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fatecantstopme · 2 months ago

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Help Me Remember

Pairing: Dean Winchester x wife!reader

Summary: Your memories have been taken from you and it's up to Dean to get them back.

Warnings: Angsty af, memory loss, canon violence, cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, oral (M & F receiving), light face fucking, unprotected sex (P in V), biting (minimal), dirty talk.

Three Weeks Ago

"God almighty, what is that smell?"

You were doing your best to avoid inhaling too deeply--the stench uncomfortably strong. "Rotting flesh."

"Dead body?" Dean asked.

You nodded. "Several, I think."

"Great." Dean stepped in front of you, the instinct to protect you always foremost in his mind. He stepped through the open doorway, quickly enveloped by darkness.

You heard him grunt lowly and you stepped forward, trying to see through the darkness, but even your flashlight didn't penetrate it much. "Dean?"

When he didn't respond, you felt a tightening in your chest. "Dean?" you called again, a little louder.

The silence was deafening--sending cold chills down your back as you stepped farther into the room. "Babe? Answer me."

You took another step forward and your foot collided with something sturdy on the floor in front of you. You trained your flashlight downwards and inhaled sharply as the light illuminated a body at your feet. "Dean!"

You dropped to your knees beside him to check for a pulse, foolishly opening yourself up to attack in such a vulnerable moment.

The last sound you heard was a dark cackle coming from your right just before you were plunged into complete darkness.

Dean awoke with a low groan, rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the throbbing in his head. It took him several moments to get his bearings and remember where he was. As soon as the memories clicked in his mind, he called out your name. You didn't respond and he felt a cold desperation wrap around his heart.

"(Y/N)!" he yelled as he pulled himself off the floor. "Sweetheart? Where are you?"

He was met with complete silence, making his blood run cold. He couldn't find the flashlight he'd been carrying, so he pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it into the darkness around him.

He immediately noticed the stench from earlier had dissipated, as had the total darkness that surrounded him in the moments before he'd lost consciousness. His flashlight had barely cut through the blackness, but his phone was able to light up the majority of the room around him with relative ease.

The room was completely empty. Not a single rotting corpse to be seen. No cause for the smell from earlier, nor any sign of what had caused the room to be plunged into complete darkness. More importantly, there was no sign of you.

Dean immediately ran from the room, hurriedly searching the rest of the abandoned home in the hopes of finding you passed out like he had been. When he'd searched every room to no avail, his panic had risen to untenable levels.

He called your phone, but it immediately went to voicemail. He left a frantic message before hanging up and calling Sam.

His brother answered on the second ring. "Dean? Everything okay?"

"Is (Y/N) with you?"

Sam could hear the panic in Dean's voice, causing his heart to race. "No...she was with you on that hunt in Colorado."

"I can't find her anywhere."

"What do you mean you can't find her?"

"I mean, I got knocked out and when I woke up she was gone. I've searched the whole damn house--she's gone, Sam!"

"Okay, breathe. She wouldn't leave you, so she's gotta be there somewhere."

"Well something knocked me out, Sam--and whatever the hell it was had to have taken (Y/N/N)."

"That doesn't make sense, Dean. You said it was a ghost--a basic haunting."

"Yeah that's what we thought it was! Clearly we were wrong."

"Alright, alright," Sam said in a soothing voice. "I'll pack a bag and head your way--we'll find her."

Dean let out a pained sound. "Hurry."

"I will."

**********

Present

You groaned in annoyance, rolling over in bed to slam your hand on the snooze of your alarm. When the incessant noise stopped, you sighed quietly, staring at the ceiling as light filtered in through the window.

You wanted to get out of bed and go to work about as much as you wanted to get hit by a car, but unfortunately the bills wouldn't pay themselves.

You dragged yourself out of bed and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower before getting ready for work. Thirty minutes later, you were grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

When you reached the office, you sat in your car for a few minutes, gathering whatever strength you had to get out of your car and walk through those doors. You hated your job--this office life was simply not for you. It was boring, but the paycheck was decent and you didn't have any other options.

You'd only had the job for a few weeks--it would be embarrassing to quit so soon after starting. Besides, the work was easy and your coworkers were nice enough.

You sighed quietly before getting out of the car and heading into the office building. You were greeted by several of your coworkers and you said your good mornings as you made your way to your office.

The day passed by uneventfully, just as every single day of the past few weeks seemed to. When 5pm rolled around, you packed up your things and left for the day. You decided to stop and get Chinese food on your way home--the urge to cook about as far away as the country of China was.

After picking up dinner, you made your way home. As you pulled into your driveway, you noticed an old black muscle car parked in front of your neighbor's house. You thought it odd given your neighbor was out of town, but the thought was gone as quickly as it came as your stomach grumbled hungrily.

You grabbed your things and headed inside, dropping your keys and purse by the front door. You tugged your shoes off, silently cursing whoever created high heels. You sat your food on the kitchen island and went to the fridge to grab a beer.

You plopped down at the island, quickly pulling the containers of delicious food from the bag. You groaned happily as you took a bite of food--finally sating the grumbling of your stomach.

Mid-bite, you heard a noise upstairs, causing you to freeze. You listened closely, almost certain there was someone in your house. You grabbed a large knife from the knife block on the counter and made your way slowly towards the stairs.

You went up them as quietly as you could, stopping on the landing to listen for more noises. You heard movement at the end of the hall, where your office was. You made your way toward the room, holding the knife in front of you.

When you rounded the corner, you saw a man standing in your office, looking through your desk. You steeled yourself before stepping fully into the room, yelling "hey!" as you entered.

The man looked up at you and froze, eyes flicking between your face and the knife in your hand. "Woah, easy there, sweetheart."

"Who are you and why are you in my house?"

The man looked slightly confused. "It's me, (Y/N)."

"How the hell do you know my name?"

The man started to come around to the front of your desk and you stepped towards him, brandishing the knife in what you hoped was a menacing manner. The man was significantly larger than you, but you didn't feel the fear you expected to feel. You felt oddly certain you could hold your own against him in a fight--which made zero sense to you. You'd never been in a fight in your life.

"Easy, (Y/N). Just put the knife down and we can talk."

"You broke into my house, asshole. No way am I putting down this knife."

His hands were still up in the air, but he didn't seem any more afraid of you than you were of him. "Okay, sweetheart, just relax. I can explain."

"Stop calling me that--I don't know you."

The man looked hurt by your words, but he seemed to shrug them off. "Sorry, sweet--shit. Sorry." He slowly lowered his hands, waiting for you to make a move. When you didn't, he lowered them completely. "My name is Dean Winchester."

He waited for a moment, hoping to see a flash of recognition on your face--but your expression remained blank. It was like a stab to the heart, but he continued. "Your name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You're 33 years old. Your parents' names are Lily and Carter. You were born in New Mexico, but you spent most of your formative years in London. You came back to the U.S. after the death of your parents when you were 19. We met a couple years later on a hunt in Arkansas. We've been inseparable ever since."

The hand holding the knife was shaking almost uncontrollably. There was no way he could know any of those things--you didn't talk about your parents or your childhood with anyone. Hell, you barely mentioned the existence of a personal life.

"How do you know all of that? I don't talk about my family with anyone."

"You did with me."

"But I don't know you--I've never seen you before in my life."

"Yes you have...you just don't remember."

"Excuse me?"

Dean sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Three weeks ago, you and I were on a hunt in Colorado. It seemed like a routine hunt...but something went wrong. I was knocked unconscious and you disappeared. I've spent the last three weeks searching for you."

"I've never been hunting a day in my life."

"Look, I know it's confusing and I understand why you don't believe me, but I swear to you, it's the truth."

Much to your surprise, every instinct in your body seemed to believe him...to believe this man you'd never seen before, to trust the man who'd broken into your home, to believe the insane story he was telling you.

You slowly lowered the knife and exhaled shakily. "I don't understand what's going on, but my gut instinct is to trust you."

Dean exhaled gratefully. "You can trust me."

"If you're fucking with me--" you raised the knife for emphasis, "I swear I will beat the shit out of you."

Dean laughed softly. "I'd expect nothing less."

You shot him an odd look and shook your head. "You hungry? I have Chinese food downstairs."

"Sure. I could eat."

You nodded towards the door. "You first sunshine."

He walked ahead of you, making his way down to the kitchen with you in tow. He sat down at the island and you sat across from him, setting the knife on the counter beside you.

"Want a beer?" you asked.

"Absolutely."

You pointed at the fridge. "Help yourself."

Once he had his beverage, he sat back down, eyes watching you intently. You could tell there was something he wanted to say, so you called him out on it.

"It's just...hard to see you like this."

"I'm sure it is. It's uncomfortable for me too."

He winced. "Sorry, I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I've just really missed you."

You finally took a moment to really take in his features. You'd be lying if you said he wasn't the most attractive man you'd ever seen, but what really drew you in were his eyes. Sure they were a beautiful shade of green, but it was the warmth in them that made you feel comfortable. It was clear to you this Dean Winchester guy cared about you, even if you had zero clue as to why.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he answered.

"What am I to you?"

Dean inhaled sharply and his gaze drifted to the countertop in front of him. It was clear he wasn't sure how to answer that question--or if he should answer it. "I'm...I'm not sure I should answer that."

"I'm a big girl, Dean. Just tell me."

He looked back up at you, but when he opened his mouth, he didn't answer your question. "What do you remember of your life?"

"What?"

"Just tell me what you remember."

"Everything you said about my life was true. My name, my childhood, my parents...their deaths. I remember all of that. I remember moving back to the U.S....but I don't remember meeting you and I certainly don't remember hunting."

"So what have you been doing for the past 14 years?"

You closed your eyes for a moment, the memories infinitely more clear than the ones from your childhood. "I went to college and got a degree in marketing. Dated off and on, but no one had long-term potential. I had a few shitty jobs before finally landing the one at my current firm. I've been there a couple weeks, but I've got a corner office, a good paycheck, and decent coworkers."

"And do you like it? Marketing?"

You paused, considering your options before deciding to answer honestly. "It's boring, in all honesty, but it pays the bills."

"Do you ever think maybe you're meant for something more?"

You stared at him in surprise. You didn't know how he could possibly know that...you'd never shared that particular thought with anyone. You'd always felt that way--for as long as you could remember. "Yes," you whispered. "How did you know that?"

Dean smiled at you. "Because you are meant for more, (Y/N/N). You've spent the last 14 years doing more--you've saved countless lives. Hell, you've helped save the entire planet more than once."

You laughed loudly, thinking he must be joking. When you noticed his expression was completely serious, your laughter died instantly. "You--you can't be serious."

"I'm completely serious."

You scoffed. "No offense, Dean, but I've never saved anyone--let alone the entire planet. I think that's something I would remember."

He gave you a sad smile, pain lacing his gorgeous features. "There's so much you don't remember, (Y/N/N)."

The pain on his face matched the tone of his voice--and it sent a piercing pain into your heart. A pain you couldn't possibly begin to understand. "What else don't I remember?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't think you're ready for all of that, sweetheart."

This time, you didn't correct him. The pet name made your chest ache--and you had a feeling this was a common term of endearment from him. It made you want to understand the nature of your relationship. "Then just tell me one thing. What am I to you?"

Dean exhaled slowly, brilliant green eyes fluttering closed. He was desperately trying to remain objective, but it was nearly impossible. He felt like he owed you in some way and he knew he couldn't lie. His eyes met yours once again and you were stunned by the depths of emotion swimming in those green orbs.

"I feel like I owe you the truth, but I don't want you to freak out. So just...please just let me talk before you respond."

You nodded and waited for him to continue.

"Like I said before, we met a few years after you came back to the states. About 11 years ago, to be exact. I remember the first time I saw you like it was yesterday. You were so beautiful--almost painfully so. I felt drawn to you immediately, but you wanted nothing to do with me. I suppose it only made me want you more." He chuckled fondly at the memory. "You were pure fire back then. No one could control you, not that I'd ever dare to try. I think I fell in love almost immediately. You were everything I'd ever wanted, but I uh--I had a bit of a reputation in the community. A not-so-nice reputation when it came to the ladies...and unfortunately for me, you were well-aware of it."

Dean shook his head sadly. "I still don't know why, but you decided to stay with me and Sam--my brother. The three of us hunted together and sometime during the year that followed, I managed to win you over. You were crazy enough to fall in love with me--and we've been together ever since." He paused. "So to answer your question, (Y/N), you're the love of my life. My best friend, my partner, my confidante, my whole world. You're the woman I vowed to spend the rest of my life with and I'll be damned if I don't make good on that promise."

You sat in stunned silence, unsure how to feel about his revelation. One thing was for sure, you knew he was being honest. Every fiber of your being told you he loved you--every instinct you had screamed that he meant every word he said. It nearly broke your heart to have no memory of the feelings he was referring to...you couldn't reciprocate his words. As far as you were concerned, he was a stranger to you. You had no idea how to respond--nothing you could have said would have comforted him.

After several moments of silence, you finally looked up at Dean, meeting his teary gaze. "I believe you," you whispered.

Surprise lit up the handsome man's face. He hadn't been sure how you'd respond, but he hadn't thought you'd believe a word he said. "I meant every word, (Y/N/N)."

"I'm sorry I don't remember," you murmured sadly.

He offered you a small smile. "It's alright, sweetheart. I'm gonna find a way to get your memories back--to get our lives back."

"How?"

"If you're okay with it, we'll go see a friend of mine. She might be able to help."

You might be crazy for being willing to go with this strange man...but your gut told you there was no other choice. You hated the life you lived and if there was even a chance the life Dean was describing was real, you had to take it. "I'm in."

Dean smiled warmly. "That's my girl."

**********

Dean didn't explain who exactly you were going to see, but he did tell you it was quite a distance away. As such, you'd have to stop in a motel along the way.

Dean kept the conversations in the car away from the life--from hunting. He wasn't ready to explain all of that yet, especially if there was even the slightest chance you would run away screaming. He needed you to trust him and mentioning monsters wasn't likely to keep things calm.

It was late at night when he finally pulled off into a roadside motel. "It's not the Ritz, but it'll do for a night," Dean commented.

You offered him a smile and followed him into the dingy room. You tossed your bag onto the bed nearest the door and Dean immediately picked it up and moved it to the other bed. "No way in hell are you sleeping by the door, sweetheart."

You looked a little surprised, but simply shrugged your agreement.

Dean winced. "Sorry--I just worry about your safety, that's all."

You smiled. "It's alright. I get it."

He tossed his bag on the bed and sat down to take off his boots. "You can get the first shower."

"Alright, thanks." You grabbed your stuff and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

Dean made a call to Sam as soon as the door to the bathroom was closed. He'd already called his brother and informed him that he'd found you and told him where you were headed. Sam was already on his way to you, speeding along the highway in your direction.

"Hey Sammy."

"Hey Dean. How is she?"

"She's okay. She's in the shower right now. Where you at?"

"Probably an hour out now. What motel did you stop at?"

Dean gave him the location and room number. "Call me when you get here and I'll let you in."

"Have you told her I'm coming yet?"

"I mentioned you earlier...but I'm trying to keep her as calm as possible. I don't want her to freak out."

Sam sighed. "Alright, but you might wanna mention it before I get there."

"Yeah, yeah. I will. See you soon."

20 minutes after the call ended, you came out of the bathroom, feeling reasonably clean. You'd spent more time in the shower than you'd needed to, if only to try and calm your racing mind. A lot had happened in the last five hours and you were mentally and emotionally exhausted.

When you came out of the bathroom, you collapsed on the musty-smelling bed and sighed.

"I know it's not a great place, but maybe you'll be able to get some sleep. I'm sure you're tired."

"Very."

Dean smiled sadly. "I'm gonna take a shower real quick, okay?"

You nodded and rolled over, trying to get comfortable on the rock-hard bed.

Dean eyed you warily before stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door.

You closed your eyes and fell asleep with shocking ease. Mental exhaustion was clearly a great cure for insomnia.

When Dean came out of the shower, he fully expected you to still be awake. He wanted to let you know Sam was on the way so you wouldn't be freaked out by his arrival. Unfortunately, you were clearly sound asleep and he didn't want to wake you. You looked too peaceful to disturb.

**********

You awoke sometime in the early hours of the morning, bladder throbbing uncomfortably. You got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, failing to notice the large figure lying on the couch near the bathroom door.

Your movement woke Sam up and he decided he needed to use the bathroom too. He stood up and stretched, waiting for you to come back out.

When you came out of the bathroom, you caught sight of a large male figure standing near the door. You quickly assessed him and realized it wasn't Dean--the man was too tall. Without thinking, you lunged towards him, fist connecting with the side of his jaw, sending him stumbling backwards.

He fell back into the small dining table, forcing it against the wall with a loud noise. The commotion was enough to wake up Dean, who shot out of bed ready to fight. It took him only a moment to realize what had happened.

You lunged towards Sam again, who held up his hands to block your attack. Dean jumped towards you and yelled your name, pulling you to a stop.

"It's okay! It's okay!" Dean insisted. "It's just Sam!"

You were breathing heavily, but you lowered your fists. "Who the hell is Sam?"

"My brother!"

Your mind cleared slightly as you remembered Dean mentioning Sam's name earlier in the evening. "Oh shit," you muttered.

Dean turned on the light and Sam rubbed his jaw woefully. "Nice swing, (Y/N/N).

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," you said softly. "I didn't mean to--I just reacted."

"Well it was a good shot either way," Sam said with a pained chuckle.

Dean laughed softly. "At least your instincts are still strong."

You winced a smile. "Let me go get some ice."

Dean stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm. "I'll go get it. Stay inside."

You could tell he was worried about your safety and it made you wonder what he wasn't telling you.

Sam sat down at the table and continued to rub his jaw. "It really is good to see you, (Y/N). Despite the punch."

"I'm so sorry, Sam. I didn't know you would be here."

"I figured that out," he said with a light chuckle. "Don't worry about it. It was a solid punch."

Dean came back in with a full ice bucket. He handed the bucket to Sam and chuckled. "Damn dude, she got you good."

You winced, feeling terrible for hurting him.

Dean noticed your discomfort and turned to you with a gentle smile. "It's alright, sweetheart. He's had a hell of a lot worse. He'll be fine."

Sam nodded his agreement. "He's not wrong. I'm alright."

You punched Dean in the arm in annoyance.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You could have told me he was coming!"

"You were asleep! I didn't wanna wake you."

You sighed. "Alright fine, but quit keeping things from me, Dean."

He nodded, rubbing his arm. "Sorry, sweetheart."

"I'm going back to sleep. Let me know when it's time to go."

The brothers watched you crawl back into bed and Dean let out a soft sigh. "I think I'm too awake to sleep now."

"Same," Sam muttered.

The two sat at the table in silence, allowing you to get a couple more hours of sleep before it was time to head back out on the road.

**********

"So who exactly are we going to see?" you asked curiously.

Sam shot his brother a look from the backseat of the car. Dean glared at him in the rearview mirror and the younger man stayed silent.

"A friend of ours from when we were kids," Dean answered. "Her name is Missouri."

"Missouri...hmm. Do I know her?"

Dean nodded.

"How can she help me?"

"She's uh...well she's really..."

"Perceptive," Sam finished for him.

"Yeah, perceptive."

You gave Dean an odd look. "Okay then."

"Just...trust me, okay? She's the best there is. She can help."

Two words remained unsaid, living only deep in Dean's heart. I hope.

When the car pulled up in front of the house, Missouri immediately knew who it was. She met the three of you at the front door, a smile on her face.

"What do I owe the pleasure of a visit from all three Winchesters?"

Dean froze for a moment, which didn't go unnoticed by Missouri. Nor did you miss her use of the words "three Winchesters".

You shot Dean a silent reproachful look and Missouri tsked loudly. "Dean Winchester, what did you do?"

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't do anything, Missouri. I swear."

Missouri's gaze landed on your face, her expression softening instantly. "Oh honey..."

Her expression frightened you, as did her extremely perceptive gaze. It felt as though she was looking directly through you.

"Well come in you three. It's cold out here."

The three of you followed the older woman into her home. She gestured for you all to sit in the living room while she went to the kitchen to make some tea.

"Why did she call me a Winchester?" you asked Dean in hushed tones.

Sam gave his brother an 'I told you so' look and waited for his response.

Dean sighed. "I wasn't completely honest with you yesterday," he admitted. "(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was your name, until six years ago."

"What happened six years ago?" You were pretty sure you knew the answer, but you wanted to hear him say it.

"We got married," he answered softly. "You decided to change your name...and you've been (Y/N) Winchester ever since."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to freak you out. I'd already unloaded a lot of information on you. It's hard to look your wife in the eyes and realize she doesn't remember you--it's even harder to tell her what she means to you."

"But you told me how much you loved me...why couldn't you admit we're married?"

Dean shook his head. "I really don't know, sweetheart. I think I was scared you would run. It had been so hard to find you and I didn't want to risk losing you again."

Tears welled in your eyes and you placed a soft, comforting hand on his arm. "I'm not going anywhere, Dean."

He looked up at you, expression matching your own. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to your forehead, though he desperately wanted to kiss your lips instead.

"Tea, everyone," Missouri stated as she entered the living room.

You immediately took the cup she offered you gratefully. "Thank you."

She nodded at you, giving you a warm smile. "Now I know you boys don't like tea, but there's no alcohol in this house."

"I'll take a cup, Missouri," Sam said.

She handed him a cup and gave Dean a stern look. You had a feeling the expression had nothing to do with his not liking tea.

"Now why don't you boys tell me what brings you all the way out here."

Dean sighed. "You mean you don't already know?"

"Dean!" Sam scolded.

"Oh I imagine it has something to do with (Y/N)'s memories, but I'd like to hear it from you."

Surprise lit up your face. "How did you--?"

"I see your husband left a few things out, didn't he? Do you want to share, Dean?"

Dean winced and shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, well--umm...Missouri is--well, she's psychic."

"I'm sorry, she's what?"

"Psychic," Dean repeated.

You turned to look at Sam and he simply nodded. Your gaze shifted back to Missouri who gave you another sad smile.

"It's true, honey. That's why I know about your missing memories. I can see the block in your mind...and the fake memories replacing your real ones."

"Fake memories? What do you mean fake memories?"

"How did your parents die?" Missouri asked seemingly from nowhere.

"A car accident," you answered in confusion.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dean and Sam exchange glances. Missouri sighed quietly and shook her head.

You tried to catch Dean's gaze, but he kept his eyes trained on the floor in front of him, suddenly fascinated with the pattern of the rug.

"Are you saying my parents didn't die in a car accident?"

"No, dear. They did not," Missouri answered.

"But I remember--" you fell silent as Missouri's words came back to you...'fake memories'. You shook your head. "I don't understand."

Missouri gave you a pitying look. "When you were 19 years old, your parents were murdered by something inhuman. A creature known as a ghoul. The ghoul appeared to you as your mother after it had killed her in an attempt to kill you, but you realized it wasn't your mother. You grabbed a wooden candlestick off the mantle and bashed the creature's head in, managing to kill it without even knowing what it was."

You were frozen in your seat, caught somewhere between disbelief and utter terror. You pushed the terror down, allowing the disbelief to prevail. You jumped out of your seat and yelled, "You people are crazy! Ghouls don't exist!"

Dean stood up and grabbed your arm to keep you from running. "Ghouls are very real, (Y/N). That experience changed your life forever. From that moment on, you knew the things that go bump in the night were real...that they murdered innocent people all over the world. It's why you came back here...to find answers and learn how to hunt them."

You shook your head vehemently. "No, no, that's not possible. They died in a car accident!"

Dean turned you to face him completely. "We met on a vampire hunt in Arkansas. Sam and I had identified the case and we ran into you early on in the hunt. You more than proved your abilities during that case and I asked you to come hunt with us. I didn't want you to keep going alone--it was too risky."

"What are you talking about?" you cried. "Vampires aren't real! None of this is real...it can't be real." Your knees turned to jelly and you would have fallen to the floor if Dean hadn't been holding onto you. He pulled you into him and you sobbed into his chest, finally allowing your tumultuous emotions out.

Dean held you tightly, tears of his own threatening to fall. He didn't know how to make you believe any of this--it sounded insane to him and he'd been raised in the life. He had a hard enough time convincing people who had literally seen a monster that they were real--this was so much worse. You couldn't remember all the monsters you'd killed in your life, so why would you ever believe a word any of them said?

"We might seem crazy, (Y/N), but I think if you allow yourself to believe it for even a moment, you may find it's not as crazy as it sounds," Missouri said gently.

You sniffled softly and turned to look into her eyes. You were still wrapped in Dean's arms--it made you feel incredibly safe, despite the situation. You focused on that feeling and tried to relax your breathing. Every single part of you was certain Dean would die to protect you...if that was true, then the love he had for you was real too. If his love was real, then so was your relationship--your marriage. If all of this was true, then maybe what he was telling you was true...maybe monsters really were real.

Missouri saw the moment you began to believe them--your eyes showed your emotions, but it was your mind that gave you away. She could sense your belief, just as she could sense the false memories swirling around in your mind.

"A witch," she said softly.

Dean's entire body went rigid. "What?"

"The missing memories and the replacements...it's the work of a witch. An extremely powerful one at that."

"Are you sure?" Dean whispered.

Missouri shot him a glare that told him exactly how certain she was.

"A witch?" you questioned softly, pulling away from Dean to look at his face.

"My least favorite type of monster."

"Witches are monsters?" you asked.

"Most of them," he responded.

"This kind of magic is dark," Missouri muttered. "Messing with someone's memories...it's very dangerous magic. The skill needed to not only block out the real memories but replace them indicates this is a very old witch. This type of magic isn't common these days."

"Demons?" Sam asked.

Missouri shook her head. "Older."

"Demons?" you squeaked out. "Demons are real too?"

Dean rubbed your arms comfortingly. "Yeah, sweetheart, but we don't need to worry about that right now, okay?"

You exhaled shakily. "How do I know what memories are real and which ones aren't?"

Missouri stood up and took your hands, forcing Dean to release you. She looked into your eyes, gaze extremely focused. After several moments she spoke. "Your childhood is intact up until your parents' deaths. Everything else up until three weeks ago is a false memory."

"Fourteen years?" you gasped. "Fourteen years of my life is a lie?"

Dean could see you start to spiral, instinctively reaching for you to try to ground you. "Baby, baby, hey--hey...focus on me, okay? Everything's gonna be okay."

Your eyes met his and your breathing began to slow once again. His warm gaze brought you back to earth, calming you in a way only he could. You felt calm--you felt safe. "Thank you," you whispered.

He pulled you into him for a tight a hug, placing his lips to the top of your head. "I've got you, sweetheart. I've got you."

Both Sam and Missouri felt as though they were intruding on a private moment. Missouri gestured for Sam to follow her out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked softly.

You looked up at him. "I think so. It's--it's a lot to take in."

"I know, sweetheart. I can't imagine what you're feeling right now, but everything we've told you is true."

"What happened three weeks ago, Dean?"

"What I told you before was true, but I left out a few details. We were on a hunt...a routine haunting. At least that's what we thought it was. When we got there, it was dark inside and it smelled like rotting corpses. It was strange, but not exactly out of the ordinary for a haunting. I went into a room ahead of you and I was knocked unconscious by something--I don't even remember what it was. When I woke up, you were gone."

"Could a--a witch do that?"

Dean nodded. "Easily. Especially if they're as powerful as Missouri thinks they are."

"So what do we do?"

"We find a way to restore your memories...then we hunt this witch down and find out why they targeted you."

"What if we can't?"

"Oh we'll find the witch. Don't worry."

You shook your head. "What if we can't get my memories back?"

Dean's expression betrayed his fear, if only for a second. "There has to be a way. There has to."

"There is," Missouri stated as she reentered the room with Sam in tow. "But it won't be pleasant."

"Can you do it?" Dean asked.

"I'm a psychic, Dean, not a witch."

Dean looked crestfallen.

"But I know someone who can help."

Dean looked back up. "Who?"

"Her name is Bethelia Logan. She's a very old, very powerful witch."

"Absolutely not!" Dean yelled instantly. "I'm not taking (Y/N) to a witch."

"Don't yell at me, child. Do you want her memories back or not?"

Dean started to argue again, but you placed a gentle hand to his chest, silencing him. "Do you trust her?"

Missouri nodded. "I would never send you to someone I didn't trust." She pointed at Dean. "You should know that."

Dean looked down in shame. He hated witches--hated them with everything in his soul. His hatred existed long before this moment...but now that he knew a witch had stolen your memories? He'd kill every witch on earth if he could.

"Where can we find this Bethelia Logan?" Sam asked.

"She lives in the mountains of Montana. Partially for the nature and partially for the privacy. She's not particularly friendly to strangers, but if you tell her I sent you, she'll help you."

"Are you sure she'll help us?" Dean asked.

"I'll send her a message. She'll help."

Dean looked down at you, wanting the decision to be yours and yours alone.

"You have her address?" you asked, a resigned smile on your face.

Missouri gave Dean the address and wished him luck. She said her goodbyes to the boys before sending them out the door. She stopped you before you could leave, wanting to say something in private.

"You are a strong woman, (Y/N). I have always thought that. You will need all your strength to get through this, if you choose to go through with it."

"What do you mean, 'if'?"

"The magic used to take your memories was very powerful black magic...and it will take very powerful black magic to reverse it. Such magic is dangerous for the user and for the person it is used on."

Realization dawned on your face. "Will I survive it?"

Missouri's expression softened, sadness darkening her gaze. "I don't know, honey, but it will likely be the most painful experience of your life. Which is why it must be your choice to go through with it. Yours, (Y/N)--yours alone."

You looked towards the Impala where Dean and Sam waited for you. You turned back to look at Missouri, a soft sigh leaving your lips. "Thank you for telling me."

"I love those boys like family, just as I love you, but Dean isn't like a normal man. He loves more deeply than anyone I have ever known--there isn't anything he wouldn't do for you. Don't tell him what I've told you, (Y/N). He won't let you make this choice on your own if you do...not because he doesn't trust you, but because he doesn't want to lose you."

Tears filled your eyes as you regarded the older woman. "I don't know how to explain it, but I know how much he loves me. I know what he would do for me. I need to remember why--desperately."

Missouri sighed quietly. "You've always loved that boy more than he believes he deserves, but in truth, he deserves all of your love. I've never met two people more perfect for one another--even if you never remember your lives together, I know you will love him that much again."

You nodded, allowing her words to wash over you. You knew in your heart she was right--you could see yourself falling in love with him, so it didn't surprise you that she believed it too. "Thank you, Missouri. For everything."

"You are so welcome, (Y/N) Winchester. Now go--and be safe."

You gave her a tight hug before walking away to join your husband and his brother on what would turn out to be the most harrowing journey of your life.

**********

It was a 16 hour drive from Missouri's home to Bethelia's home in Montana. You were quiet for most of the ride, reflecting on everything that had happened, as well as Missouri's final words to you. You half-listened to Sam and Dean's conversation, but your mind was elsewhere. You knew you had an important decision to make--one you apparently had to make entirely on your own.

Dean noticed your quiet demeanor and it worried him more than he cared to admit. He had to wonder what Missouri had said to you before you'd left, but he didn't want to press you for answers.

"Sweetheart, why don't you get some sleep?" Dean suggested softly. "I'm gonna drive through the night."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" you asked softly.

"We do it all the time. Don't worry," he assured you.

Sam nodded his agreement. "If he gets tired, I'll take over."

"Over my cold dead corpse," Dean grumbled.

You laughed lightly and Sam rolled his eyes. "Alright, I'll try and get some sleep."

You turned your body slightly, leaning your head against the car window. You tried to get comfortable, but the cold metal and freezing window made that impossible.

Dean noticed your discomfort, watching you shift back and forth for several minutes. "Hey baby," he said softly, getting your attention. You turned to look in his direction.

"Come here, use my shoulder." You looked up at him and he offered you a gentle smile. "I can tell you're uncomfortable."

You angled your body to lean across the seat, resting your head on his shoulder. You sighed softly, finally finding a comfortable position. You were asleep within minutes. Dean glanced down at you and smiled before placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Sam watched the interaction from the backseat, a mixture of sadness and joy weighing on him. He was glad Dean had found you, but he was terrified of what would happen when they made it to Montana. Sam wasn't stupid...and he knew a lot more about magic than his brother did. He knew it was going to be extremely dangerous to try and fix your memories, and he worried it wouldn't end well. He didn't want to mention his concerns to Dean as he didn't want to scare him. He knew exactly what his brother was like when someone he loved was in danger.

You awoke several hours later to rays of morning sun shining through the windshield. Your head was still resting against Dean's shoulder and he felt you stir slowly.

"Good morning beautiful," Dean whispered softly.

You looked up at him with a smile. "Mornin'." You pulled yourself up into a sitting position and stretched.

You felt Dean's gaze on you, so you turned to look at him. "What?"

"Nothin'."

You raised your eyebrows. "Then why're you looking at me like that?"

He smiled. "You're just so beautiful," he said softly. "I can't help but stare."

You blushed and looked away from him. "Not this early in the morning," you mumbled.

He chuckled lightly. "Nice try, sweetheart. You're beautiful 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. 366 during leap year." He shot you a wink, which only caused your blush to deepen.

"You're too much," you giggled softly.

He reached over and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. "You're just right."

"What did I do to deserve you?" you asked softly.

Surprise lit up his handsome face. "Deserve me? Other way around, baby."

You shook your head. "I don't think so."

He glanced over at you again. "There's a lot you don't remember, (Y/N/N). Trust me when I say I'm the one who doesn't deserve you."

"That's not what Missouri thinks."

"Huh?"

"She told me you think you don't deserve me, but she said you deserve all the love I have to give. She thinks very highly of you, you know."

The look of surprise covered his face again. "I think highly of her too."

You smiled, reaching across to grab his hand. He looked over at you with a smile. "I can see why I fell in love with you."

His heart skipped a beat, hearing your words had a profound effect on him. "I'm still not sure how I won you over, but I'll always be grateful for your love."

You leaned across the seat and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. "I can't wait to remember everything," you whispered.

He shot you a warm smile, but it quickly faded to sadness.

"Dean?" you murmured.

"I know what we're going to do is extremely dangerous. I'm no fool, (Y/N/N)...I know Missouri warned you. I don't want you to do anything out of some sort of obligation to me, okay? I would rather die than lose you."

You touched his cheek gently. "I didn't want to worry you."

"I know. I'm willing to bet she told you not to tell me anyway."

Your mirthless chuckle was confirmation enough. "For the record, any decision I make is because it's what I want to do...and I need you to respect my decision."

Tears welled in his eyes, but he nodded. "I'll try."

You shook your head. "It's not a request, Dean."

He sighed. "I know you can't remember...but I'm not good at these types of situations. I tend to be a little reckless when someone I love is at risk."

"Missouri may have mentioned that too."

Dean chuckled. "Of course she did."

Sam began to stir in the backseat, a loud yawn alerting you both to his consciousness. "We there yet?" he mumbled.

Dean laughed. "We've still got another 4 hours or so."

"You want me to drive?"

"No one but my baby gets to drive Baby."

Sam laughed and rolled his eyes.

"Did you just call the car 'Baby'?" you asked.

"The three things I love most in this world are, you, Sammy, and this car."

You laughed heartily, rekindling Sam's laughter and sparking Dean's laughter. You might not be able to remember it, but you knew deep in your soul that these two people were your family--and somehow you loved them even without the memories to back it up.

**********

It was mid-afternoon when the three of you finally pulled up in front of a small house in middle-of-nowhere Montana.

"Do you think Missouri called her?" Dean asked.

"We better hope so," you murmured, pointing at the various signs in the yard warning people not to trespass.

"Yikes," Sam muttered.

Dean sighed and got out of the car, you and Sam following close behind. Before Dean could raise his hand to knock on the front door, it opened to reveal a surprisingly young-looking woman.

"Can you read?" the woman snapped.

"Missouri Moseley sent us," Sam said quickly.

The woman's expression softened immediately. "Well why didn't you say so? Come in, come in!"

You followed her inside and she gestured for you to have a seat in her small living room. The three of you sat down beside each other on the small couch.

"I'm Bethelia," the woman said as she sat in a chair across from you. "You must be the Winchesters."

The three of you nodded.

Bethelia looked at you closely. "I see you've been touched by black magic."

You nodded slowly. "So I've been told."

"Can you help her?" Dean asked.

Bethelia hummed quietly. "I can, but I am not certain you'll want me to."

"Missouri warned me it would dangerous."

She nodded. "This type of magic is very strong. I cannot guarantee you will survive."

Dean froze beside you and you blindly reached out to grab his hand. You squeezed it reassuringly. "What do I have to do?"

"(Y/N/N)," Dean pleaded.

Bethelia watched you carefully. "You have to be willing to risk everything to retrieve your memories. As you are now, you can make new memories with the ones you love, even if you cannot remember the past. But if you choose to work with me, your life may be forfeit."

You'd spent every waking hour since leaving Missouri's thinking about what you would do. Now, faced with the question, you found you knew your answer without a shadow of a doubt. "I'm willing to risk it."

"(Y/N/N)," Dean pleaded a second time. "You said it yourself--we can make new memories...we can fall in love all over again."

You turned to look into your husband's bright green eyes, both of which swirled with emotions the depths of which you couldn't even begin to understand. "Would you mind giving us a moment?"

Bethelia rose, immediately understanding what you needed. Sam took a second longer, but quickly followed Bethelia from the room, leaving you and Dean alone.

Dean immediately rose from his seat and began to pace. "You can't do this, (Y/N). It's not worth the risk."

"It's my decision, Dean. I don't need your permission, but I would like your support."

"I can't give you that--I can't...I can't lose you."

You stood up and grabbed his hands, stopping him in front of you. "I know it's hard, but it's worth it to me--it's worth the risk. I need to remember, Dean. It's my life and if the last few days are anything to go by, then I'd give anything to remember the last eleven years with you. Anything."

He looked down at you, finally allowing the tears to slide down his face. Your heart broke as you took in his pained expression, fear evident in his gaze. "I want to remember everything about you--every moment, every heartbreak, every painful memory, every joyful second, every loving embrace. I want to remember what it's like to love you--and be loved by you."

You reached up and wiped the tears from his cheeks, and you found yourself wishing you could take away his pain. You didn't want to die, but you didn't want to live a lie--you needed the truth and the only way to get that was to restore your memories.

"I need to remember."

Dean closed his eyes and leaned into your palm. He would have traded places with you in a heartbeat, sold his soul to save you, set fire to the world to keep you out of harm's way...but he couldn't do any of those things. He was powerless to protect you and it was killing him.

"I know you're strong," he whispered. "but baby, I'm terrified."

"I know," you murmured. "I know."

You rose up on your tiptoes, gently pulling his face down to yours. You pressed your lips to his in a heated kiss--a kiss you tried to infuse with every complicated emotion you'd felt in the last several days. His body instinctively melted into yours like you were made for each other--like you'd done it a thousand times before.

When you separated, he leaned his forehead against yours, breath mingling with yours. "I need you to trust me," you whispered.

Dean closed his eyes. "I trust you."

You exhaled shakily as you pulled away from him. It was killing him, but he couldn't make this decision for you--all he could do was give you the one thing you asked for.

"I support whatever decision you make...and I love you," he said softly. "I'll always love you."

You hadn't really expected him to support you, so hearing him say those words gave you an added boost of strength you didn't know you needed. You touched his cheek one last time before walking away in search of Bethelia.

"You are ready," the witch said from the doorway, her words a confirmation, not a query.

You nodded. "Let's do this."

Sam went to his brother's side, giving him a reassuring clap on the back. There wasn't really anything for him to say, but his presence was enough to calm Dean.

Bethelia turned to address the two men. "No matter what happens, you must not interrupt the spell. If you do, you risk her mind as well as her life. Do you understand?"

They both nodded.

"It will be painful," she said to you.

"I know," you whispered.

She simply nodded and gestured for you to follow. She guided you to a dimly lit room filled with hundreds of candles. The room was obviously home to a large amount of spell work, but much of the space had been cleared to make room for a large mat in the center of the floor.

"Lie down, (Y/N)."

You did as she asked, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

"You may wait in the hall," Bethelia addressed Sam and Dean. "Do not cross the threshold. Do not interrupt the spell. Do nothing."

You turned to make eye contact with Dean. "I'll be alright."

He nodded, desperate to believe you. "I love you," he whispered.

"I know," you whispered back.

"Let's begin," Bethelia said, silencing any further conversation.

You closed your eyes and sent out a silent prayer to any deity who might be listening--a prayer for strength, for survival. It was the last coherent thought you had before your mind was overwhelmed with a blinding pain you couldn't describe.

Sam and Dean watched from outside the room as you writhed in pain, cries of agony ripped from your throat as Bethelia worked her magic.

"I can't watch this," Dean gasped out, turning on his heels and practically running for the front door.

Even outside, he could hear your screams--each one like a knife to his heart. He didn't know how long he stood there, he had long since lost count of your screams, the seconds between them all but disappearing.

Sam had remained inside, standing watch over you as best he could. Much like Dean, his chest ached with each of your screams--he hated seeing you in so much pain.

After what felt like an eternity, silence fell on the small home--a silence more deafening than any scream. Dean waited for a few moments before running back into the house, terrified of what he would find.

When your limp body came into view, he tried to enter the room--tried to reach you, but Sam grabbed him and held him back. "Dean, you can't! She's not done!"

Dean struggled against his brother's hold, every instinct dying to go to you. He watched in terror as you remained still as death, not a single sound escaping your sweet lips.

"(Y/N/N)..." he whimpered.

Bethelia's chanting had ceased, her small form kneeling beside your body as if waiting for something.

Unbeknownst to anyone in the home, a war was raging inside your mind--a battle between who you were and who you believed yourself to be. Memories were fighting for their rightful place in your mind--false and real, a distinction your fragile psyche couldn't make.

The only thing you knew for sure was your name: (Y/N) Winchester. You knew it with the same conviction that you knew gravity was real. Your certainty gave way to another: Dean Winchester was the love of your life. Flashes of moments from the past few days flew through your mind, but the ones you focused on where the memories you didn't recall.

You saw the joyful moments filled with laughter and jokes, the painful moments filled with tears and loss, the passionate moments with nothing between your bodies but sweat and desire, and the loving moments that grounded you--kept you from giving up even when life was unbearable.

You felt his love for you wash over you in waves, drowning you in an ocean of passion you didn't wish to escape from. But then you felt your love for him, the depths of which you couldn't even begin to comprehend. Whatever you'd imagined you'd felt for him paled in comparison to reality--he was tied to your soul so completely you wondered how it was possible to have lived without his memory for more than a moment.

As these memories and emotions solidified within you, the false memories began to fade away, replaced by the real ones that had been locked away in the darkest recesses of your mind. Millions of memories flooded your mind, filling the gaps in your life, making you whole once more.

Dean, Sam, and Bethelia watched in silence, waiting for something to happen. Dean wasn't even certain you were breathing, but he was terrified to ask...he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Bethelia began to look more and more crestfallen as time went on, the minutes ticking by in painful silence. Sam's gaze was focused on her, praying her expression would turn hopeful once again.

Dean's gaze, on the other hand, was focused entirely on you--on your face. He was looking for any sign of movement, of life...anything to calm his aching heart.

An hour had passed since the spell had begun...twenty minutes of silence had stretched on after your screams had ended. They were the longest twenty minutes of Dean's life.

He had begun to lose hope--fearing the worst, but afraid to voice it. Suddenly, you gasped for air, bolting upright as you sucked in gulps of oxygen. Dean ran to you, breaking free of his brother's relaxed grip--not giving a damn if he was allowed to enter the room or not.

He dropped to his knees beside you, reaching out to grab your face. "(Y/N)? Sweetheart, can you hear me?"

Your eyes met his and his breath caught in his chest. Those sweet (y/e/c) eyes he loved so much were full of recognition--full of love. "Dean," you whispered hoarsely.

He wrapped you in a hug so tightly you thought he might squeeze every ounce of air from your lungs, but you couldn't be bothered to care. You were squeezing him back just as tightly, feeling at home in his arms.

He leaned back to look at your face again, brushing your hair back to see you more clearly. He hadn't realized how different you'd looked when your memories were gone--not until this moment. As he looked at you, he noticed all the little things he hadn't taken the time to pay attention to before. Your skin seemed to glow with love and warmth, your eyes sparkled more brilliantly than they had in the past few days, and your smile was bright enough to pierce through any darkness.

"Baby?" he asked tentatively, needing to hear the confirmation from your lips.

"I remember," you whispered softly, leaning forward to brush your lips against his.

He wrapped his arms around you again, tugging you close, and kissing you with as much passion as he could muster. The moment was so pure, so full of love, that both Sam and Bethelia were moved by it. The love the two of you shared was beyond what an average person would ever experience--incomprehensible to most.

When you finally separated, Dean leaned his forehead against yours. "You scared me for a minute," he admitted.

"I told you I'd be okay," you murmured. "Have a little faith, my love."

He smiled. "God I missed you."

"I missed you too."

Dean finally pulled away from you and rose to his feet. He took your hand in his and helped you up, your body still weak from the intensity of the spell.

You smiled warmly at the two people standing a few feet away. "Hey Sammy. Miss me?"

Sam grinned and stepped forward to wrap you in a hug. "Of course I did."

When he stepped back, you addressed Bethelia. "I can't thank you enough."

Bethelia smiled and gestured between you and Dean. "This right here? This is thanks enough. It has been a long time since I've witnessed a love this pure. I feel honored to have been able to witness it again."

You looked up at Dean as he smiled down at you. He kissed your forehead and you leaned into him. "I feel honored to be able to experience it--especially knowing what it's like to live without it."

"I know the feeling," he murmured.

"Not to bring the mood down, but I remember what happened in Colorado," you said softly.

Sam and Dean looked at you, both waiting to hear what you recalled.

"I saw you on the floor--unconscious--and I let my guard down. I was terrified you were dead...that's when she got me."

"The witch," Dean stated quietly.

You nodded. "She knew my name--knew yours too. All she told me was she wanted you to pay. She didn't explain what she meant."

"Why the hell did she target you if she wanted me to pay?"

"She had to have known what losing me would do to you--that it would hurt you more deeply than anything she could ever have done to you directly."

Dean felt a mixture of sorrow and anger. No one was going to get away with hurting you, not as long as he drew breath.

"All I remember after that was the pain...so much pain. Then I woke up in a house in a city I've never lived in before with a whole life I didn't remember. But as far as I was concerned, that was my life. It felt so real--up until the day you waltzed in."

Dean reached out and touched your face. "Anyone who dares hurt you is destined for a short life."

You'd known he'd want to kill the witch, and to be honest, you didn't blame him. Hunting monsters was your life--and this witch certainly counted as one. "We'll find her Dean."

"Damn right we will. I'll put a bullet right through her skull. See how she likes having her mind messed with."

You placed a gentle hand to your husband's arm, trying to calm him. "For now, let's just focus on the good things. I have my memories back and I'm with you. That's what matters."

Dean nodded and offered you a weak smile. "You're right, baby. You're right."

You turned to Bethelia with a smile, thanking her once again, as did Sam and Dean. You were surprised when Dean gave the witch a hug--he wasn't an affectionate man by nature, especially with strangers, but she'd saved your life in his estimation...so she got a pass.

"You're the only witch I've ever liked," Dean commented as the three of you prepared to leave.

Bethelia laughed. "There are others like me out there, I can assure you. We're not all monsters, hunter."

Dean nodded. "Perhaps not."

You grabbed his hand and tugged it gently as you started toward the Impala. "Come on, handsome. It's time to go."

The three of you piled into the car, waving goodbye to Bethelia as you pulled away.

"I'm so ready to go home," you mumbled with a yawn.

"Me too, baby."

"Me three," Sam added.

"Do you want to stop at a motel to rest?" you asked softly.

Dean's gaze rested on your face, drinking it in like he was scared he'd forget it. "Not a chance, sweetheart. I wanna get you home as quickly as possible."

The hungry look in his eyes belied his hidden meaning and you silently hoped Sam didn't notice. "Try not to drive too fast," you teased.

"I would never," he said in mock offense. He pressed firmly on the accelerator and the Impala shot down the road at an assuredly illegal speed.

You laughed and shook your head, knowing full-well Dean would get you home in one piece, even if it was a little faster than it should be.

**********

Fourteen hours later, you were back home in your beloved bunker in Lawrence, Kansas. What should have taken nearly sixteen hours, was shortened by Dean's intense desire to get home.

"Oh I missed this place," you said with a smile as you entered.

"You didn't even remember it existed until a few hours ago," Dean chided.

"I missed it without even knowing what I was missing...kinda like I missed you," you teased back.

He smiled, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. "Not nearly as much as I missed you."

You leaned back into him. "That could be because you actually remembered me."

"There's not a chance in hell I could forget you." He pressed gentle kisses to your neck down to your shoulder.

"As happy as I am to have you back," Sam interrupted. "Could you two get a room?" His voice was light and teasing, which made you laugh.

"Oh come on, Sammy--it's nothing you haven't seen before," Dean said with a grin. "Just a man loving his gorgeous wife."

Sam rolled his eyes affectionately. "I'll go get my noise canceling headphones. You two have fun getting reacquainted."

You watched Sam walk off towards his bedroom, a small smile playing on your face.

"So you think we should get...reacquainted?" Dean murmured against the shell of your ear.

"Aren't you exhausted from all the driving?"

"I'm never too tired for you, baby."

You turned around to face him, leaning into his strong body. "I think you should take me to bed then, Mr. Winchester."

"It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Winchester." Dean slipped his arms under your round bottom, lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. He held you closely as he carried you towards your shared bedroom.

As he made his way to your room, you spent every second pressing kisses to his face sweetly, tangling your fingers in his short hair.

"You better stop that or I might take you right here on the table," he growled lowly.

"It's not like we haven't before," you giggled.

Dean groaned. "I don't wanna scar Sam for life--otherwise, I'd have you on every surface in this damn bunker."

"Maybe later then," you murmured as you kissed his neck affectionately.

Dean moved more quickly, the need to get you into his bed becoming overwhelming. As soon as he made it into the bedroom, he kicked the door closed, pressing you against it as he attached his lips to yours hungrily.

You gasped slightly before returning his passionate kiss. You tugged on his jacket, silently begging him to remove it. He pulled away just long enough to rip his jacket and flannel off before kissing you again.

His strong hands slid up under your shirt, moving upwards to tug it off over your head. His lithe fingers unsnapped your bra with practiced ease and pulled it forward to reveal the swell of your breasts.

"I've missed these," he murmured, lips immediately finding their home between the valley of your breasts. He took his time nipping and sucking at each one, playing with your nipples just the way you liked.

Your fingers dug into his scalp as you held him close to you, reveling in the feeling of his lips on your body. Your core pulsed with aching need, but you ignored it as best you could. You didn't want to rush him...not after all this time apart.

Dean loved how soft you felt against his toned form--he couldn't describe how much he'd missed touching you so intimately. This wasn't the first time the two of you had been torn apart from each other, but it had been the toughest time for him.

He felt your soft hands clutching at his shirt, desperate to remove it. Dean smirked against your skin before turning around and tossing you onto the bed. He tugged his shirt off over his head and threw it across the room, giving you a clear view of his impressive torso.

He started to climb onto the bed, but you stopped him. "Pants too, please."

He chuckled. "Impatient, are we?"

You shook your head. "I just want to see your perfect body on display--just for me."

He raised his eyebrows, but did as you asked, removing his pants slowly, eyes locked on yours.

You could see his hard member straining against his boxers, practically begging to be touched. You crawled across the bed, coming closer to him, eyes trained on your target.

"Whatcha doin' baby?"

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, tongue darting out to dampen your lips. "Wanna taste you."

Dean exhaled sharply, but there was no way he was going to say no to your request. He watched as you rolled over onto your back, head hanging off the edge of the bed. His breath caught in his chest as he realized your intentions. "You sure?" he whispered.

You grinned cheekily. "Come on pretty boy--use me."

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, quickly ridding himself of his last article of clothing. He gripped his large cock tightly in his right hand and stepped forward. He tapped against your mouth gently. "Open wide, sweetheart."

You happily obliged, mouth opening as wide as you could to accommodate his size. He slid slowly into your warm, wet mouth, groaning softly at the feeling.

You made a little noise of pleasure, wrapping your hands around his muscular thighs to get more comfortable and pull him even closer to you.

Dean's motions started out slow, but he quickly lost himself in the feeling of you, listening to the delicious sounds you were making. Within moments, he'd begun fucking your face properly, obscene sounds escaping his lips.

"Fuck--that's it baby. S-so good for me."

You moaned happily, fingers digging into his skin as you continued to take him deep in your throat. He leaned forward to grab at your breasts, massaging them and pinching your nipples as he thrust, which only increased your enjoyment.

Dean felt his orgasm quickly approaching, but he wasn't ready to cum just yet. He eased his cock out of your mouth and took a step back, chuckling softly at your whine.

"Don't worry, baby--I'm nowhere near done." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your messy lips before rising back up to his full height. "Get comfortable, sweetheart--it's my turn."

You quickly rotated your body so your head rested comfortably on the pillows at the head of the bed. Dean wasted no time joining you on the bed, quickly unsnapping your jeans before pulling them off along with your panties.

He wedged himself between your legs, lowering himself to lie flat on the bed. He inhaled deeply, face mere inches from your aching pussy.

"You smell delicious, baby--can't wait to taste you."

Dean's tongue slipped out of his mouth, running a thick stripe up your pussy before sliding between your lips to begin his assault.

Your hips shot off the bed, causing Dean to lay his arm across your abdomen to hold you in place. He didn't want you to be able to squirm away while he gave you as much pleasure as he could.

Your fingers entwined in his hair as he ate you out like it was the last thing he'd ever do. It felt so incredibly good and your moans of pleasure spurred him on.

"D--feels s-so good."

He moaned into your core, the vibrations making you cry out in pleasure. He sped up his ministrations, years of practice with you making him an expert on your body.

"So close," you whimpered.

Dean slipped two fingers inside of you, curling them to press against your g-spot rapidly. Within moments, your orgasm crashed into you with violent intensity, hips jacking off the bed despite Dean's attempts to hold you in place. He kept up with your movements, not stopping until you pulled him up by his hair.

He licked his lips with a smirk, enjoying the lingering taste of you. His normally bright green eyes were dark with arousal as he looked at your blissed out face. He hovered over you, eyes scanning your face as if to memorize every inch of it, before leaning down to kiss you deeply.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer to you. You loved the feeling of his strong body against yours, enjoying the warmth emanating from his heated skin.

"I need you, (Y/N/N)," he whispered against your lips. "Please."

"Wanna feel you inside me, Dean--make me forget my own name."

He growled lowly. "I can do that for you, baby. Only thing you'll be able to say is my name."

You moaned softly, lifting your hips to press against his, earning a sharp inhale from his lips. He slipped his cock in between your folds, entering you completely with one harsh thrust.

You cried out at the feeling of fullness, slight pain mixing with the pleasure. No matter how many times you'd made love to this man, he never failed to make you feel incredible. Every time was like the first time in the first few moments, before quickly morphing into an unforgettable experience with someone who knew your body better than you did.

"Move baby--please," you begged.

He always waited for a few moments, never wanting to cause you any undue pain, but as soon as those words left your mouth, he began to thrust into you in earnest.

"Shit, sweetheart--missed this sweet little pussy. Squeezing me so good, feels like heaven."

"Harder, Dean--please."

Dean shifted his body to give you what you needed, thrusts now deeper and faster than before. His fingers dug into your hips so tightly that bruises were sure to appear.

Your moans reverberated throughout the room, spurring Dean on. His own noises were absolutely sinful--and you loved hearing them. Your nails dug into his muscular back, trying desperately to ground yourself in the sea of pleasure.

You felt your orgasm approaching and you voiced as much to Dean, who was already well-aware.

"Want you to cum for me, baby. I wanna feel you make a mess on my cock."

You whimpered, clinging to him tightly as he continued his measured thrusts. "Dean..."

"I've got you, gorgeous. Let go for me."

You cried out in pleasure as your second orgasm washed over you, body shaking beneath his, waves of pleasure overwhelming your senses.

Dean worked you through your high, waiting until your body stopped shaking before gently rolling you onto your stomach. You tried to lift your hips to accommodate him, but he gently pressed you back down into the mattress.

"I've got this baby girl, just get comfortable."

He slid into you, laying his body on top of you, covering you like a heated blanket. The angle of his thrusts instantly sent you spiraling--body trembling beneath him.

"Fuck, sweetheart--how's this pussy still so fuckin' tight?" he growled in your ear.

You were clenching him tightly, intense pleasure slamming into your core with each thrust he made. You could hardly breathe--the pleasure already so blinding.

"You're close again, aren't you? I can feel it, baby," Dean murmured against your neck.

You couldn't do anything other than moan and whine as he fucked you deeper into the mattress. He was right--you were on the brink of another blinding orgasm.

"I wanna fill this sweet pussy up, baby--but I can't do that until you cum for me."

You whimpered softly, Dean's thrusts continuing.

"Tell me what you need, sweetheart."

"Don't stop--" you gasped.

Dean continued his motions, not changing a single thing. He knew you were close--all you needed was a little push. His lips were so close to your shoulder, brushing softly against your skin. On a particularly hard thrust, Dean bit into your shoulder blade, drawing a scream of pleasure from your throat as you came around him.

He slowed his motions, not quite ready to cum, but not wanting to stop. He kissed the bite mark gently, making sure you felt his love for you in each kiss.

When you'd come down from your high, Dean eased you onto your back, cock still buried deep inside you. He began slow, gentle thrusts, waiting for you to refocus on him.

After several moments, your eyes finally met his and he smiled warmly. "There you are."

"Dean..." you whispered.

"I'm right here, baby."

"Want you to fill me up," you begged softly.

Dean groaned. "You keep squeezing me and looking at me like that and I'm a goner."

You gave him a weak smile and clenched your pussy as tightly as you could. He gasped softly, hips stuttering slightly.

"Cum for me, Dean--please."

"Gonna f-fill you up, baby...s-so close."

You wrapped your weak legs around him, holding him against you. You placed a gentle palm against his cheek, forcing him to continue looking at your loving expression.

His thrusts had become sloppy and his breathing labored. A few more thrusts and he exploded inside of you, cries of pleasure leaving his lips as he filled you up. His spend leaked out of you as his thrusts began to slow to a halt, lips pressing into your sweaty skin in gentle kisses.

"I love you," he whispered repeatedly. "So, so much."

Finally, Dean collapsed on top of you, softening member still inside of you. The two of you laid like that for several minutes, entangled together comfortably. You held him tightly, almost afraid to let go.

Dean slowly began to lift himself off of you, leaving you cold and empty. You whimpered softly, reaching for him as he got off the bed.

He turned to you and smiled. "I'm coming right back, baby. I promise."

He moved slowly towards the sink in the corner of the room before returning with a warm, wet washcloth to clean your mixed spends from between your legs. Each touch made you shiver, but his gentle voice grounded you.

"I've got you, baby. Almost done."

Once he'd finished, he tossed the washcloth across the room before crawling back into bed with you. He laid down beside you and tugged you into him. You angled your body to lay your head on his chest.

The two of you laid in silence for so long you began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep. He had to be tired after that drive and the exertion of your love making, so you didn't blame him.

Just as you began to drift off to sleep yourself, you heard Dean's soft voice. “Babe? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you said softly.

“Do you want that normal, apple pie kinda life?”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head against his chest. “Absolutely not."

“Really? Not even a little?”

You looked up at him, expression softening. “Not even a little. I happen to love our life. I love living in a weird underground bunker. I love driving all over god’s green earth in our ancient Impala. I love staying in seedy motels and eating shitty diner food. I love saving people and hunting monsters. Do you know why?”

He shook his head.

“Because I get to do it all with you.”

He smiled at you, gaze exceptionally tender.

“I couldn’t ask for anything better than this beautiful, messy life of ours.”

He leaned in to kiss you sweetly. “I love you so damn much, baby.”

“I love you too, Dean Winchester. Always.”

You settled back against his warm chest, listening to the solid beating of his heart. You knew tomorrow would bring another battle, another problem to solve, but for right now, you were exactly where you needed to be--in the arms of the man you loved with all your soul, feeling safe and loved...finally home.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x wife!reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester smut #supernatural smut

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suuuupernovaaa · 4 months ago

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Aemond’s betrothed is threatened, and he will stop at nothing to save her.

Content Warnings: violence, blood, mature, 18+

Soft footfalls were enough to wake you from your light slumber. Through you were not yet married, it was rare that Aemond did not find sleep in your bedchambers at night.

So, you assumed it was Aemond, come to join you at last, when you heard the footsteps approaching.

Your groggy mind took too long to process that it was two sets of footprints, not one.

Sitting up, you pulled the blanket to cover your night gown, and watched as two strange men entered your room.

“Guards!” you screamed immediately, and the taller man laughed, revealing rotting teeth. You winced at the sight and sound.

“They won’t be coming, Princess. Not til we’re done with you, at least,” he snarled, and they approached your bed.

Frantically, you tried to scramble to the head of the bed, meaning to get your footing and make a run for it, but they were on you, daggers drawn, before you could get anywhere.

The smaller one, who could not be much older than you at nine and ten, grabbed your ankle, and roughly pulled you from the bed.

You hit the stone floor with a thud and a grunt, sharp pain emanating from your elbow and hip, before he grabbed your arm, hoisting you up so you were face to face with him.

“Who sent you?” you asked.

They must have been inexperienced in this sort of nefarious activity as he replied eagerly, “The Black Queen.”

You shook your head, in disbelief that your cousin would want this fate for you, no matter how bitter the blood was between you now.

His knife was at your belly, pressing gently. “Come with quietly,” he hissed, and you shook your head.

The blade pierced skin then, and he covered your mouth to keep you quiet. Fear was like lead in your belly, keeping you frozen to the spot.

Over his shoulder, you glanced at the older assailant, just as a sword passed through his neck, severing his head from his body with precision and ease.

Seeing the look in your eyes, the man holding you turned, and dropped you at the sight of his partner’s headless corpse.

“Please-“ he began, raising his hands and dropping his blade, but Aemond was not one to listen.

The Dowager Queen burst into the room then, followed by the head of the king’s guard, and you ran to them. Alicent opened her arms, pulling you to her chest, and you sank to the floor together as Ser Cole joined Aemond.

Your body was shaking violently, and you clung to Aemond’s mother as she whispered to you in hushed tones.

“Don’t dispatch him yet, Aemond. We need information from him,” Ser Cole was saying.

“They said, they said that, they told me,” you stuttered, and Alicent pushed your hair from your face.

“Breathe, child,” she said.

“They said Rhaenyra sent them. I don’t believe them,” you said, and the former Queen frowned at you, and looked to Aemond.

She nodded once, and you heard the whistle of a sword through the air. You did not turn to see as Alicent pulled you up, and lead you out the room.

Though the Queen insisted on bringing you to her rooms, Aemond convinced her that you would feel safer with him, and she relented - after all, the wedding was in three days. It was only slightly improper, given the circumstances.

Aemond all but carried you to his rooms, and instructed a bath be drawn. As you waited for the hot water, he held you, pressing your head into his chest, whispering that it was safe now.

“I may need a maester,” you said, pulling away. You removed your night clothes to reveal a cut, long but not severely deep, just below your naval. Your elbow was also bruising quickly, with a matching blooming mark on your hip.

Aemond’s eyes lit with renewed rage. “Would that I could kill them twice, and savor it the second time,” he hissed, and called for a maester.

No stitches were required, and so you were cleaned and bandaged, and it was to be a sponge bath instead of a submersion.

You were too worn out to be embarrassed as you stood next to the hot bath that you so desperately wanted to sink into while, with painstaking care, Aemond cleaned every inch of you, from head to toe.

He was silent all the while, a reverent concentration on his face. Were you not still trembling with fear, it may have been one of the most erotic experiences of your life.

When he was finished, he dressed you in one of his under shirts, and led you to bed.

“Come, wife,” he said, pulling you into the warm cradle of his arms. “No harm will come to you now.”

Tears finally pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you could not hold them back. The flowed over your cheeks and onto Aemond’s bare chest, and try as he might to wipe them away, they were coming to fast.

“We will double your guard. I will do anything to make you feel safe. I will not leave your side again. Where I go, you go too,” he said, and the thought of that did ease the panic in your chest.

“Thank you for saving me,” you managed to say, and he tilted your face up to his. He placed a gentle kiss on your wet nose, and then your forehead, and both cheeks.

“In this life and the next, I will always keep you safe. I’m only sorry I did not arrive sooner.”

You held his waist tight, feeling a little safer in his arms, knowing the guards outside were doubled and your protector was here in bed with you.

“Sleep now, beloved. I will never leave you again.”

You closed your eyes, and finally allowed sleep to creep up on you, tucked safely into Aemond’s embrace.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen fic

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pyrodolls · 5 months ago

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superfan! and stalker! yandere boys x reader hcs (but they're animal hybrids)

✰ warnings: obsessiveness, sfw, murder, mentions of corpses, just overall unhealthy behavior cuz they're yanderes. (i do not condone yanderes irl and this is for writing purposes) gender neutral reader, no use of y/n.

✰ a/n: guys idk why i havent updated in so long. ig i just havent had much motivation?? anyways ummm i'm still super busy right now and i have 400 assignments due in 3 days but i don't wanna do them soooooo how about i write some short and cute headcanons for y'all? 😁

if bayani was a puppy hybrid...

clingy clingy CLINGY

bros going wherever you go. even if u gotta take a piss he's gonna hold your hand. wait, you don't want him in the bathroom with you? at least let him sit outside!

he is very easy to distract, though. if you ever want to be alone for a while but he just won't leave your side, throw a tennis ball somewhere and it should keep him busy for a solid 10 minutes.

loves snuggling with you. he literally distracts you and takes up at LEAST one hour every morning trying to keep you in bed with him. if you leave him alone in bed, he'll be whining until you come back.

he's also very talkative, and always yapping your ear off about random nonsense, until you tell him to shut up. problem is, if you tell him to shut up, he isn't going to open his mouth again for a few days. he'll be very sulky about it and look up at you with those big puppy dog eyes of his, silently hoping you'll allow him to speak again. as much as he loves hearing you yell at him, he still doesn't want you to be mad at him for long periods of time.

he'll eat anything you cook. you could be the worst cook in the world and burn your dish to a crisp, and he'd still eat it up like it's nobody's business. he doesn't even notice if it's well cooked or not, he sees anything you create as a masterpiece.

but this also means he's like a guard dog! even though he is quite small and his face isn't very intimidating, he tries! he goes to the gym frequently so he can be stronger for you. he wants to be able to defend you if anything goes wrong.

he is very patient. if you have any work or assignments you need to get done, he'll sit and wait however long you need him to. he'll even bring you beverages and snacks so you can keep working without getting up.

overall, he has some similar traits to a puppy, but he's still the same optimistic (and obsessive) bayani.

if victor was a cat hybrid...

LMFAOOO good luck getting away from him.

bros a silent killer. he watches from afar. if you happen to feel his eyes staring at the back of your head, and you look to see if your feeling is correct, he'll snap his head the other direction so you don't suspect a thing.

he follows you around, but unlike bayani, he wouldn't stop if you asked him to. and he isn't in your personal space, he is much farther away so it's harder to tell when he's tailing after you.

and like a cat, he proudly brings you dead things and is convinced that you would like it. usually he kills anyone that seems to be too close to you, and shows it off like a trophy of his affection and strength.

victor would kill someone and be like: "this week's new corpse looks awesome. they'll totally love this, i gotta show them!" (you did not, in fact, love seeing the rotting corpse of your friend on your doorstep.)

he guards your house as if he's a soldier at war. if he sees anyone break in, or if it's an insect that happened to fly in through your vents, he'll eliminate the threat before you even notice it.

he's also quite moody. sometimes he's affectionate and kind to you, then the next minute he'll act like a brat and expect you to cook and clean for him.

and if you called him out on his behavior, he'll act all pouty and mutter: "i don't do that.." then he'd get up and silently do some chores around the house as an apology. if you brought up his acts of service, he'll get flustered and say you were "too lazy to do it yourself" or something along those lines.

overall, he's quiet, moody, and does things his own way. unlike bayani, victor doesn't do anything you ask him to do, but he still shows his affection for you in his own subtle ways.

#yandere x reader #yandere male #possessive yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #my ocs #crazy yandere #yandere boy #yandere boyfriend #soft yandere #sub yandere #masochist yandere #yandere boys x popstar reader

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tightjeansjavi · 6 months ago

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Forsaken, Forgotten Without Any Love

A/N: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. THIS FIC IS VERY DARK AND MAY BE TRAUMATIC FOR SOME READERS. PLEASE READ EACH INDIVIDUAL WARNING BEFORE PROCEEDING TO READ. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CHOOSE TO CONSUME. Thank you to my pookie @syd-djarin for betaing and the beautiful moodboard <3 this is for my June writing challenge lovers to enemies

word count: 15.3k

Summary: you and Joel Miller met in the springtime. You were as naive as a fawn, and he was a ruthless guard dog. You were willing to do anything to survive, and he could offer you protection for the exchange of your body and whatever else he wanted. The mutual understanding you had worked…until it didn’t.

Pairing | dark!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: ‼️DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT‼️GRAPHIC NON/CON, HEAVY COERCION AND MANIPULATION, VERBAL ABUSE, THREATS, TRAUMATIC VIRGINITY LOSS, CANON TYPICAL VIOLENCE, GASLIGHTING, MISOGYNY, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF WOUNDS, LANGUAGE, IMPLIED AGE GAP (READER IS OF VOTING AGE WHEN THE OUTBREAK HAPPENS), SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, THANATOPHOBIA (FEAR OF DEATH AND DYING) MENTIONS OF GUNS/KNIVES, SEX IN EXCHANGE FOR PROTECTION, NO HAPPY ENDING, HEAVY, HEAVY, HEAVY ANGST & GRAPHIC THEMES, readers nickname is little fawn, +18 MINORS DNI!

We met in the springtime when blossoms unfold. The pastures were green and the meadows were gold. Our love was in flower as summer grew on, her love like the leaves now have withered and gone.

Forsaken - abandoned or deserted

When you and Joel Miller first met after the world had gone to shit, and the home you once knew was no longer, it was springtime in the Boston QZ. The name Joel Miller rolled off the tongues of many residents of what remained of Boston. But who was Joel Miller really? Just another survivor haunted by the looming shadows of his past? A man hardened by loss, grief, and indescribable pain? Or was he more than just his brute strength, quick tongue, and menacing stature?

You never intended to find out what laid beneath his defensive façade, but like most things, it all happened…unexpectedly.

“I can’t.” You whispered solemnly through the drenched fabric of the bandana secured around your face. A makeshift mask to help with the constant stench of rotting flesh, death, and charred bones. It was one of the many grueling jobs the QZ had to offer, but it was not meant for those with a weak stomach as you learned very quickly.

He turned to you, a ghost of a scoff painted on his cracked and dehydrated lips. He barely acknowledged your presence with a slight roll of his shoulders. His piercing brown eyes hardened on your face, and then the culprit of your reason to bother him. A child, wrapped in a dirty cloth to be discarded with the rest of the dead infected, lay in the open bed of the truck, face covered completely.

When you opened your mouth to speak again, perhaps an explanation as to why you couldn’t dispose of the adolescents body, Joel Miller let out a grunt, brushing against your shoulder rather roughly. His arms tucked under the child’s limp corpse, lifting it from the bed of the truck with ease. He felt nothing, no remorse, not a lick of empathy washed over him.

“Move.” He snipped unkindly.

Your jaw went slack at his harshness, teeth grinding down and catching on the sensitive flesh of your inner cheek causing a burst of copper to ignite on your tongue. You stepped off to the side, body working on autopilot at this mystery man’s gruff command.

Joel could have shown that his latent Texas gentleman manners were not completely buried. He could have, but he didn’t. Instead he marched past you, carrying the corpse to the nearby pit. He paused, looking straight ahead with a dull expression on his face before he dropped the corpse from his arms and into the smoldering flames below.

He walked back to the truck where you were left dumbly standing looking like a lost lamb in all of this surrounding death. He wiped the dirt and grime from his hands with an old rag that was sticking out of the worn denim jeans that clung to his thighs like a vice. “Jus’ a word of advice, don’t let anyone around here know your weakness. They’ll tear you apart before you even see ‘em coming.” His unmistakable Texas twang reminded you of home, a simpler time when the world was normal and each day was promised, or so you used to believe.

“Thank you.” You nodded, reaching your hand out as an offering, an extension of friendship that sent his right eye twitching at your meekness.

“Ain’t a reason to thank me. Didn’t ask for it.” He eyed your outstretched hand suspiciously, eyes narrowed and brows tightly furrowed across his forehead.

You frowned, unable to conceal your immediate reaction to his denial of your kindness. Despite the world fucking ending, and your own losses, you were softer than most, and that made you an easy target. You were as soft as salt water taffy melting on someone’s tongue. Or the gooey center of a charred marshmallow on a stick. Joel Miller wasn’t accustomed to someone of the likes of you. You were foreign, something taboo—too soft for his liking. How the hell you managed to survive the cordyceps outbreak was beyond him.

He didn’t even give you the chance to respond when he abruptly turned on the heel of his steel-toed boots, and stalked off in the direction of where the ration cards for the day's work were being distributed. He staggered at an angle that looked mildly uncomfortable, especially in his lower back, and you could see that he favored his dominant side based on his gait. The words you planned to present to him died in your throat. You couldn’t help but feel miffed by his dismissal, but all the more intrigued to know what this grumpy, guarded man was really all about.

Every resident in the QZ had their means to get by in life. Some kept going for family, others for power and brutality—authority above all. Some were like Joel Miller; holding little value to their life, and spending their days drinking like a fish, and popping smuggled pills to alleviate the constant emotional and physical pain that they carried like a heavy burden on their shoulders. As for you? You simply were just trying to get by unscathed. Death terrified you, haunted you even in your dreams. Your survival was purely based on luck, with little to no survival skill sets. It was a fucking miracle that you had survived this long on your own.

That’s why you were the perfect candidate to join the elusive Fireflies. Marlene sought you out one evening before curfew in the QZ’s makeshift community circle. It was an open space sheltered between two buildings where residents could converse freely for a short period of time. Marlene and the Fireflies had one goal in mind; to overthrow FEDRA and liberate all of Boston’s QZ residents from the government's cruel and unjust authority.

Marlene could sense that you were weak minded and naive the second she laid eyes on you from across the way. The way you nervously fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, glancing around every so often as if you had something to hide. You stuck out like a sore thumb, the ugly duckling in a sea of normal…people.

The chair adjacent from where you were sitting scraped along the concrete like nails on chalkboard and your posture immediately stiffened at the sudden intrusion. Your invisible safety bubble had been popped, and there was nowhere for you to hide.

“Easy, friend.” Her tone was a complete juxtaposition to Joel’s innate harshness. Marlene’s eyes were kind, soft in the low light of the slow setting sun. You felt like you could immediately trust her, and maybe even view her as an ally? “Mind if I sit?” She gestured to the chair across from you, the same chair that dragged across the concrete and made you alert in the first place.

You eyed this stranger warily, glancing around before you meekly nodded, not finding your words quite yet. Marlene pulled up the chair, sitting down quietly with her forearms resting against the table in a casual motion.

“So.” She started, “you’re fairly new to the QZ, aren’t you?”

“…yes, how did you know?” You weren’t aware that you were sitting across from one of FEDRA’s most wanted, and the leader of the rebellious group known as the Fireflies.

“Sweetheart, I have eyes and ears all over the QZ.” She gestured to the surrounding area with her hands in emphasis.

“Really?” Your eyes widened slightly in shock and for a moment you were questioning whether you should get up and leave, or wait to hear what this woman had to say. “Are you…FEDRA?”

“No, not FEDRA.” She shook her head, reaching her hand out across the table in your direction, “I’m Marlene, leader of the rebellion, and commander of the Boston QZ Fireflies.”

Fireflies. You had heard the hushed whisperings of the ‘terrorist’ group that was at war with FEDRA. Sometimes there were calculated bombings, planned attacks, all for the cause of liberation and justice for the QZ residents—so you had heard.

You reached for her outstretched hand, giving it a gentle, yet firm squeeze before retracting your own hand back to your lap. You’re just about to tell Marlene your name, when your attention is stolen by something-someone. That someone being Joel Miller. He wasn’t alone. A woman walked alongside him, and from the angle you were sitting at, you could see his hand resting protectively against the small of her back.

His eyes were looking ahead, not behind or the area surrounding him. He was intently focused even as his companion leaned in close to him, her lips moving but you couldn’t make out the words. His chin dipped towards her, thick fingers flexing against that sliver of skin between the top of her jeans and the hem of her shirt.

You found yourself transfixed by his subtle movements, his natural authority permeating the small space. No one even dared to look directly at him, no one except you. He could feel a pair of eyes burning into the side of his face and he clenched his jaw tightly, cocking his head in the direction of the last empty table before he nudged his companion in that direction.

Marlene had said something to you, but you didn’t hear her the first time because you were frozen in your seat when Joel Miller’s piercing glare landed upon your face. He scowled, grinding his teeth together. He recognized you, that was a fact. But just as quickly as you had his attention for a fleeting moment, it was gone and he had sauntered off, taking the seat across from his partner.

Marlene watched the whole silent exchange go down from her seat. She observed your body posture intently, brow raised in curiosity. She leaned forward over the small expanse of the table, tone low, almost at a whisper, “do you know that man?”

You shook your head, meeting her curious gaze. “No—I mean, not really. He…sorta helped me out the other day though. I don’t have a strong stomach in the slightest and—”

An incredulous look crossed her face immediately to hear that Joel Miller ‘helped’ someone? She called bullshit immediately.

“Joel Miller did you a favor? That’s unlike his character. Only good thing that man has ever done is introduce me to his brother.” Marlene said almost bitterly.

So, that was his name. Joel Miller.

“He has a brother? Is he in the QZ as well? I guess…maybe it wasn’t a favor necessarily, but in my eyes it was.”

She nodded. “Yes, his brother's name is Tommy. He’s in Wyoming now. Tommy, like myself, was a firefly and Joel…he wasn’t too keen on his brother joining a rebel alliance. I tried to get him and his partner, Tess, to join our cause as well, but they wanted nothing to do with it. So, Joel and Tommy had a massive falling out, and Tommy left the QZ shortly after.”

“Marlene, when you said that the only good thing Joel has ever done is introduce you to his brother, what did you mean by that exactly? Is he…dangerous?”

“Sweetheart.” She started, almost in a patronizing tone, “he and Tess are the kinda folks you don’t want to associate yourself with. If you’re not careful, you’ll get caught up in their web. They ain’t good people. Did a lot of bad things before they ended up here. Killed a lot of innocent people and now they practically have FEDRA wrapped around their finger…most days.”

You mulled her words over in your head, falling into a silent thought of determining whether Joel Miller was who she said he was, or if he was more than just his past. You imagined he, like most of the surviving population, did what he had to do to keep himself and his kin alive. How could Marlene judge him for that?

“You tell me to look for the light, and I’ll break your jaw.”

His low, menacing tone rumbled like thunder in the distance, and the person he was addressing immediately scampered off into the shadows like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“Marlene, I mean no offense by this, truly, but didn’t everyone have to kill innocent people at some point to survive?” You couldn’t help but question her logic and reason to judge.

“Let me reiterate what I mean by that. You know what raiders are, don’t you?”

You nodded.

“Well, Joel and Tess were raiders at one point. Tommy as well, but Joel was the driving force of their operation. He was ruthless—still is.”

All you were hearing from her words was that Joel Miller was a capable man. More capable than most. He had a history of violence, and whether that was solely for the means of survival, or because he was a murderous, blood thirsty psychopath, did not concern you in the slightest. Joel Miller was exactly the kind of man that you were looking for. The kind of man that would lay down his own life for yours. The kind of man who would tend to your wounds, and then rip your enemies apart limb from limb, and then come home to you drenched in their blood; a badge of his conquest at exacting revenge.

Joel Miller was the type of man who would ensure your own survival above all else.

“If it’s protection you’re looking for, the Fireflies can offer you that.” Marlene interjected after you didn’t initially respond to her previous statement.

You chewed on your lower lip, gnawing on it for a moment feeling vulnerable and exposed when Marlene was easily able to read between the lines. You thought you were more discreet than that. More guarded, not a weak minded damsel in distress.

“What makes you think that I’m looking for protection?” You quipped back, opting to lean into the defensive side, rather than admit that you were in fact seeking just that.

Marlene stifled a laugh, briefly catching the attention of Joel from across the way. “You’ve been on edge since the moment I sat down. You stick out like a sore fuckin’ thumb, and I’m surprised that you haven’t realized sooner that you’re practically a fawn in the midst of a pack of wolves.”

Marlene was right. She hit the nail right on the fucking head. You weren’t cutthroat like Joel. You survived this long purely based on dumb fucking luck. Not because you were skilled with a weapon, or had fists of steel. You were not violent in nature, you had only killed when necessary, and you stayed hidden when trouble arose; much like a fawn in the dense thicket. Marlene didn’t need to know that you were seeking protection, that every night you lay awake fearing death and ending up pitifully alone; unloved.

“You don’t fucking know me, or what I need.” You hissed, finally finding your voice and standing your ground. You pushed your chair back abruptly, the bottom of it scraping on the concrete, and catching the attention of everyone in the secluded, intimate space.

Marlene shrugged at your defiance, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. She may have not been successful in this first attempt, but she got under your skin, and that was only the start of it.

Unbeknownst to you or Marlene, Joel had silently eavesdropped your entire conversation, growing stiff suddenly when he picked up on Marlene’s little ploy to manipulate you to join the Fireflies. You may have been a nobody, bare bones and all, but he’d be damned if another naive soul would end up wrapped and constricted in Marlene’s web of empty promises and lies.

Preventing you from joining the Fireflies was about to become Joel Miller’s personal vendetta, and you hadn’t a fucking a clue. As far as he was concerned, the only person in this entire shithole QZ who would ever get close to sinking their talons into your flesh, was himself.

He watched you storm away from the table, your fists clenched tightly at your sides. You feel someone’s eyes locked onto the back of your head, but you didn’t dare turn around to see if your assumptions were true; you just knew.

The following morning you and the rest of the QZ residents were required to attend a public execution before work would begin for the day. Three individuals were sentenced to death for breaking curfew, and attempting to leave the QZ without authorization. The three guilty perpetrators stood in a row, their faces covered with a cloth loosely draped around their heads so they could not be identified.

As the charges of the crimes that were committed were read out, you could feel your knees grow weak, and nausea bubbled deep in the pit of your stomach. Could you be next?

Joel Miller was in the crowd as well, concealed and aloof, but you could sense his domineering presence immediately, and he could sense you as if he was like a moth drawn to a flame. He imagined you couldn’t stomach the prospect of a public execution, and his assumptions were true when he saw you slipping between bystanders and fleeing towards the nearest alley.

He was quick to follow you, feeling more intrigued than anything when you scurried away like a little mouse. He took his time as he was in no rush, and well—there was nowhere else for you to go. He shoved his hands deep within the caverns of his jean pockets, his footsteps were heavy and calculated when he turned the corner to the alley.

You were waiting for him with your trusty pocket knife armed at your side, whipping around to face whoever had left the crowd to follow you. Your teeth were barred as if you were a cornered animal ready to attack if provoked.

He slipped his hands out of his pockets, holding them up so that you could determine that he wasn’t an immediate threat. His dark pools of brown locked onto your face and his head was slightly cocked to the side. “Easy there, little fawn. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He rasped.

You took a shaky inhale, palms beginning to sweat and your grip around the worn hilt of your knife began to slip from the clamminess. You took a timid step back, closer to the impending brick wall behind you. “Yeah? I’d believe that if you—”

“If I what?” He challenged, taking a step closer to where you stood.

“If you didn’t follow me here like a goddamn stalker, Joel!” You half yelled.

“Hey!” He snapped calmly, “easy. Don’t wanna be drawin’ any unwanted attention to ourselves, do we? And for the record, I do believe that you were the one stalkin’ me the other night.”

“Excuse me? I—I don’t even know you! Why the hell would you think I was stalking you?!” You took another step back, the hem of your shirt just barely grazed against the exposed brick wall.

“Oh, so that wasn’t you sittin’ with Marlene?” He questioned you dryly, shaking his head with a grin tugging on the corner of his lips. “It wasn’t you prying for some information on me? Guess I oughta go get my eyes and ears fuckin’ checked then…oh, wait! Can’t really do that, huh?” He scoffed, crossing his arms against his chest.

Who the fuck did he think he was?

“If I’m not mistaken, it sure as hell sounds like you were the one spying on me.” You quipped back, nearly stumbling when the heel of your boot made contact with the brick wall; now he had you trapped.

“No, you are mistaken. M’jus’ a real observant guy. Plus, sniffin’ out a snake in the grass like Marlene ain’t rocket science. She give you her whole ‘liberation’ for all bullshit?”

“I don’t know, Joel. Did she?”

He looked amused by your response, not expecting you to bite back so fast, but at least now he knew you had a little gumption to work with, but instead of indulging you in your insignificant win, he danced around the subject to catch you off guard.

“That’s a pretty dull fuckin’ knife you got there, little fawn. Ain’t gonna do much stabbin’ with it lookin’ like that. When’s the last time you got it sharpened?”

You did not appreciate, nor like how he effortlessly changed the conversation on you in a blink of an eye. You glared at him, struggling to hold your ground when he was nearly on top of you, one step closer and his chest would be pressed against yours.

“I think it’s more than capable of doing a considerable amount of damage to you if you don’t back the fuck up in the next five—”

“Yeah?” He pressed, looming over you like a shadow blocking the sun, “I’d love to see you try.” He snarled.

And well, you did. A pitiful attempt that he immediately saw coming. It took nothing for him to overpower you as if you were a helpless bug beneath his steel toed boots. The knife was yanked from your grip, your wrists pinned in one of his large hands like a dart on a board. His eyes were a shade darker up close and they were locked onto you.

“Now I understand why Marlene wanted you in the first place.” He snickered, “you really are that fuckin’ gullible.”

“Y—you don’t know shit about me! You think you do, but you don’t!” You tried to push against his chest, but he was like a slab of concrete or an unmoving mountain.

“No?” His eyebrows quirked upwards in amusement. Toying with your fragile mind and now wounded ego was easier than he imagined. “Think you’re wrong, little fawn. You’re pretty damn readable, and that ain’t somethin’ that you want to deal with ‘round here. You might actually be the most transparent person in the entire fuckin’ Boston QZ.”

“W—why are you calling me that?”

“Because, you remind me of a fawn. You’re meek, quiet, and…naive.”

You wanted to yell and scream till you were blue in the face, but what was the point? Marlene saw right through you, and so did Joel. Maybe…you could use this to your advantage, somehow.

He backed off you then, dropping your wrists from his grip and gave you the space to breathe finally. He flipped your dull pocket knife over a few times, brushing his thumb against the unsharpened steel with a light scoff and subtle roll of his eyes. “You can’t even kill a clicker with this thing. You realize that, right? What was your plan if someone else followed you back here, huh?”

He was making your head spin, all this back and forth bantering, and him getting under your skin was becoming too much. Why the hell did he care, anyway? Did he always prey on the weak minded? Or did you just happen to become his unfortunate target?

“I didn’t really…have a plan.” You said quietly under your breath, taking a moment to rest your head back against the cool brick wall.

“Good god, girl. You didn’t have a fuckin’ plan of action?! You really are a damsel in distress.”

“I am not a damsel in distress! You’re just some asshole that clearly has nothing better to do except prey on the weak minded! So, how about you just go pick on someone your own size!”

“So, you agree that you are weak minded? Yeah, Marlene sure as fuck would have had you wrapped around her fuckin’ finger and indoctrinated into her fuckin’ terrorist cult.”

“Sounds like you have a fucking problem with Marlene, and not me.” You attempted to walk away for good, but his palm reached out to stop you, pressing flat between your breastbone, leaving you both feeling surprised.

“Relax, would ya? I see right through your little tough girl gimmicks, and so does everyone else. I also happen to know that you, my dear, are terrified. It’s written all over your pretty face, and of what exactly? I can take a few educated guesses, but I think I’ve already humiliated you enough for one day.”

You were stunned into silence. Pacified by his words and the weight they held over you.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He concluded. The rational part of his brain was telling him to ease off and let it fucking go. Hell, maybe you wouldn’t fall into Marlene’s trap after all. The other part of him? Well, you can just imagine how it was telling him to proceed with tormenting you. “If it were anyone else that followed you back here, they would have the means to hurt you. And I don’t mean just by killing you, little fawn. You think that just cus’ we’re under the governments ‘protection’ that evil people ain’t just roamin’ around here freely lookin’ for their next meal?”

“Yeah? And are you one of those evil people, Joel?” If he was gonna go for your jugular, you were gonna go straight for his.

“Might be.” He shrugged indifferently. “If I had the means to hurt you, I would have already done it.”

He did make a fair point. He was a capable guy, and if he had ulterior motives to cause you harm, you would surely be dead already. Still, you were weary nonetheless, but also intrigued.

“Okay, so you don’t have the means to kill me and that’s great, Joel. I’m relieved, but I’m failing to understand…why did you follow me back here in the first place?”

“Because, little fawn, I have exactly what you’re looking for, what you need. No reason to lie to ourselves here, right? Especially when I’ve already got you figured out. You can deny it all you want, but I know a terrified person when I see one. You ain’t gonna last long lookin’ like a fuckin’ target to every passerby.”

“And what exactly do you think that I need, Joel?”

“Protection.” He stated simply.

“And what's in it for you?”

He thought about coming up with a lie, something that sounded convincing so you wouldn’t question his motives, but he chose the latter in the end.

“Means that Marlene doesn’t get to sink her fuckin’ claws into another naive person such as yourself. Less Firefly scum for me to deal with, and you’re too pretty to end up with a bullet between the eyes.”

Maybe it was the way that Joel Miller was looking at you like you were about to be his next meal, or maybe it was the fact that no one had ever called you pretty before. This guard dog of a man was the first person to ever truly take in your physical appearance, and man, did that feel fucking good.

“You think I’m pretty, do ya?” Your tone came out teasingly, mildly playful, and not what Joel was expecting from you at all.

“Christ.” He laughed, “is that really all you fuckin’ got outta what I was jus’ sayin? That I think you’re pretty? Don’t let that feed your little ego now, alright? That‘ll get you killed, too.”

You wanted to tell him that no one ever called you pretty before, but that felt too personal, too vulnerable. So, instead, you shrugged your shoulders and raised your brow suggestively in his direction. “I heard you loud and clear, Joel.”

“Good. Cause I ain’t gonna repeat myself.” He glanced around the secluded alley for a moment, mulling his thoughts over before he returned your knife to you with the blade facing downwards. His rough, calloused fingers brushed against your own when he returned the hilt of your knife to your palm. “For starters, let’s get that pathetic excuse of a knife sharpened.”

You nodded, tucking it back into your concealed holster around your waist. “Lead the way, Miller.”

He looked you over once more, brows tightly furrowed together, shoulders stiff before he turned on his heel and started to walk towards the opening of the alley. “Hurry up, little fawn. We ain’t got all day.”

You had just secured yourself your very own lethal guard dog, claws and all.

Up until this point, you hadn’t thought about the prospect of Joel Miller wanting to fuck you. In your mind, he truly was just inviting you to his shitty little apartment to sharpen your knife and send you on your way. You were beginning to believe that his little fear tactic in the alley was just his bark, but you were about to experience his bite very, very, soon.

He said no more than a few words to you, a few grunts here and there when you ended up rambling because you finally had someone to talk to. He acknowledged your existence, and that was good enough for you to at least be seen.

“Do you always talk this fuckin’ much?” He gruffed out from where he was hunched over at the kitchen table, dragging the edge of your knife along what appeared to be a large, flat stone.

“Sorry.” You muttered under your breath, sinking further against the old, musty couch that had seen far better days.

“Thas’ better.” He mused.

A man of few words…unless he wants something.

“It’s getting late…I should probably head home before curfew. Can we pick this back up again tomorrow? FEDRA is gonna start patrolling soon and—”

He looked up from where he was focused on dragging the edge of the blade at an angle against the stone to gradually sharpen it. The glare he sent your way immediately had your blood running cold.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually that fuckin’ naive to believe that my generous services are free of charge, little fawn.” He tsked under his breath, shaking his head in disappointment.

Maybe you were the naive one to follow the wolf right back to his den.

Your eyes widened, fists clenching at your sides when the realization that you willingly followed this…stranger back to his apartment hit you and sent the warning alarms in your brain blaring immediately.

“I—I have ration cards.” You meekly responded.

He cocked his head to the side, lips curving upwards into a wolfish grin. “My god.” He chuckled, “you really are that fuckin’ naive, huh? You think I’m doin’ this because I’m a good man or somethin?’”

“Well, you said that you—”

He rose from the chair then, the hilt of your freshly sharpened knife clutched at his side. His eyes stayed locked on you as he staggered forward, coming closer to where you were sitting on his couch.

“And you really believed in every word that came out of my mouth?” He questioned dryly.

“I—I didn’t see a reason not to, you said that if you wanted to hurt me, you would have already done it.”

“You’re right, little fawn. I would have already hurt you if those were my true intentions, but you’re so foolishly naive to believe that I’m doin’ this out of the goodness in my heart.”

You were frozen on the spot when he stopped at the edge of the couch, bending down to meet your eye level, towering over you in such a menacing way, you truly thought right then and there that this man did lie to you, and you were going to die at his hand. Your body flinched on instinct when one of his big palms came to rest against the wall alongside your head, while his occupied hand that was still grasping your knife stayed glued to his side.

“I—I don’t have anything else I can offer you, Joel.” You met his gaze, trembling when he leaned in closer.

“Don’t tell me now that you’re truly jus’ beauty with no brains, sweetheart.” He cooed softly.

Your lips parted open in shock as you began to read between the lines of the words coming out of his mouth. He didn’t want your ration cards, he wanted you, and not just a piece. He wanted all of you.

“There she is.” He preened, “Knew you weren’t all that dumb. Those gears in your pretty little head finally turnin’?”

You wanted to bite back, to snap at him so that you wouldn’t feel so fuckin’ small, but he had you locked in a trance right where he wanted you, and deep down…you liked it.

“…you want me?” You whispered through the thick growing tension.

“Mhm.” He nodded in confirmation. “You didn’t think that I just said you were pretty without havin’ some ulterior motive in mind, did ya? You’re the one who decided to trust me so easily. The second I confirmed that I didn’t want to hurt ya, you wrote me off as a good man. Well, sweetheart, I hate to break the pretty picture you painted of me in your head, but I ain’t a good man. I don’t have the means to hurt you, but I have every intention to take what I fuckin’ want from you.” His forehead was nearly pressed against yours now, hot breath fanning your face. “Jus’ remember that you willingly followed me back to my apartment, and take this as a warning to not be so easily swayed to trust a fuckin’ stranger.”

You swallowed the lump that was gradually growing in your throat as your flight or fight instincts were in full swing. You briefly eyed your knife in his hand, thinking that maybe…you could get out of this, but he would be quicker, surely. He’d overpower you in a heartbeat.

“I’m a virgin, Joel. Are you sure you still want me, knowing what you know now?”

He stalled briefly, caught off guard by your admittance. He thought that maybe this was your cheap way of trying to get out of this situation all together, but based on your trembling, and overall demeanor, he could tell you weren’t lying and he took some satisfaction in knowing that he was about to be your first; completely his.

“You think thas’ gonna stop me from wantin’ to fuck you, little fawn?”

You shook your head quickly and pressed yourself as far against the couch as you possibly could. “No—no, I—I just wanted you to know.” You squeaked out.

He nods, flipping your knife in his hand a few times while his other hand slowly drops to rest against the crown of your head, “if anythin’, it makes me want to fuck you even more now. Can take whatever I want from you, and make you mine. How’s that sound to you, hmm?”

“Can you…promise me it won’t hurt? I’ll—I’ll do whatever you want, Joel.”

Whatever I have to do to live another day, I’ll do it. Keep me alive, and you can take whatever you want from me.

“It’ll hurt a little, sweetheart. Better me than anyone else. I’ll only be gentle till you’re adjusted. After that, I ain’t gonna hold back.” While his words were blunt and straight to the point, his tone was soft, gentle even.

“Okay. I trust you, Joel.”

“Good. Thas’ good to hear, little fawn.” He gently dragged his thumb against your hair, feeling the texture of it beneath his hold, and how if he truly wanted to, he could crush you like a bug beneath his hand.

Your hands worked on autopilot to reach for the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, fingers shaking against the fabric.

He shook his head, brows raising in slight amusement. “No.” He rasped sternly, “I’m going to undress you. Hands off, and keep ‘em where I can see them, got it?”

You nodded, dropping your hands to rest along your jean clad thighs.

“Wanna show you just how sharp I got your lil’ knife now. Can cut through just about anythin’, I reckon.” He mused, secretly hoping to ease your impending fears just enough that your body would naturally begin to relax.

You took a shuddered inhale when the edge of your freshly sharpened knife rose and rested against your concealed breastbone, sending your heartbeat racing and rattling out of your chest like a stampede.

“Relax.” He whispered, careful to not apply too much pressure, but just enough that the blade easily cut through your flimsy top as if it was made of cheap paper. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Your words were lodged in your throat as tears began to spring to the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t help it, you were terrified. One wrong move…

“Joel…please.” Was all you were able to get out. His hand that was gently resting on the crown of your head dropped down to gently cradle your face. His big thumb brushed directly under the tears leaking from your eyes, gathering them up with a soft sigh.

“If you listen to me and relax, this will feel good for you, little fawn. You jus’—gotta let me have my fun first, alright?”

You let out a silent sob, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you tried to wrap your mind around how this could possibly be fun for him. “This—this is fun for you?”

His nostrils flared, reminding you of one of those animated bulls from the old cartoons you used to watch as a kid on Saturday mornings. He let out a sigh, grinding his jaw and shaking his head. “Course this is fun for me. I told you already, little fawn. I ain’t a good man.” He carelessly yanked the scraps of your shirt down your arms and torso before he dragged the knife upwards towards your flimsy bra straps. “Only reason I’m choosin’ to be somewhat merciful on you is because you’re a virgin. If you weren’t, I would have shoved my cock so far down your throat, you’d be chokin’ on it, sweet girl. Gonna save that for another time.” He reassured you.

“I’d…prefer if you never did that.” This was your weak and fruitless attempt to try and gain any semblance of control in this situation.

“You ain’t in the position to be callin’ the shots on me. Keep it up, and I won’t be so fuckin’ nice. I’ll stuff your pretty little virgin pussy with my cock like you’re a fuckin’ pig on a spit.” He snapped. “Secondly, I’d prefer if you’d quit your yappin’ and start makin’ yourself useful by takin’ your jeans off—nice and slow for me. Make it last.”

“But you said—”

“Know exactly what I said, sweetheart. M’changin’ my mind, we clear?” He sternly asked while he sliced through one of the bra straps, watching with hooded eyes as it fell from your shoulder.

“Crystal.” You shakily reached for the button on your jeans, slowly undoing it followed by the zipper while he sliced through the other strap.

“Good girl.” He praised you, “you’re a fast learner. Thas’ real good, little fawn. That’ll keep you alive longer.”

“Thank you…sir.” You whispered, feeling your tears begin to dry on your cheekbones when you slowly began to shimmy your jeans down your thighs.

“Mmm…no.” He scoffed at you calling him sir. “Not sir. Jus’ call me Joel. It’s gonna be the only name you’re gonna be sayin’ for as long as I decide you’re worth keepin’ around. Best start gettin’ used to the way it tastes on your tongue.”

“Yes, Joel. I—I understand.”

He was kind enough to help you finish removing your jeans completely so you were left in just your cotton panties that were well worn. A touch of innocence could be found on the little faded pink bow right in the middle of the hem. His lips quirked at this, finding it endearingly…cute.

What remained of your bra fell away in pieces, the clasp old that was old and frayed, came undone easily. Now your breasts were bared to him for the first time. He liked that they weren’t magazine perfect, nothing like he had seen in his teenage to young adult years. They were natural, beautiful, and you.

“I know they aren’t—they aren’t anything special…” you trailed off, moving your arms up to cover your chest.

He shook his head and reached one hand out to stop you from covering them from his perfect view. “They’re beautiful. M’glad they aren’t perfect like the shit I would find in the old playboy magazines.”

“Really?…thank you, Joel.”

He didn’t acknowledge your gratitude and his eyes trailed southwards once more, right between your thighs. “Thought about cuttin’ these off, too.” He casually gestured to your panties, “But I think I wanna keep ‘em as a souvenir.” He mused with a wicked grin. “Don’t go all shy on me now, alright? Spread your thighs, sweetheart.”

You obeyed his request, your thighs falling open to his prying eyes. “You want to keep my panties as a souvenir?”

“Mhm.” He reached behind him briefly to set your knife down along the coffee table so both of his hands were free. You watched as he slowly lowered himself onto his knees between your spread thighs. “You won’t be needin’ them when you’re here, anyway.”

Before you could respond, his warm palms came to rest along your hips where his thumbs gently dipped beneath the hem of your panties and slowly began to peel them down your thighs. “Can’t remember the last time I had the pleasure of tasting virgin pussy.” He chuckled. “Been too goddamn long.”

“I thought most guys weren’t into eating…pussy.” It was your turn to giggle now, and Joel was secretly relieved that you were finally relaxing.

He slipped your panties down your ankles making quick work of stuffing them into the back pocket of his jeans. “What makes you say that, sweetheart?” He shifted his hands from your hips to rest between the apex of your thighs, spreading you open further at his leisure.

“Well, uh—before the outbreak, I had a boyfriend, and all my friends at the time told me that I should ask him to go down on me. I didn’t know what they meant at first, so my friends and I bought a porno from an adult film store to watch, and then shortly after I asked my boyfriend if he would go down on me, he said fuck no.”

Joel laughed, a real hearty laugh that sent a warm vibration and tingle creeping up your spine. He used his thumbs to spread your inner lips apart before he peppered kisses against the inside of your thighs, inching closer and closer to the seam of your pussy. “No offense, sweetheart. But your boyfriend sounds like he was a fuckin’ tool that didn’t know the first thing to pleasin’ a woman and makin’ her sing, and for that reason, I hope he got infected.”

Despite the gravity of the situation you found yourself in, it felt good to confide in someone and laugh about the past. “I hope he got infected, too.”

The tension flipped once more when Joel’s darkened pools of brown flickered up from between your thighs. His hot breath was directly fanning your exposed core, and you watched as he licked his lips. “I take a lot of satisfaction knowin’ that I’m gonna be your first for everythin’, little fawn. You belong to me, your tight virgin cunt belongs to me. Jus’ want you to understand what that means before I defile you, piece by piece.”

You found your words lodged in your throat when you felt Joel Miller’s hot, wet, and skillful mouth press directly against your clit. His thick, dark lashes fluttered shut, and a groan bubbled from deep within his chest. He was immediately a man starved at the first taste of you. Lathing his tongue through the seam of your pussy as if he was a cat lapping up warm milk. And once he got a taste, he couldn’t stop, and you didn’t want him to.

“Sweetest fuckin’ virgin cunt I’ve ever tasted, little fawn. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re like honey.” He rambled on, slurping and obscenely sucking on your sex. He meant it when he said he was going to defile you, and this was just the beginning.

Your fingers naturally found themselves tangled in his salt and peppered streaked curls. They were softer than you ever imagined them to be. And in that moment, when your orgasm rippled through you like a tidal wave, and your pussy drooled along his tongue, you were grateful that he at least took the time to make you feel good first.

But like most good things, it passed just as quickly as it came when he pulled his mouth back from your cunt, a translucent strand of his saliva mixed with your release hung from his lower lip like a thread from a spider's web. The strand reached all the way to your glistening clit and disappeared when he licked the taste of you from his lips.

Your cheeks felt hot to the touch, and there was a sheen of sweat coating your skin when he reached for his belt and began to unfasten it. That’s when the fear began to creep its way back in.

“Joel, do you think that maybe we can—”

“No.” He gruffed out over the sound of his belt buckle clanking open, and his zipper being yanked down in a haste.

You could see just how hard he was through his worn down briefs, and when you finally got a first glance at just how thick and large his cock was, you were immediately trying to clamber off the couch. There was no way he was going to fucking fit.

He let out an annoyed growl, one hand quickly darted out and grabbed your ankle with a roughness that immediately had you yelping in surprise. “Do not fuckin’ test me, or I will really fuckin’ make this hurt for you. Do I make myself absolutely clear?” He glowered, tightening his steel like grip on your ankle. “Get back to how I had you spread open. Don’t make me ask you twice.”

Only when you reluctantly abided by his request did he loosen his grip before releasing your ankle completely. He rose to his full height, kicking his jeans and boxers off to the side as his heavy cock bobbed between his thighs. “Try anythin’ funny again, and I’ll bend your ass over this fuckin’ couch faster than you can say stop.”

“I’m sorry, Joel—I didn’t mean to upset you I’m just—”

“Afraid?” He mused. “Yeah, I gathered that. But I told ya that it’s only gonna hurt a little. All you need to do is relax for me. Thas’ it, and the pain will only be temporary. I promise, little fawn.”

He leaned over you, grasping your thighs in his hands and molded your body exactly how he wanted to take you so that he could easily wedge himself between your thighs. Now your back was against the side of the couch, the arm rest acted as a makeshift pillow for your head while he wrapped your legs around his hips for support. “Missionary is gonna cause ya the least amount of pain, but after today we ain’t gonna play it safe anymore.”

“Joel, can we please—I’m not ready for this. There has to be someone else that I can offer you…right?” You glanced down between your thighs, right where his thick cockhead was lined up at your tight opening. There was a drool of arousal that pooled and dripped down from the seam of your puffy and stimulated pussy right into the already soiled fabric of the couch.

“You jus’ don’t fuckin’ quit, do ya? I’m about five seconds away from fucking you like you’re just a piece of meat. Do you really want that, little fawn? Do you want me to fuckin’ hurt you? Is that it? You’re so goddamn lucky that you didn’t get captured by a group of raiders who would take turns gang raping you, and ripping you apart like a fuckin’ ragdoll. Show some fuckin’ gratitude for the fact that I’m not like them.” He hissed between his teeth. “You are mine. Get that through your pretty little brain sooner, rather than later.”

“You’re not going to fucking fit! There’s no fucking way that you’re going to fit without ripping me apart from the inside, Joel!” You cried out, fists clenched so tightly at your sides, that your blunt nails were digging into your skin hard enough to draw blood to the surface.

“I sure as fuck ain’t gonna fit where you’re so fuckin’ stiff. Ya don’t want it to hurt, d’ya? Well, more than it’s already gonna. Jus’ relax for me. That’s all you gotta do.”

It did fucking hurt. It felt like you were being ripped apart seam by seam when he slowly started to press himself inside of you. Your body seized up around the intrusion, clamping down on his cock like a vice as tears began to leak down your cheeks again.

“You gotta let me in, little fawn. Or so help me god, I will fuckin’ force my way right into your tight little virgin cunt.” He growled out of frustration, wanting this part to be over already because that very minuscule part of him felt bad for what he was doing.

“I—I can’t, Joel! Please! It hurts! You’re hurting me!”

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping forwards and his forehead came to rest upon your own. His hand that wasn’t wrapped around the base of his cock came to gently rest upon your cheek, a moment of tenderness that sent your mind reeling. “I ain’t tryin’ to hurt you, little fawn. Please jus’ relax. Take a deep breath in and out. Focus on this instead, alright?” He dropped his hand from your cheek and slowly slipped it between your parted thighs so his thumb could gently thrum your clit. “Focus on how good that feels, and not my cock splittin’ you apart and takin’ what’s mine.”

Maybe you were the masochist, and he was the sadist. The mixture of pleasure with pain was something you never had experienced before, and when your body finally began to relax and let him in fully, that’s when you finally understood what he meant earlier about the pain only being temporary. It was numbed the second he started to piston his hips into you, stretching you open more and more with each heavy and calculated thrust. His thumb stayed glued to your clit, rubbing you in steady circles to keep your stimulation present in your mind.

He did defile you, piece by piece. Taking and taking while you continue to give and give. You want to be good, you want him to like you, to want you because if he does, maybe he’ll keep you around. Maybe he’ll fuck you again, protect you, keep you safe, and maybe you’ll never have to live in fear again.

Sometime after Joel had fucked you till he felt satisfied and spent, you passed out on his couch purely from exhaustion. He didn’t tend to you right away. He didn’t kiss your forehead, and he certainly didn’t kiss your lips. He left you there, stained in his cum and completely ruined for anyone else. That’s how he intended to leave things, but his need to care and tend to you ultimately won when he appeared from his bathroom with a wash rag in hand. His footsteps were soft as he padded into the living room and knelt beside you as you slept. In comparison to earlier, his movements were very tender as he gently spread your thighs apart so he could wash between them.

You stirred only slightly, mumbling in your sleep when the wash cloth gently dragged across the seam of your pussy and everywhere in between. And even after he was finished he sat there for hours in a deep contemplation over his decisions. He was a complicated man, with conflicted feelings driven by grief and loss. And that was the reason for his unkindness. His ability to remain aloof and cold. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the notion that someone as innocent as you, had survived the cruelty of the world for this long.

Your relationship with Joel Miller, or lack thereof, turned into a mutual exchange. He offered you his protection, and you offered him your body and some semblance of control. It was his driving force, after all. To feel like he was in control of his life and the remaining frayed threads of it. The more times he fucked you, the more you began to enjoy it. You liked his meanness, and he liked how compliant you were. It was simple, no emotions tied up and he could simply just be.

Sometimes you did talk, and other times he just took what he wanted. You were like his personal punching bag, his means to get his frustrations out through having you beneath his sheets, molded however he saw fit.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“Yeah, thas’ it, little fawn. You can take all of me. Know you can.” He huffs out a hot puff of air against the shell of your ear. His broad shoulders, hard chest paired with a soft stomach, cage your softer frame like a protective shield. He’s drilling into you from behind, strong hips are flush against the soft curve of your ass, where he’s molded the shape of your body into the old, squeaky mattress. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through his tiny apartment, and your mind begins to grow hazy, consumed with pleasure, and him—Joel. He’s got you right where he wants you, where he can take, take, take, and you’ll give, and give, and give. The heady stench of sex, sweat and Joel swarms your senses like bees in a hive. He drinks in the wet, familiar sound of your pussy squelching around his cock, dragging him in further like a never ending vice.

He paints your insides with hot ropes of his seed, spending himself completely before he’s collapsing on top of you, drenched in sweat. His cock pulses inside of you for a few seconds longer before he draws his hips back and sits back on his thighs, resting his weight along his forearms as he catches his breath.

You lay flat on your stomach like a limp fish while you catch your own breath. He has your attention when you feel his hand gently curve around your ankle and you immediately roll over onto your back, silently begging him with your eyes alone to let you breathe a little longer. “I can’t go another round that fast, Joel. I need to catch my breath.”

“I wasn’t gonna suggest that, sweetheart.” He rasped softly, stroking your skin gently with the pad of his thumb. “I was—uh, gonna ask if you were hungry?”

You blinked a few times, trying to understand if you were hearing him correctly. Was he…offering you a meal? Did hell freeze over?

“Oh.” You couldn’t help but smile a little. “Yeah…I am a little hungry.”

Maybe he’ll ask you to make him a sandwich, hah!

“I ain’t got much to offer, unfortunately. But I think I got a couple cans of Chef Boyardee and some stale bread?” His cheeks are flushed from exertion, but there’s a hint of nervousness in your tone. It’s not like he said he loved you, he was just offering to feed you.

“Oh, man. That guy was great!” You sat up on your elbows watching his lips begin to curve upwards into a half grin from your enthusiasm.

“I actually agree.”

You ate in his bed, sitting across from one another in comfortable silence. Your knees were lightly touching, but neither of you seemed to mind the closeness. He even offered you the last half of his bread and you felt your heart swell at his selfless gesture.

A dog only bites when provoked. Maybe your guard dog was growing soft for his little fawn.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” He asked suddenly, breaking through the comfortable silence like a knife.

“Of course you can, Joel.”

He was never good at this sorta thing; talking about his feelings and emotions. He swallowed his last bit of food before reaching across to set both of your empty plates on the nearby nightstand.

“What are you gettin’ out of this? And don’t lie to me or try to give me some bullshit.”

“You make me feel safe…and protected.” You murmured softly, looking directly into his eyes for the first time that entire night.

He scoffs, gnawing on the inside of his cheek with his canines, “I ain’t a fuckin’ charity service, or your knight in shining armor.”

“You’re right, Joel. You aren’t. And that’s okay. I don’t need you to be either of those things. But—you’re all that I want, all that I need.”

His face softens slightly, that permanent frown between his brows and pout of his lips is almost not so permanent before his scowl returns.

Deep down in that black pit of his heart, he wants that too. To be relied on, wanted, needed. He likes that what he has with you is something that he doesn’t have to fight for. He could get all of this and more from Tess, but she always challenged him and wanted more. She would lay her life down for his own and he hated that. He was the type of man that would rather lay his own life down in the place of someone else. He valued his life very little at this point, and here you were acting like he had done something monumental by keeping you safe, fucking you, and providing you with a meal.

“Joel, can I ask you something?” You interjected through the silence, hoping that he wasn’t upset with your honesty.

“Depends what it is that you’re about to ask me, little fawn.”

You want to reach out and grab his hand, to feel his fingers lace through your own. You wanted him to hold you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. You were his, but only under his terms. He wasn’t yours and he would never be. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t inclined to try and break through his nearly impassable walls that he had laid down himself, brick by brick.

“Why do you wear that watch on your wrist…if it’s broken?”

He froze like a deer in headlights as his ears began to ring, the blood rushed in his veins and his heartbeat began to race. His fingers twitched at his sides, and by the way his eyes began to darken, you realized very quickly that you had crossed a boundary. He didn’t speak, he didn’t even scold you. He ignored you completely and threw his legs over the side of the bed and snatched up the two discarded plates.

“Never fuckin’ ask me that again.” He muttered in the doorway, his back facing you and you could only see his side profile before he stomped off towards the kitchen.

Moments later you heard the sound of the plates breaking in the sink, one by one. You had never heard him sound so…violent before. He was yelling, but you couldn’t make out the words he was saying. He might have been crying at one point, but you didn’t dare investigate.

Only when you could no longer hear his pained yells, did you finally reach for your discarded clothes and quickly redressed before tiptoeing out of his bedroom. Your plan was to slip out the front door of his apartment undetected and never look back.

That plan went to shit when you stumbled upon the massacre in the kitchen and a broken man standing amongst shattered plates and shards of glass. He looked defeated, unmoving amongst the wreckage. His hand was trembling as small droplets of blood dripped from the open wound on his palm, the same hand where his broken watch was strapped to his wrist. The crimson droplets landed on the scuffed up floor beneath his feet. He heard the floorboards creak beneath your weight and he whipped around, eyes rimmed red from his incessant, crestfallen tears.

“Where the fuck are you goin?’” He croaked out, his voice sounding like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper.

“Home?” You didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but even you couldn’t determine exactly why you were trying to leave.

“Did I say you could leave?” He took a step towards you, somehow avoiding the stray shards of glass.

“N-No…I just thought that—”

“Yeah?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side as he observed your timid demeanor. “Well, unthink that. Please.”

He was…asking you to stay? Not only that, he said please?

“You’re bleeding.”

He glanced down at his hand in surprise. He didn’t even feel the glass cutting through his palm or the familiar wetness from the blood dripping from the fresh wound.

“Let me patch it up for you, okay?” You took a small step forward in his direction while he wearily watched you. He brought his injured hand down to his side, holding it out of your reach.

“Are you going to stay?”

You nodded. “Yes, Joel. I promise I won’t leave.”

So, he chose to trust you and allowed you to touch him and guide him to the couch where he was forced to sit down while you rushed to the bathroom to grab his first aid kit. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling when you gently grabbed his hand and rested it palm side up on your knee and began to tend to his wound. He wasn’t capable of love, not after she died. He wasn’t capable of softness and kindness, not when he watched the light fade from her eyes, and yet he sat quietly under your soft touch and gentle eyes. You had become like his supply, a new addiction, a craving, a need that could only be satiated by you. It scared him down to his very bones.

The personal vendetta was long since forgotten and was replaced with his latent nature to protect and care for. You had given him that purpose again, and maybe he could do better and become a good man again because of you. Maybe you were the answer to it all.

And unknowingly, and unintentionally, you had tapped into his inner psyche, one soft touch and gentle gaze at a time. And he was beginning to believe that maybe he wasn’t better off being alone and forsaken, after all.

When Tommy Miller hadn’t returned any of Joel’s radio calls for two weeks straight, Joel was facing a tough decision that he ultimately was going to have to make. His kin was out in bum fuck Wyoming, he could be dead for all Joel knew. Despite how rocky his relationship with his brother was, he was still family, and now Joel was going to leave the QZ and find his younger brother.

This was the beginning of the end of yours and Joel’s mutual understanding, and it was happening before your very eyes.

Tonight he was in a haste after fucking you for hours. Usually he would stay in bed, his limbs tangled with yours, locked together like two puzzle pieces. You learned that sometimes he liked to be the little spoon, but he would never ask, not verbally at least. He’d turn his back to you, reaching for your hands to wrap yourself around him. Tonight, neither of those things happened while you watched him gather up his discarded clothes, throwing on his briefs over his thighs and hips.

You sat up slowly, using the old sheet to cover your breasts. Your heart began to sink when he sat on the edge of the bed, revolver in hand and bullet cartridges in the other.

“Joel?…” you asked in an unsure tone. Would this turn into another one of his meltdowns? You had hoped that it wouldn’t.

“What?” He gruffed out, reloading the bullets one by one.

You recoiled at his tone, chewing on the inside of your cheek to try and distract your mind from assuming the worst was about to happen.

“Is everything okay?”

He sighed, rolling his shoulders forward as he finished loading the revolver and looked over his shoulder, refusing to meet your eyes and instead focused on the peeling wallpaper along the walls.

“Everythin’ is peachy, little fawn.”

Even he didn’t sound too sure of his words. You had been around him long enough to pick up on his changes in demeanor. Sometimes they were subtle, less easy to detect, but tonight it was clearer than day that there was something deeply troubling him.

“You’re acting really fucking weird, Joel.”

He laughed dryly and turned to face you completely. “That’s because I got something to tell you, but you ain’t gonna fuckin’ like it.”

Your face fell immediately and your loose grip around the sheets became tight, as if the fabric between your fingers was the only grounding source available in the vicinity.

“Please, don’t look at me like that. Like I’m about to break your heart or somethin.’” He sighed. “You can’t look at me with those—eyes.”

“Well, are you about to break my heart, Joel? Cause if that’s the case, just rip the fucking bandaid off already.” Your voice cracked, and tears were already threatening to spill, but you held them at bay.

“I need you to understand that I don’t have any choice in this, alright? Tommy hasn’t returned any of my messages in two weeks. It usually only takes him a day to respond, and he’s gone completely radio silent. I’m leavin’ the QZ as soon as Tess and I can locate a truck battery, and I’m goin’ to Wyoming to find him.”

He didn’t have any choice?!

“Joel, do you realize how fucking insane you sound right now?! If Tommy hasn’t responded in two weeks he’s probably—”

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ say another word, ya hear me?!” He growled, cocking his revolver and stood up abruptly from the edge of the bed. “You don’t get a fuckin’ say in this! You ain’t my family!”

His words stung, slicing your heart in a million tiny pieces from the venom dripping from his lips. Maybe this was the wake up call you needed. The rose colored glasses were beginning to lift, and the ship that you and Joel had sailed for so long, was finally sinking.

“You’re right, Joel.” You agreed with him. “I’m not your family. So, what the fuck am I then?”

He looked at you coldly, eyes narrowed into slivers. His jaw clenched and unclenched. He didn’t want to be having this conversation with you right now. He needed to focus on finding this damn truck battery and going after Tommy. But of course you just had to be fucking stubborn about the whole thing.

“You’re nothing but a goddamn liability.”

There was no emotion in his tone, just the cutthroat truth of what you truly meant to Joel Miller.

“You don’t mean that. You’re just trying to hurt me!” You tried to convince yourself that this man did care for you in a sense. That he thought higher of you than just someone he fucked, someone he held, someone he shared his meals with.

“Why are you makin’ this so goddamn difficult, huh? You want me to stand here and tell you that I love you?! That I care for you further than what our relationship is?! Would you like me to spell it out for you?!” He yelled exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air out of frustration.

He didn’t even flinch when you scrambled out from under the sheets, desperately reaching for your discarded panties and shirt. You felt more exposed than ever in front of him as hot tears flooded and rolled down your cheeks. The same cheeks he had tenderly held between his calloused palms.

“You’re practically…a prostitute.”

You reached for your own gun that was resting on the nightstand closest to your side of the bed, and once you had a firm grip on the base of it, you whipped around to face him, gun aimed directly at him, mirroring his own.

“How—how fucking dare you! I’m not a prostitute, Joel! We—we have a mutual understanding! That’s how it’s worked, that’s how it’s always worked!”

“Had.” He corrected you coldly, cocking his head to the side. “And mutual understanding?! You mean our exchange?” He laughed and shook his head, “you offered me your fuckin’ body, and in return I’ve kept you alive! That ain’t a mutual understanding, sweetheart. Thas’ an exchange of services.”

“So, the time that I patched up your hand, and stayed with you even though I knew I shouldn’t have, meant nothing to you?!” You were full on screaming now, seeing red through your blurred tears. “My kindness meant jack all to you, Joel?!”

“Don’t stand there and act so surprised! I told you from the get-go, I am not a good fuckin’ man! You made those choices, sweetheart! I didn’t hold a fuckin’ gun against your head and force you to stay!”

You laughed, throwing your head back slightly because you couldn’t believe how fucking delusional he was being. As if he ever gave you a choice in the first place?!

You took one bold step in his direction with your gun still aimed and at the ready. “Choice?! Oh, please enlighten me on what choice you’re speaking of when you never even gave me a choice in the first place, Joel!”

“I ain’t got time for this. It’s fuckin’ done, alright? We’re done and you’re just gonna have to find someone else to keep you alive, little fawn. You can be someone else’s liability!” In the midst of his yelling, he eyed your gun wearily, already mentally planning in his head how he was going to disarm you if you made the stupid decision to lunge at him.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, JOEL MILLER! I HATE HOW YOU HAVE MADE ME FEEL! DON’T YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME?! I—I HOPE THAT YOU NEVER FIND TOMMY. I HOPE HE’S DEAD, AND I HOPE YOU DIE ALONE, AND UNLOVED. I HOPE SOMEONE HURTS YOU THE WAY THAT YOU HAVE HURT ME AND—”

He wasn’t ready to admit just how shattering your words were. How it felt like someone had just ripped his heart out and tore it apart, piece by piece. But this is how he got by in life, by hurting those who he loved.

“I’m so fuckin’ relieved that you’re finally wakin’ up from whatever fairytale land you’ve been livin’ in, little fawn. There’s some hope that you won’t end up with a bullet between your eyes. Congratulations on joining the rest of society.” He muttered condescendingly. “Now, you’re gonna get that fuckin’ gun out of my face and go home, and you’re gonna forget all about me.” He deadpanned.

You did just that. He stood there just watching you quickly redress and tuck your gun into the waistband of your jeans. You strode past him, shoulder checking him on your way out.

“Careful. You might end up shootin’ your damn ass off.” He commented from the open doorway.

You didn’t have the strength to snap back at him. You felt broken, beaten, and defeated. He had taken all of you, and you felt like all that was left was your shell; withered and cracking away under his harsh cruelty and scrutiny.

You grabbed your backpack from the hook alongside the door and yanked the handle open, swinging it open loudly on its hinges. He waited till he heard the apartment door slam shut before he left his bedroom, padding quietly down the hall. He went straight to the door and locked it for good measure.

When Marlene found you, you were in a drunken stupor after spending a day in lockup because you had stupidly punched a FEDRA officer in the face, oops. You traded a few ration cards for a cheap bottle of hooch, and proceeded to drink it in broad daylight in a deserted alley. It was nearing curfew now, and the bottle you had been nursing was completely drained and discarded by your feet. Marlene found you slumped over, covered in dried blood, vomit, and tears. You were curled up like a little fawn hiding in the thicket. She checked your pulse before you sputtered awake, lashes fluttering and eyes squinting through the massive hangover you were experiencing.

“M—Marlene?” You croaked out as you tried to wrap your drunken mind around how the fuck she found you here in the first place.

“He broke your heart, didn’t he? Told you he was bad news, sweetheart.” She sighed with a disappointed shake of her head. “Take my hand and we’ll get you cleaned up, okay?”

You neither confirmed nor denied her assumptions of why you were piss drunk in an alley. You simply reached for her outstretched hand and let her help you up from the ground. You were wobbly on your feet, like a drunk Bambi on ice, but she let you lean your weight entirely into her side.

A week later, you were officially a member of the Boston QZ Fireflies and under the direct protection of Marlene. If only you had known then that you had signed off on your own death certificate.

You were assigned to Riley’s position in the QZ mall making bombs for the Fireflies to use on an upcoming attack on FEDRA. When you asked Marlene what had happened to Riley, she cut right to the chase and told you that Riley had been bitten by an infected person. You didn’t ask for any further explanation, or where Riley had been bitten. Had you known that she was bitten in the mall, you would have begged Marlene for a different post instead.

When you proved yourself loyal to the Fireflies, Marlene decided that you were ready to be on the frontlines of the attack. Right in the midst of it. One of the bombs that you made with your own hands was about to be used in warfare; what a twisted turn of events.

Tess Servopolous was having a shitty fucking day. After being jumped by a couple of Robert’s goons, and then finding out that he sold the truck battery that her and Joel needed, she was ready to go home and drink the whole thing off, when an explosion went off directly outside of the building that she, Robert, and two of his men were occupying.

She stumbled out of the wreckage, dazed and confused when she saw a FEDRA vehicle demolished and in flames. She squinted through the blinding sun when someone from a nearby rooftop yelled, “free Boston now, motherfuckers!”

And then, directly across the street, she caught a glimpse of you; Joel’s ex little fawn turned rebel scum. You were fleeing the scene just as FEDRA had shown up. Tess claimed she wasn’t a Firefly, but they threw her into lockup, anyway.

“He sold our battery to someone else, Joel.” Tess was sitting across from Joel in their shared tiny apartment. She had just disclosed to him that the men that had jumped her were with Robert, and she was in lockup all day. Joel was fuming.

“Who the fuck did he sell it to? That fuckin’ snake. Swear to god I’ll—”

“Joel, I need you to take a breath.” Tess said plainly, rubbing her sore temples with a sigh.

“I need that battery, Tess. It’s the only way we’re getting to Tommy and without it, we’re shit out of luck. He could be fuckin’ dead out there already for all we know. Where the fuck are we gonna find a battery now?”

“I saw her.” Tess said above a whisper to draw his attention.

“Don’t.” He warned her.

“Joel, I fuckin’ saw her! She’s—Firefly scum now. She was across the street when the bomb went off. She’s with Marlene now. She was fleeing the scene like a goddamn coward, too.”

It felt like Joel’s entire world was crashing down around him all at once. He hadn’t thought about you since your ugly departure from his apartment, but to hear that Marlene had sunk her venomous claws into you after all? He was furious, disappointed, and above all, he felt betrayed.

“You swear that you saw her?”

“On my life, Joel. It was her.” Tess would never lie. She had no reason to.

He swallowed the thick lump growing in his throat. It felt like hot bubbling tar was melting his insides away, melting the flesh from his bones and leaving him bare and brittle. He could taste the bitterness of betrayal on his tongue, and the dull ache in his heart. His fists clenched and unclenched, his brows furrowed tightly and his lips were in a straight, emotionless line. He looked across the table at his partner, giving her a slight nod of acknowledgment. “If I ever see her face again, I will kill her, Tess. I’ll make it hurt. I’ll kill her with my bare fuckin’ hands.”

He was a man of his word, but he was secretly praying that day would never come because he wouldn’t have the guts to do it. Not even after he promised Tess to her face that he would kill you. You were that weakness that he couldn’t shake free from.

“Good.” She nodded. “Now let’s go hunt that motherfucker down, and get our battery, our truck, and then we’ll go find Tommy, alright?” She reached for his hand that was clenched in a tight fist along the table.

“Alright.” He nodded.

Joel and Tess had a stash of weapons and supplies scattered about in different areas in and outside of the QZ. One of these areas included the boarded up mall, and this was Joel’s first stop. He had heard rumors sprinkled about that there were a handful of infected roaming the mall, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He snuck into the building the same way he always did and retraced his steps purely from memory.

His confidence only began to waver when he approached the same door he had entered through over a dozen times and saw the unmistakable Firefly logo spray painted right across the frame of the door.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath and withdrew his concealed gun before pushing the slightly ajar door open with his broad shoulder.

On the other side of the mall, you were dealing with trouble of your own. Why hadn’t you asked Marlene more questions about Riley’s death—specifically where Riley had been bitten. Would Marlene have even told you the truth?! You were beginning to question the Fireflies true motives when you overheard Marlene and a few others talking about taking this girl out west to be tested in a hospital. This wasn’t just any random girl; she was immune to the Cordyceps infection. She could possibly be the cure to save the world, but even you were smart enough to know that Cordyceps grow inside the brain. This poor girl was going to die, and you wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.

From that point forward you decided that you were going to sabotage Marlene and Fireflies plans. After setting off a bomb in the QZ, you fled back to the mall to dispose of the rest of the bombs you had made that week and then you were going to leave the QZ for good. It was supposed to be simple and go exactly as you planned it to, and it did up until the point when you ran into an infected person.

Your gun was knocked from your grip leaving you with only your knife for protection when the infected person shoved you against a nearby wall, knocking the wind from you. You fought like hell, stabbing wherever you could reach till the infected collapsed to the ground after you jabbed your knife directly into its neck before you sank down against the wall to catch your breath. Its body lay in a heap at your feet, blood pooling and leaking from the deep gash in its neck.

A few minutes later you heard a door nearby open and close followed by heavy footsteps. You scrambled to your feet, wiping your knife along your jeans and snatched up your gun that was on the floor a good few feet away. Your boots slipped in the puddle of blood and created a trail of crimson footprints. So much for remaining concealed.

Joel appeared shortly after you had taken off. He could smell the stench of blood and death permeating the air upon his approach. When he found the dead infected, he kicked it with the toe of his boot, checking to make sure it was actually dead. When the body didn’t move or twitch, he let out a brief sigh of relief before he noticed the trail of bloody footprints and followed them.

It didn’t take him long to find the room that you had been occupying. The trail of footprints had led him straight to another door and that’s when he noticed the fresh blood on the handle and proceeded with caution. When he pushed open the door, he expected to find a person on the other side but there was no sign of anyone. He was drawn to the table in the corner of the room where he recognized a plethora of materials used to make a bomb.

Jackpot.

He surveyed the small room with his gun still drawn at his side as he crept around. You were hiding in the supply closet which was an uncomfortable tight fit. You had no idea who the fuck was on the other side of the door, but you didn’t intend to find out anytime soon. Through the small gap in the metal closet, you were able to make out a pair of all-too familiar black boots.

No, no, no. Please. Anyone but him. Anyone but—

your foot slipped from the blood causing something from the top shelf of the closet to fall and cause a loud racket. Moments later the janitor closet doors were yanked open leaving you exposed. Joel didn’t see your face at first when he grabbed your arm and yanked you out onto the ground with his freehand.

You let out a yell, trying to claw at the man when he yanked you onto the floor. You scrambled to sit up, raising your arms above your head when he trained his gun on you. Your eyes simultaneously widened in shock. The masochist and the sadist together again.

“You have got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” He let out a scoff. “So, Tess wasn’t lyin’ huh? You really are…Firefly scum?”

“You are quite literally the last person I ever wanted to run into, Joel.” You hissed between your teeth while you were at his mercy.

“Well, sweetheart, that makes two of us.”

“Hilarious, I’m absolutely dying with laughter right now.” You rolled your eyes and he scowled at your sarcasm.

“Turned into a joiner just like Tommy. How fuckin’ predictable.” He shook his head in disappointment. “I promised Tess that I would kill you with my bare hands if I ever saw your face again, but…I can’t bring myself to do that, little fawn.” He lowered his gun slowly just as you began to lower your arms.

“You were leaving me behind, Joel. What—what else was I supposed to do, huh? Marlene found me in an alley, covered in blood and vomit because I had gotten my ass thrown in lockup after punching someone from FEDRA in the fucking face. I had nowhere else to go, no one to turn to, and Marlene offered me protection.”

“You punched someone from FEDRA in the face?” He couldn’t help but feel a little amused with this knowledge. “Never expected those words comin’ outta your mouth.”

“Yeah, well, things have changed, Joel. I did what I had to do to survive. I’m sure you think I did it to betray you, right? Not everything is about you. And even if that were the case, why would you even care, considering I’m just a liability in your eyes.”

“You’re right.” He stated simply. “I do think you did it to betray me, but clearly Marlene’s war ain’t goin’ to peachy with you fuckin’ it up. If I’m not the one to kill you, then I’m sure she’s hot on your trail already.”

“You’re probably right. After I set that bomb off I decided that I was fucking done with the Fireflies. I came back here to destroy the rest of the bombs and then I’m leaving the QZ tonight.”

“Wow.” His eyebrows rose in surprise and he couldn’t help the grin that slowly tugged over his lips. “Look at you havin’ a plan of action. I’m impressed.”

“And I take it you haven’t located that truck battery, huh? Man, that’s gotta suck.” You snickered softly.

“Watch it.” He snipped, “We ain’t friends or nothin’ and I still can kill you.”

You both fell silent as your emotions swirled like a dust bowl. You could only imagine the hate that could spew from his lips next.

“Did you…” he was referring to the dead infected that you had killed earlier.

“Yeah, I did.”

He took a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he observed you from where he was standing. “And you didn’t get bit, right?”

His question hung heavy in the air between you. You don’t remember if you were bit or not. It all had happened so fast—

“I—I don’t think so.” You were unsure as you slowly rose to your feet and that’s when he noticed your hand and the obvious teeth indentations in your skin. The same hand that patched up his wound, the same hand that wrapped around his middle when he wanted to be the little spoon.

“Oh Christ.” He whispered in disbelief, taking a small step back from you, his instincts kicking in immediately.

You looked down at your right hand, noticing the bite and the blood slowly leaking from the grooves in the indented marks. You quickly wiped the blood away, thinking that the bite mark would suddenly just disappear.

“No, no, no!” You yelled a broken cry, “I don’t—I don’t want to turn into a monster, Joel!” You continued to furiously wipe at the bite mark, growing more and more frustrated—afraid when it wasn’t going away.

His heart sinks and he doesn’t know what to do, or how to react. His eyes are fixated on the bite mark and what it means, and he isn’t sure how much time he’ll have left with you. The one thing that he does know for certain is that he won’t let you turn into a monster. He’ll make it quick, painless. You won’t feel a thing. It’s the least he can do for you after all the pain he caused. It’s really starting to hit him now, all the hurtful things he said. The cruelty he thrashed upon you. God, how could he do such awful things to someone like you?

“I—I need you to take a deep breath for me, little fawn, okay? Please. You need to calm down.” He tried to reason with you as he took a half step forward.

“Calm down?! You—” tears began to profusely roll down your cheeks when you faced your own realization that it was only a matter of time before you would turn into one of those monsters.

“I’m—I’m not going to let you turn into a monster, okay? I swear on my life, I’ll make it quick. You—you won’t feel a thing, okay? I’m so sorry—I’m so sorry that I’ve been nothing but cruel to you. I pushed you away, I forced you to leave. I’m the reason you joined the Fireflies. It’s all my fuckin’ fault.” He was struggling to hold his own tears at bay when he saw your body begin to tremble.

“Let—let me be till…my last breath, okay? Please, Joel. Can—can you do that for me? I’m—I’m so afraid.”

He nodded and slipped his gun into his holster. “Until your very last breath, little fawn.”

You slowly sank to the floor and despite every cell in his brain telling him not to join you, he ignored his instincts and found himself sitting alongside you.

“Will—will you hold me? I—I want one last comfort before my mind and body is no longer my own.”

How could he say no to your final request? He knew it was risky, and the Cordyceps were already laying their claim inside of your body. “Of course I will.” He whispered softly.

You slipped into his arms as if they were made for you, and he held you close, resting his chin along the top of your head.

He told you about his daughter Sarah and how he closed himself off to all feelings after she died. He told you that she died in his arms on his 36th birthday and that he wore the broken watch on his wrist because it was her birthday gift to him. He was wearing it when she died, and the bullets ripped through her body. A stray bullet had pierced the glass on the watch and her time of death would forever haunt him.

The last words you spoke to him were of forgiveness, and the last touch you felt from him was his lips pressed to your forehead before your mind and body were no longer yours.

He could sense that your time was up, and that you were no longer with him. He had gone numb when he reached for the gun in his holster and quietly removed it. When the infected head turned towards him and he was met with its dead, glossed over eyes, this was his final confirmation and nail in the coffin that his little fawn was no more.

He mouthed, I’m sorry, before he locked the infected in a headlock. They tussled on the ground momentarily before he pressed the barrel of the gun between its eyes and pulled the trigger.

The body went limp in his loosened grasp, slumping into his arms like a bag of bricks. He broke down into silent tears that wrecked through his body as he cradled you in his arms, rocking back and forth to try and calm himself down.

“I’m so sorry, little fawn. You deserved so much better.” He pressed one last kiss to your forehead before he lifted your corpse into his arms. He wanted to lay you to rest someone soft and comforting in hopes that wherever you were now, was filled with nothing but peace, love, and no pain.

He found a bed of moss nearby and gently laid you down upon it. His fingertips brushed across your eyelids, pulling them down gently so that it would appear as if you were sleeping peacefully. He placed your pocket knife between your hands and said his final goodbyes.

When your body rotted and decayed, you became one with the moss and only your bones remained.

Years later, Joel still thinks about you, his little fawn. He wonders if you’re dancing amongst the stars when he sits out on the back porch of his home in Jackson. There’s frost in the air, but it’s a clear night with the moon shining bright. His guitar sits off to the side and his mug of coffee has steam billowing off the rim of it. He catches a glimpse of the tail end of a shooting star striking brilliantly against the jet black sky. He knows in his heart that it’s you up there.

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thedevilspearl · 1 year ago

Text

asking them stupid questions — all brothers

a/n: having a hard time writing smut atm so here’s some silly headcanons with the brothers. i was really tired when i proofread this so there may be some mistakes.

tags: 2k words, no gender specified, reader x lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub + belphegor. (belphie’s is a little suggestive).

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑

lucifer has had enough.

it’s been a long day and he wished for a quiet night in his office to relax with some tea while overlooking the bills his brothers have riled up.

but he’s quite distracted tonight.

peace and quiet is not an option. especially with you loitering, floating around his office and touching all the trinkets and décor. you’ve never shown interest in them before, but tonight, all of a sudden lucifer’s office is the most inviting place in the world.

“mc?”

“yes, honey?”

“is something the matter.”

there is a painstakingly long silence before you answer. “….no.”

letting out a little sigh, he asks, “are you quite sure?”

you hum with a subtle nod, barely looking him in the eye and he is now certain something is wrong.

“mc, please. if you aren’t feeling well, you can tell me about it. you don’t need to make this difficu—”

“would you still love me if i was a worm?”

“what?” lucifer’s voice croaks.

“it’s just that i felt sad thinking about how you might not love me anymore if one day i turned into a worm and couldn’t turn back into me.”

“mc, in what world would you ever turn into a worm?”

“most likely this one. remember that time mammon accidentally turned me into a sheep in spells class? i was cute as a sheep, so it was okay. but as a worm, i’d be small and slimy and gross. i’d be unloveable.”

“that is enough,” he rises from his chair, speaking with command but still gentle enough to not upset you further. “you shouldn’t think of such things. it is so silly of you to think i would ever stop loving you.”

“luci….”

“if i must spell it out for you, then yes. i would still love you if you were a worm and i would carry you everywhere with me to ensure you’re never lost or hurt. i would need something small and protective to carry you in, but yes. i will always love you.”

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍

“if there was a zombie apocalypse and i was bitten, what would you do?”

“hah?!” mammon’s face contorts at your random question. “what are ya talking about?”

“i’ve been thinking about that movie we watched….the zombie one. and just wondered what it would be like.”

“gave up on surviving already, did ya?” he chuckles, collapsing onto his bed beside you, his hand resting on your waist.

“no, but i wanna know! what would you do if i turned into a zombie?”

“well….what are the options?” his smirk earns him a playful smack on the chest. “hey! i’m serious. i’ll be so sad that i won’t be able to think straight, so ya need to give me some options.”

“fine,” you pout, scratching your brain for solutions. “i suppose the most humane thing to do would be to kill me. you know, to make sure i’m not forced to live as a mindless zombie eating other humans.”

“okay….”

“or you could tie me up, maybe chain me, and keep me alive by feeding me living people.”

“why would i keep ya around if you’re gonna stink like a rotting corpse?”

while mammon laughs, your brows furrow with annoyance, mostly feigned but there’s a small sense of hurt in there when you think about mammon not wanting to keep you after you turn into a zombie, despite it being completely logical and reasonable.

“hey,” his voice is soft as he leans over and kisses your cheek, “don’t worry. i’d handcuff us together and let you bite me. then we can be zombies together and never be separated.”

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍

movie night always means one thing, and that’s you and levi curling up with tangled limbs and a hoard of cushions and blankets. a joint blanket burrito with little space between you but that’s a good thing.

the closeness makes it cosier.

tonight, you opted for a more emotional movie. a romance, but romances are always emotional for both of you. that’s why you try your best to stay away from the romantic movies and stick to action packed fantasies or sci-fi’s that are the furthest thing from romance.

but there was a new and popular movie making the headlines and levi couldn’t wait to watch it. you knew watching it was a lost hope, and now you’re sobbing in levi’s arms watching the struggles the love interests are going through to get to each other.

“i’m so glad it wasn’t that difficult for us to be together,” you sniffle, feeling a wave of gratitude take over. “i love you, levi.”

“i love you, too,” his voice trembles and he quietly wipes his own tears.

“hey, levi?”

“what is it?”

“can i wipe my nose on you?”

“what? no!”

too late. you buried your head into his chest, wiping your face clean and covering his favourite shirt in snot.

“gross!”

“i’m sorry. i wanted to get a tissue but they’re too far away. i didn’t want to leave the burrito.”

“it’s fine,” he grumbles, begrudgingly patting you on the head to tell you it’s okay despite ruining his shirt. “let’s finish the movie.”

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍

“would you still love me if i told you the truth?”

satan tries to hide his piqued interest, like he usually does. he likes to come off as the too–cool–to–show–i–care kind of guy but the truth is, he is more invested in this truth than anything else.

he nonchalantly turns the page of his book and with a swipe of his tongue over his lips, he asks, “what truth?”

“that i’m really a lizard.”

well, he wasn’t expecting that.

he watches you intently over the pages of his book. you stop pacing around the library and make your way to him, showing no expression on your face. usually, he would be quite good at reading your face but in all honesty, he can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”

“a lizard?”

you nod. “a lizard.”

“you don’t look like a lizard.”

“that’s because i’m a lizard pretending to be a human.”

“a what now?” he shuts his book, sitting upright from his laid position. he tried his hardest not to give in to your silly but mysterious notion but he is far more interested in your explanation.

“you know about the lizard people, right?”

“i do not.”

“so i just exposed myself for nothing?”

“what in the devildom are you talking about?”

“it doesn’t matter. forget i said anything. if anyone finds out i told you, i could get killed.”

“please tell me that isn’t true.”

silence.

you refuse to even look him in the eye. surely, you are joking. there’s no way you’re really a lizard, let alone it be possible for lizards to be secretly living inside of humans. what kind of conspiracy would that be?

it’s unimaginable, even for demons. but whether the lizard thing is true or he’s falling for a joke, you still need an answer to your question.

“yes,” he pulls you into his side. “i would still love you if you were really a lizard.”

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒

“asmo,” you sing the demon of lust’s name, catching the attention that he would devote to you at any given moment. “can i ask you something?”

“go ahead, my dearest. fire away.”

he winks, hoping it would be something on the more flirtatious side, but instead you fill his mind with a grotesque image.

“what would you do if you could never touch me again?”

he immediately smothers you with a hug. “what are you talking about?! of course, that would never happen!”

“but what if?” you snuggle into him further. “what if you could never touch me?”

he hums, thinking of any solution to be able to touch you again.

“i’d cry,” he says simply. “i’d cry a lot.”

“aww,” you pout. “i don’t want you to cry.”

“and i don’t want to imagine a world where i can’t hold you like this,” he kisses your lips, “where i can’t kiss you like this,” he lifts up your hand and intertwines your fingers with his, “where i can’t hold your hand like this.”

“asmo….”

“i don’t know what would ever cause me to never be able to touch you again, but it would be the end of my world if it came true. i don’t know if i’d be able to live.”

“you’d still be able to see me and speak to me.”

“but not being able to touch you when i see you and hear you is the most painful torture imaginable. but you know what that means, right?”

“what does it mean?” you squeal and his hands tickle your sides.

“it means i need to do all the touching i can now to make up for it!”

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁

“hey, beel?”

“yeah?”

your quiet voices fill the dark path home from rad. beel always walks you home; be it in comfortable silence or deep conversations, you don’t imagine walking home any other way.

and the quiet air of the evening provides the perfect chance to ask him a question you’ve been waiting to ask all day.

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

“if i had five million cheeseburgers and you could only eat them if you slapped me in the face, what wou—”

“i’d slap you in the face.”

“i didn’t even finish my question.” you yelp, brows furrowing in frustration.

“you don’t need to finish it. i’d do anything to eat that many cheeseburgers.”

your feet plant in the ground and beel doesn’t stop walking until your hand which holds his pulls him back.

“are you serious?”

“uhmm….i think so?”

you’re grateful for the fact that he’s rethinking his answer but it was a shock to hear him say he’d slap you so firmly in the beginning. it was a stupid question to ask in the first place, but you never imagined beel ever wanting to hurt you.

he tugs on your hand and you continue walking with him, picking up the pace to get home.

“mc….” he asks. “did i say something wrong?”

his obliviousness to his own words is a harder slap in the face than the slap he promised those five million burgers.

“you said you’d slap me, beel, and it makes me sad.”

“hm….we can go halfsies on the burgers?”

“huh?”

“i’ll slap you and then we can share the burgers.” he promises. “you’d feel bad because i slapped you. and i’d feel bad because i slapped you. so to make it better for both of us, we can split the cheeseburgers.”

you look at him, astounded because you don’t know if his explanation makes his answer better or worse.

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑

a cuddling session in the attic with belphegor is exactly what you needed after a long, draining day. you naturally made your way up to him as soon as you had some free time, desperate for his warmth.

but belphie had a different warmth in mind with all the kisses he litters up and down your neck.

“belphie, i’m tired.” you whine, but still urge him on to kiss you harder.

“then close your eyes. i’ll kiss you until you fall asleep.”

your heart swarms with the thrill of his words, the promise of being here and showering you with affection even on your worst days.

“is something wrong?” he asks.

“no. why?”

“you’re not falling asleep.”

“that’s because you’re kisses are keeping me awake.”

“they’re meant to help you fall asleep.”

“i hate to break it to you belphie, but they’re having the opposite effect.” you tease.

“is that so?” he nibbles you ear. “what about this?”

you arch into his body, sensitive from his kisses and now the more urgent movements of his lips ignite a fire in your belly. his lips graze you, teeth nip you and tongue swipe over your skin. he sucks hard enough to leave bruises, and kisses softly on every mark he leaves.

“belphie….” the soft whisper of his name catches his attention. “how many ghosts do you think are watching us right now?”

he ceases for a moment, then lifts his head from the crook of your neck. “what?”

“what if there’s ghosts watching us right now? and what if they keep watching us while we….you know….?”

“i never thought of that before.”

“it’s weird, right?”

“definitely. let’s never have sex again.”

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headspace-hotel · 4 months ago

Text

dwarf fortress update

an important thing to note about this game is if you embark on an island with no other civilizations on it, this cuts you off from a substantial amount of gameplay, as you won't be able to do missions and you won't be able to trade with or contact other civilizations. It does, however, prevent sieges and other forms of possibly undesirable fun

i don't know if civilizations could arise on islands given enough time passing in game

I decided to start a new fortress to mess with some of the mechanics involving interactions between civilizations.

I embarked close to a necromancer's tower, which thus far has had no effects except giving me a frequently replenishing supply of armor and gear to loot off of zombies killed by my militias. I have also had regular sieges from goblins, which i've fought off pretty easily but the map is so littered with goblin corpses and clothes it's looking like a bit of a mess.

Essential lessons so far:

it doesn't seem to actually matter very much whether bedrooms are enclosed or have doors, and citizens get negative thoughts from sleeping in a dormitory, so it's better to just make a huge room, make the floor of a somewhat valuable material, space beds 1 tile apart and designate each 4-tile square as a separate bedroom.

Dwarves are happy around waterfalls, so if you flood your fortress your dwarves mental health will be great right up to the point that they drown to death.

The wiki says soap making is a low importance industry. This is a dirty rotten lie. You will need to have automated ash production, bucket production, lye production, and soap production to have enough soap ever.

burrows make dwarves STAY in a certain area, however they don't make them GO there. this essentially means they are useless as if you have ordered dwarves to stay within the burrow when a forgotten beast is attacking and causing havoc, they will not go there if they are outside it, however the dwarves inside will not be able to leave the burrow for food, drink, water or any sort of supplies so they will eventually just starve or thirst to death. so basically don't use burrows

limit the fisherdwarf task to one (1) dwarf AT MOST or you will have rotting fish everywhere and nothing will get done because everybody is at the fishery "cleaning raw fish"

you absolutely must go into the labor menu and turn off automatic web collection or else the instant you open a cavern your citizens will run into the furthest deadliest corner of that cavern and die.

you absolutely must dig your mine shaft separately from your main fortress and place multiple tiers of doors that you can forbid as needed to sequester off increasingly deeper levels of the mineshaft. it helps to have a separate still, kitchen and food stockpile within the mineshaft as well. when you designate a mining project, wait for the miners to go in and forbid the door to the surface behind them. place tiers of stone and ore stockpiles feeding into each other within the mine shaft so stones are hauled up to the surface levels and can be easily hauled into the fortress when you unforbid the door for a time. if you don't keep the doors forbidden, citizens will constantly wander in and out of the mineshaft and get killed or starve to death. In particular, they will try to haul objects out of the caverns and will path through the cavern passages instead of the stairwells you dug.

I've been killing all my grazing animals except sheep because babies born in a pen don't "belong" to that pen and will wander down into the fortress, and once underground they will starve to death from lack of grass. having to stop what i'm doing every 10 minutes to return to the pasture, scroll through my animals, and assign the new baby calf or donkey or whatever is such a pain in the ass that it's hardly even worth it to have animals that don't produce fiber.

castrating animals is super unreliable as a means of keeping their populations in check, because migrants and visitors are CONSTANTLY bringing in new pets

Either that, or some animals can reproduce asexually. I keep getting new reindeer calves despite having only one reindeer bull and no reindeer cows

Turning off contaminant tracking doesn't stop contaminants from being tracked everywhere

embark next to a brook, not a river, because with rivers your citizens will constantly fall in and drown. however you will need to dig out the rocks from the bottom of the brook in one spot and place a well above it. do NOT use "water source" zone designation because whatever zone you designate for water collection will get contaminated with vomit within 5 minutes due to above contaminant tracking glitch, and your dwarves will become miserable about being "forced to drink vomit"

even in an overwhelmingly happy and content fortress some dwarves will inevitably go insane and start killing everybody in sight.

The justice system can convict dwarves of disorderly conduct when they attack other dwarves, however if the victim dies of their injuries that isn't a crime and you can't convict the attacking dwarf. When a vampire kills another dwarf it DOES show up as a "murder," however the offender will not be punished

I don't actually know if there is a point in having a justice system, since all it does is chain up random essential workers for "violating production orders." Sentences are much longer for one instance of violating production orders than for 30+ separate counts of disorderly conduct, and there seems to be no way to punish murder.

Every way of producing food wildly overproduces for the needs of the fortress. i have over 1500 muskmelons help

if you don't turn off "forbid death items" the surface will soon be so littered with forbidden gloves and random crap worn by goblins that you can't build anything.

Once you make a tavern (and you should, it really helps dwarf mental health) you will have constant petitions to join your fortress to "entertain visitors and citizens." as far as I can tell you should deny all of them because visitors will steal your stuff, especially masterworks, and sometimes kill your citizens.

Approve all the petitions to stay in the fortress "eradicating monsters" though. When they die you can loot their stuff

if you're having too many migrants you can arrange a fatal accident to happen to the merchant caravan

if you need a fatal accident to happen to one of your dwarves (or need to separate them from everybody else) assign them to a militia by themselves and "station" them in either a dangerous place or a room that you can lock and forbid the door.

It's really disappointing how wrong the wiki is about a lot of things, i've been told incorrectly about game mechanics several times by it.

The bugs i've been dealing with would be less annoying if i didn't have a supposedly good resource telling me "This is how X works" and then it doesn't work that way

#dwarf fortress

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reyrapidsbutgayer · 1 year ago

Text

Ranking All Elden Ring Bosses by Fuckability

It was only a matter of time until I made a post like this. (And an equally horrible post featuring the DLC bosses.)

In this hypothetical all of the bosses can be reasonably communicated with and are not actively trying to kill you.

Repeat bosses not included, duo bosses counted seperate.

It should also be assumed that all of these bosses have access to their magic/items/resources to benefit them in bed.

Explanation of Grading system:

Ineligible: (Cannot give consent)

These characters are not sentient enough to communicate consent, or are physically incapable of sex.

Unfuckable: (Can give consent, but does not DESERVE sex)

Character sucks so badly that they do not deserve to experience pleasure in any shape or form.

Uninterested: (Can give consent, does not WANT sex)

These character are fully capable of sex but would never participate in sex due to lack of interest or overabundance of moral convictions.

Not worth it: (Can give consent, is terrible in bed)

I mean, you COULD have sex with these characters but why would you?

Acceptable: (Can give consent, would be fine in bed)

These characters are average in bed, nothing crazy or noticeable. Some might end up in this category because they ARE good at sex, but the entire process would be inconvenient or uncomfortable to initiate.

Good Time: (Can give consent, would be great in bed)

These characters are good at sex, give or take a few points depending on their mood or situation.

Knock your socks off: (Can give consent, would be amazing in bed)

These characters excel in giving pleasure and would be well worth the time and effort involved.

Sex God: (Can give consent, would be the best in bed)

These characters would be so good at sex that all other factors are irrelevant. They are serving and we are here for it.

Evil Sex God: (Can give consent, is a terrible person but you’d make an exception.)

These are characters that should fall lower in the rankings, but their sexual prowess supersedes their inherent awfulness to a noteworthy degree.

Full list below the read more. Obviously it's not going to be sfw.

Ineligible: (Cannot give consent)

Dragonkin Soldier:

Mindless beast

Astel, Naturalborn of the Void

Weird rock alien, doesn't/can't understand.

Fia's Champions:

Ghosts, simps.

Regal Ancestor Spirit

Animal

Erdtree Avatar

A plant

Great Wyrm Theodorix

Mindless beast.

Ulcerated Tree Spirit

A plant, no junk

Tibia Mariner:

Skeleton

Red Wolf of the Champion:

Animal.

Full-Grown Fallingstar Beast

Weird rock alien, doesn't/can't understand.

Abductor Virgin

First off, just some snakes in a robot. Second, virgin.

Erdtree Burial Watchdog

Stone gargoyle

Crystalians

Non-organic

Mad Pumpkin Heads

Unable to consent due to madness.

Cemetery Shade

Unable to consent due to mind controlling parasite.

Spirit-Caller Snail

Animal

Runebear

Animal

Miranda the Blighted Bloom

A plant

Guardian Golem

Stone gargoyle

Starscourge Radahn:

Unable to consent due to madness

Unfuckable: (Can give consent, but does not DESERVE sex)

Elden Beast:

Too catholic.

Sir Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing:

Dick game weak - unironically posts joker memes.

Omenkiller:

Basically a cop.

Necromancer Garris:

Killed his family, not a good husband.

Royal Revenant:

Won't stop screaming (in an unsexy way)

Godrick the Grafted:

Incel - Also all that murder and torture business but mostly the Incel stuff.

Uninterested: (Can give consent, does not WANT sex)

Valiant Gargoyle:

Could probably have sex if it wanted to, but is kinda going through a lot right now. Ya know, that whole "Is made of several corpses mashed together" thing.

Malenia, Blade of Miquella:

Look, I ALSO wanted her to higher up on this list, but let's be honest here. Her body is rotting and falling apart, she just isn't up for sex in her current form. In her prime? She'd be top of the list. She's the daughter of Marika and Radagon, she'd be playing fuck/marry/kill with every warrior who crossed her path. (in that order)

Death Rite Bird:

I think it might be physically capable of sex, but is too busy burning corpses to bother with stuff like that.

Black Blade Kindred:

Same reason as the Valiant Gargoyle but you might have like 2% more of a chance because they are goth.

Maliketh, the Black Blade:

Would normally be a sex god, but is too religious. Probably took a vow about this sort of thing.

Morgott, the Omen King:

You kidding me? This guy has the same energy as a repressed youth pastor. He's gonna be a virgin till the day he dies. The dude sided with the same religious order that locked him a sewer and tried to kill him. He's not out there getting phone numbers he's too busy praying and judging others for their 'impure thoughts'.

Draconic Tree Sentinel:

Married to his job, also physically chained to his horse. He ain't taking off that armor anytime soon.

Wormface:

Too sad, leave him alone his face is full of worms.

Tree Sentinel:

Same as the Draconic Tree Sentinel but he's a tiny bit more naive so you might have a better chance.

Elder Dragon Greyoll:

Too sleepy, but still kinda a milf.

Grafted Scion:

There might be some genitals in there somewhere but I don't think they know how or even want to use them.

Not worth it: (Can give consent, is terrible in bed)

Esgar, Priest of Blood:

No sense of hygiene, is always covered in blood (in an unsexy way)

Mohg, Lord of Blood:

This loser is dripping with all the least sexy bodily fluids and he has sharp horns sticking out of him. Even if you got him in bed you'd only enjoy like 5% of it. Plus you just know he'd be all needy afterwards and try to get you to join his MLM.

Borealis the Freezing Fog:

Too cold, not a snuggler.

Elemer of the Briar:

The armor stays ON during sex.

Kindred of Rot:

It's like all the worst possible aspects of alien biology, it won't be nearly as fun as you hoped.

Sanguine Noble:

Same as all the other Mohg followers, too sticky and too smelly.

Decaying Ekzykes:

He's sick right now, leave him alone.

Acceptable: (Can give consent, would be fine in bed)

Loretta, Knight of the Haligtree:

I'm sure she'd be a decent lover. Maybe a little overzealous but she'd has good intentions.

Grave Warden Duelist:

I mean these guys are hot and probably fuck like a truck but they are not the most caring lovers, also they are covered in live snakes so there is that.

Night's Cavalry:

If you like goth knights I'm sure they'd be fine.

Alabaster Lord:

Their skin probably feels like stone, but I bet they can pull off all sorts of freaky zero-g sex stuff if you ask them.

Onyx Lord:

Same as the Alabaster Lord but slightly more goth.

Fell Twins:

Once you get past the horns and stuff I bet the Omens are actually pretty good in bed, just watch out.

Demi-Human Queens:

I feel like all Demi-humans are pretty good lovers but their biology probably has some unexpected drawbacks.

Stonedigger Troll:

If you can get past the texture and the size I bet they could be decent in bed.

Flying Dragon Greyll:

A surprisingly unsexy dragon, but a dragon is a dragon and still worth at least a one night stand.

Glintstone Dragon Smarag:

A dragon willing to kill racist magic users, earns them a few extra points.

Beastman of Farum Azula:

On one hand the Beastmen probably have crazy mating skills, but they are also zombies, which detracts some points for all the decay.

Battlemage Hugues:

Contrary to popular belief, Wizards are not very good at sex. They spend all their time studying instead of partying, at least Hugues is willing to get his hands dirty.

Commander O'Neil:

Seems like a decent guy, but probably won't shut up about his time in the military. Also he is infected with scarlet rot so that might be a mood killer.

Bloodhound Knight Darriwil:

The bloodhound knights are probably pretty wild in bed if you can earn their loyalty, but good luck with that.

Adan, Thief of Fire:

The dude committed heresy, that has to earn him some sexy points.

Soldier of Godrick:

He's a good boy, he's doing his job so throw him a bone.

Flying Dragon Agheel:

One of the first dragons you encounter, so he earns some points for style.

Demi-Human Chief:

Same as the queens, but probably a bit rougher in bed.

Good Time: (Can give consent, would be great in bed)

Lichdragon Fortissax:

A much sexier dragon, you know they were hooking up with Godwin. Only loses some points for all the death rot.

Crucible Knight Siluria:

A bit gloomy, but I bet the crucible knights can do all sorts of freaky stuff with their animal body parts.

Mimic Tear:

A slippery liquid shapeshifter, need I say more?

Commander Niall:

A way better guy than O'Niel, plus he just a bit more daddy energy.

Fire Giant:

Once you get past his size, his sadness and the giant fell god of destruction in his chest, I bet he's got something going on.

Ancient Hero of Zamor:

Gives me Hercules/Amazonian vibes, I could be into it.

Cleanrot Knight:

Lesbian activities detected.

Crucible Knight:

These guys have tails, horns, wings and big old throat sacks. Imagine the possibilities.

Glintstone Dragon Adula:

Has a sword. If you hear "Dragon holding a sword" and your pants aren't already off, we can't be friends.

Bols, Carian Knight:

He seems like a good boy.

Scaly Misbegotten:

I feel like the Misbegotten have some really interesting possibilities with their animal biology. I bet they have bonobo type societies and that could be fun.

Leonine Misbegotten:

Same as the other Misbegotten.

Misbegotten Warrior:

Same as the other Misbegotten.

Knock your socks off: (Can give consent, would be amazing in bed)

Crucible Knight Ordovis:

Has all the desirable traits of a Crucible Knight but I also imagine they are super into threesomes.

Perfumer Tricia:

She seems really nice, and would be a super attentive lover. Plus she probably has access to crazy drugs and could hook you up.

Nox Swordstress & Nox Priest:

You just know that the Nox were getting up to crazy hot and crazy unethical experiments in their underground cities. These two probably get up to some wild shit and they are inviting you to join them.

Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon:

As she is now, I bet she'd be too sad to really be in a relationship again. But she kept up with Radagon and you just know she has some tricks up her sleeves that could make you abandon the golden order.

Sex God: (Can give consent, would be the best in bed)

Dragonlord Placidusax:

Has two male heads and three female heads, imagine...

Ancient Dragon Lansseax:

Formed a whole freaky dragon/human cult and you just know they got into some eyes-wide-shut orgies behind those doors.

Godfrey, First Elden Lord (Hoarah Loux):

We all knew he'd be this high on the list. He was just a normal dude but he managed to keep pace with Queen Marika (Who is basically a goddess of fertility) for a good long while. He will fold you in half (on the battlefield and in the bedroom.)

Evil Sex God: (Can give consent, is a terrible person but you’d make an exception.)

Radagon of the Golden Order:

He sucks in all the worst ways, but I mean... You can't NOT. Both Radagon and Marika are the embodiment of evil but they managed to suck and fuck their way across an entire continent for generations. You HAVE to give a try at least once.

Godskin Duo:

Oh my god will it be awful with all those flayed human skins, but you know you are still gonna have to. They can stretch and do all sorts of freaky stuff with their bodies, plus they kill gods and nothing is sexier than heresy.

Vyke, Knight of the Roundtable:

The dude is a mad killer but... he can still probably get it, might as well give it a try.

God-Devouring Serpent / Rykard, Lord of Blasphemy:

Personally I wouldn't, he's a loser and will probably kill you. But he is also a giant snake made up of squirming hands doing all sorts of sexual experiments, I can't blame you if you want to give it a taste.

Black Knife Assassin:

They committed a whole lot of treason but the power of armored lesbians is too hard to resist.

Patches:

If you are already having sex with from software characters, you gotta give Patches at least one attempt. When you wake up he'll have robbed you, but you knew what you were getting into.

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secretlovezz · 6 months ago

Text

Kiss Me

Daryl Dixon x reader

Summary: while you and Daryl are out on a run feelings are disruptively revealed

Warnings: killing of walkers (duh), Daryl is implied to be older than reader, kissing (of course), just fluff, let me know if I've missed anything

Word count: 1299 (Think that's the most I've ever written on here lol)

Not Proofread

"Watch it."

Daryl's arm swings up lazily with his pointer finger aiming in a direction to the left of you where a walker slowly makes its way closer, stumbling and tripping over the dead plant life and its decaying limbs. You meet it halfway and its milky eyes meet yours, for a split second you let yourself wonder what kind of life this creature- no this woman- lived before the world went to shit, you take notice of the wedding ring on the ring finger of her left hand before her groans and growling got louder; your knife sinks its way into the shambling and rotting skull of the corpse and the body drops to the ground.

Up ahead a few feet Daryl watches you, your movements, your eyes and lips, your hands, he watches it all and he notices that look the one of sadness and empathy.

Before he and his group came to Alexandria you had yet to truly experience the outside world; the unrealistic safety of walls had kept you naive and unprepared for the dangers of the dead.

Though you are no longer naive to the world you still have your moments, moments where Daryl would remind you albeit a little harshly that there was nothing you could do to help these things- these "people".

When you catch up with him you smile in an attempt to convince him that you weren't thinking about what he knew you were. His brow raises at you and your eyes roll dramatically in return. You hit his arm playfully and smile again, somehow this one is brighter than the one before, "Let's keep going Dar' this food isn't gonna find itself ya' know." The corner of his mouth quirks up into a small smirk when you look away from him to continue walking he can't look away even as he makes his way back to you and you seem to have no idea the effect you have on him.

《----------♡

The two of you come across what seems like a small town with few houses and stores, a town that's probably already been raided for its supplies but Alexandra's desperation for food and medicine prompts you and Daryl to double-check- just in case.

Your eyes wander around admiring the once nice country houses as you walk down one of the streets-you forget the name of it already- and once again let your mind float away to life before. Would you have lived in a house like this if you got the chance, to live a married life with children running around if it was possible? Would the man you'd have married be a man like Daryl?

Your cheeks heat just at the thought of a domestic life with him. Is he the type of man to kiss your forehead when the two of you wake up together in bed as the sun shines through the bedroom window? You wonder if he would be the type to kiss and tickle the kids to make them laugh. Would he want a life like that or would he laugh at the idea?

You don't realize it but your legs have stopped moving, you stare at one of the houses wishing and reminiscing on what could have been but can no longer be.

Daryl watched you again but this time in confusion, this is the first time he hasn't known what you were thinking.

"What is it? Seen somethin'?" He asked walking back over to where you were to peer into the windows of the house.

Your head whips over to him eyes widening and cheeks heating even hotter in embarrassment.

Your fingers hastily move to fidget with the straps of your backpack, "I- uh- we should... let's just keep going." You keep your head down in shame at your thoughts though they weren't lewd as you make your way past him. He wants so badly to grab your arm- to have his skin gently against yours in concern as you speedily go by but he restrains himself fingers twitching against his crossbow and he clears his throat to continue after you.

《----------♡

After thoroughly searching through a hand full of buildings that included, gas stations, houses, supermarkets, and pharmacies neither of your bags were full having over found a few bottles of not too important medicines and a couple of tools.

When the two of you found a house, and cleared it of threats, to hunker down in for the night after a day of disappointments you settled in the living room upset and tired- understandably so. Worrying about the ignominy you'd feel returning home with practically nothing you let out a sigh from deep within your chest and moved your hands so the the palm of them would dig roughly into the sockets of your eyes.

Daryl let out a similar deep sigh as he settled closely next to you. His head falls back and his eyes drift to you letting a gaze so intense that you could feel it fall onto you.

You look back at him and try to let a grin form on your face but its tight lipped and almost fatigued.

The older man lets his eyes travel your face for what feels like the millionth time basking in your unreal beauty and like always their destination is your lips, though cracked they looked soft. He realizes he's ogling too late but still tries to fixates his stare back to your eyes before you notice.

You'd noticed though.

You debate asking him about it no longer worried about the lack of supplies you guys hadn't found but about whether or not you had imagined Daryl Dixon staring at your lips with a yearning you'd only seen in movies before the dead rose.

"Do you-um-" Talking about something as simple as feeling was more complex than they made it seem in movies though and you'd already stuttered over yourself an embarrassing amount of times today.

You leaned your face a little closer to his and his breath hitched. "Do you... like me? Like- do you want to kiss...me?" This was humiliating, you felt like a teenager, like you were fifteen and talking to your crush. Well, you were talking to your crush but you weren't fifteen anymore.

Daryl softly nodded letting out a gruff hum of agreement and you almost melted at the sound.

He leaned in a little closer just close enough so the tip of his nose could just barely brush against yours, "Do ya' want me to kiss ya'?"

"Please." You whispered.

His lips quirk upwards for a split second, "Please what?"

Your lips brush against his desperately, "Kiss me."

Daryl surges forward to capture your lips with his, you let out a sound on impact. The kiss is needy and filled with a want you both had been holding in for what feels like forever. Daryl's hands find your hips and grips them tightly using the strength he's built over the years to move you into his lap. You straddle him and shift you hands to rake through his hair before clasping them to the side of his head.

When you finally part for air you let your forehead rest against his, both of you panting heavily while staring into each others eyes. The smile on your face is wide and you giggle at the flushness on his cheeks- you did that to him.

The man you sit on top of doesn't know why your laughing, "Wha'?"

Relocating your head to press into the crook of his neck your smile widens and the fingers on one of your hands tangle and play with his hair, "Nothin' just... happy."

Daryl's smile is one that your sure you'll remember in every life time.

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 month ago

Note

May i have more jason fluff pretty please?

(he's so ajakdjkadj)

You were tired, no, you were exhausted.

The previous days had been proven to do nothing but dampen your mood and leave your mental state worse off than previous times where you were just feeling a tad tired.

All you wanted to do was…nothing. You didn’t want to do anything ounce of anything at all because that’s all you could think of doing, and you were more content to stay in bed until you became a rotted corpse, but Jason was more then worried about you during these moments of profound silence.

‘Chipmunk?’ Jason calls as he sees you buried under the covers of your shared bed, looking anywhere and everywhere with a blank, distant glaze over your eyes.

‘Hmm?’

‘You alright?’ He asks.

‘No.’ You said almost robotically but it was enough to break Jason’s heart, Gotham wasn’t exactly an easy city to live in after all but seeing you like this was enough to have Jason feeling a little helpless to correct this situation.

He swallowed his dry throat. ‘Want me to join you? Give you some cuddles?’

‘Please.’ You whimpered and without hesitation Jason joins you under the covers and pulled you into his arms, where you snuggled yourself deep into his chest, listening to his heart and his breathing as the numb feeling of nothing lifted slightly to make room for a feeling of warmth, comfort and love. Jason presses a kiss to your face, neck and wherever possible as he held you tighter to him as you both laid there, not saying a single thing and instead of focusing on the other and how closely knit your bodies were, that it was almost impossible to know where you end and where Jason began because of how pressed against each other you were.

It was comforting in its own way that the usage of words was not needed when Jason’s presence and affection were more then enough to let you know that you weren’t alone. It didn’t immediately elevate the feelings you were feeling within your chest, not that you were expecting it to, but it was enough to let you know that Jason was more then happy just to reassure you that you were going to be okay as he planted kisses on you; slow, deliberate and gentle kisses that made you thankful for a man as sweet and dedicated as Jason for being in your life.

So much so that you’d press kisses to the underside of his jaw in thanks for his everything.

You were going to be okay and Jason was going to make sure of that however he could and you couldn’t help but think of how lucky you were. Jason was more then willing to stay by your side until you felt better to move from the bed, he’s patient and he didn’t want you to feel like you had to face this alone, not when he was here to keep you company while doing so; for he wasn’t about to shame you for being human and being human means to be vulnerable in the presence of loved ones.

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starsofang · 6 months ago

Text

Change of Heart

hitman!ghost x f!reader / part 4

previous part

tw: none, definitely more on the softer side :)

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

Waking up on day seven was not as chirpy as day six.

Being hungover was a bitch. The headache that rattled your brain caused your ears to pound in a way that you feared would have them implode into deafness.

You laid in bed for so long, the sun began to shift its position in the window of your bedroom. It filled the room with a comforting light, soft rays shining through the transparent curtains and saturating the air with a pleasant warmth that nipped at your toes that poked out from the end of your blanket.

Somehow, you managed to roll out of bed, forcing yourself onto bare feet. The wooden floor was cold to the touch compared to the sunlight that had embraced your feet with tepid coziness, and it sent a frigid chill up your spine.

You don’t remember stripping yourself of your clothes last night, but you certainly remembered Ghost taking you home and guiding you into the house with such a careful, thoughtful touch. You recalled the heartfelt one-on-one you ensued, your frazzled mind slowly beginning to piece itself together and completing the puzzle of uncertainty.

Simon was his name, and he had made sure to scribble it down in grubby, black ink on a piece of kitchen napkin where you found it resting. A number was joined below his name, and you had the stark realization that it was his number – not one he gave you from a burner phone before your initial first meeting, but his personal one.

You stared at the crisp napkin from where you were mounted in the kitchen, eyes a bit fuzzy that it made you reread it a few times just for good measure.

Right next to his name, he had drawn a poorly sketched skull. The act was so childish for a man of his title that it had you laughing to yourself in disbelief.

Hitman had jokes, you thought.

No, not hitman. Not Ghost.

Simon had jokes.

His name felt unfamiliar on your tongue when you tested it outloud. The two syllables filled the air like an elegant symphony, as if a lovely mix of chords chorused from your mouth when repeated again, then once more.

The more you repeated it to yourself, the more it began to stick. It was as if his name being rolled off of your tongue was meant to be there, encasing your mouth with a rich sweetness that had you salivating for more.

You made sure to add Simon’s number in your phone, logging his name with a skull emoji to match the cute artwork he’d scribbled in on the napkin.

Despite your raging headache that didn’t want to vanish, even with an overmedicating amount of painkillers, and your horrible start to the morning, you found yourself in a lighter mood than ever before. There was a pep in your step when you walked to work for the evening, all teeth and smiles when the door chimed as you entered the establishment. It was certainly not because of a mysterious, masked man.

You had never gone to work beaming as if the entire world had encased you in a warm hug and told you you’re gonna do great today! In fact, most days spent at work were mind rotting, slowly killing you from the inside until all that remained was a sad, decaying corpse in its wake.

Today was different, though, and even your coworkers took note of it as you clocked yourself in after greeting them with a cheerful hello. You paid no mind to their curious stares and whispers and immediately busied yourself with the task of tugging out prepped ingredients and lining them up neatly at your station.

Baking used to be your passion, up until the man of your past had ruined it. You used to adore the creations you had free reign to make – cookies, breads, cakes, anything you could possibly craft with your hands. Your job was a hobby and not a chore like it was now. Over time, that spark had died, replaced with a hollowness that was waiting so patiently to be filled once again.

He made you hate baking the way he made you hate yourself.

At least if you couldn’t love yourself just yet, you could relearn to love baking.

You were quick to work dough between your hands, rolling it out on the table like a place mat and carefully carving out shapely designs that would puff up into perfect, little treats once in the oven. As you performed, your face was lifted up into a promising smile, eyes brightened with that past passion that sparked in reminiscence.

You hadn’t even realized you were openly expressing joy in your design until your cheeks began to cramp from how much you were grinning to yourself. The soreness was far from unwelcome, and it was your moment of recognition that this was what smiling was like. Oh, how you had forgotten what it felt like to do it with such genuineness.

When you placed all your neatly carved pastries on trays to be baked, you slipped them in the oven with purpose, watching the glow of the orange light of the heat rods illuminate over the pale dough.

As you watched them slowly begin to form in their desired states, you found yourself thinking about Simon again.

You wondered if he liked sweets. Or perhaps if not sweets, then maybe bread. It didn’t hurt to throw the offer his way, right?

Pulling your phone from the pocket of your apron, you swiped your finger to unlock it and pressed on his contact name. You stared at the screen for moments too long, silently contemplating, gnawing on the nail of your thumb.

A doubtful voice prodded you in the back of your head like an unwanted pest, buzzing in disapproval. Another voice gleamed with delight, encouraging you to send him a text, desperate to make his acquaintance once again. After all, his presence was a newly welcomed one in your life, and your body gravitated towards him like a magnet in search of their other half.

Fuck it, you thought.

Fingers tapping against the screen, you willed yourself to send the text message before you had the mind to back out and erase it, and the moment your phone quietly pinged once the text had gone through, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Hey, Simon! If you have time, I have some pastries for you to try at my job, and I’d love it if you stopped by!

Pocketing your phone, you returned back to work, busying yourself with the freshly baked goodies that were out of the oven.

Hours passed, and nighttime fell like a weighted blanket over the expanse of your workplace. It was your night to close, and seeing as you were feeling rather joyful today, you allowed the other workers to head home early for the night, leaving you to do closing tasks by yourself.

Really, you were waiting for Simon to show up, leaving yourself open for company until the very last moment. You piled up the chairs, swept the floors, wiped every station down, and counted all the money from the sales for the day.

The sign on the door was shut down, neon lights dimmed to display CLOSED for any stray passersby who may have been craving a late night sweet.

Just like the telltale sign of emptiness in the store, there was an emptiness in Simon’s presence.

He hadn’t shown up. You tried not to beat yourself up about it, thinking perhaps he didn’t see the text. Maybe he got wrapped up in his own life – after all, the two of you were only friendly with one another, if you could even call it that.

Maybe to him, you weren’t even friends like you had labeled it. You were a charity case of a broken girl he simply wanted to help keep living.

No. You shouldn’t think that way. You had a great day. You finally had some sort of remembrance of the woman you once were long before the anguish and the agony, and you accomplished the day with a smile on your own.

Though, when you closed up the store and checked your phone in silent hopefulness, you felt a sense of foreboding disappointment wash over you like crashing waves attempting to drown out all of the achievements you’d made today.

Read at 6:47PM.

Walking home felt like a treacherous drag of your feet. It was like your shoes were filled with cement, scraping along the pavement of the sidewalk with every step towards your apartment with a piercing sound of gravel on gravel. The stairs had your legs feeling weighed down and solid, anchoring you to the floor and forcing you to use every fabric of muscle in your body in order to make it to the top step.

In fact, everything felt heavy.

You had made progress today, such amazing progress, and now the pressure of misreading the signs from Simon had made you tentative.

Maybe you really did misinterpret what Simon wanted with you.

You thought that after he’d broken into your house numerous times, aided you back to the security of your bed after a drunken night, had given you his number, and told you his real name instead of continuing the persona of Ghost, things may have been escalating into the desired friendship you fiercely needed.

You liked being around him so much that it was possible you had created a bond in your mind that he didn’t seem to reciprocate.

The torture of your sorrowful mind was feeding into the woefulness of a clear reality, so much so, you hadn’t noticed the large figure standing at your door, patiently waiting for your return.

A soft rumbling of your name lured you out of the prison of your own consciousness, and it took you only seconds to recognize the voice as the very one that was tangling your thoughts in webs, capturing you and keeping you hostage.

“Simon!” you exclaimed in relieved surprise, examining the way he was leaned up against the wall beside your door, his frequent mask obscuring the view of his face as always. His arms crossed over his chest, and if you didn’t know him, you would’ve thought he was a bodyguard with the way he presented with such masculine storminess that clouded the air with warning and danger.

“There you are,” he greeted kindly, and the warmth in his tone had any lingering doubt fade away like a gas dissolving into an abyss. “Was waitin’ up for you.”

Your face broke out into a genuine smile, that slight soreness from your cheeks twinging at the sudden tug of skin.

“I was closing up my work. Waited around just in case you showed, so I took a bit longer than normal,” you explained sheepishly.

He let out a soft hum, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Got caught up with some things. Wasn’t able to make it, so I figured I’d wait outside your apartment instead of breakin’ in like I always do. Didn’t want to scare you, love.”

Your heart soared at the nickname, unable to contain its joyful leaps of pleasure. All disappointment you felt from before was forgotten and forgiven, and you wanted to revel in the time spent with your newfound companion.

“You seem awfully chirpy today. What’s got the pretty girl in such a good mood, hm?” Simon raised his eyebrow from beneath his balaclava, and you shifted awkwardly on your feet.

“Just woke up in a good mood today. Is that a crime?” you asked with a teasing smile.

Simon snorted out a quiet laugh, shaking his head in retaliation.

“S’not a crime, sweetheart. Just a pretty sight s’all,” he offered, filling your chest with pride. “What’s this about pastries?”

It dawned on you that you should’ve brought some home with you, even if you had no idea he would’ve been waiting outside your door. You silently cursed yourself for not snagging a few from the selection. You weren’t sure what kind of pastries he liked, and now that he made his appearance, albeit late, you were boiling over with curiosity on finding out.

“Ah, I didn’t bring any home,” you explained apologetically, and you couldn’t bear to hear the disappointed hum from him. “But I can make some in my apartment if you’d like. May not be as good, but I can give that piece of shit oven a try.”

That roused a laugh from him and he straightened himself off of the wall, gesturing with a hand to your door.

“S’alright with me. Lead the way, pretty girl.”

Simon’s eyes never strayed far from you as you worked your magic in the cramped space of the kitchen. Flour covered the countertops, painting them in a gritty beige as you kneaded the heels of your palms into the forming dough, tongue poked out in concentration.

You could feel the weight of his gaze piercing through you, and you tried not to let it affect your limbo. This time around, the nervousness felt different. It wasn’t an intimidated furl in your lungs that threatened to restrict your airflow, or a choked up lump in your throat that you could never quite swallow down.

No. This was shyness.

It felt like his eyes were interrogating you, digesting your embodiment and creating an outlook of you in his mind. You had no idea what he was thinking as he stared at your powdery hands that shaped out dough, or the sprinkle of flour that pestered your cheek, or even the way your hair repeatedly fell in your eyes and you’d be forced to blow it away with a puff of air.

It was prying, it was focused, it was immersed.

He didn’t dare say a word, but he didn’t need to in order for you to grow flustered in his presence. His gaze was enough to cause a rupture in your chest, tickling you with the fluttering wings of butterflies that soared freely from their entrapment.

The feeling was strange, foreign, and dare you say it, appreciated.

Eyes had never studied you like a work of art before, taking in every brush and stroke on the canvas and perceiving it in their own perspective. What that perspective was, though, remained a mystery.

“Baking’s your thing, eh?” He spoke once your treats were securely placed in the oven, mitts covering the plains of your hands.

“It was,” you admitted with a nod, tugging the mitts off and placing them on a clean space of the counter. Your mess still needed to be tended to, so you made quick work of it, focusing your attention on the grains of flour that plastered themselves like annoying bits of sand that seemed to spread no matter where you cleaned.

“Looks like it still is,” he corrected you, and you glanced up to see a glimmer of a smile behind his eyes.

“Alright,” you sighed, smiling. “It is. Now, anyway. It wasn’t for a long time, though.”

He hummed, leaning his arms on the counter and watching as you swept the stubborn bits of flour into your trashcan. His eyes followed every movement of your nimble fingers, sticky dough caked under your fingernails.

“I’d say you’re startin’ to get a piece of your old self back, don’t you think so, love?”

“You didn’t even know my old self, Simon. In fact, you barely know me at all.”

“I’d like to.”

You froze in place, hands in the midst of wetting a towel to wipe up the remnants of the sheen of powder that tinted your dark countertops. You lifted your gaze to find him already staring at you, like he had been during the entire process of your home baking, and you felt weak under it. There was a slight falter in your knees that threatened to buckle, and a racing in your heart that caused your breath to get caught.

His words could go one of two ways, and the little pest in your mind was telling you it wasn’t the one you found yourself secretly hoping for.

That pest had festered so deep inside your brain, it laid its vile eggs there to harvest feelings of doubt, feelings of being unlovable. There wasn’t a world where Simon could grow to love you, nor was there a world where you could love yourself.

But that wasn’t all that true, was it? All it was was doubt. Not fact, far from truth.

“You shouldn’t say things like that to a woman,” you muttered, dipping your head back down to pry yourself from his gaze.

“I’m saying them to you,” he claimed, so shameless in the way he voiced it.

“It’s only day seven. Get back to me when it’s day fourteen.”

You could tell he smiled under his mask from the way his eyes lit up, and he gave you an amused snort, allowing you to bask in silence and gather your mind together.

You welcomed it, needing your inner voice to run astray rather than fill you with the probability of letting Simon in deeper than a friendship. You had a long way to go, and you had a pressing feeling that Simon wouldn’t be going anywhere all that soon.

The dinging of your timer had you regaining concentration on the original task at hand, taking your pastries out of the oven and decorating them with assortments of frosting and glazes.

Baking was what permitted yourself to calm, brain floating peacefully down a trickling river and sunbathe in a pool of warmth. Thinking could come later.

When Simon snatched up one of the pastries from the tray, he lifted the lower half of his mask to greedily shove a bite in his mouth. He chewed, digesting the delightful flavors that melted on his tongue, before giving you a soft smile.

“Is it good?” you asked wearily, and he finished off the treat as an answer to your question. Pride swelled in your bones, and you let yourself smile back at him.

“Damn good baker, you are. Reckon you’ll get even better after our deal’s up.”

Simon and his damn deal.

The mention of it would normally make you cower to the inner part of yourself that was unhealed, but this time, you laughed brightly, agreeing to tuning up your recipes in an unforeseeable future.

softer chapter before more angst to come 🤝 i also have a profession as a baker so this was fun for me to write + simon with a sweet tooth is cute

#cod #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod mw3 #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod fanfic #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #hitman au #ghost #simon riley #simon riley x reader

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