathing works when you smile at her. where were the lungs again?

abby, who sits silently, with wide puppy eyes as you explain everything that will happen during then session, show her everything you’ll be using and their function. you were like a surgeon, but for tattoos. and she liked that.

abby, who listens to you as you try and distract her from being nervous as you get everything ready by showing her some of your art and who silently thanks you for doing so.

abby, who realized it doesn’t hurt that bad and joins into a soft easy conversation with you.

abby, who you learn about a lot in that hour and a half —you two had accorded on meeting up the next day to finish up her sleeve—. by the end of the session you know that she’s a general surgeon, that her mother passed very early on her life, that her father is the most important person in her life, that she also has a dog name alice and that she really loves snow drops and lilies.

abby anderson, who can’t wait to meet you again and ends up laying awake all night, ending up slightly dozing off on the second appointment. of course you didn’t tell her, you didn’t mind. she looked so adorable with her pretty blue eyes all droopy in sleep…

abby_anderson, who posts you to her instagram stories once her sleeve is complete and who you end up following that same night ‘cause… maybe you found her too cute for your own good.

abby_anderson, account that you spend eyeing for hours. she seemed to really love hitting the gym, finding time to go every morning early before her shifts. and she was…, hot. her muscles were huge. you found so cute how gentle she was compared to her exterior, all scary and strong. she also posted about books she’d read, and films she’d watch with her friends.

abigail, better known as abby, who hits you up a few days later telling you how happy she is with the result of your work and how she’d love to invite you to a cup of coffee to thank you. you of course said yes.

abby the blushing mess that takes you for a walk on the park, buys you coffee and with who you spend the whole day talking and walking around, going for dinner that same night. also the flushed wreck that asks you if it’d be okay to meet up with you again.

abby, the gentle general surgeon that texts you in between shifts and in her free time and that cups your cheeks and softly kisses you under the stars on your third date.

abby anderson, with who you now lived and with who you’re two years in in the most perfect and beautiful relationship you’ve ever had.

and all because of a tattoo.

-

a/n; so cute :(

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Coupling

Rating: Explicit | Warnings: None

art by @/JackThePeeper on tumblr and twt | Ao3 crosspost

“Come now, human. Make yourself useful.”

It is no surprise he takes control of the situation by commanding you. Orders are easy to give, easy to follow, they do not require you to think as all thinking is done for you. This he knows you will appreciate given the situation.

This arrangement has been weeks in planning; though on his side he spent months gathering the necessary information for this. It is only natural for a human to want intimacy, it is a basic need that can range from mental to physical connections. Ramattra is aware that you are discovering these needs, learning about yourself beyond the armor your consciousness can connect to. You know only of metal, killing, and the code that binds you to honor.

You find comfort in compliance, in how you knee between his open warming legs, your hands lacking experience as you take his cock and grasp it. It obviously is modeled after a silicone dildo, you are fascinated by the attention to detail to be pleasurable to the person receiving insertion... Will he enjoy this too?

“Gentle, this is no sword to wield.” His even tone keeps you from acting out of your character. You do not shy away yet you want to as you lack skill in this field.

“One hand will be enough. The rest you will use your mouth.”

Orders. You follow them to the letter as you use your mouth to take in what you can, pushing yourself to take more even when it makes tears build up at the corner of your eyes, your hand moving up and down.

“You have no practice with this sort of task.” Ramattra is not saying it as an insult but rather an observation, it is no surprise. Ramattra has never coupled with a human, the few videos he watched with omnic and human enacting sexual actions were… Limited. He has to guess the rest and create the purple silicone cock. It is optional for both himself and you, though seeing you struggle to take over half of it makes him consider reducing its size.

“Does it feel good for you?” You ask while gathering your breath. You heard the pick up of his fans, the static of his voice module as you believed he groaned, but you had to be sure.

“It does. You require practice but this is enough to lubricant me.”

You nod as you stand up and undress. There is nothing sexy about how you undress, it is only efficient and carefully folded on the floor. Ramattra can see the many scars, some old and some new, it is a reminder you know nothing but suffering. Forced to be a soldier and then tossed away when there was no use for you. Ramattra knows well your mannerisms in the years you have been around him, though you stand before him bare and at attention as if for inspiration, your eyes are looking away as his fingers touch your scars. He had caused some of these when the two of you were enemies— Strange how you told him you did not see him as an enemy but an opponent as enemies implies an emotional component. You held no hate towards him, you found yourself more often agreeing with him.

“I apologize for not maintaining a more desirable skin.”

“This is desirable, (Name).” Ramattra is quick to tell you. “Do you enjoy this?”

You nod slowly as one hand, his thumb, rubbing and flicking your nipple, “... May you… Hold me?” Being touched is… Different. You are not sure if you want to stop or keep coming, but you know you need him to hold you. Ramattra stops to allow you to join him on the bed with your back against his chest, his cock rubbing your ass. “Continue.” Soft, nervous, your hands grip his thighs as he guides you to open your legs. It is strange the vulnerability of this, it has your heart racing yet the way Ramattra touches you with extreme care as if you are made of glass makes you feel… Loved.

Weapon to weapon, he had thought you to be a new type of omnic made to fight for human masters. One that bled, a semi-organic robot. No, your warframe is part of you, the way a sword is viewed as an extension of the wielder. Using what is called Transference to dream of not what you are but what you can be. A weapon forged from childhood, forced to slumber and dream of killing.

There is a saying ‘Misery loves company’, Ramattra found the shared misery a comfort and you used it to build a bridge between him and you.

Your moans are not loud, they are breathless and pitchy at times but not loud. The stickiness between your legs as you shiver as he keeps going until you are struggling to handle the force of your orgasm. It is like a storm wrecking everything in its path, Ramattra delights in the display as he guides you through it until you slump against him looking completely ruined.

There is more to be done, more to explore and experience, you feel on fire and eager with newfound fascination. You appreciate Ramattra's patience and how he turns you around to face him, he is careful and yet makes sure not to be so gentle you will complain. You groan when his hold is firm, you tell him while high on endorphins that you want his mark all over you. You kiss his face plate, grip the back of his shoulders, bottom lifted as he positions you. His fingers did well in preparing you, he made sure to research human anatomy just for you and how to make a first-time experience pleasant, there is no pain though there is the oddness of being filled in a unique manner.

Is this what it means to be connected? To find the matching piece of your soul? You might cry if you continue thinking about it, you tell him to move with clear fascination in your voice. The wonderment of being made for another, you feel made for Ramattra. It is an honor adding to the pleasure shared, your voice louder inspiring him to lay you down on your back.

“Ramattra,” His hand pinning both your wrists above your head, “More, Stars, more.” You want every inch of him a part of you, if possible to link with him using the Transference— Yet you know doing so is impossible and invasive for him, you would not mind him within your mind.

The pace is faster, metal on flesh, the ambiance of his fans and voice along with your rising voice and skin is something you envy him to be able to record. To capture everything with accuracy rather than emotional alterations, you do not want to forget. You want to do this every day until it is imprinted onto your very being.

You do not last long, you take note to work on that, as your orgasm has you writhing and calling out the only being that matters in this moment. Ramattra takes a bit longer as he has gone through every possible outcome and adjusted to adapt to be satisfying in bed. Oh, he is proud of himself to have you a mess under him, other positions taken to see how far he can go until your mind is broken. His systems are quick to regulate as your body starts building up the bioelectricity, without your Volt frame you could burn the bed. Ramattra can handle the low-grade shock but the bed cannot. He eases you to calm down, to grip him as he has you now laying on your side facing him with your leg hooked over his waist.

The warning message, static, your spark is edging him to an end he is trying to avoid, he wants to prolong this for a moment longer. But he is not given it as your third release has both you and him fall to darkness.

You wake in another room staring out a window overlooking a city then realize you are in your warframe in the workshop. It is embarrassing that you blackout so hard you are linked to your frame. It is not hard to go back to your physical body, which is done after placing the warframe in a meditation pose, you are just flustered.

Waking yourself back in your physical body and being heavily aware of the position has you sore primarily in your legs. Not to mention the synthetic cum inside of you is dipping out of you as Ramattra's cock returns to its sheathe. You hate having to move as you find this like moving after an intense sparring sensation with Genji. You at least can say you feel happy, you hope Ramattra does too or at least relaxed. Moving his body is rather humorous as he had shut down completely, yet it is emotional as he is completely vulnerable. You sit on the bed watching his body start to reboot, eyes following the sounds of his systems then at his face plate as the lights on his head glow then his optics making sounds of adjustments.

“(Name).” Seeing you watching and then smiling at him.

“Are you well?”

“A question I should be asking you,” He remains lying down as his body needs to do a scan after your electrical shock and orgasm have overloaded him. “I will be fine in a moment.”

“I am well,” Then you shake your head realizing that was very formal sounding, “I enjoyed it.”

“As did I.”

“It would probably be best to do this with the frame next time to reduce likely short circuits.”

Silence then Ramattra speaks up, “Your frame has the capability to—”

“No! Uh… Not at first… I modified it in case you would find our coupling more…Pleasurable that way.”

Ramattra had not thought to use your warframe given the way you used it only for combat, a mindset for battle you slip into. Here he had made his anatomical adjustments and so did you. “Only if you wish to do so. This however is preferable.” His hand comes up to cup the side of your face that you tilt your head towards with appreciation.

[msbunnat]

I'm quite new to the story of Ganymede and you look like the type of person who is very well written with it. What's his whole thing with Zeus?

I am... I love Ganymede and I have look on a lot of things about him, but I'm not any type of scholar or a specialist, I just love him and want to use him for also my art, as a tool for me to explore a lot of personal things too.

But, lets go!

In resume, Ganymede's myth is: He was a prince of Troy and his beauty was so stuning that the gods decided to take him from the mortal realm and he became the cupbeard of Zeus. He become imortal and have eternal youth.

Now, most versions say it was Zeus that choose him, other say it was like a colective decision and the reason can be two: He cant be in the mortal realm because he is to beautiful or the gods just wanted a new cupbeard and he just stand out at the moment. After that we have versions saying that Zeus was the one that Kidnapping him, or his eagle Aetos (but some we just dont know who took Ganymede). Not long after there re a lot of versions saying that Zeus fell for him, and their relationship is based on pederasty. Some more 'recent' mentions rape and there re a lot of artists exploring Ganymede suffering in the aspect that he was probably a child (12 - 18 years).

The end of the myth is really blurry... Some say he just stayed as a cupbeard, others he became the aquarius constelation. His family have a big role on the myth, as they re so sad and obviosly pissed for losting his son and brother, that some versions metion as the constelation was a way to Zeus calm them to know that his son is ok (but will never come back), when its not the constelation, Zeus give them magical horses (probably sons of poseidon or hermes - not sure). I have found one saying the family 'recive' both the constelation and the horses. There re also metions of Ganymede turning into a god of homo love, and he join Eros 'love army' the erotes.

Zeus have his fame, and dosent matter the version, Ganymede was kidnnaped, so we have some easy conclusions of abuse if they have a relationship. Basicaly there is not a set answer for their relationship, its a open field to a lot of things.

This myth is intrestily short and kinda obscure. But its well know as the myth of the only male lover of Zeus. (Plato was a big shippes of them kkkkk - just remember it was a different time and the social rules didnt see an adult and a teen have relations as bad as today).

Some funny things: Ganymede is pratically the only mortal non hero that goes to Olympus and kinda became god. His family is one of the only that recive a 'satisfaction' from the gods - like most kidnapped victims just come back or they desapear/die and the family dont have any information after (this makes me interpret this myth as one of the firsts ways to soft the lost of a young son to death, saying he actually was taken by the gods and not by death). And the cupbeard job was one of the highest, like, Zeus is almost always with a comitive (?) of six/five gods that serve him, and serving food is so important for Xenia and a trust job cause you can poison someone so high rancking.

I really like all that can come from this myth. I like the suffering view, the death of young beauty interpretation, the body horror of becaming immortal, explore Zeus and Hera with his 'lover' so close, explore abuse, expore others sides of Zeus (thanks to some rage comments, I end up learning so much about him, its a shame how he is descharacterized)... But mostly I love when Ganymede have a personality (this is the thing I care most and am affraid to do a terrible job in the comic kkkk) this boy is like a blanck page with so many mistery as we know almost nothing about him, just his family and his beauty... (ok, we have some mentions of him playing with Eros and him on the trojan war asking Zeus to help the trojans, but its SO LITTLE! I NEED MORE!!).

*sorry about my english, I'm tired to correct any word for now... -w-

Edit: I think its good to say that myths, tales, all this little stories are mean to be vague and metaphorical. That is why we cant say anything as a fact, but as the most stablished storyline. That is also why we can mold it to our taste and propuse, by that I mean all takes/fanfics/reimaginations wahtever, all of them re valid ways to explore and mantain our human culture alive.

[codfanficedits]

Final Goodbye - Full version.

Pairing: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick & Reader

Summary: You are Death, guiding the men to the afterlife.

Wordcount: 12,467 | Rating: M (18+ only!)

Warnings: MW3 SPOILERS - Suicide - Selfharm and grieving.

A/N: Different colours to identify dialogue better. Gave John a little backstory.

Being the reaper was a work of art on its own. It was your duty to guide the souls whose time was up to the afterlife, and you had made it your personal mission to make sure that as little as possible souls would cross to the afterlife scared. After all, death doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints.

As a result you had to divide yourself, as an immortal being that was an easy thing to do. Being everywhere at once, yet being nowhere at the same time.

You had the taskforce in your sight for a while now. Four elite soldiers going on missions, you almost had your work cut out for you. But they were good, good enough to keep you lurking in the shadows, for now.

Some of them had come close, close enough to dance the dance of death with you, only to be granted a little more time. John “Soap” MacTavish being one of them. There had been plenty of moments where you had held his hands already, almost revealing your true form before he got pulled away from your grasp.

Life enjoyed playing tricks with you, with death. But it was what humans needed, a little reminder of their mortality so they could enjoy their life again.

And so here you were. You had been following John for a little while now, sensing that his time would be up again. And it was special so to say to follow him around, for every life he took, you would see a version of yourself pop up, taking the life he had claimed to the afterlife, only for that version of yourself to fade again, the very fragments of your soul being scattered around the world in an attempt to make the experience of death a more pleasant one than the experience of being alive. Not that you succeeded all the time. Sometimes you had to guide lives who deserved to live for another fifty years, sometimes the souls were terrified, and sometimes they were waiting for you, as old friends finally meeting up again. It could be a cruel world, but you weren’t there to judge. Humans had free will, and you could not interfere with it.

John’s death happened quick. Too quick for your liking. You preferred it when it took a little time. Not that you liked the suffering of the souls, no, of course not. But it was the best for all whenever a soul was at peace with their death. And John certainly was not.

“What the fuck?” He scolded. “Why the fuck can’t I grab my fucking weapon?”

“What kind of bullshit is this? Cap’n are you seeing thi-“ His sentence cutting short.

Oh you had seen this film before, and you never liked the ending. The look of despair when they see their body lying on the ground.

“No. No! Nonononono.” There it was.

Time seems to be standing still when reality seeps into his brain, his hand reaching out to his limp body on the ground, but he goes straight through it. A look of confusion, pain, anger, sadness when he can see his teammates continue the mission he couldn’t finish. He sees them disarm the bomb, he sees his best friend, Simon, kneel by his body, frantically looking for a pulse.

“I’m here!” John yells, waving his arms in front of Simon’s face, but it is no use, John no longer belongs to the earth, nor does he belong to the afterlife yet. He is in your realm, your limbo and you are the only one who can grand him the freedom of moving on.

“Simon! I am here!” He yells again, but he is meet with the empty eyes of his best friend, and a soft. “No pulse.”

“Hello.”

Your voice snaps him out of it. “Who the fuck are you?”

But it should be clear, the big, dark, black cloak hiding you, hiding your face. “I am Death.”

“I have died?”

“Afraid so.”

“That is a whole lot of bullshit. Can’t you turn it back or something?”

“No.”

You give him the time to process what had happened, what is happening, and what is about to happen.

“So, what now?” He asks, a hand running through his mohawk, his eyes shifting back to his dead body again.

“That depends.” You answer. “Are you ready to move on yet?” Normally you wouldn’t give the souls a choice, no normally you would guide them to the afterlife, maybe have a little small talk, but there was something inside of you telling you this death would stir up some things. So you decided to give him the choice.

“No.” His answer is quick, and you can tell he didn’t think about it.

“Why not?”

“There are so many thing that I still need to do.”

“You know you can’t do them now, right? You are death, you no longer possess your own body, everything you say, or do, is not visible in the human world.” Sometimes you have to be blunt in order to get your point across.

“Oh.”

“So I ask you again. Are you ready to move on?”

“No.”

“Give me a reason.”

John’s gaze shifts to the three men standing over his body, the pain in their eyes is visible and it is undeniable that they had a strong bond, something more than just coworkers. And their pain is shared, as you can see the same pain in his eyes.

“I need to know if they will be okay.”

“You can’t change anything if they won’t be okay.”

“I know, but I know they will be okay, I just need to see it with my own eyes.”

“Very well.” You answer. “You get to decide when you are ready.”

He looks up when he sees other versions of you reap the lives he and his team have taken, his brows furrow and you can tell he wants to ask you questions. Humans have always been curious creatures. “If you have something on your mind, speak up.”

“Who are those?” His fingers point at a version of you who slowly fades away.

“They are me and I am them.”

“That tells me exactly nothing.”

A soft laugh escapes you, even death this man is fearless.

“They are parts of my soul.” You explain. “I prefer to guide every soul to the afterlife personally, but with the volume of souls on this earth, I have to split myself in order to keep up.”

“And I am talking to the main version of Death?”

“That is how you could call it.”

“Does it hurt?”

“What?”

“Splitting yourself?”

“I am no mortal being, pain does not exist in my realm. So to answer your question. It does not hurt.”

His fingers go to the bullet wound in his head, his fingers trailing on the edges, before he pulls them back and looks at the blood on his fingers. “Huh. I got so caught up with this whole being dead thing, that I forgot I got shot.”

A smile forms around your lips. “You’re not the first to which that has happened.”

He is mesmerized, can you blame him? It is not every day that you meet death in person.

“If there is a death, does life exist too?”

“Yes. And Life is quite nice.”

“You’ve met them?”

“Of course, without Life I would not exist, and without me, Life would not be able to continue their creations. We dance a dance of existence together.”

“Hm.” John seems content with your answer. “Hey, can we follow L.T?”

“Simon Riley?”

“Yes.”

“Sure.” The benefit of being an immortal creature was that the law of physics and time did not apply to you, or to Johnny for that matter. “Why him, though?”

“I worry about him the most.” Johnny admitted with a shrug, a flicker of emotions in his eyes before it dies down again. “He had a fucked up life, and we had grown to be good friends, I worry he won’t take my death well.”

Oh sweet summer child, if you only knew. But you cannot interfere with the living and it is no point in telling Johnny what you know, so you keep quiet and grant his request.

“He has become my best friend in the military, you know?” Johnny breaks the silence, as you watch Simon, who at this time, doesn’t seem to feel a thing.

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

“Been watching the taskforce for a while.”

“Why?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“And you give a lot of answers. Now why were you watching us?”

“You’re soldiers. Death follows you around.”

“In the most literal sense.” He laughs at his own joke, and all you do is stare at him, blinking a few times.

“Jezus, even L.T. wasn’t as hard to crack.” He mutters.

“I worry.” John repeats. “I worry that when I died. Simon died too, and Ghost remained.”

In a sense he is not wrong. You can feel it too, the guilt that Simon carries, the hatred towards himself for letting a friend die.

“He is grieving.” You eventually say. “And while grief is a beautiful thing, it expresses itself in the most destructive ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

You can see his face shift, he understands Simon won’t cope well, and it doesn’t sit right with him. “I guess there is no way I can interfere with it, right?”

“Correct.”

“Huh.” He stays silent for a brief moment, while he watches the mission debrief going on, without him, but about him. “How does time work here?”

“I am not sure what you mean.”

“Can’t you speed up time or something? Turns out watching people gets kind of boring.”

Humans had always been impatient beings. “I can.” You say. “I can fast forward until we see Simon all by himself.”

His eyes light up, and you’ve hit the mark. “Yes, yes, I need to see how he copes.”

Alas, you grant him his wish, after all, you are death, not some cruel being.

His eyes widen as time around the two of you starts to speed up, the world moving at a faster pace while you are both the centre of it. You see his emotions shift to a sad one, he tries to hide it, but it is hard to conceal the emotions in his eyes, even for a hardened soldier. A soft sigh escapes him when he watches the sunset and you understand it. The sunsets are your favourite thing on earth too.

“It is hard to grasp that I’ll never see another sunset again.” John whispers and you can do nothing but nod. You understand, of course you do. “I just wish I would have appreciate them more while I was alive.”

“For what it is worth. You’re not the first who only appreciates the beauty of life when it is ripped away from them.”

A pained expression paints his face. “It is really the end, huh?” He mutters softly as you slow down time again. “There will be no second chances after this.”

“We are here.” You say, but you only form your sentence to get him out of his thoughts, of course he recognizes Simon’s quarters. He has been there before.

You guide him through the wall, knowing that what the both of you are about to see isn’t a pretty sight. Simon had taken his famous Ghost mask off, balaclava tossed on his bed, an empty look in his eyes, while he watches the dog tags in his hand. One of them is missing, and a smile curls around your lips when you realise where they are.

John doesn’t notice, instead he is hesitant to reach out to his friend.

“Fuck!” Simons booming voice startles John. “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” Simon is blaming himself and all that hatred needs to come out. His fists slam down on the mirror on the wall, the shards digging in to the skin on his hands, but it only fuels Simon’s anger. “It should have been me! Fucking me!”

Times like these make your job hard, while you do not understand humans all the time, you can understand their grief, their longing, their desperate attempts to cope with their loved ones being gone.

His hands clutch around the dog tag, the material reminder he has of his best friend. You know Simon wants to cry, to let out all the build up frustration, but you also know Simon is raised by violence and not by love, so he doesn’t allow himself to. Blood drips slowly from his balled fist as he takes deep breaths to calm himself down. Not that it is doing much, every time Simon catches a glimpse of himself, he is reminded of the loss that happened today.

“Is he going to be okay?” John asks.

“I don’t know.” You answer, but you know, you know what will happen, and you know it won’t be pretty, but John doesn’t need to know, not when you can see the pain on his face, the pain in his eyes. The pain in his very soul to see his friend react like this.

His breath hitches in his throat when he sees Simon looking for something, a hidden bottle of whiskey appearing from between his socks in his dresser.

“Fuck.” John’s voice is soft. “Fuck!” It isn’t as soft anymore when Simon takes the first swig.

“Are you really sure I can’t do something? Anything?”

You shake your head.

“Please, anything. I beg you.” The desperation in his voice is clear as day, he doesn’t even try to hide how he feels about his best friend drinking.

“I.. I.. I can’t see this. Simon CAN’T drink himself to death because of me, because I died, becau-“

“He doesn’t drink himself to death.”

And for John time stops again, the weight of the world falling off his shoulders. “Oh thank God.” He sighs. “I mean, thank you, thank life? What is appropriate to say?”

He doesn’t drink himself to death, it will be far worse.

“Thank God is fine.” You eventually answer.

John looks at Simon again, who keeps on drinking the whiskey as if he needs it to survive. “I’m sorry.” Simon eventually says, and John’s eyes lit up. “I’m sorry, Johnny.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” John rambles. “It wasn’t your fault. We all knew Makarov was an asshole.”

“It should’ve been me.” Simon sighs, not hearing the words his best friend so desperately wants to hear him. “You had so much things you still wanted to do, you still had a life in store.”

“Bollocks, Simon.” John tries to tell him while Simon takes another sip. “Fucking bollocks. You can make something out of your life too! We’ve talked about this.”

The nearly empty bottle gets thrown to the wall when Simon locks eyes with the dog tag again. “Fuck. I really hope that when I wake up tomorrow, you’ll still be alive, and this is all a horrible dream.”

Simon ignores the mess on the ground, he ignores the life outside of his quarters, he ignores the world that keeps on spinning, that keeps going on, while his life stopped the moment that bullet hit John. Instead he half undresses himself, slow, lazy movements, the alcohol making it hard to be precise. And he curls up in a ball, the single dog tag clutched in his hand, close to his heart, an gesture to keep his best friend close to him.

“Oh L.T. that hangover is going to hurt.” John mumbles. “And you promise he won’t drink himself to death, right?”

“I promise.”

“And I really can’t give him a sign that I am still here? Or you know, put a glass of water on his nightstand or something?”

“Afraid not.”

“I wish I could though.” John adds with a sigh, looking over the sleeping form of his friend.

“How is the rest coping?”

“You mean John and Kyle?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to see?”

His eyes light up again. “Can I?”

“Wouldn’t have said it, if you couldn’t”

“In that case, yes, yes please.”

“Who first?”

He needs to think for a brief moment, does he want to see his Captain first, or his other good friend? He isn’t as worried about them as he was about Simon, yet the decision seems an easy one.

“Kyle.”

“Very well.” You hold out your hand for him to take, taking him to the quarters of his other friend. The young man lies on his bed, above the sheets, just staring at the ceiling, tears burning in his eyes.

John needs to swallow a lump in his throat. “He’ll be fine.” Will he?

“But shit.” John continues. “I wish I had told him I was proud of him more often.”

The both of you stay quiet while Kyle rolls over to his side, facing the wall, eyes still wide open.

“He was a little younger than I was, but we had the same rank, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t become the best soldier out there. So young, yet so many achievements already.” John runs a hand through his mohawk. “I just.. I just hope he knows how proud I am of him.”

Another smile tugs around your lips, while Kyle rolls over again, it is clear that he can’t seem to get comfortable, the events of today replaying in his mind while he tries to process what happens, while he tries to find a balance between being a tough soldier, and being human.

“I want to become like you Soap, when I grow up.” Kyle mutters, before he finally closes his eyes. And you look over to John, making sure that he heard the words that left his friends lips and in that moment he looks like a proud father, the same words he had once told Simon, were now said by someone he was so proud of.

John wants to reach out, pat his friend on the shoulder and promise him everything will be okay. But he can’t and you can tell it is eating him inside. He takes a deep breath, and then another, and another.

“Okay.” He finally said. “I think I want to see the Captain now.”

“Sure.”

Once more you hold out your hand for him to take, allowing him to see his Captain.

“Oh.”

It Is not a pretty sight. Price’s phone lights up time after time, missed calls from Laswell, from Nicolai, but he doesn’t answer them, paperwork gets ignores while he smokes cigar after cigar. His way to cope with stress.

“Shit.” John curses. “I would’ve thought captain would be the least affected.”

But Price is only human, and humans grief in the worst ways possible. The taskforce had become the family he once dreamed of having, he found solace in the people around him, and losing one was always hard, especially when it was someone who was close to him. Price slams his fist on his desk, startling John.

“Makarov came for me.” The voice coming out of Price is soft, a stark contrast with the loud slamming of his fist only moments ago. “You died because you tried to help me.”

“You would’ve done the same, cap.” John answers. “You would’ve given your life to save any of us.”

Price sighs and shakes his head, his hand reaching out to grab a picture off his desk, a group picture, the four of them together.

“Fucking idiot.” Price mutters. “You should’ve never done that. I should bring you back from the death, only to kick you so hard you’ll die again.” It is almost an endearing way of coping and John can’t help but chuckle.

You give John a nudge, pointing at the dog tags Price is wearing. Instead of two, his chain has three. John’s being added after he identified the body and gave Laswell the details for the report.

John’s gaze softens as he notices. “I’ll never be far away from them.”

“Never.”

“You know what. I think they’ll be alright without me. They will learn to live again.”

You can tell he wants to tell you that he is ready to move on, but you stop him by raising your hand. “Do you want to see your final moment together?”

“Sure.”

Once again you reach out your hand for him to take, and within the blink of an eye you’re in the Scottish highlands, three adults standing by a cliff, an urn in their hands. It is almost peaceful, serene.

“Who dares wins, sleep easy soldier.” Price is the first to talk.

“See you down range, brother. We’ll take it from here.” Kyle is the second to follow.

“Rest in peace, Johnny.” Simon is the last to speak.

You and John watch Simon unscrew the lid of the urn, tilting it, allowing the ashes to dance with the wind.

“I feel… at peace.” John mentions, watching his ashes spread through the air.

He sits down on the edge of the cliff, patting down next to him, signalling you to sit next to him, and so you do.

“I want to ask something.”

“And if I can, I will answer.”

“Why do you look human? Are you human?”

“No, I am not human.”

“Then what are you?”

“I am death. I have always been death and I will always be death. However, if I choose to portray myself other than human, it will make your kind freak out even more.”

John can’t help but laugh at your words. “Truth be told, I think I would’ve freaked out to see something else than human, yes.”

His gaze falls on the beautiful scenery in front of the two of you.

“So, what happens next?”

“When you’re ready I’ll help you cross to the afterlife.” You answer.

“What is the afterlife like?”

“That depends. It is different for everyone.” You reply.

“Is there like a heaven and hell?”

“No. The afterlife is a place where your soul goes to after your body has died. Every soul gets its own realm, and there it stays, together with all the souls it loves.”

“So, does that mean I’ll see the soul of my grandmother?”

“If you loved her, yes.”

“Does that.. does that mean I’ll see Bobby again?”

“Your dog?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course.”

“I’ve missed him.”

“He knows.”

“I’m glad.”

John knows it is time for him to go, but he has to ask the question that burns within him.

“Will I see them again?”

“Eventually. I can tell your bond is strong enough for all of you to be reunited again in the afterlife.”

“I’ll wait for them.”

“And when their time has come I’ll be sure to guide them to you.”

“Thank you, Death.” For the last time John takes your hand in his. “I am ready now.”

-

Out of all three of them, Kyle had struggled the most with John’s death, or Soap, as the living men preferred to refer to him. Their silly nicknames never made much sense to you, how could John become a Soap, a Kyle become a Gaz, and a Simon become a Ghost?

 Kyle had seen Soap – John – as some sort of mentor, someone to look up to, and the fact that that person was gone, was something Kyle couldn’t grasp, something he didn’t want to grasp.

It turned out that Soap also was the glue that held the four of them together, and with him being gone, the group of soldier started to fall apart, slowly, but surely.

And all you could do was wait patiently.

So you did, waiting in the shadow after Kyle took dangerous mission after dangerous mission. Today was no exception, much to the despair of his captain. Not that that would stop Kyle. No, Kyle felt as if he had to prove himself, he wanted to make Soap proud, he wanted to make Simon proud, he wanted to make his captain proud. So much that he forgot his own mortality in the process.

And there he was, laying in the high grass, hiding from the enemy that planted a bullet into his lower abdomen.

Time for you to come into action, you had been lurking into the shadow for a while now, and just when you were ready to step out again, you saw them. Life.

“Not yet, Death.” Life’s bright voice sounds. “This one isn’t done yet.”

You can only watch while Life takes his hand into theirs, making sure Kyle can hold on until help arrives.

Life is everything Death isn’t. Where you, Death, are surrounded by sadness, despair, and darkness, Life is surrounded by joy, happiness, and light. Yet your realms seem to interfere, blend in together, not every soul is happy to be alive, and other souls deserve to live longer than the universe can grand them.

Life and Death dance around the world, leaving a trail of love and grief wherever they go.

“Gaz!” A loud voice booms over the field, his lieutenant comes running over, as fast as his legs can carry him. “Seems like you will win this round, Life.” You muse, as you watch Simon apply pressure to the wound.

“I need a medic, NOW!” Simon yells. “I can’t lose you Gaz.” He adds with a softer voice. “Not you too.”

But Kyle can’t look Simon in his eyes, not yet, right now he isn’t able to cope with the disappointment he will see in his lieutenants eyes. “I’ll be fine.” Kyle mutters with a  meek smile, and you can see Life squeeze his hand.

“Of course.” Simon agrees, because Simon doesn’t dare to think about the fact that he might lose someone he cares about again.

“You’ll be okay Gaz, I’ll make sure.” And with those words, Simon spews out what he wanted to tell to Soap.

And Kyle will be okay, Life had made sure that he escaped from your grasp for the final time. Life continued to hold Kyle’s hand until he reached the infirmary, Life didn’t let go off his hand until the first stitch was placed in the wound, letting him live until his time was up.

And you just followed, following Life and Kyle into the infirmary, quietly waiting. Kyle’s time would come, quicker than he would expect it to happen.

Life finally let go off his hand, giving you a quick nod before they disappeared again.

You just watched, seeing fragments of yourself guide the souls of the less fortunate while you had yourself fixated on the young man before you.

You watched over his shoulder when he took out his phone. His hand shaking while he went to call his mother, a shaky breath leaving his lips when his mother picked up the phone and the video call starts.

“Mom.”

“Kyle? My boy, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You never call without a reason. What’s on your mind?”

“Just.. I know.. You.. I..” The poor boy started to stutter, not able to express the emotions he wanted to express.

And a mothers love knows no boundaries. “Are you worried about John, Bearie?”

A sour expression crossed his face by the nickname from his childhood, but it is quickly swallowed. “Yeah.” He muttered softly.

You know the look his mother bears, it is the look of a woman who wishes her son wasn’t away from her, a mother who wishes she could crawl through the phone to comfort her son about his fallen teammate.

“What is on your mind, boy?”

“I just wonder ma.” Kyle starts. “I wonder if he was in pain, if he was scared, if he would ever be proud of me.”

No he wasn’t, more pissed off than scared, more than you’ll ever know.

His mother sighs softly. “Those are questions you’ll never find an answer to. But I get it, I had the same questions when your grandpa passed. And I like to think that both of them are proud of us. You have reason to be proud, Kyle. I am sure John is proud of you too.”

The expression on his face softens. “Thank you mom.”

“Anytime Bearie.”

He rolls his eyes, quick enough so that his mother doesn’t catch on.

“Do you want to speak to your sisters too?”

“No, I’m quite tired, just missed you.”

“I miss you too Kyle. Promise me you’ll come home soon yeah?”

“Promised ma, I’ll see you soon okay?”

“I love you, Bearie, stay safe.”

“Love you too mom.”

The moment his call gets disconnected, he presses his lips against his phone, wishing to press the same kiss against his mothers forehead. Kyle had never struggled to be away from his family, but with Soap’s passing, he found himself longing to be with his family more and more. Maybe he would take a little break after his next mission.

But Kyle never got to take that break. Soon after he was cleared from the infirmary he found himself taking dangerous missions again. The promise to his mother being long forgotten whenever he found himself enjoying the rush again, the feeling of being alive, of being worthy, he finally felt as if he mattered.

Not that any of that was important right now. Because right now Kyle was about to meet you. He had found himself caught in enemy crossfire once more, being in the delusion that he is in fact invincible. But he isn’t, no one is really no matter how often they think they are.

Kyle groans, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his short breaths, as his hands clutch the wound on his chest, he knew that time was running out, and even you knew that Life wouldn’t be able to keep him away from you.

“Hello.”

Kyle looks up at your words, his eyes wide with fear. “Are you? Did I? Am I dead?”

“Not yet.”

“Fuck.” His face scrunches in pain.

“I suppose I can’t sweet talk my way out of dying.”

“Afraid not.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I promised mom I would come home again.”

“You did.”

“How did you know?”

“That is something for later. Right now I would advice you to call your mother.”

A short flash of gratitude in his eyes before the pain takes over again. With a bloody hand he takes out his phone, dialling his mother’s number. But she doesn’t pick up, she is on the other side of the world, blissfully unaware that her son is about to breathe his last breath.

His lips press together to a thin line when he reaches her voicemail.

“Mommy?” His voice is quivering when he speaks. “It’s me, Bearie. I’m so sorry, but I won’t be coming home again. I.. I.. I.. I was too reckless, thought I had to make you and the whole world proud after Soap died, and now I never get to see you again.” The words spill out of him worried his life will be over before he can say the things he wants her to hear.

“I am so sorry for breaking my promise mom, I love you, I love the girls. Please don’t blame yourself.” His breathing is getting quicker and he starts to get cold, a sign for you that his time is coming to an end. You hold out your hand to him, a subtle notice that he has to hurry up.

“Mom. Mom I can’t say this enough, I should’ve said it more to you, but I love you. I really love you, thank you for being my mother.”

One raspy breath, another raspy breath.

“Oh and mom? It doesn’t hurt, I promise. It doesn’t hurt and I am not scared.”

Lair.

He ends the call, the pain is visible in his face, in his eyes. In everything. His hand is shaking when he reaches for your held out hand, and the moment you touch him, it is over. The pain disappears, his face relaxes.

Kyle stands besides you, looking at his dead body. “I had to lie to her, you know. She would never forgive herself for allowing me to join the army.”

“Do not worry, I am not here to judge you.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“To guide you.”

“To hell?”

“No, to the afterlife.”

“Oh.”

It stays quiet for a little bit.

“How did you know I had promised mom that I would come home?”

“You should’ve been dead the last time you got shot, but Life decided you were allowed some more time.”

“Can I thank Life?”

“No, Life is a shy creature, and prefers to not be seen by the mortals. I am in no position to deny Life their wishes.”

A quick nod, as Kyle seems to understand what you mean.

He looks at his body again, and a sad look appears on his face. “Will my mother at least have my body back home?”

You nod. “Yes, let me speed up time a little, because it does take a while.”

“You can speed up time?”

“Correct, right now you are no longer in the world of the living, but in my realm. My rules apply here.”

He relaxes as time begins to speed up.

“Watch closely.” You urge. “You might not have realised, but the sunset are always beautiful.”

He goes to sit down, next to his body, and he allows himself to enjoy the setting sun, a soft, smooth transition to the night.

“Gaz, this is Ghost, how copy?” That is your cue to slow down time again.

“Gaz, how copy?”

“Can I answer him?”

“No, everything you do here, has no influence on the world of the living.”

“Shit, they must be worried.”

“Kyle, how copy?”

“Fuck. Kyle, stay where you are, I am coming.”

Kyle leans back into the grass. “Did you guide Soap too?”

“I did.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I was there when he got shot. Guided him to the afterlife too.”

“Did he.. Did he mention me?”

“Mention you? He wanted to stay in my realm until he was sure all three of you could cope.”

Kyle smiles. “He always was a good friend. Did he say anything about me?”

“Only that he was proud of you, and that he should’ve told you more often.”

“He did?”

“I have no benefit in lying.”

Kyle runs a hand through his hair, and you can see the tears in his eyes. “Fuck. I really thought he would’ve been so disappointed in me.”

“He wasn’t. By all means he was telling me how proud he was, how much you had achieved already.”

Kyle’s phone rings, and the screen lights up with the name of his mother, the moment the ringing ends, it starts again immediately. And again. And again. Kyle has a sad look on his face. “I hate that I broke my promise to her.” He admits.

“I understand that.”

“God, she will be so heartbroken.”

“Yes. But you did give her some closure by that voicemail. She will cherish it till the end of her dying days. Even though it was a lie, hearing from you that it didn’t hurt, that you weren’t scared. It will help her heal more than you can imagine.”

Kyle wipes away the tears that had rolled down his cheeks. “I am glad. She really is the best you know? Always been supportive of my dreams, even when my father left, she was there for me, always putting me and my sisters first.”

“It sounds like you love her.”

“More than I’ve loved myself.”

You watch Simon approach, his face hidden behind his mask, but the emotion in his eyes is clear. “Fuck, no. Gaz.”

He drops down the body of his friend, searching for a pulse, but the body had gone cold already, and in a moment of emotion, of weakness even, Simon cradles the dead body of his friend. “Not you too man, come on.”

Kyle has to swallow a lump in his throat. “Shit.”

Simon reaches for his radio. “Gaz has been found and identified, Killed in action. I’ll return soon.”

“Will he be okay? I noticed him drinking more after Soap died, and I don’t want him to drink himself to death because of my death.”

“He won’t drink himself to death.”

“Really? Oh god that is a relief.”

He watches, as Simon picks up his body, and carries him away.

“How does the Captain cope?” Kyle asks.

“I can show you?”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

By the gods, that wasn’t a good sight to see, the captain looked at least fifteen years older, the constant smoking now had the company of a bottle of whiskey.

A fourth dog tag on the chain.

“Fuck.” Price muttered. “Fuck, it never gets any fucking easier.”

The fingertips of Price trace the outline of Kyle’s file. “I never should’ve let you go on this mission.”

“I hope he knows I would’ve gone on another dangerous mission if he would’ve declined me this one.” Kyle answers.

“He knows, deep down he knows, but it is easier for you humans to find a way to blame yourself.”

“Will the captain be okay?”

“He will be the last of you four to pass.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh, I guess the captain is tougher than he looks.”

“That he is.”

“And Ghost? Will he be okay?”

“He won’t drink himself to death.”

“Final question, will mom be okay?”

“Your mother? She will never be herself again. She will always miss you, mourn you, but your urn gets a little shrine, and she will never toss out your childhood stuffed animals.”

“How long will it take for her to have me home again?”

“Do you want me to show you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, I don’t think I’ll be able to cope once I see her heartbroken face. Right now all my memories of her are nice ones, and I will break my own heart if I see her grieve.”

“That is fair.”

Kyle looks at his captain again, before he turns to look at you.

“Will I see Soap again?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Once you’ve moved on to the afterlife, your soul will connect with the souls you’ve loved.”

“Can I go now? Simon will be alright, Captain will be alright, and mom will eventually be alright too. I feel like I can leave them now and not be worried.”

Kyle takes a deep breath. “And I would like to catch up with Soap.”

“Very well.”

You hold out your hand to him. “Let me guide you then.”

-

Simon Riley. You had been following the man ever since he was born. There had been times where he had been ready to leave this earth, only to be pulled back by Life on the last second.

It would be a lie if it wouldn’t make you question whether or not it would be ethical to keep certain people alive. But that wasn’t up to you to judge after all.

Even after he escaped the horror that was his childhood home, death seemed to follow Simon, his hand never steered clear from the blood that stained him.

But this time? This time it was different.

Simon couldn’t cope with the death of Gaz and Soap, leaving him a broken mess. But Simon was taught that feelings, emotions should be hidden inside, piling up until you couldn’t bear it anymore.

So Simon did what he knew best, copying the coping skill of his father, empty bottles piling up just like the feelings piled up inside of him. Whiskey replacing the companionship that his friends no longer could give them, the burning sensation of the liquid making him feel alive, a feeling he thought he didn’t need anymore, but he felt himself craving it, chasing it.

And of course people around him were worried, John tried to talk to him, John had seen this way too often before. Soldiers not being able to cope with the loss, turning to the poison that roamed this earth, alcohol, drugs and self-destruction in the from of women. And John had tried to stop it, tried to warn him, but Simon was a grown man, capable of making his own choices, no matter how destructive.

You knew you had promises Soap and Gaz that Simon wouldn’t drink himself to death, and with the amount of liquor he was pumping into his system, you almost got the feeling you had been lying.

But Simon would bounce back from the alcohol abuse, with the help of his captain that is.

It had been a day like any other, Simon would try to focus on his work, his mind already on the numbing temptation of the liquor, briefings, conversations, details, they would all go past him like a blur while he tried to deceive the people around him. And usually after a day of work, he would lock himself into his quarters, drinking until he forgot his fallen teammates.

“A word.” John’s voice is loud, a little too loud for Simon’s liking.

“About what?”

“You.”

“What is there about me?”

“Why did you join the army?”’

You watch, slightly amused at the low blow John just spat out.

“Don’t you fu-“

“Answer my fucking question, Simon. Why did you join the fucking army.”

And you can tell Simon is struggling to answer that question, hell he doesn’t want to answer that question, because that would mean he could no longer pretend he wasn’t following his fathers footsteps.

“I joined to escape home.”

“And why did you have to escape home?”

“Because my father was an abusive alcoholic.”

“Then tell me, Simon, why the fuck are you turning into your father?”

“Bullshit John.”

“Bullshit? You think you’re sleek, only bringing away the bottles in the early morning. Do you think we really don’t hear the clinking of the glass while you wander these halls? Do you really think no one can smell it on your breath?”

“You don’t get it.”

You had seen John often enough to recognize the subtle anger in his face, flaring nostrils, a slight raise of his brows, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t get it?”

“You have no idea how much their death affected me.”

“I have no idea because you shut yourself out and rather poison yourself.” John spat back at him.

“You have no idea what I have been through Captain, and I would strongly advice you stray away to this topic.”

“You’re right. I did not have your upbringing, and I do wish you dad had healed before he came your father, but you do not get to tell me about grief.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I am affected too. I was the one who asked Soap to come with me to Makarov, I was the one who approved Gaz going on that mission. And I can’t let you drink yourself to death, Simon. I will not be responsible for your death too.”

Both men are silent, straying into territory they are not used too, at least not with each other. Both men had been told that their emotions were forbidden, that emotions should not be on display for others to see.

But you could see their hurt souls, their broken souls, needing the company of each other. John is the first to give in. Holding his arms open and Simon clings on for dear life.

“God fucking damnit boy, get your shit together, that is an order.”

“I forget then when I’m drunk enough.”

“I know. But forgetting them isn’t the way to go. You shouldn’t forget them, celebrate their life because they no longer can.”

“I will, Captain.”

“Good.” John let go off him, giving him a rough pat on his back. “Do you need anything from me, the military?”

“A little time off.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay all by yourself? I can get a therapist for you if you want.”

“I would like that.”

“Good. Now, get some rest, I’ll pull some strings to get you someone to talk to.”

“Thanks Cap, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Simon.”

Something was off, something was different, and John couldn’t really put his finger on it, but decided to not press any further. He had nagged Simon long enough and it felt as if his point had come across  good enough.

Simon on the other hand, felt a calm feeling he hadn’t experienced before. A decision crossing his mind when he gripped his sink, tears streaming down his face when he recognized his father in the mirror. Simon knew he wouldn’t be strong to recover, he had become an alcoholic, just like his father.

“Fuck!” His fist slams the mirror, the second one this year, blood running down his arm while he takes in the freedom the pain gives him. His mind is only giving him one solution, the emotions, his grief, the craving to alcohol, they’re making it impossible to think straight.

Simons scribbles something down on a piece of paper. Before he takes a deep breath and looks around his room. John had been right, Simon thought it had alle been under control, but he was lying to himself, the half full bottles being the proof of that, but not anymore, not any longer.

He takes place in his own bathtub, a piece of glass gripped tightly in his right hand. You know what is about to happen and this is always your least favourite part.

He doesn’t drink himself to death.

Tears blur his vision when the sharp material pierces his skin, dragging down. He doesn’t even register the pain, all he can feel is the peace and quiet his mind gives him. So he does it again, and again, going deeper each time.

His head tilts back and he drops the shard of glass, causing it to shatter on the ground.

It stays silent, the only sound is his blood dripping on the floor of the bathtub. Life is nowhere to be seen, and you know this is his end. In a split second you make a decision.

The universe had been too unkind to Simon already, the least you could do was to make sure he didn’t have to die alone.

“Hello.”

“What the fuck are you? How the fuck did you get in?” His eyes snap open and his head snaps back to face you.

“I am Death.”

“Did I die already?”

“Not yet.”

“Than why the fuck are you here?”

“Because this will kill you, and I did not want you to die alone.”

“Well thanks for your concern but I don’t need your pity.”

“Gaz and Soap did not have to die alone.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Gaz and Soap did not have to die alone.”

“How the fuck would you know?”

You chuckle softly. “I guided them too.”

His face softens. “How.. What.. What did they say?”

“Soap was pissed off, Gaz was worried he had let his mother down.”

“Sounds like them.”

“It is nearly your time, Simon.”

“Will the pain stop?”

“When you’re dead? Yes, yes the pain will stop.”

“I can’t wait to be pain free.”

“Tell me about your favourite memory?”

“Of what?”

“Anything you please.”

Simon has to think for a little while.

“My brother.” He eventually starts. “Had gotten a part time job, and he needed to give the money to our father, but he had hidden his first pay check. So when our father was passed out on the couch again, we snuck out.” A smile forms on his face.

“We bought a cake, one of those fancy ones with a lot of frosting. We ate it in the skatepark where we used to hangout a lot. I ate so much cake I couldn’t stand it for the longest time afterwards. But for the time that it took for us to eat that cake, we were happy, not a care in the world, just loads of sugar and each other.”

He hadn’t noticed yet, but the shackles of life had fallen off during his story, setting him free of his mortal pain.

“I miss him.”

“Tommy?”

“Yes, more than anything.”

“How’s the pain, Simon?”

“Which pa- Oh fuck.”

You watch as he gets up from the bathtub, looking at his body, he died smiling, his eyes closed, almost looking happy.

“You deserved better.”

“I did.” He agrees.

Simon clears his throat. “So what now? You take me to hell and I’ll burn for eternity?”

“Why would you burn in hell?”

“I am a soldier, I killed people. People who deserved it, and people who might not have deserved it.”

“And that is equal to eternal suffering?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Don’t you think you have suffered enough?”

His face turns pale, the words slowly sinking in while he recalls his whole life.

“So there is no hell for me?” his voice is a soft whisper.

“There is no hell for you.”

“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck I was so scared for hell, that had been the only thing holding me back from killing myself earlier.”

“So” He looks at his body again. “What would be next?”

“Once you are ready, I’ll take you to the afterlife.”

“How do I know I’ll be ready?”

“You’ll feel it.”

“I don’t feel it yet.”

“Then you can stay with me.”

He nods, liking the answers that you’ve given him. “I have some questions.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Can I ask them?”

 “Of course. I’ll answer them if I have the answer.”

“How do you know which soul to reap?”

“I just know.”

“Okay, and now you are here with me, does that mean no one else dies on the world.”

“If that was the case a lot of deaths would’ve been postponed.” You answer. “I can split myself into fragments, therefor I am able to reap multiple souls.”

“How did you, you know, get into this profession?”

“I was created to be Death. It is all I have ever known, and it is all I will ever know.”

“Hm.” His eyes shift to his body again.

“What is the afterlife, and who will be there?”

“Everyone will be there, every soul goes to the afterlife, and you’ll reconnect with the souls that love you.”

Simon has to swallow a lump in his throat, he wants to say something but is interrupted by a knock on the door. “Simon?” John’s ruff voice sounds.

“Can I answer him?”

“Afraid not.”

“Simon!” the knocking returns. “I swear to God.” John mutters, as he opens the door to Simon’s room. “If you have been drinking again.”

John looks around the room, and you and Simon watch him do so. John’s gaze fall on the piece of paper, his face turning pale. “God fucking damnit.” The paper falls on the ground, slowly twirling in the air before it gently settles down.

‘this isn’t your fault.’ Even though you knew what would be on the letter your eyes automatically shift to the words on the white paper.

Johns open the door to Simon’s bathroom, and he just stand in the door opening, taking in the dead body of his teammate. “God damn it, Simon.” He repeats. “You could’ve talked to me you know.”

John moves over to the body, taking in the smile on Simon’s face. “At least you were happy.” John mutters.

His hands reach for Simon’s dog tags, taking one of the chain to add to his own. John’s fingertips rest on Simon’s cheek for a brief moment. “I hope death treats you better than life.”

Simon looks at you. “You do.”

“Thank you.”

“Will the Captain be okay?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I feel bad, for leaving him behind, for doing this.”

“He’ll understand, and when his time will come too, I’ll tell him about you.”

“Thank you.”

Simon looks at his feet. “I don’t know if you can do this, but I want to visit Johnny.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to go to the Scottish Highlands, to the place where we set his ashes free.”

You hold out your hand to him. “I’ll take you there.”

Simon’s eyes light up as he takes your hand into his, and before he can blink twice, you’ve transported the both of you to the exact same place.

“I forgot how beautiful it was here.” Simon says, as he sits down on the exact same spot where Johnny had sat down, and you can’t help but smile, knowing that their souls are happy together in another universe.

You go to sit down next to him. “It is beautiful here.”

The both of you sit in silence, you know Simon wants to ask you something, a question burning within him ever since John had interrupted, but you’re not filling anything in, letting Simon come to you when he is ready.

“You mentioned something about souls and love.” Simon eventually says.

“I did.”

“Who will be waiting for me?”

A faint hint of a smile can be seen on your face.

“More than you’ll expect.”

“Tommy?”

You just nod and Simon let out a shaky breath.

“It has been a while since I’ve seen him, I’ve missed him terribly. Who else?”

“Tommy, Beth, Joseph, your mother. Roach. Gaz, Soap. They will all be there.”

“Will they be mad for what I did?”

“They love you too much to be mad.”

“I’ve known more love death, than I’ve done alive.”

You turn to look at him. “I know, and I am sorry.”

“Is there anything I had done to deserve such a life?”

You want to wince, flinch at his words, but it is a fair question.

“No. Sometimes the universe isn’t fair when it gives somebody a course of life. You were a child, Simon. What happened to you, should’ve never happened, not to you, not to anyone.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re brave.” You add. “You’ve survived something you shouldn’t have had to face in the first place.”

“How do you cope with it?” Simon asks.

“With what?”

“The unfairness?”

You let out a sigh. “It is hard. Sometimes I have to guide innocent souls to the afterlife, souls I would have wished had a long and sweet life. And sometimes I see souls who I felt deserved death a long time ago. Unfortunately I cannot change the course of the universe, nor can I change the free will of humans.”

“Do you feel remorse?”

“No. I am no mortal, nor do I possess mortal feelings. I do however acknowledge the unfairness of certain situations.”

“I see. It is hard for me to imagine.”

“I get that.”

“Hey Death?”

“Yes, Simon?”

“Do you promise that they will be waiting for me in the afterlife?”

“I promise.”

Simon holds out his hand to you. “Then please, let me see them again.”

-

John Price.

The man had seen more than enough death for a lifetime. Yet it wouldn’t be the last of it. Being a soldier signed him up to a lifetime of death and despair. But unlike the others, John seemed to accept it a whole lot better. Yes he did feel guilty, yes he wished life could’ve turned out different, for him, for his team, for all of them.

But it didn’t, so he had to learn how to cope.

Even though you know his time isn’t there yet, you decide to follow him around, just a little more, just to see how he would cope. That is what you would tell yourself anyway, maybe you had been getting a little attached to this group of men.

You watch John approach the cemetery, four bouquets of flowers in his hands, a picnic basket hanging on his arm while he walks, silence lingering around him, and if he were in company, they would feel the tension surrounding him. But John is alone, except for your company, who would’ve guessed Death would’ve be such good company?

Three out of the four bouquets get placed on the ground, alongside the picnic basket, number four, a bouquet of tulips. Yellow tulips. John places them on the first grave, his hand brushes away the dirt on the gravestone. “Well, for someone whose nickname is Soap, it sure gets dirty quick.” John chuckles at his own joke. John kneels down at the grave, removing some of the weeds that had grown, using his hand to brush the rest of the gravestone clean.

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” He mutters. “Sorry I dragged you along to that mission. I’m sorry you had to catch the bullet meant for me.” John awkwardly pats the gravestone.

“If I had known that would be our last moment together, I would’ve spent the car ride to our destination telling you how proud I am of you.” He speaks, and while John knows that no one will hear his words, it feels good to get them off his chest.

“I would tell you how good you’re doing, how much you’ve grown. How much we all appreciated you. How we all enjoyed your jokes, even though some of us would rather perish than tell you that.”

“You probably already know, but Kyle and Simon joined you.”

“I wish I could have prevented this. Kyle.. He slipped right between my fingers, I never thought he would push and push the way he did, Johhny. I thought I was keeping him safe, keeping him busy, but in reality I was allowing him to die.”

John swallows the lump in his throat. “And Simon. I think I knew what was happening, I thought I knew what was going on, but I was wrong, so, so, so wrong.”

John takes a deep breath, inhaling the cold air into his lungs, before he slowly exhales. “You’ve been one hell of a soldier, Johnny, but more important, you’ve been an amazing person. I’ll see you again on the other side, take care of the boys for me, will ya?”

With a grunt John gets up from his knees, taking a new bouquet of flowers.

A colourful bouquet of freesias is put down in front of the next grave and John lets out a sigh again, staring into the distance. It is hard to read his face, and you can’t figure out what he is thinking.

“I’ve heard a lot of gut wrenching sounds, Kyle.” He finally speaks. “But I’ll never forget the screams of your mother when I had to confirm your death. The wailing will never leave my mind. I can’t erase it, no matter how hard I try.”

The captain uses his hand once more to brush some dirt of the gravestone, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I’m sorry.” He says once more.

“I really wanted to believe life had so much in store for you. I should never had let you take on that mission, Kyle. I should’ve seen the signs, the desperate attempt to prove yourself to me, to Johnny, maybe even to Simon too.”

“But the truth is, boy, you never had to prove yourself in the first place. We all saw your potential, we all saw the amazing leader you could’ve become.” John runs a hand through his short hair. “I really wish we could’ve talked about this more. I really wish you would’ve told me you didn’t feel good enough, Kyle. I could’ve shown you my point of view.”

“But, we can’t undo what happened.” John continues. “I hope you can finally feel enough.”

“Your mother misses you. Your sisters too. Simon missed you. But I’m sure he has told you by now. Or not, we both know how he can be.”

“I.. I miss you too, Kyle. I would’ve loved for you to follow my footsteps.” John sighs again. “Simon couldn’t cope, but you already know that. Take care of him, yeah? I know he probably doesn’t want it, but he missed you and Johnny.”

John gives a final pat on the gravestone. “I’ll come back, I promise.”

He takes the third bouquet, a large bouquet of sunflowers, it is being put down on the newest gravestone. “Fucking hell, Simon.” He grunts. “Out of all people, I never thought you would do it. I thought I had it under control with you.”

“At least you had a smile on your face, and I wonder what went through your mind in your final moment.” A sad smile forms on John’s face. “I hope you’re at peace now.”

“Out of all their deaths, yours haunts me the most, Simon.” He confesses. “Because with yours it felt like I really could have changed the outcome, you know.” John kneels down next to the grave.

“I.. I.. I never got to say this Simon, but I am sorry that I compared you to your father. I was trying to get my point across and I’ve used words that I shouldn’t have used. I knew it was a low blow to mention him, and I’m sorry.” He rests his hand on the gravestone. “I hope my words didn’t push you over the edge, and I know you have made that little note for me, but I can’t help but feel guilty.”

John sighs once more, looking at the sunflowers on the ground. “I.. You didn’t have a home I could send you too, like Kyle, so I’ve spread your ashes on the same spot where we send Johnny home. I hope you’re okay with it.” He adds, with a meek smile.

“You’ve been one of the toughest people I’ve ever known in my life, and I’ve met a lot of tough motherfuckers, Simon. But you? You’ve bounced back from everything.”

“And no matter how guilty I feel, the fact that you had a smile on your face brings me a little bit of peace.”

“I hope that wherever you are, that you found your people again in the afterlife. That there will be enough souls waiting for you, to show you how loved you’ve always been.” John gets up from his knees again. “Don’t try to give the other too much shit, but keep them in check for me, yeah?”

He let his gaze fall on the three graves in front of him, a sad smile on his lips once more. His hand goes to the dog tags around his neck, there are too many to just be from one person. His gaze lingers on the names engraved in the stones.

John MacTavish

Kyle Garrick

Simon Riley

“It has been an honour. An honour to have known you all, an honour to have fought alongside you. The biggest honour has been to call you all my brothers in arms.” His voice is clear, never wavering as he pays his final respect, as he says his final goodbye.

“I promise you three that I’ll keep your graves in check, for as long as I live. I don’t care if they’re empty, they will forever be a reminder that you have all existed. Your legacy will live on.”

“I miss you all, until we meet again.”

After a final salute he picks up the last of the bouquets and the picnic baskets, and he walks further up the cemetery, walking past a grave that reads Herschel Shepherd. John gives the grave a quick nod. “You make me wish hell did exist.” He grumbles, flipping the headstone off. “Should’ve done it earlier.”

He continues to walk until he reaches another grave, putting down the picnic basket and the flowers, before he kneels down again, taking out a brush to gently sweep away any dirt.

Jenny Price

“I’m back again, love.” He sighs, as he tidies up the grave, making sure to pull the weeds, but leave the flowers that have grown intact. “It has been a while since I’ve visited, but I have a good reason, I promise.” He added with a chuckle.

He gets up after the stone is clean again, her name can be read again, and he takes a step back to admire his work. “Got you all cleaned up. Looking pretty as ever.”

He opens the picnic basket, taking out a blanket to lay it on the ground next to the stone. A bouquet of heliotropes, forget-me-nots and carnations. John sits down on the blanket, next to the gravestone.

“Next month..” He sighs, something he has done a lot this evening. “Next month, you’ll be gone for fourteen years now, Jen. And I still miss you as if it is the first day.”

He rests his head against the stone. “I miss the boys.” He whispers, almost as if he is afraid to confess it to her. “Blaming myself for it too. If you see them, take care of ‘m for me, please. Show them the love you’ve shown me.”

He takes out a small bottle of wine, and a cigar, leaving the picnic basket open. “I can only hope that Death guided them, the way you have been guided.”

“It’s been nearly fourteen year, love, and I still wake up in the middle of the night, searching for you, hoping you’ve just been in the bathroom and you’ll come back to lay next to me. I would give everything, Jen, and I mean everything, to just hold you once more, to feel your soft skin against mine again.”

“Being a captain, having my own taskforce, it all means less when I can’t share it with you. It all means so little, knowing that I won’t be able to hold you again, to hear your sweet voice ever again.” John opens up the bottle of wine he had brought, taking out the cork before he takes a swig, not bothering to take a glass. “You know.” He chuckled softly. “If I close my eyes and focus really hard. I can even hear you scold me again for drinking wine straight out of the bottle.”

“I finally had an orange again.” He mutters. “They apparently make special tools to help you peel them. So I can finally eat them again. It has been fourteen years, and I finally had an orange again.” He shakes his head. “I cried. I cried while eating it, the taste reminded me so much of you, the scent of the peel almost intoxicating. I remember how your hands would smell like orange the whole day after you’ve peeled mine. And I miss it, Jen. Fuck, I miss it so much.”

He falls silent, a stark contrast with the floodgates of words that spilled over his lips just seconds ago. His voice cracking when he speaks again. “It has always been you.”

“No other woman comes even close to you. It is weird, but I don’t even want another woman, I don’t feel the need to see someone, feel someone. Hell, I prefer to lay alone in that large bed, because when I fall asleep, you’re waiting for me in my dreams. You’re there, waiting for me to come home again.”

You’ve been watching him, while you sat on the nearby bench. Jenny Price. You remember reaping her soul, her husband had walked in on you, and he was the first mortal to see you, and to live to tell the story. But John kept it hidden, maybe that is why he had grown so strong, so tough, because he knew that death wouldn’t be an ugly thing, but an old friend waiting for you to come home again.

You’ve seen enough, as you get up from the bench. His time isn’t there yet, and you have enough to do anyway. Your gaze lingers on the captain, his head resting on the gravestone, his eyes closed as he brings up the memories he has with his late wife. It has become routine for him at this point, talking to her after a mission, visiting her whenever he could, keeping her grave as clean as he could. But for now you let him be. He deserved to have this little peace of mind before he would get sucked into the chaos of his day to day life.

Life goes on for the both of you, you have been reaping souls, he has been doing missions, neither of you meeting, although you take away the lives he has ended.

But his end is near, creeping up behind him, lurking in the shadows. Maybe he could feel it, maybe it was the universe apologising for taking away his wife, for taking away his teammates, but John finds himself at the cemetery again, talking to his old teammates, making sure that the weeds have been pulled, the flowers are fresh again. He updates them on his life, on the missions.

“We’ve done it.” He sighs, to no grave in particular. “We found Makarov. And I’ve put a bullet between his eyes, Johnny. Made sure he knew it was in your name. You should have seen the look on his face.”

And you remember, taking Makarov’s soul, it was safe to say the Rus was less than pleased, especially that John took his soul.

“Your mom is doing well, Kyle. She is still grieving as much as a mother does, but she is doing well. She finally got you that golden retriever you wanted as a kid. Named it Gaz, in your honour. Your sister graduated from her studies. She made sure to mention you in her speech. You would be so proud, Kyle.”

“And Simon, we have a mental health program dedicated to you, making sure that we can talk more open on base about mental health. So we can prevent that others feel the need to do what you did. You’ll live on.”

He moves on, once more laying out the blanket next to the grave of his late wife, sitting down next to her again. “There we are love.” He said with a grunt, lighting his cigar.

His gaze falls on the sky, looking at the setting sun. “You’re looking beautiful tonight.” He tells her. “I like it when you paint the sky orange. I never realised orange was my favourite colour until I found you in the sky every day.”

Maybe he could feel it, maybe your presence was looming to much on a cemetery. But John closes his eyes, breathing in the cold air into his lungs. He opens his eyes, seeing you in front of him.

“It is good to see you again, old friend.” He says.

“Hello.”

“Oh, you can skip the formalities.” He grunts. “I always thought I would die on the battlefield, not next to Jenny.”

“It has become a full circle, she passed in your arms, you will pass next to her gravestone.”

His eyes flash dark when he is reminded of how his wife had passed. “I never got to thank you for guiding Jenny.”

“It is what I do.”

“I know, but still. She was so scared, and you took that fear away.”

“I am glad that I could do it.”

“So, it is my time then.”

“Mhm, it is your call.” You respond. “But it will happen within the next few minutes.”

“Hm.” He answers with a murmur, as he rests his head against her gravestone again. “Wake me up when it’s done.”

You take place on the bench again, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath, his breathing turning steady as he falls asleep next to her gravestone. Sleeping together one last time.

You’re a patient creature, you have all the time in the world, so you wait, wait until his chest stops, until his heart stops beating. Before you can say a thing his soul leaves his body. John doesn’t talk to you yet, instead, he looks at his body, resting against the gravestone of his late wife.

“What a sight.” He sighs, turning to you.

And you just nod.

John turns to you. “I imagine that I also get to ask some questions before you bring me to the afterlife.”

“Anything you wish.”

John’s soul walks over to the bench you’re sitting on, having a view of the graves of his teammates and his late wife. “Do you think I am a bad person?”

“I am in no position to answer that question. For me and Life there is no such thing as a good person and a bad person. You all just exist with free will, and it is up to you how you use it.”

“If you were human, you would be a politician.” John snickers at his own joke.

You let out a sound that represents a huff. “Is this you calling me a bad person?”

“Only if you would be a British politician.”

“I would rather stay Death.”

He looks at the upcoming moon. “Did you guide my teammates too?”

“All of them.”

If he would be still alive he would be releasing a breath. “Glad you did.”

“They all wanted to know how you would cope.”

“They did?”

“Mhm.”

“Guess they cared more than I thought.”

“Of course they did.”

“Why was Simon smiling?”

“Why would I have something to do with it?”

“Because I know you wouldn’t have want him to die alone.”

“That much is true. I asked him his favourite memory. So he could die thinking about something happy.”

“And Kyle’s mother told me he has tried to call her and left a voicemail, I assume that is your doing too?”

“Correct.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Kyle’s upbringing was different from Simon’s.”

“As Death I do not discriminate, between the sinners and the saints. Life can be difficult and unfair enough. Why would I make their process of dying hard too?”

“That.. I.. I never thought about it that way.”

“I had no reason to grand you and Jenny some more time together, I had no reason to explain the afterlife to her, or to answer her questions about dying. Yet I did. Just like the universe does not need reasons to allow events in someone’s life to happen.”

“I see. Well, I think it is beautiful.”

John looks at his body, limped against the gravestone of his late wife.

“How did I die?”

“Your heart gave out.”

“Guess all those years of cigars, whiskey and stress finally caught up on me.” He chuckled. “I never noticed anything though, I mean I’ve been a little tired lately, but thought that was just the stress.”

You just tilt your head.

“Oh.”

“Heart diseases are something else.” You sigh. “A silent killer.”

“Learned that the hard way.”

His gaze shifts from his body to the gravestone next to him and he holds out his hand.

“As much as I liked seeing you again old friend, I am ready to go home, for the first time in fourteen years.”

[adarkandmagicalforest]

An Irritation p. 2

pairing: Otto Hightower/Targaryen Reader (twin to Daemon)

tags: explicit sexual content, hate fucking, mentions of incest, otto hightower talking about sin

Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight, Part Nine, Epilogue

She had not thought to do it again.

But then, Daemon had been expelled from his short term as Master of Laws and had been in an especially instigative mood since then. He'd dragged her from her bath, complaining all the while, demanding they fly together.

When she refused, as it was Winter and a storm was pouring rain over Kings Landing outside, he prodded her, viciously trying to get her to rise up to his fire. But Daemon was poor company when in such a mood, so his pushing only served to make her furious. She'd bit out some response and dressed in a mere robe before leaving through one of Maegor's tunnels, her brother glaring after her as she left.

She ended up at the Tower of the Hand soon enough.

But to her utter disappointment, Otto Hightower was nowhere to be found in his chambers.

But never one to suffer disappointment for long, the Princess began to help herself. He had not been here to stop her after all, and what did it matter if she wished to ruffle around in his things? He was their servant after all, it should have pleased him that his possessions could entertain her for a time, she mused as she explored the chest of drawers against the wall, the nightstand that held a pair of gloves and the desk with his papers. She even exchanged her robe for a pair of his trousers, loose and far too long for her much shorter legs, but an interesting sight nonetheless. She wished she could have found his pin, but the blasted man seemed to never take it off.

She had begun humming when she went through the rest of his clothes, the stale mass of dark grey, black and emerald green uninspiring until she found a pair of thick, woven ties inside. 

They were clearly meant for holding, perhaps to fasten against his belt or some other mundane purpose, but she as a dragonrider thought them to be rather similar to reins .

And so the Princess took them, laying herself back on the Hand's neat belt, hoping dearly she would not need to wait long. 

She counted near a half hour before her ears caught the sound of doors opening beyond the bedroom. 

Pleased, her pale hand rose up and pushed her half-dry, ivory curls up in an artful array and arranged herself into a more comfortable position on her stomach, though the mix of his trousers, her long hair and the dark green ties that were idly wrapped around her wrists like bracelets was an odd one, but she liked the way it felt.

Minutes were all it took then for the door to creak open - it halted of course, halfway upon opening. The Princess ignored it, instead twirling the fabric about as her heart thudded in her chest, curious to see if Otto would play.

More heartbeats followed, but words were not uttered. 

She could only hear his footsteps, stepping over the floor and to the rug beneath his large bed. 

"I did not think I would receive a visit from you, Princess. I did not receive a missive nor warning of it." Otto finally said, not as negative as he could have been. For the past week, the Lord Hand had been thoroughly avoiding her, which was an interesting development, especially with Daemon's horrible attitude of late. Normally the old man would've started lashing criticisms of her and Daemon both, no matter which twin had earned his ire, always lumping the two together. But even with her brother wrecking havoc, she hadn't heard Viserys grousing once about hearing of her from his Hand.

So the dragon turned onto her back, her pale hair covering her breasts but hardly as a fine act of modesty, what with the curve of her small breasts and her soft pink nipples being well on display. 

The movement caused the Hand's breath to hitch, just slightly, which made her lips turn up into a pleased grin. That would surely bother Otto, who's immediate twitch of his brow told her that his action had been an accidental one. "I thought you were a servant of my House, Otto - I did not think a servant required prior warning before I had need of him." She replied, lifting herself up onto her arms, peering up at him expectantly.

"Of course. Yet it would only be polite. Then, I should have expected that to be something that was beyond your worries, Princess." He said then, drifting closer now and placing his hands on the sturdy wooden footboard of his bed. He always kept such neat hands, she noticed blithely. Clean hands with clean fingers and clean fingernails. Only days ago, those fingers had been rubbing at her cunt til she came. Daemon would have taken this man apart piece by piece, slowly feeding each limb to Caraxes if he ever found out. 

"Mmm. The worries of a Princess are more important than such things." She agreed. She squirmed slightly then, rubbing her thighs together. The texture of the trousers that she was wearing was rubbing against her, heat looming within her at the motion.

This action caught the Hand's attention instantly. "It seems though, you've been here for sometime." He said darkly, finally approaching her properly, now looking down at her as if he could frighten her. 

"I have." 

Finally, Otto reached for her, looking rather frustrated but also aroused in her opinion, especially as his hand smoothed over her pale stomach. His fingers pushed her loose hair out of the way of his path as his touch traversed her torso, moving carefully along her delicate ribcage and then up the curve of her pale breast, the warmth of his hand pleasant, especially as his thumb moved over her nipple. The Princess moved slightly, pressing herself up against this touch, encouraging him to stroke and pet her. Cannibal liked the same. 

"You've been going through my possessions." He stated, disgruntled and yet still touching her. He was still roaming over her flesh, but now his hand was touching the trousers she'd stolen, perhaps noting after ducking them down an inch, that she wore nothing beneath them.

"I was bored." 

This, he didn't like, because then his fingers began digging into her, his nails raking over her until she gasped and red marks raised up through her soft skin. She was soaking through his trousers, she knew, and was tempted to grab at his wrist and escort it down between her legs - but she was fascinated where he was going with this. How odd it was to think him an interesting lover. 

"To think, a woman of your privileges, to be blessed by the Gods to rule - and yet to be damned by such sin." Otto finally said, an edge to him that made her ache. So this is how he wanted to play? Very well, she thought, ecstatic. 

"Oh yes, I forgot how pious you are, Otto. It must have slipped my mind the last time you were wetting your cock with my whorish little cunt." The Princess almost purred back.

That flash of pissed off and starving came over his face, and then he climbed over her in the bed. His hand gruffly moved underneath her hair, grasping at her nape with force as he kissed her. She kissed him back hungrily, her hands reaching for him and yanking at his clothes, fantasizing for a moment about putting on his doublet with the gilded hand of the King pin, perhaps with him putting his mouth to good use at her cunt while she wore it. 

But Otto had another thought, it seemed. 

Because her hands, having been making work of the ties on his doublet, were suddenly seized with an iron grip and roughly pinned above her head. And those ties, which she had been wearing as bracelets, were now her reins - as they were now being tied against the headboard with such swift action that by the time she thought to struggle and wriggle and fight, it was already done. 

She shouted her frustration, wriggling against the ties, but to no avail.

"So much fire and yet two little straps can keep you bound so tightly..." The Hand said, looking down at how she struggled. 

If it wasn't for the fact that he was still touching her, his fingers rubbing over her sides and then up to her breasts, massaging at them near worshipfully, she might have made a stronger effort of it. She could escape, if she so wished.

Otto lowered his head then, kissing at her rib cage slowly. "If you were not born a Targaryen, a girl with your appetites would have been punished by the Seven already." He said, his wiry beard tickling her as he mouthed along her sternum and then up the curve of her breast. His mouth was warm, but the tantalizing thought that he was visiting her body as he might a Sept while also murmuring of punishment could dazzle her mind. "A girl with such a mind - " The Hand continued, kissing one pink nipple while his hand plucked at the other. " - one no better than a slut... If you were named anything else, even just a bastard perhaps, you would have been stripped down and paraded through the streets to atone for the whorish desires within you."

Hot arousal bloomed in her, needy and aching at his words. House Hightower had always been tied to the Faith, but she'd never believed religion to be anything more than lies told to shame children to behave. Now, devilishly, she wondered if she should have learned more of it - if just so she could combat old Otto more properly. 

"And what does that make you, Otto? Touching your slut Princess like this, as I'm sure your dirty old Septons fantasize about too. Some faithful man you are... I wonder, what would your wife think if she could look upon you now, hm?" She mused back, glad to not be so breathless when his fingers began roughly unlacing her from her trousers. The laces rubbed against her flesh so quickly as he pulled them away, as he'd done so with such harshness that they left tiny rope burns on her stomach. The trousers were ripped away just as quickly, and her legs were pushed up, bending them against her chest.

The look on his face was dark and outraged, just as he usually looked whenever her or Daemon's lips ever quirked a smile or pushed the Hand to his limit.

This she was fine with, pleased to see some fire, but instead of receiving a cock, she got a rough hit. Otto's hand spanded over the softest part of her arse, just where her thigh met it, and even over her cunt. The smack stung unbelievably, and the sensation actually made her yelp in pain.

But that didn't stop the Hand's hand, who smacked her again. And again. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. 

Seven times, she realized once her arse was burning hot and stinging painfully. He'd hit her once for each of his stupid gods. Her core was weeping, the contact from his smacks not enough to satisfy, just to torture her. Perhaps he hadn't meant these to arouse her, but the evidence was surely hard to ignore.

"You really are no better than a common whore, aren't you, Princess? Look at you - " Otto opened her cunt lips with his thumb, a wet sound joining it. "Pink, pulsing and soaking wet after I've just struck you. I should bring you to the King and have him look upon you. You would bring shame to him, no matter white hair graces your head or dragon you straddle between your legs that make you believe you are outside of the will of the Gods."

"Oh is that what you desire, Lord Hand? If you wished for an early - well, earlier, death, I could introduce you to my Cannibal. It would be my pleasure." She assured, feeling indeed to her pleasure when the older man took his time stroking her.

The petting she liked, but when he did not add to her neddling, she immediately began to push at him, needing so badly to be ridden.

"Gūrogon aōha jēda sir, Otto? Tolī uēpa naejot qogralbar nyke rhinka?" Taking your time today, Otto? Too old now to fuck me roughly? She murmured coyly, knowing just how to annoy him with her tone and use of High Valyrian, which had never failed her before.

His thumb pressed punishingly upon her clit then, making her hiss and raise her legs up high as if that would make him relent.

"You will cease to speak your foreign language at once if you expect a response." Otto commanded, his voice strict and heady even as his free hand snatched at her leg, placing it high over his shoulder while he forced his fingers inside of her - they slipped inside of her easily, wetly, before beginning to thrust them within her, his speed not enough - she needed him angrier.

"Kostilus istia gūrēñagon ziry pār, ser." Perhaps you should learn it then, ser. She replied, mirth in her voice. And that was enough, she saw, with just a sharp twitch of the Hand's brow.

Her cunt received another sharp smack of his hand, the strike over her clit now, making her yelp. A second came over her wet lips. And then, with no warning, Otto took her by her hips and flipped her onto her belly. His body followed, straddling the back of her thighs as he forced his lips along her back, moving her pale hair out of the way so he might kiss along her neck, even grazing his teeth over her shoulders and then down her spine while his hands roamed her lithe body with a worshipping touch. He was so unlike Daemon or her other past lovers - the dragon princess never quite knew what he would do next, especially as she was under his mercy. What did a would-be jumped-cut second born son want to do with his Princess? He had yet to suckle at her as he did their influence, this she was disappointed she had yet to experience to it's heights. But then, Otto grasped at her rear, spreading her arse so he might run his knuckle along her cunt and even her arsehole. Every part of her came alive as he did, awareness and thrill raising her blood with excitement.

A knock came. 

To any other, this would have been the moment they stopped - almost getting caught the tipping of the glass that would have shattered the moment.

But not to a dragon.

She was Cannibal in a woman's form - and above all, she hungered. Wantonly, selfishly.

"If you do not fuck me right now, Otto Hightower, I will scream for all to hear." She threatened, turning her head to witness his face.

He did not disappoint. Fury crackled through the air, and he very nearly looked to scowl before reaching for the front of his breeches and taking out his cock. "What is it?" He called out coldly to whomever dared to interrupt.

The head of his manhood slipped inside of her, lingering for only a moment before being removed - and then roughly thrust back within her until he was fully sheathed in her, almost making her yelp if not for his hand slapping over her mouth to keep her quiet.

"The Small Council has been called, my Lord Hand, and are awaiting your arrival." A servant replied from behind the door.

Otto slammed his hips against her, his cockhead hitting that place within her cunt that she knew with enough attention would make her peak if he fucked her hard enough. She thrust backwards against him, needing more, but his fingers had dug into her soft hips tightly, forcing her still while he controlled the pace. 

"What topic has the meeting been called for?" He questioned gruffly. The Hand pulled out of her again, lingering with just the head rubbing through her folds, before thrusting within her again.

"I believe it is - Prince Daemon, my Lord." Pain came through her hips then - Otto's fingernails had dug so hard into her flesh that he'd surely drawn up her blood. "He has landed the Blood Wyrm over a tavern in Fleabottom - with the storm this eve, there was much damage to the area, including the death of a local tavern owner." 

There was no more teasing to be had now.

Her brother's Hand had finally begun doing as she wanted most - he'd roughly slammed his cock inside her, as deep as it could go, nearly taking her breath away at the force. 

"I - will be along - shortly." He growled, punctuating each word with a thrust, not even waiting to hear a response for the poor fellow who had given along the message before beginning to fuck her with true earnest.

If she had a mind to, she might've wondered if he would not worry of throwing his back out with this action - but there were no thoughts to be had, let alone a mind left to her as she lowered herself onto her elbows as Otto rammed himself inside her, fury ruling his body as well as his lust as he fucked her. There was a loud, wet noise echoing throughout the room, with their shared grunts and her muffled whimpers joining it. Over and over again, he drove into her body, until she felt him bruising her hips and his cock repeatedly hit upon her cervix. 

His hand suddenly removed itself from her mouth. It reached for her ties and undid them deftly before grasping at her throat. Her body was pulled up until she was pressed solidly against his chest, his cock still deep within her even as his lips brushed along her ear.

"Did you come here as a distraction then, Princess?" Otto inquired dangerously, the rumble of his voice making her shiver with delight. "So your brother might do as he wish through the city?"

She moaned softly, especially as his fingers wracked up her side, the pain whirling with the pleasure. She wanted to finish so badly, she could feel his cock throb within her - the talk of Daemon though had made him violent.

"Daemon does as he pleases whether or not if his twin sister knows or cares." The Princess replied restlessly. She rolled her hips back against him, but his grip was like iron.

"Does he?" He countered, accusation in his voice. 

She shoved herself against his back, enough to free herself. Otto was still in a fury over Daemon's recklessness, and once her feet hit the floor, her hair was captured - and then her lips. 

The kiss was fierce and mean, teeth clashing and his tongue demanding the submissiveness of hers, which he would never receive. She kissed him back hotly, gasping when he pulled her back onto the bed, her scalp stinging as he threw her onto her back.

When he finally did leave her, he did so with his cock still wet, and the dragon wondered idly if her brothers would be able to smell it on him. 

[grandlinedreams]

Your blog is the highlight of my day, I'm really impressed <3

Could you maybe write something more about what happened after that oneshot where the reader wants to stay up with law but falls asleep while doing it and then law laying in bed with them?

I love the slow burn that is happening there

Aah, thank-you!! I do my best and I'm just glad my hyperfixation has an audience that enjoys it ehe 💖 but absolutely!! I hope that this is to your liking!! I also couldn't help myself w adding the 'it's rotten work' 'not to me. Not if it's you'

[In reference to this]

[Heads up!: mutual pining, some angst, hurt/comfort]

There are three reasons you know that you're not in your own bed when you wake up. One, you're warmer than you ever are, blanket usually kicked off of you in some way or another. The second that there are no sounds of the bunkhouse ㅡ no soft snores or sleepy murmurs, the creak of someone moving in their sleep. And the third?

That Law is asleep right next to you.

It takes a minute to register, your cheeks warming. You'd fallen asleep despite trying your best not to, you know that much ㅡ and that for whatever reason, Law had seen fit to simply let you sleep in his bed.

It's inappropriate, you know. A severe breach of what should be between captain and crewmate ㅡ but staring at him, all you can think of is what could be.

You let yourself admire him for a little longer before you turn your attention to getting up, knowing that your other crewmates will be moving around soon and the last thing you need is them assuming things if you wait too long to come out of Law's room.

You're not sure how you manage to get free without disturbing Law but you do, glancing towards the mugs you'd brought in with you and move to collect them.

"Thanks for the tea last night." Law's voice makes you jolt, barely avoiding dropping one of the mugs as you turn to find him sitting up and watching you.

"Oh," you say, "right, no problem." Curse your wretched heart for doing gymnastics at how cute he is, hair sleep-mussed and expression drowsy. It sharpens, however, as his gaze flicks over you and then to the door.

"About this," he begins, "we won't be making a habit of this. It's for the best if this never happens again."

Your heart sinks. You know that it's for the best, that the idea of entertaining anything but is only going to hurt ㅡ and hurt it does, twisting a proverbial knife into your chest.

There's the rising want to cry, one that you shove down as deep as you can, shoving down your feelings.

"Yes," you say, now heading for the door with the tray and things in hand. "You're absolutely right. It's for the best."

ㅡ

You take to avoiding him. You make it an art ㅡ not so much so as to make it obvious that it's him that you're avoiding in particular, but enough to make it plausible as to why you're never around him.

And it's driving Law crazy. The Polar Tang is only so big, there are only so many places you can duck into before he notices, so many people you can so conveniently manage to be deep in conversation with when he passes, indifferent to his presence ㅡ but you still manage it.

It's frustrating, too. He knows that he hurt you with what he said, a proverbial slap to the face of your kindness, your efforts to put him at ease. He also isn't dumb, he's noticed your lingering looks, the previous excuses to be around him.

Were he someone else, he'd let you know that he reciprocates your feelings. Even as he is, he knows he does ㅡ but he can't act on it. He won't drag you down with him when it all inevitably blows up in his face, won't force you to suffer the same fate as him. You deserve more, and you deserve better.

But your behavior still hurts. The things that you do are made the clearer in the absence them, and he misses them. He misses you.

There's only so much that Law can take of this new routine that you've slipped into ㅡ which is why he comes up with a plan.

ㅡ

Avoiding Law is getting exhausting. Quite literally, as you've gotten into the routine of waiting until almost everyone has retired for the night, him included. It's childish yes, but you're determined to do it until your feelings for him ebb enough that you can go back to the way you were ㅡ as unlikely as that is.

Stifling a yawn, you trudge towards the bunkhouse, intent on getting as good of sleep as you can, only to have a hand curl around your upper arm and yank you away before you can react. You're dragged into a different room and when the door shuts, you wheel on your pseudo-kidnapper.

"What is your problem?"

Unbothered by your tone, Law simply stares at you, expression unreadable. "I need to talk to you."

You frown. "So talk to me like a normal person, not kidnap me."

"I didn't kidnap you," Law counters, "and it's hard to talk to someone when they're avoiding you."

You want to lie and say that you haven't been, but the look Law gives you makes you quiet before you realizes where you are.

His room. Again.

"Look. I realize that how I said things the other day wasn't the best way to put it." Law rubs his neck, trying to find the best way to articulate his words.

Figuring that it'll be easier to sever whatever you have with him all together now rather than continue to suffer, you look up and speak with a steadiness that surprises you. "I love you."

Law's eyes snap to yours, elation and dread clashing. "You can't." Before you can protest, he continues. "Not only am I your captain, but we're pirates. We don't have time for things like this, and I don't have time to entertain how you think you feelㅡ"

"How I think I feel?" Your tone is calm. "Last time I checked, I'm the one who should know best how I feel, Law." He opens his mouth, and you hold a hand up to silence him. "I'm not going to deign the rest of that with a response, because we both know that's bullshit." You pause. "Well, besides the part about you being my captain. You are, and I love you. I'm not expecting you to love me back."

A muscle in his jaw jumps. "You shouldn't."

"I know."

He steps towards you, reaching to tug you to him. "That's dangerous."

You press into him. "I know that too. We're pirates, remember? Danger is our middle name."

His arms wind around you, hand cradling the back of your head. "It's rotten work," he whispers, thinking of Corazon and his parents, his sister. "Loving me."

"Not to me," comes your response, muffled into his chest, the steady thump that your own echoes. You pretend not to notice that it's beating as hard as yours is. "Not if it's you."

Law feels something in him crack, splintering into glittering spiderweb fissures. "You're staying here tonight," he says, feels the shudder of your laughter against him.

"Is that an order, captain?"

"Yes."

ㅡ

Blankets over you both, Law still allows himself to reach for you, let your legs tangle with his, lose the dark tattoos of his knuckles in your hair. "Say it again."

You don't need to ask what he means, kissing the front of his shoulder. "I love you."

His lips brush the top of your head. "Again."

"I love you."

He kisses your forehead. "Again."

"I love you."

By the time Law kisses you properly, he thinks you'll get tired of saying it, because he can't say it back. Not yet. But the way you kiss him back says that you do, and that you don't mind.

You're patient, and you can wait.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Congratulations!!

If you feel inspired by this combo and have time, could you write a ficlet using "I", 🍨, 🥰 or 😂, and 🔨?

Thank you!

(Apologies if you already got this ask--my device froze when I sent it the first time, so I don't know if it went through)

Thank you so much! 🥰I still remember your lovely comments on the mer-dude fic, so I hope you enjoy this little bonus! 🦕❤️🧜🏻‍♂️

Of mates and mer-dudes

Words: 996

Rated: T

Tags: summer camp AU; mer!Steve; established relationship; flirting; sexual tension; fade to black

Notes: Set in the same universe as Just add water

“Hammer.” 

“Hammer,” Eddie repeats dutifully. Dustin spends two or three seconds trying to drive the nail in with the object he's been handed, until he realizes it's a screwdriver. 

“Very funny. I said hammer.” 

“Apologies,” Eddie mutters, chucking the screwdriver back into the mess that is their toolbox with one hand and wiping his sunburnt forehead with the other. “I think we've been out here longer than is strictly healthy. How ‘bout we call it a day and head back to camp? It's almost dinner time.” 

Dustin scowls. The hair under his Thinking Cap is matted with sweat and he is red-faced and splotchy. An unavoidable side effect of working out on the secluded pier all afternoon. 

“We can't just stop now, it's almost done,” Dustin claims, gesturing at their rickety construction of wood and mesh - it’s supposed to be an oversized fish trap, even though Eddie thinks it’s turning out to be more of a funky modern art installation. “This'll work, I know it. This time, I'll prove that Lovie is real. All those past times, it got away too quickly, but if I could just-” 

“Jesus, kid,” Eddie groans. “You and your lake monster. You don't know when to give up, do you?” 

“Give up?” Dustin scoffs. “If Thomas Edison had given up, we'd still be lighting candles. If Homer Ahr had given up, we would've never walked on the moon. I sure as hell won't-?” 

“The fuck is Homer Ahr?” 

Dustin heaves a long-suffering sigh. 

“Only mission control's chief engineer, Eddie? Honestly, that's the kinda question I'd expect from Steve, not you. Where is he, by the way? I thought he wanted to help us.”

“No idea,” Eddie admits. “Lucky bastard.” 

Dustin draws a breath, probably to ask what he means, but Eddie is saved by the sound of the dinner bell floating over from the camp grounds. 

“Okay, you gremlin, off you go,” he says, pushing the kid towards the sound before another argument can break loose. “We can finish this tomorrow when we aren't dehydrated and grouchy.” 

Dustin grumbles. “What about you?”

Eddie waves him off. “Be there in a sec, lemme put away your shit first.” 

He starts picking up their scattered tools, throwing them back into the box. Only when he's sure that Dustin is well out of earshot does he collapse at the edge of the pier, naked feet dangling over the water's surface. 

“Man,” he says. “That kid, right?” 

There's a soft growl from behind him, and the barest of sloshing sounds, and a shadow falls over him. He only just manages to suck in a breath - knowing he'll need it - before a massive snout pushes between his shoulder blades and he goes plummeting into the lake. He’s dimly aware of the toolbox going down with him, and then the world vanishes in a whirl of bubbles.

He resurfaces to the feeling of arms wrapping around his waist and massive fins brushing his legs, and the sound of laughing voices - one human, one very much not so. He tries to glower at their owners, but actually needs a second to part the sopping curtain of his hair.  

“So fucking hilarious, you aquatic asshats. I thought I told you to quit doing that.” 

Lovie the lake creature just chirps merrily and dives back under again, splashing him with her fins as she goes. 

Steve shrugs. The motion makes tiny droplets of water run down his bare shoulders and collarbones, bringing out his freckles and moles and tiny, glittering scales. Eddie wants to lick them. He has long stopped worrying about what that says about him.

“Sorry. She just wants you in the water with us. She likes it when the flock is together.”

His smile is apologetic, but his tail curls around Eddie’s legs in the water, fins wrapping around the two of them possessively.

Because, see, here's the thing. Over the past year, Eddie has not only discovered that his infuriatingly pretty fellow camp counselor is a mermaid and the guardian of an ancient lake creature. He has also somehow managed to score said mer-dude as a boyfriend and been adopted into the lake creature's flock.  

“She never does that shit with Buckley,” he grouses, even though Steve’s words make something flutter in his chest. Steve's touch, also - hands on his hips, fins on his ankles. “She's part of the flock, too, isn't she?” 

“Yeah…” Steve blushes, a delicious pink hue on wet, sun-tanned skin. Eddie wants to lick that, too. “But Robin isn't my…” 

He trails off into an unintelligible mumble after that. Eddie wrinkles his brow. 

“Your what? Come again, fish boy, I didn’t-” 

“My mate,” Steve blurts, and the fins on his hips flutter excitedly under Eddie’s fingers. “Robin isn’t my mate.” 

Eddie feels his mouth drop open. The water is unpleasantly cold against his flushed skin. 

“Wait,” he says when he finally remembers how to form words again. “Hold on a second. When did that happen?” 

Steve’s face is still scarlet, but his lips start twitching when he meets Eddie’s eyes. “That’s just the way she sees it. You can’t expect her to think in human standards. Now c’mon, we gotta get to dinner or the kids will wonder where-” 

“Oh, no!” Eddie interrupts him, mouth tugging into a stupid, wide grin of his own. “No, no, no, sweetheart. You don’t get to tell me that we’ve been mer-mated for God knows how long and never officially consummated that sacred connection. I’m gonna get a mer-divorce if you don’t-” 

“Oh God, shut up,” Steve groans, and kisses him. 

As he gets dragged off to their favorite little shore, well out of sight from the camp grounds, Eddie bids a brief mental farewell to the toolbox lying abandoned at the ground of the lake. He’ll have to make up some story about where it went when Dustin asks him, but that's a problem for later. 

For now, he’s got other things to think about. 

More celebration ficlets

[watchingblsnowandforever]

We Are Ep.11

Part 1

*sits with half a tub of ice cream with both AC and fan on because my AC is old and needs a little help and puts my cat on Do Not Disturb mode (aka scratching his belly)*

Hello!!!!

Welcome back to my crack posting! =D

Warning: long post, and since I have like 60 screenshots, there will be a part two 😊😅

I wrote that intro before I'd watched the ep. Me as I was watching the ep was mostly incoherent screaming (so much so that my cat woke up from his nap to give me "what the hell, hooman" look).

This episode was amazing, and I loved it, and I'll probably die of too much fluff, but that won't happen before I finish watching We Are (which- WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE JUST 5 EPS LEFT?!!).

I was giggling and kicking my feet (just like Peem the morning after that Prince Charming kiss) from the very first scene.

Oh, they are so gone for each other (and I am gone for them 😭). The smiles, the trying to hear what the other is doing just across the door ah

So, so true. As a writer that hits.

Also, I'm very glad they decided to showcase creative blocks, even if it was for a few minutes.

Me to PhumPeem: yes, Peem, I would love to know too.

Also- I really wanna know what Ciize was doing back there 😭

Too cute to handle 😭

Jokes (and puns) aside, this scene is quite significant. Previously, whenever Phum was seen in the vicinity of the Fine Arts building, it was only because he wanted something from Peem (yes even that scene in ep. 8, he wanted company from Peem), but now, he's just sitting there waiting for Peem. And when Peem comes down, he's pinching his cheeks right there and acting cute with him and asking what's wrong.

And he keeps on asking, because he can see that Peem is a little moody, and not his usual self. "You're usually livelier than this."

Phum: "Actually, I want to be water too..."

Me: No way, is this what I think it is?

Phum: "I want to be the reason you feel good."

Me: yeah, yep, that's what I thought

No but, you can't tell me Phum doesn't binge watch BLs with his beloved teddy bear. Of course he has a whole arsenal of cheesy flirting lines.

All this time, it was always Phum telling Peem how comfortable he is around him and his friends, how fun it is.

Welp, it's Peem's turn.

I love Phum.

This is both him asking for consent as well as making sure they're on the same page and going at the same pace (which he always does, as I'd said before).

Also, no, he wants you to get closer.

HANDS.

Hear how polite and soft Q is with Toey now? Once Q knew for sure that he's allowed to show affection towards Toey as more than just a mentor/mentee, he decided to be fluffy as heck and never went back (because his love language is giving and showing through actions).

Love that for them both <3

This is such a valid fear.

He was afraid that his love would be too much, and in the process he'd lose the person he loves again, so he thought it better to just suffer alone than confess. Not gonna lie, my heart broke just a little here. (Also, because I'm currently rewatching MSP, I'll be pulling a lot of parallels, and this reminds me of that scene where Sound tells Gun that he's afraid to confess to Win because he's pretty sure he'll get rejected).

Oh, and I keep forgetting to say this, but Satang is such an amazing actor. Watching Sound and Toey, I almost can't believe they're played by the same person.

Phum's lethal weapon and Peem's fatal weakness 😭

Let's be honest though, no one would be able to resist that smile, those eyes and that soft, "Na, krab". Oh yeah, he used polite pronouns here by the way.

I can't always notice the shift from formal to informal or vice versa because I'm not that well-versed in the language (yet) but this was pretty obvious.

Bonus (Peem's reaction):

Tan: flirts with his theerak non-stop 24/7 Fang: *brushes his hair a little and apologizes for making him wait* Tan: *melts into a blushing mess*

That man is so whipped.

And in this house, we stan all whipped men.

This actually reminds me of when I was a wee baby (around 3 or 4 years old, I think) when I rescued a baby sparrow and took it to my dad and told my neigbours my dad would be able to heal it because he's a dcotor (he isn't a vet either) 😭

Also- naming a bird by another bird is so true to Pun's character.

This so relatable oh gods 😭

Also, we got the princess carry for Pride month! Twice if we count Chain lifting Pun in the waterfall, which I totally do.

We finally get being carried to bed but realizing they're laying on top of the blankets instead of just being magically wrapped in them by morning!

*sighs fondly* such a simp. <3

Uh huh, you said that last time too.

Don't lie, Peem, you'd let him hug you every night.

👀

Is this the reason behind the NC rating?

Also, this singular line just gave me a brain worm that is making me write my first smut fic. I blame y'all for getting me into this series.

Yes, of course, Phum, everyone believed your "snort mi mi mi".

Don't think I didn't see your little secret smile, Peem.

(Also, I have a headcanon that Phum just loves to be the little spoon)

Now who's hugging who, huh?

"Go away", he says, while putting his arm around his (not) boyfriend.

See, it was all fun till this point, but you can't be giving me this level of domestic fluff while at the same time telling me they're not even dating yet. That just doesn't work.

So, for me, from this point on, they're an old married couple <3

Frankly though, all the four couples in this series are old married couples that just don't know they're married yet.

Toey: HELP ME!!!

Q: WHAT HAPPENED WHO NEEDS BEATING UP-

Toey: I forgot to do my assignment and today's the deadline 🥺

Q: ... 😑

You don't...?

I thought that was the perfect time to start working on it?

jk jk, kids, I'm a chronic procrastinator, please don't learn from me, learn from your P'Q

(Q reminds me so much of @desi-yearning when she scolds me after I pull an all-nighter to submit an assignment or study for an exam 😭)

Oh. Oh.

Oh my.

I love this scene so much.

This pencil box is very very special to Q, and he's asking Toey to draw on it - something that is irriversible, as Toey himself says.

But this is Q's way of putting together both his loves. This pencil box was picked up by Toey the first time, but back then, Q only knew him as Milk Frappe Boy.

Now, he's asking Toey to do something Milk Frappe Boy would never have been able to (remember, Toey started taking an interest in art only after meeting Pencil Senior), because Pencil Senior disappeared on Milk Frappe Boy, but Q would never disappear on Toey.

On this note, I end Part 1.

Part 2 will be out tomorrow, because as much as I try to deny it, I have these pesky things called responsibilities to attend to, and it's very late here now (not past my regular bed time, but way past my ideal bed time 😭)

Thank you for reading! 😊

Here, have some pizza and a cookie🍕🍕🍪

[If you want, my previous posts: Ep. 8 Ep.9 Ep.10]

And here's Part 2

[cheezbites]

Dating Soap

✎: I know this is quite short compared to my other ones, but I'm falling asleep as I write. :(ENJOY!!! (Bf!Soap x F!Reader)

♡Summary: Headcanons of dating Soap <3

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*��

Bf!Soap was sharing headphones with you on a rainy day, and a sudden thought crossed your mind:

“Wait, I need to show you a song, ‘kinda reminds me of you.” You muttered, reaching for your phone before playing it.

Your head on his shoulder as it played, completely clueless as to how grand your gesture was to him. To you, it was just a song that reminded you of him each time you listened. But to Soap, this was his newest prized possession. Ever since that day, he listened to it incessantly. Either if he was running errands, driving, or humming the melody when he was stressed.

Bf!Soap’s greatest quality was his striking mohawk; (duh) and he protected it with his life. He undoubtedly deemed it his greatest responsibility. He also trusted you with his life, so every now and then he let you trim split ends or unkept strands. (He would've never let anyone else do this in a million years, Simon being the only exception).

Bf!Soap enjoyed the lengthy philosophical conversations you’d randomly have, going from discussing your favourite animals to how the universe began and if there really is a greater power. And although he can be goofy and silly at times that man is genuinely smart.

Bf!Soap perpetually teased you the moment he discovered you couldn't read a clock:

“What time is it, bonnie?” he asked, his eyes glued to the TV playing a football match.

You had no access to a digital clock as your phone was dead, so your gaze instinctively shot to the wall clock.

“It’s, um... something something... PM,”

And the moment he came to terms with his newfound discovery, he laughed so hard he got excruciatingly painful cramps and started seeing stars.

“Ugh, I just couldn’t be bothered to learn when I was younger. We have technology and stuff now!” you proclaimed, defensively crossing your arms.

“Oh my word,” he mumbled while clutching his stomach, still wheezing out a few dry chuckles.

From that mildly humiliating experience, he taught you how to read one instead of continuously laughing at you.

"So, bonnie," he began, "You see the big hand, right? That's the minute hand. ‘Tells you how many minutes have passed."

You nodded, feeling a bit sheepish but willing to learn.

"And the wee hand - that's the hour hand."

You watched the hands move, slowly beginning to grasp the concept. "Okay, I think I'm getting it.”

Soap could sense the lingering doubt in your tone. He leaned in closer, his warm brown eyes locked onto yours. "You sure, love?"

“No - of course I do!”

…

You hesitated, then sighed.

"Okay, maybe not entirely."

"Let's break it down again. Remember, big hand is minutes, wee hand is hours."

He patiently explained it once more, a softness visible in his tone. He took the time to answer your questions and clarify any confusion.

As you finally began to grasp the art of reading a clock, he rewarded you with a proud smile. "See, you've got it now, haven't ya?" he laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

(Clock reading is too simple for someone to not understand, obviously. BUT just imagine soap explaining something complicated to you until you understand - like being so patient, not mansplaining in the slightest. Like ooouuhh🏃🏽‍♀️)

Bf!Soap was thoroughly amused as he watched you go to town on uninvited moths around the house. You grasped a nearby kitchen towel and started ruthlessly thwacking it. Thankfully for him, he didn’t have to deal with the spiders and insects - as you thoroughly enjoyed making them suffer a harsh and unnecessarily truculent death. Maybe it was a bit much, sure. But who asked them to be here, anyway?

Bf!Soap telling you about his dreams alongside your guys’s morning caffeine refreshments was your entertainment for the morning. His dreams almost always included you and were oddly specific and vague, yet so realistic all at the same time.

“So, babe,” he'd start, settling down on the couch next to you “last night's adventure was a doozy…”

“I’m intrigued.” You sipped your coffee and mentally prepared yourself for the most diabolical tale you’ll ever hear.

“I was in a Jaffa Cake factory, right,” he clicked his tongue before continuing, making an effort to recall all the details “and you were there, too, of course. We were both wearing tangerine suits, whilst Price was throwing potatoes at us, telling us to get back to work and whatnot - no joke.”

Bf!Soap has occasional cooking contests with you. You pick random ingredients, and each of you have to create a dish using those ingredients. Both of you fail oh so miserably- you’ve nearly burnt down your house numerous times. Maybe you guys should stick to Tesco meal deals and Deliveroo.😔

A/N: Sorry if I yibber-yabber too much in my writing… I just love going into detail.🤞

Price version

Ghost version

König version

Gaz version

Masterlist

[cowpokeomens]

I think Davis would be very into cosplay in the bedroom, not to be pointing out the obvious but he's a comic book guy and to add on to that, we've all seen the fireman outfit photo by now right?

Also I think he's the type to let you dominate the fuck out of him in private. He wants you on top, setting the pace. In public he'll have his arm around you making sure nobody comes close. Idk though I ha e t thought about it that much...

Davis has been heavy on my spirit since yesterday

Here are some of my thoughts:

Davis

- tits guy. Likes how they move when he fucks you hard (the only way he fucks you, because he likes how they move)

- soooo into role play. So into it. You don’t need to method act or anything, putting on whatever outfit he’s dreamed of is perfectly effective!

- softie :-/ very very soft, probably draw pictures of you/for you, wants to cook you dinner, likes having you sit in his lap because he’s a Big Strong Man

- definitely lets you dom him, is more than happy to hand over the reins for you to bounce on his cock in his lap, he’s not stupid of course he’ll let you do that!!!!!

- definitely the sort to be proud of what he pulled. He’s never gonna say “that shirt is too revealing” because he’s like “yeah my baby’s tits are out I can’t believe she’s gonna come home with me this is crazy everyone look what I pulled!!!” Like has zero fear that other people seeing you is gonna make your eye wander.

- if you’re also the creative sort it gets him rock fucking hard. Art, writing, music, whatever- if you’re into any kind of creative endeavors he’s promoting your work and bragging about your accomplishments and skill to anyone who will listen

- if you’re also into comics, he’s proposing. If you’re not into comics but want to be, he’s sending you home with a stack of his recommendations (I also have a stack of recommendations feel free to ask for them) and then he’s asking your opinions on each of them because he likes your brain and how you interpret and understand things :-/

- I don’t think he’s a munch, but he does have Cum Goblin energy for sure. Like he will give you head, but it’s definitely more of a service to you than a thing for him. Let him cum on your tits though and you’re locked in, he’s deleting the dating apps and asking if you want to be exclusive :-/

- probably gets really really shy when any of the guys ask about you before you’re officially dating. Doesn’t wanna jinx anything :-( but they see him smiling at his phone and they notice him disappearing on the weekends! He’s not subtle!

- yeah :-/ I want him to raw me *long suffering sigh*