#soap tag pending

[voidselfshipp]

Cupid Has a Gun

Cw: Talks about abusive household,guns, gunfights,injury by bullets,blood. Cannon Typical Violence.

Summary: Soap meets Wingman,Laswell's son.

->Only mutuals allowed to reblog.

--Wake up,sunshine-- Kate said, Gently nudging his son-- We need to take our flight to the UK. Ive already loaded our bagagge in the truck.

--La puta que me pario-- Jerico answered,covering their face with his bicep-- Que hora es? (What hour is it)

--Four am. -- she scoffed-- And I let you sleep in.

--Fuck-- He slowly sits up and rubbs the sleep out of his eyes. His short hair brushes against their trapezius. -- fine,im up.

--Got your mate ready,so get ready and have breakfast.

Outside it was dead quiet,the penumbra of the autum night was swallowing all the stars and residue light from the calm neighboorhood.

--Thanks ma-- he gets up,the blankets falling to reveal his body in simple underwear. Kate doesnt comment on it and lets her kid walk past her to the bathroom in their room.

Jerico doesnt take long to shower,put on their masculine make up and change into simple clothes. A black turtleneck,a warm leather jacket,jeans and boots. With their phone and spare charger in his pocket,and his headphones around his neck,They quickly finish packing whats left (Cables,make up,etc) and walks downstairs to load it into the truck.

The cold air bites at his skin, he sighs with exhaustion and throws his bag on the back of the vehicle before going back in.

As he enters the kitchen/livingroom,Michelle,his other mother, greets Him with a smile.

--Hey kiddo-- Michelle said with a tiny smile,bringing him in for a warm and cozy hug. Her fuzzy sweater feels nice against his skin-- Breakfast's ready.

--Thanks...-- he pulls back and sits on the kitchen aisle. A Plate of two eggy in the basket are set Next to a steaming cup of tea--Mom youre a life saver.

--Anything for you.

Kate joins them shortly after,getting a cup of coffee and bacon&Eggs.

The three spend their breakfast talking about homey things,leaving work for another time. Both women did it for their son's sake, finding he gets quite overwhelmed by it otherwise.

Jer and Kate say their goodbyes after breakfast and both are off to the Airport.

-♡-

When they were in the UK,they were taken to a nearby base. They are greeted by the commanding Office of the place and captain Price, whom jerico knew from the events of 2019, where they took care of Al-Qatala.

--Kate,Jerico-- price greeted them with handshakes and a wink towards the other Man.

--Captain.

Kate chuckled as she spoke. Her son smiles all shy for a moment and quickly reincorporates. She notes how his son stands a little Straighter. Just a little,hes still a shrimp.

--We'll get you settled in, Kate and I Will meet to finish discussing a few things. Wings,youre free to roam.

--Cool-- Jer answered, all excited despite their exhaustion.

-♡-

After moving in to the barracks, Jerico Walked to the meeting room that his mom and Price were in. They enter with a quiet hello and set their computer on the table.

--Wingman--Kate greeted with a smile. Its hard not to call him her son-- I wanted to introduce to you one of your squadmates-- he gestured at yet another Man present.

Ah.

--Im..Johnny MacTavish- Soap-- The scottish accent hit him like a train. Wingman sees a Man with pale eyes,Brown hair in a mohawk and a short beard. He wears standard military clothes.

--Jerico Laswell-- They answered,taking his hand as the other Man offered his hand. A gentle shake. --Codename's wingman,but id rather you call me Jer or Jerry.

--Fair 'nough-- The Man answered-- call me by my callsign,while we're at It.

--Sounds good-- he smiled.

--Soap here is a great sniper and a demolitions expert-- Kate added,signaling to Price to begin to leave with her-- we'll leave you to get acquainted. Ghost Wont be available for a bit,scheduling issues.

With that,Kate and Price leave shortly after. Theres a bit of an awkward silence between them both.

--Theres a bar we could hit up-- Soap offered.

--Oh cool,yeah. Kinda hungry-- Jer answered-- C'mon then.

Both begin to walk out of the meeting room,engaging on light conversation about their military carreers. Soap asks about Jers work in bringing down Al-Qatala,and asking little gossip-like details about the mission- Details jeri is more than happy to disclose.

At the bar,Soap opens the door for Jer and lets him in first. It gains him a meek thank you and a shy smile. The scot thinks his companion is pretty cute.

Once they find a Seat at the actual bar table,they order something to eat and drink.

-- Its a little early for alcohol,dont you think?--Jeri asked

--Not really,I mean it is lunch hour-- He answered-- A good scot Will never say no to some alcohol.

They nodd as a few giggles escape them.

--Ha, me neither. But im on meds,so I cant-- Jer added-- Drink for me?

--D'ya even need ta ask?-- the other Man laughed-- Meds for what?

--Mental health stuff.. nothing big.

--Ah,sorry I didnt mean ta-

--Youre good-- Wingman added with a shrug-- Its not a forever kinda deal. I dont mind it if it means ill get better. And I aint paying a cent,insurance covers it.

Soap patted his back, offering a warm, puppy dog smile. He rubbs their back a little too, he runs warm.

--Thats good ta hear then,Lad-- He answered-- I meant ta ask,hows being a Laswell?

--Lord,dont even start-- Jer chuckled-- I used my original surname during my time in the academy. I didnt want any gifts. I want to win them by my own merit- but it also means nobody fucks with me so..

--Hey,what anyone wouldnt give to not deal with dimwits.

--you can say that again!

During their little lunch,both begin to get to know eachother better. Soap talks about his love for sketching,jeri replies he likes art too. Both show eachother their Many tattoos and trade dumb stories.

By the time theyre out of the bar, both have grown quite the bond. The scot walks his friend to his room within base,and anyone watching can tell theyre in their own little world. Its beautiful. 

-♡-

Soap found himself at the bussiness end of a Knife. Hes been oddly distracted during the whole day,seeing as he's been with Wingman all day. He purses his lips and raises his hands.

--Head on a swivel, searge-- Jer said softly,lowering the knife-- Need a break?

--No-

--We've been at it for a good few hours,get some water dude.

--Fiiine-- soap answered, grabbing his Knife from the floor and tucking it in his pocket. He walks to his gym bag.

--Is that a Knife in your pocket are you just happy to see me?

Laughter filled the room.

--Maybe a bit o' both, wings.

--Hope so.

Wingman settled beside the scot,looking up at him as They sat on the cool floor. They had developed a flirty little Bond with eachother in the passing weeks. Jer liked to think soap meant his flirting.

Johnny took his place beside his friend and drank from his water,unaware that his companion trailed the sight of his jaw and neck with his eyes.

--Maybe we should call it quits. You've been out of it all day.

The demolitions expert chuckled,smirking all handsome like. -- Its nothin'. Maybe yer too distracting.

--Apologies for that.

--Aw look at that smile. Youre not sorry.

--'m not-- wingman smiled at him with warmth and playfullness. It makes the scotsman's heart warm up,he melts a little and his breath has left him.

Its..hard,to be this sweet. To be this kind.

He knew,from what rumours ran across military branches, that his friend here had a rough upbringing. It reminded him of what Ghost went through,not as extreme- but just as scarring and painful. Theyre a good person,but a part of them still burns.

--Maybe its aboot time we take a break. -- The scot offered-- We can go somewhere to eat. Canteen food sucks today. Looks like mud.

--So ive heard-- Jer snickered-- Ma complained about it today. She misses moms cooking.

--Ive heard Michelle Cooks good,so that tracks 

--Duuude you dont even know -- wingman smiled like a kid in christmas. They have this toddler like excitement-- She is a great Cook.

--Youll need to invite me over,then.

Jeri nodded as if to say "But of course I will",and stood up. They offered his hand,and soap took it to get hauled up to his feet. Both Grab their things and begin to walk out of the gym.

After a shower,both sneak off base to the nearby town. Both enter,and soap opens the door for wingman who smiles all afluster.

--I was raised rite-- the scot added with a wink.

They take their Seat at their usual spot in the bar- being almost regulars here, it was kind of Their Spot- so its empty when they get there.

Jeri shakes off their jacket,showing their Open back bodysuit. Johnny trailed his eyes down their back, all the little moles and acne scars. He feels all breath be pulled from him, its hard not to stare.

--How'd you get away with wearin' that in base?

--What do you think the jacket is for? -- they answered with a smirk.

"I do like the view" the other Man thinks with his cheeks warm.

Both order their food soon after, and as they talk,wingman adds.

--Mm...smells Like meat, and potatos, a bit spicey.

--Ya got a nose like a bloodhound.-- soap smirked.

--I adore food.

--Foods the best thing-- Johnny said with a smile-- Y'know how ta Cook?

Jer nodded, their hands messing with the Many bragelets on their left wrist. He looks at the little Window were a myriad of kitchen staff flutter about, poor souls.

--I do! I Cook really good.

--Add that to the things you need to show me.-- He smirked.

--I think you just want to stay over at my place.

--Can ya blame me? Yer great company-- He winked.

And so,the day passed. The lunch hour ended quick,and so did the afternoon. The night came,and Soap Walked Wingmam to his room.

Jer gives him a small kiss on the cheek,and he takes their hand and kisses his knuckles in an instinctual response. Silence falls,both are a bit flustered but...happy.

The scot is left there alone for a few seconds,before he smiles at the closed door before him and walks back to his room.

He does really enjoy their company.

-♡-

Ghost felt something die in him when Soap and wingman approached him. " Save you a Seat,L.T" Soap had said,punching his arm.

--Nice..to meet you,ghost-- Wingman said softly, the Man before him is tall and scary,and...oddly sad and pretty.

--Hm...

Jer blinked at him with surprise,he wondered then what was going through the Giants head.

--Youre kates kid-- Ghost thick accent drawled with amusement. -- Wingman,is it? Whiskey-7.

Ah.

--Yeah,Whiskey-7. People call me wings, though. --they answered-- I promise you,Kate's reputation hasnt earnt me any favors. It made things harder,actually.

--Laswells tough,she wouldnt have let you in if you werent like 'er.

--Thats...a compliment?

--We'll be late,move-- Ghost Walked past them,keeping his gaze steeled and sharp. He cant help but think that Kate's kid is too soft,the Man had his reputation- But that sunny disposition irked Him.

Soap was the only cheery one hes ever met In his life. Wingman seemed...Much the same,though he knew the rumours. He wouldnt admit to feel for the Man but...he understood. By God, he understood.

But he wondered,how did Wings keep his good humour?. 

The ride to Al-MazRah is quiet. Jer is sitting in silence,reading a book and highlighting the bits he likes. Ghost and Soap watch the Man be quiet,so quiet. They almost blend in.

Simon feels his chest squeeze,the quietness, how they Keep their head down. Hes trying to not be noticed,Years of abuse Will do that to you. So he talks,quiet.

--Must be a good book.

Jer looks up,green eyes confused at his attempt at smalltalk. Wings thought he didnt like them.

--It is...--He offered the book-- not exactly light reading,but it gets the job done.

Ghost takes it like its a sacred object. He looks at the lines highlighted,it talks about how telling stories makes us human. How children develop better with creative outlets,how by the age of 8-9 it starts to fade.

He hands it back,and nodds-- Keep it away from the bullets. These things arent cheap.

Jeri snorted-- God,tell me about it. It was around...30 bucks I think? Like this shit was made with gold. Christ I hate capitalism.

The brit almost snorts. But he humms instead,and offers a small nodd. He sees how they return to Reading,and how Soap leans closer.

--Dont hurt yourself trying to understand that, seargeant.

Wingman laughed as the scotsman glared at him. Ghost feels himself be nudged by the Argentine Man.

--Dont be mean!--They snickered.

--Thats My M.O,major.

Jer rolled his eyes with a Tiny smirk.

--Please just call me Wings or Jer...or Jerry. Literally anything else.

--Jerry-Can?-- was that...laughter in his voice?.

--Whatever floats your boat,L.T-- Jerico answered with a peaceful smile.

Seeing them relax,Ghost allows the rest of the trip be in silence. At least from his end,Soap doesnt shut the fuck up.

-♡-

Shit had hit the fan the moment Alpha Team had their helicopter shot down. It wasnt nice,of course. It was up to Ghost,Soap and wingman (the ground squad,among a few other marines) to rescue the surviving members.

It wasnt anything shorter than a bullet hell, with Fire and projectiles everywhere. But there was a moment, a slow dragging moment, where the whole world seemed a little darker.

It was awful.

Wingman felt the piercing pain of a bullet graze their left bicep. They cry in pain and hold the bleeding wound, he hides within the Fallen helicopter.

--Wings!--Soap called out, kneeling to eye level with the man. He looked at the wound with overflowing worry.

--Just a flesh wound.

--Its bleedin' too much. -- the scot answered-- I got you..

--No,focus on the mission. This heli has to have a first aid. I can take care of it. -- they promised.

But he wouldnt listen. Soap dashes past the broken Windows to near the pilots cabin. He grabs the first aid and returns,feeling the bullets whip past him. Ghost doesnt seem to argue at the blatant recklesness of it, almost agreeing if anything.

Jeri wanted to huff and protest but his friend wouldnt listen. He nurses the wound even under Fire and he makes sure to stop the bleeding. By the time the air support hits, they can move.

--Youre reckless, you shouldntve done that-- they said as hes helped up.

--Just another tuesday, hen-- the scotsman answered.

In the end,their little secure the crash site mission had cost them capturing their target- Hassan. And so,the remaining team returns to base.

Soap doesnt allow Wingman to be alone in the medical bay. He sits with him as the doctor stitches their wound. He holds their hand for support.

--Im glad to hear youre okay-- Came the voice of Kate,wingmans mother.

--Im just fine mamma-- jeri answered-- You can thank soap and his dumbassery,by the way. He ran under heavy Fire just to get the first aid. I dont know Wether to kiss him or slap him.

--As your commander, Id slap him-- The woman answered-- as a mother,I thank him.

--Any day,watcher-- soap smirked,all proud of himself. Jeri waves him off.

--We'll take it easy until we are deployed. And ill be careful with my arm.

--Thats what I like to hear-- Kate answered-- I have to go now,kiddo. Love you.

--Love you too.

The call ends and the doctor finishes the stitching. Then he covers the wound and wraps it. With that,both soldiers are dismissed.

Soap puts a hand on wingman's back,patting it. He looks at them and softly adds:

--You should rest,Wings. -- His voice is thick with concern. He is too quiet about it,hes never quiet-- I mean It.

--Ill take a nap but you dont need to worry so much. Ive had worse.

--Thats not the comfort you think it is.

Johnny sighed and Gently brought him in for a hug. They hug back,and bury their head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. The scot feels his friend relax in his arms and he feels...pride,he feels happiness.

--I know you can hold yer own,hen-- the demolitions expert continued-- but I dont want to lose you. I May be exaggeratin' but..

--No..I get it-- their face is warm-- I dont want to lose you either. Its okay. Thanks for worrying.

They pull away a little and smile up at him. Hes huge,towering over them easily. They like it quite a lot.

--Its nothin' -- he answered-- Just rest. Take it easy. Ill come getcha when we have a lead. I got you.

--Thanks

Neither break the hug. Neither want to.

--Y'know.. I gotta ask-- jeri said,his eyes looking away. He can tell theyre nervous-- do you mean all of it? Your- your flirting I mean- Cuz I had this one instance where a guy was into me and then ghosted me for no reason and that really hurt and-

Soap cupped his face and made them meet his gaze. He softly says-- I dont know what kind of idiot would pass you up. You are wonderful,lad. Of course i mean all of It.

--Oh- uhm-

The scot kisses his friend, a soft and gentle kiss. Warm and excited but also comforting,to soothe his aching heart. He doesnt understand how anyone could be so stupid as to not try and get this wonderful Man before him,but its their loss. He wants him all for himself.

Wingman kisses back,happily hugging the mans waist and bringing him close. He smiles and giggles and deepens the kiss.

--Stay and rest with me.

--Of course.

Soap walks them back to their room. And this time he doesnt stand there waiting,he enters and gets into bed with his now...boyfriend?

Boyfriend, he liked that.

He likes that very much.

[theharrowing]

White Lies

Yoongi is everything you could ask for. He is attractive, confident, and smart. And his partner Taehyung is as possessive as he is beautiful. Too bad a relationship would be a major conflict of interest.

You need to have them, at all costs.

🤍 Yoongi x Female Reader x Taehyung

🤍 word count: work in progress (currently 19.1k words) + images of social media posts & text conversations

🤍 college au, partial social media au with a lot of written story, strangers to lovers & established relationship, yandere, hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, angst, slash, poly, minor character injury & death, graphic violence, nsfw, 21+.

🤍 warnings: 🕊 dead dove 🕊. toxic relationships (dishonesty, jealousy, yandere behavior); smut (masturbation); ACAB includes our MC & Seokjin sorry you found out this way; corrupt policing. more specific warnings coming soon, pending the release of each chapter.

🤍 part 2 of the Rose-Tinted Obsessions series

🤍 this is a sequel to Boy Blue! i highly recommend that you start at the beginning to fully understand the the dynamic & history between Yoongi & Taehyung. there will be a lot of references to Boy Blue; this fic will spoil the shit out of it. this includes some major character deaths!!! this MC/reader character is not the same MC/reader character from Boy Blue.

🤍 note: all detective work and cop jargon in this fic is either made up on the spot or comes from years of watching/listening to true crime media. i have no credentials in this field and i do not claim to know what i am talking about. for the sake of simplicity & also my sanity, all dialogue that is written and spoken is going to be in English. characters are from Korea and living/working in the US, and we can fill in the gaps between what language they are speaking in which context. also, although i try to keep the mc's physical description vague, i will refer to her as having curves and having hair that can be gripped onto. length and texture will be left vague. places mentioned are completely made up. i may be using actual city and neighborhood names to make it feel real, but every school, bar, etc. is fake and any similarities they have to real places is coincidence.

🤍 also note: this fic is going to be extremely contrived and dramatic, just like its predecessor was. we are not here for award winning story telling; think of it like a trashy daytime soap opera and a gore porn horror film had a baby. obviously, i do not condone the behaviors in this story; it is a work of fiction.

🤍 written parts beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🤍 check out the playlist!

🤍 posted nov. 2023 - present | read on ao3

INDEX

0: Introductions | 0 words + screencaps

1: Operation Boy Blue | 3k words + screencaps

— TaeGi POV: What the fuck is this??? | 0 words + screencaps

2: Sleep sweet, pretty | 7.5k words + screencaps

3: There you are | 9k words + screencaps

UPDATES ARE CURRENTLY SLOW!!!

i have been struggling with mental health stuff, grief stuff, and writer's block, and so i am going to lessen how many fics i juggle at once. hopefully updates won't be slow for too long. 💜

tag list: @aidam9911 @andrea613 @bangtan-tee-86 @ffion451 @fluffybuns69 @here4kpopfics @icedtaericano @iloverubberduckiez-blog @kiki-zb @lovemeforeternity @mgthecat @moonleeai @mother2monsters @neoneunnajimin @oceansmerchild @unsureofwhathappens 🤍 by asking to join this tag list, you are agreeing that you are at least 18 or older and that you are comfortable engaging in dead dove content. please tell me at any time if you would like to be removed and i will be happy to pull you off.

White Lies copyright 2023-2025 theharrowing, all rights reserved. No translations or reposts are allowed.

[kit-williams]

Masterlist

Hi decided to actually make a masterlist because it's probably for the best.

Things to know: I will write from a mainly female pov/perspective and it will for the most part be monogamous hetro relationships (in the terms of genitals) I won't do fxf or mxm or trans because that's not how I grew up and I'm god awful at writing homosexual sex (genderbend I can do) Another no: Adultry/cheating/spouse(or partner) thievery

Asks are open

Come buy me a coffee

Number of asks waiting to be answered: 15

My Ao3 (I havent updated a story on there since like 2016 I'm scared to even let ya'll see it but I might post the AU on there)

So I mainly write Halo, Runescape, and Warhammer 40k but here I've only been posting my Warhammer 40k and D&D au

So expect a lot of polls because it helps focus my ADHD ass

Also Fanart is ALWAYS allowed! Just Tag me!

PLACE WHERE YOU CAN ASK TO BE PUT ON TAG LIST

Poll Storage Pheromone Spray part 2 First Kiss part 3 WIP poll Help momrad focus on what to write Ones ready to be typed Adhd helper poll

WIPs

Stuff that's not on the masterlist will usually be listed with #momrad's drabbles or #momrad's blurbs

Warhammer 40k

The D&D AU

The Yandere Black Templar and Flesh Tearer

The Yandere Space Marine Masterlist

Story Vault until I know where to put these stories/how to categorize them

This is not Canon mini masterlist

Primarchs masterlist

Leandros

Eyes of the Emperor

Alone Together

No Prayer at Midnight

Warhammer Fantasy

Dangerous Druchii pending

Warhammer 40k & COD

The COD Integration mini-masterlist

Demon Prince/Bloodthirster Graves

The 40k au

How does Horangi spend the thrones? Horangi focused

Lieblings König focused

Spirit Halloween Ghost focused

Hey Kiddo Price focused

Where do babies come from reply

Hail to the King Black Templar König

Everyone is space elves

COD

The mud pit cope fic

Hot Chocolate cope fic König focused

Missing the Bairn cope fic Soap focused

Zombie cope fic Ghost focused

He scares me Nikto focused happens before the Soap one

It's a wonderful life CODHoliday2023 fic angst-comfort Ghost

Age hcs/boys ages

Random romantic thing I wrote

Tanz mit mir Regency Au songfic

Halo

Most of it is on my Ao3

Random

The eventual bringing over that one non con I wrote pending

I have to edit it

The #I wrote something for my tumblr can help too

Sentience base off of lancer but I really just like the Balor

Baby fluff

barn anon/Tales from the Barn/Space Marine Husbandry Sentience

I will rename this when I can sit and think of better titles for them

Space Marine Husbandry Sentience Plot Beats

Space Marine Husbandry Sentience Mini Master List

51 more Space Marine Husbandry Sentience & Tales from the Barn

Hey Look another Space Marine Husbandry Mini Masterlist

A Salamander's hoard 2

Lorgar in Husbandry

Palion Dancing

Of the same coin

Reverse Husbandry AU

Reverse Husbandry Gabriel

Reverse Husbandry Headcanon

Reverse Husbandry Emperor

Sanguinius and Glitter

Gabriel and his sick human

Human Husbandry?

Primarchs in the reverse world

Gaius flees

Judgement from the Lord of Iron

Seeing things

Konrad Returns

Aurora and Guilliman

Funny stuff/Fan art

Ovaries Stolen meme

Fan art by bispecsual

Blood Angel Gabriel meme

ZUL by moodymisty

Angron Post Surgery expression

Fan art by c-u-c-koo anon of Plague Witch

Apollo and Dodgeball

Plague Witch part 2 by c-u-c-koo anon

Apollo by greenarsonist

Aurora by greenarsonist

Marine Meat Monday Zul by moodymisty

Penelope and Peterbunbun by Egrets-not-regrets

Fluffuary

Fluffuary master list

Fluffuary rules

MerMay

Story list

Living Waters au fic

[yeyinde]

thank you for tagging me @cordeliawhohung and @vanderilnde ! i'm tagging @ivymarquis @cosmicpro @when-pigsfly @eilidh-eternal @ethereal-night-fairy and anyone else who wants to participate!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 40

2. What's your total Ao3 word count? 692,024

3. What fandoms do you write for? cod right now. slashers. predator. six. i have planned fics for John Wick, JJK, RDR2, Far Cry 5, Top Gun. nothing really put me in the same horrifying chokehold as cod, though.

4. Top five by kudos body electric, baby, (don't) fear the reaper, riptide, in undertow, past and pending

5. Do you respond to comments? i try to. i just never know what to say.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? i don't really do angsty endings, but probs down to the marrow. it was meant to be read as an "oh, no..." sorta fic. on the flipside since it's in Soap's pov.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? ahhhhhhh. when your need grows teeth? i think those two freaks got exactly what they wanted lmao

8. Do you get hate on fics? sometimes. rarely on AO3. mostly just asks on tumblr. and almost always about my prose as if i wasn't writing exclusively from Giovanni's room lmao or my use of rare/big words. getting Purple Prose Queen was a highlight, though.

9. Do you write smut? i've been known to dabble

10. Craziest crossover. i took at stab at Joe "Bear" Graves x Reader x John Price because of an ask once. it was never posted because i got bored editing it so it'll rot in my "stuff i am too lazy to fix and post" folder forever. but other than that, idk. i prefer aus.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? nope.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? no.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? naur. it sounds fun, though.

14. All time favorite ship? hard to pick, but probs Brittany/Santana. or Spider-Man/Deadpool. Icarus/Apollo. Iwaizumi Hajime x ME!!!! Ulquiorra/Orihime. Stiles/Peter. most recently, Reylo. Itadori/Sukuna.

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? it's called: freefall :/

16. What are your writing strengths? flow. i used to go to a lot of poetry readings/open mic nights and think i developed a pretty solid feel for how to make things flow nicely. pacing and direction (i take a lot of inspo from my favourite directors and try to add elements of their films/style into my writing). ignoring grammar/punctuation. experimenting. trickery/masking. sneaking animism and anthropomorphism into my writing.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? god. a lot. punctuation. grammar. overuse of metaphors. big words. misusing words. dialogue. action. brevity. consistency. tone. characterisation. my stuff tends to meander, i find.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language? no real opinion, tbh.

19. First fandom you wrote in? mythology. i wrote an ungodly amount of Hades/Persephone from 12-14.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written? uhhhhhhhhhh. sea fever. baby, (don't) fear the reaper.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Does Time Lord hair style itself? When Ten, Tentoo and Fourteen appear, his hair already seems to have gel in it.

What gives?!?!

Does Time Lord hair style itself on regeneration?

Ooo, there's the golden question! We have no factual answer for this, so we're back to the world of theories.

🌟 Leading theory: Regenerative Coating

What if Time Lords regenerate with a protective coating similar to vernix caseosa that newborn humans have? This Gallifreyan vernix could be nutrient-rich and imbued with artron energy, setting the hair in a position during the regenerative process before absorbing and leaving the hair looking like it's styled with hair gel. Is that gross or not? Can't decide.

As well as hairstyle, it could also account for the period of 'moulding' after regeneration, where tiny physical details can change, and answer why getting your hand chopped off by an angry Sycorax doesn't make Gallifreyan bleed or scar through its intense healing properties and tag-teaming with lindos.

🔬 Sub-theory 1: Microscopic Lindos Manipulation

We know that Gallifreyans have lindos, a type of stem cell, for regenerative and healing processes. What if their hair follicles are packed with specialised lindos that can "remember" a default or even a preferred hairstyle? Upon regeneration, they return the hair to its remembered state or adapt to the Time Lord's new persona.

🪮 Sub-theory 2: Mood-Responsive Hair

Given that Gallifreyan hair can "feel" due to the denser keratin and higher nerve density, what if it's also sensitive to the emotional state of the Time Lord? Imagine a scenario where the hair can tighten or loosen its curl, straighten or puff up, all based on what it "senses" its Time Lord is feeling. Bad companion breakup? Hair tightens. Just saved the universe? Effortless wave. This hair has more drama than a soap opera, and I'm here for it. Far less plausible of course, but also very fun.

There you have it - three theories that could explain the auto-style of our favourite Time Lords. Pick your fave.

Related:

🤔|🦱🪮Why does my Gallifreyan's hair suddenly look different?

🤔|🦱🪮What's the secret behind a Gallifreyan's amazing hair?

💬|🦱🪮Is it possible for a Gallifreyan to regenerate with 'bleached' hair?: How and why bleached hair can happen on regenerations.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired😴

[ourladyofomega]

I redeemed myself for fucking up Easter Sunday.

I haven't been to the neighborhood veteran's park since the pandemic. I had an incident there with a mutual I used to date and it wasn't a good experience. I held off returning because I didn't want to run the risk of seeing her again and further damage fresh wounds.

I noticed she deleted both her accounts here. I don't know where she currently is. I don't want to know. It was a sign that I was ready to come back. I wanted to visit again on Easter Sunday, but a one-hour nap became four and it was becoming dark by the time I woke up. It was also beautiful out: the white sun's rays shot through silver-lined clouds and cool breezes. I knew I dropped the ball on yet another holiday.

A good thing I had a few days off. I still had some sunlight left to spend after leaving the gym last Saturday. Now's the time!

I didn't walk through the neighborhood streets to get there. I drove instead. Once I got there, nothing about the park had changed. Everything stayed familiar with me. The smell of decades-old dry wood, the greenery, people walking by…even the building's vintage tiling, water, and soap when I washed my hands.

All the (good) memories I had tied to that place came back to me. That one August when I first visited right after finishing my nine months of in-home recovery. Or, the Summer and Autumn walks to-and-from there while compiling those season's post-punk and d.i.y. playlists. Those sounds had me feel like I was in another time-line altogether.

Once you get there, you walk on many elevated wooden paths that lead you to its many benches to view the decaying trees or overseeing the water. They also turn to dirt roads for those wanting to walk the off-path.

The biggest draw that had me discover this park in the first place is what you see here: the graffiti tunnel at the opposite end of it. Walk right past the giant pond via the faux-plastic wood decks and you're there. It's a unique sight to see equating to hidden treasure. You can see a whole array of colorful tagging and writing, quotes, Insta- tags, and even thickly-scribbled cartoons that change up every few months. You can also feel the trains racing right over the tunnel supporting the tracks overhead for that heavy bustling effect.

No earpods or music this time. Just nature sounds, silence, and meditation for me to reflect the pending momentum that's going on right now. I had a good 45-minute walk before it got dark and the park was ready to close. No confrontations, no call-outs, drama, or games - the way it should always be.

Visiting my neighborhood park was much needed for me after having a near-bust last year. The amount of time elapsed in me not going had me think that I should've revisited sooner than later. But, better later than never again.

[sylvctica]

𝟑-𝟓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘.

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒:

███  -  hunter green

███  -  tea green

███  -  raw umber

███  -  bronze

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒:

fresh grass, like the type you have rubbed into your clothing because you were rolling around in it too much, staining your knees green.

floral scents, buried in their shampoos and soaps they often use and make.

clean linen, freshly washed.

𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍:

low cut blouses, openly showing off skin and chest ... and perhaps even their back, wearing them with confidence and pride in their appearance (even with their scar peeking out).

warm and bright colours, or monochrome to draw the eyes to them—sylvie has no qualms in what colours they wear as long as it is pleasing to the eye.

loud and bold, revealing but without intention to draw people in. look, but do not touch; their fashion is a statement of art and themselves, not something else.

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒:

their dendro vision, albeit fake, is something they tend to carry on hand at all times; although they do not need it, it is a symbol of their power, and what they are.

a wedding ring embedded with geo and dendro that sits proudly on their left hand.

a gentle sprig of leaves adorning the side of their head, nowhere near like a wreath that makes a crown.

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄:

their ears sometimes speak more than their face if you know them well, quick to shift up and down pending on the conversation.

their hands are almost never still when they talk, often used for gesturing or to fiddle with items on hand or their own hair / clothing.

confident, relaxed, and open; sylvie doesn't hide themselves or make themselves seem closed off when others talk to them, even if they may not be doing the same as they speak.

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒:

forests, greenery, sunlight and warmth, and whatever you'd like to think about when you think of nature. sunflowers, tulips, bouquets and such on; they are the very embodiment of it, to the grass under your feet, to the trees towering above. like a warm embrace.

mask of a fool, often on the smiling side. it's not like they are not kind, far from it, but their ditzy, silly personality sometimes is just on the surface ... what's below is harder to see.

smoky makeup and lipsticks in bold colours, 6-inch heels that'd break your ankles, the most slutty dresses you can find.

sharp teeth. they are still an animal, too, after all.

tagged by:   @afacere (MWHA MWAH) tagging:   if you wanna do it, tag me!!!! this is a fond threat!!!

[kitsune024]

Call of Duty || GhostSoap Fic Recs

Detroit: Become Human

I Like You Alive by Thanatos7420 I Chapters: 11/20 I Android!Soap, AndroidHater!Ghost, BAMF Soap , Pre-Android Revolution, Slow Burn

the waking universe by @eggtimelads I Chapters 1/1 I one shot Horror, Eldritch Soap, Simon "Ghost" Riley Backstory, Simon "Ghost" Riley Needs a Hug, Nightmares, Passive Suicidal Ideation, Apathy, surprisingly not as angsty as the tags make it seem, Implied Sexual Content

A shooting star could pass straight through him at this moment, he thinks blearily. Could make a home for itself, right in the cavern of his empty chest where nothing seems to fill; could make him whole. It would hurt, if only for a second. Torn apart, bleeding bright. Nothing would be left of him; nothing but a legacy engraved with violence and bloodshed. or, ghost makes a deal with an eldritch being the night he was set to die; things change.

Just Like You by SonTi I Chapters 1/1 I one shot Pre-Relationship, Blood and Injury, Touch-Starved, Implied/Referenced Torture, Hurt/ComfortEmotional Hurt/Comfort, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Torture, Flashbacks, Recovery, Trauma, POV Simon "Ghost" Riley, Angst, PTSD

“Show me.” “Show you what Lt.?” He steps closer crowding the smaller man into the counter behind him. Johnny’s height makes him face his collarbone and neck directly but the man is annoyingly stubborn. He just stares back up at him with defiance in his eyes. “Show me the extent of what they did to you.” ————————— After a month of searching they finally locate Soap. Bloody, rattled, but alive and breathing. Ghost doesn’t want to think about the relief that fills him, instead focusing on the new mask the man had began wearing, invisible to all but him.

Locked in a Stalemate by oonbluem305 I Chapters 7/26 I AU- Canon Divergence, Heavy Angst, Fix-It, Brainwashing, Memory Loss, Loss of Identity, Grief/Mourning, Recovery, Slow Burn

November 21st, 2026 Three years had passed since Johnny's death. Ghost held the picture for a while longer until the coldness in his apartment seeped into his fingers. He headed toward his bedroom. Next to his bed, he opened a small drawer on a nightstand. He carefully laid the picture in there and closed it. It was going to be a while before he opened it again. Ghost, in between the headaches that were coming and his sober thoughts, had a feeling that Price might be right. The next mission was going to be different. It had to be. ... “Bring Remnant 04 forward; he'll be deployed in Urzikstan until pending orders”. The task force thought that Soap was gone after their last encounter with Makarov. Both Ghost and Price were affected the most by his "death" and were trying to put an end to Makarov. They were not aware that Soap hadn´t died in the mission back then.

Acceptable Loss by @mildlimerence I Chapters 9/? I AU- Canon Divergence, Dark John "Soap" MacTavish, Past Torture, Memory Issues, Russian Mythology, Light Winter Soldier vibes, Brain Damage, Soap is not a good man but Ghost adores him anyway, Identity Porn

Post-MWIII: When Soap is killed by Makarov in the tunnels, the 141 are overrun and forced to leave his body behind with the enemy. They never anticipate the mad, masked monster wearing Soap's face to come crawling back out, shaped and reborn by Makarov into weapon tailor made to destroy them all.

Bookmark Series

Duress by @islenthatur I Part 1- 4 I BAMF Soap, Feral Soap, Soap's ghost mask, protective Soap, Angst and Hurt/Comfort nothing but my aching soul by Apollos_Last_Prophet I Part 1-2 I BAMF Soap, Brainwashing, Dehumanization, Loss of Identity, Torture, selectively mute Soap

[voidselfshipp]

More Moodboards for my f/os

Alex:

Ghost:

Price:

Soap:

->Only mutuals allowed to reblog

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

writing poll tag game!

Thank you @mistydeyes for tagging me!

rules: make a 24-hour poll with the names of your wips, let it run, then write one sentence for every vote the winner got :)

Tags: @nrdmssgs @sofasoap @mockerycrow @deadbranch @rileyslibrary and anyone else who wants to participate (no pressure for the tagged ones!)

(I can be persuaded to spoil any)

Also, no titles are set yet, this is only descriptive of what happens

[pepsiiwho]

Thank u for rb-ing the ask game. Here are 5000 asks: ♥️, 🎁 , 👓, 💕, 🍬, and 💌. These are just for you to keep: 💖💓💓♥️💞💕💘💞💘💗❤️💘💘♥️💖💓💖❤️💖💞💓💞💖💗

So many things here should I even answer this in one big thing....

This one is getting it's own post I have too much to say for it but the short answer is "[sound here] sounded like rocks hitting a wall" if you actually read my work you should know this one it's my calling card at this point.

It gets long after this sorry guys

2. This one isn't anything you'd like, a shame I just sent it to you but here's a little piece of the most recent WIP I have as of (checks watch) 3 hours ago. BG3 WIP Title pending.

The woman walks out with her tail between her legs, literally, and Alabaster watches the door close soundlessly behind her as if commanded. The silence between them sits for a moment a second or two before Alabaster speaks. “She's pretty. You might have a type though.”  “What are you doing here?” She didn’t think a sleep-ruffled Astarion would be the one she’d be interacting with when she decided to pay a visit today, but the sight is pleasing all the same. His hair is as white as it’s ever been, only a touch longer. She isn’t sure if actual vampires are capable of being surprised (something something the alertness of darkness or something) but the expression on Asraion’s face was what she would coin as ‘your lover coming home to see you with your mistress' . “You missed me?” He asks. It doesn’t come out like a question, as breathy as it sounds.  “I missed you” She responds. She rolls her shoulders, getting ready for the dance that is talking to Astarion. “I also need your help.”  “You came back because you need me?” There's a sharp smile slowly making it’s way onto his face, laughlines bending to build the expression. He’s sitting up, moving to reach her height. She nods, pulling at the tightly wound strings in his chest, plucking absently.  “I need you.” She responds. Talking to him feels like playing an instrument you haven't touched in a long time, slowly allowing muscle memory to take over so the music can once again be moved by your masterful hands. He smiles full now, as if realizing something she doesn’t know, and she’s reminded that you never really forget how to tune an instrument.

3. What helps me focus when I write... booty shaking music for throwing ass OR hating whatever is happening around me. no in-between.

4. This is a really hard question because if we mean like, emotionally? I could cop out and give a three way tie between Complimentary Soap (it isn't good I'm just nostalgic), Nintendo Direct (Circa June 2021) (it is good and I'm nostalgic) and Like A Brick In The Wall (good and new but god it's chaptered.) But, right now I'm gonna say my most recent fic I posted Going Home; All Over Again. I really love it even tho no one will ever read it (save you). The curse of rare pairs.

5. Okay another long one let's go. I'm only counting things with multiple pics posted...

HADES -

I Missed You Terribly And Like A Dream— You Appeared, Smiling At Me, Just So

Most of my stuff from here isn't good anymore, and while there's another that's more self indulgent and scratches the itch inside my body that aches dully for more Hypnos content at all times, this one reads the best rn. So it win.

HAIKYUU-

Tequilas, Margaritas and Seawater

everything in this fandom is old and arguably bad so nostalgia points carry weight here. This. one was a gift and idk why but it reads amazingly. holds up still

FE3H -

Like A Brick In The Wall

All fe fics are the DEVIL because of any in this list I CARE about these the most no competition. Anyway. This fic didn't win the previous bracket of my fav fic ever but it is my fav in the tag. Don't ask me to explain. I'm sorry.

CSM -

I Squint Out My Peripheral, Peaking Through My Fingers To See You

I don't work here man... I hate this goddamn pic its so good.

DRV3-

Nintendo Direct (Circa June 2021)

She's gonna do it every time... V3 hospital au I lOVE you.

(Listing out my written fandoms like this is the saddest thing ever my GOD I'm cringey)

6. I feel like the tropes I love most I never write myself... it's honestly kinda fandom specific but across the board...? Royalty au. not regency but kinda. A little to the left.

[linyihuite]

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[mercdeleon]

corditeheart​:

It’s been morning for several hours, and frankly, she’s envious he managed to sleep in that long.

Loading...

She’d gotten about three hours of her own before her body decided that was plenty of rest (it really isn’t, but she’ll take what she can get, and has learned to live on catnaps when she can get them.)

So, Xu is up, picking her way through the other sandwich that Squall had brought in last night, reheated in the communal microwave down the hall near the vending and ice machines. Yes, she’s supplementing it with the largest coffee the hotel cafe would legally sell her– his jolting awake and subsequent oath make her glance up from the paperwork he’d brought in with him, mid-sip.

He’s alright. Bad dream, but she doesn’t blame him for that. If it were her father, she doesn’t think she would have slept at all (and she doesn’t think about if it were her father, because he works in Loire’s cabinet and it very well could have been. She’ll be lucky enough if she manages to not be bombarded by either parent while they’re here– the couple of news updates she’d already skimmed have their photos in them, unmistakable despite an attempt to keep their faces away from the cameras.)

“Morning.” She reaches for a napkin, wiping off grease from her fingers before she turns the page. There’s no point in asking if he’d slept okay, so she doesn’t bother with formalities, just gestures toward a couple of plastic bags sitting on the counter next to what’s left of his dinner from last night. “Found a store down the street that’s open twenty-four hours– they didn’t have much by way of spare clothes, but there’s some stuff in there.”

Toiletries, et cetera. Deodorant and the like. She’d looked at the tags in what he’d abandoned on the bathroom floor just to make sure he got something wearable.

It had been something to do.

She is bad at sitting still, at waiting in the lulls between action.

“I haven’t heard anything from anyone yet, either. No news is good news, I guess.”

“Morning.” He looks at the time, finally, and not the lack of calls. It was morning, and he still felt like he could sleep for a year.

Squall has to peel the sheets off of himself thanks to sweat, and it feels disgusting. He silently thanks Xu’s need of something to do that as procured them proper soap, and he will thank her properly once he’s cleaned up and dressed.

Another ten minutes of practically just standing under the water, trying to get the sound of the hospital and gunshots and broken glass out of his head, and he’s out. The towel he used last night is still in easy reach, and he uses that instead of one of the coveted fresh towels. It barely wraps around his hips, but it’s better, he guesses, than continuing to walk around the room nude. There were other people to consider, after all.

He rifles through the bag. She was right: there wasn’t much. A three-pack of boxers, a pair of jeans, and a couple of cheap shirts. It’ll do. Worst came to worst, they could use a laundromat or, possibly, the presidential palace if the safety risk was down enough.

“Thanks,” he finally said, leaning down to plant a kiss to the top of Xu’s head. It took no time to change. When finished, Squall picked up the remnants of his dinner, carried it to the foot of the bed, sat cross-legged at the edge, and turned on the television.

Wrong move.

The hotel’s default station was a news outlet, of course. He had been betting on that. It was some news, and if he could keep an eye on what was known publically, he could know what information would be weird for outsiders to know.  Across the bottom of the screen ran a constant scroll regarding Laguna’s hospital stay as the weather played.

President still unconscious after near-fatal shooting.

Statement regarding President Loire’s status still pending from correspondents.

No suspect identified by authorities in presidential shooting.

Garden Commander present in Esthar after presidential assassination attempt.

There it was. Squall frowned and put down the half-eaten sandwich. At least it, so far, seemed tame and directly in relation to the political event. No sensationalist nonsense yet. 

“I’m going back to the hospital today. I want you to come with me.”

corditeheart​:

“Thanks.”

She isn’t really hungry, and the idea of any more coffee this late at night is not, surprisingly, all that appealing.

The idea of a shower, however, is.

“I’ve been reading what EPD’s got on file so far– they’re trying.” It’s an insult, honestly. She’s tempted to call up their own investigative squad, get them out here. They’ll probably have the bastard strung up before this time tomorrow.

But that’s Garden involvement, without invitation. And while she knows Laguna would be fine with it, there’s protocol; and his son is too close to the situation at hand for it to be seen as anything but reactionary.

They have an image to maintain.

She sheds her t-shirt, pulls the hairtie out of the end of the braid, and fluffs her hair out with her fingers. A shower sounds like heaven, the longer she thinks about it, and she’s not polite enough to refuse his offer of taking the first one.

“Okay. I’ll be quick; I want to go to sleep before the sun comes up.”

A battle they’re looking about ready to lose.

So, she takes the coffee into the bathroom with her.

She is true to her word, though, about the speed of her shower– in and out in under ten minutes, scrubbing her hair with a quarter of the tiny bottle of shampoo, lucking into a plastic-wrapped toothbrush and travel paste in the bathroom counter drawer. The comb seems like it will snap the second she tries to pull it through her hair; Xu ignores it, finger-combing instead, and hoping for the best.

It’s going to be a disaster no matter what, but she can figure it out later.

She comes out wrapped in one of the thin waffle-cloth robes; it’s a little more decent than just walking out in her towel, because it seems stupid to sleep in the only clothes she currently has. The bed is a relief to climb into, so much more welcoming than stiff waiting room chairs or unforgiving leather car seats.

It’s her intention to stay up until he finishes his shower; Xu almost doesn’t succeed, half-dozing by the time he emerges.

“You can’t do anything about it now,” she mumbles, as she hears his footsteps move across the floor. “Come here. Get some sleep.”

They’ll deal with the next crisis in the morning.

There’s always a next crisis.

“They’re trying, and they’ve got half of what we do.”

That was one of the main problems that came with his position: he had standards now, and they were high. Garden didn’t get its reputation due to being just like every other district group, after all.

Xu went into the bathroom, and Squall forced himself to eat half of the sandwich. It’s nostalgia for a happier time: bacon, avocado, home fries, cheese, sriracha, and an oozing egg. It almost worked until the smell of hotel soap hit his nose. And so he boxed up the second half, wiped his hands on too-thin napkins, and went for his own shower.

It is little more than standing under the hot water, but it’s something. The bar of soap, after the two of them, was little more than a sliver. He uses some complimentary shampoo and conditioner and hated how it makes his hair feel. The towel barely absorbed the water once he’s out, and that was when Squall finally realizes that they only had the shirts on their backs.

The last thing he wanted to do is put that back on tonight. He’d rather be nude.

From the bed, a voice stopped him from possibly going back to the paperwork and looking it over for the next few hours until sun-up. Xu, near asleep. And she was right. Even when fighting to stay awake, she was right. 

He was too tired to try to argue. Pulling up the sheets, he crawled into bed next to her, curled up with his knees near his chest.

And, now that everything had settled, he finally fell asleep.

Sleep offered little respite from the horrors of the waking world. Squall is in the hospital again, but no one is there. It looked like everything – and everyone – had been spirited away mid-workday. The only sound of life was the heart monitor beeping in the background. Try as he might, he could not find the source. There was no one around. No patient. No nurse. Nothing, until a gunshot and the sound of shattering glass.

Squall jolted awake, sweat cold against his skin. It was morning. A quick look at his phone that threatened to power off at a whopping 4% said that he had missed no calls.

“Fuck...”

[paranormalpainting]

currently thinking about koma/eda hugging me so tightly my bones crack.

[mari-positas]

weakness l part ii

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Back in the Boston QZ, you confront Joel about what happened at Bill and Frank’s place.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA JOEL. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is in his early 50’s) two idiots who have feelings for each other, one idiot is in denial, Joel is kind of an asshole, confrontation, confessions. little bit of backstory on how they met, very brief mention of attempted SA. SMUT. reader loses her virginity, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (practice safe sex, pls and thank you), post sex cuddles (ish) and more feelings.

word count: 6k

You splash several handfuls of warm water onto your face and scrub, making sure to be as thorough as possible as you rinse off all the suds from the cleansing soap that you’d used to wash the makeup off your face. You had also changed out of the dress that Frank had you wear for his special lunch earlier that afternoon and back into a much more appropriate outfit for your pending return to the Boston QZ with Joel—as always, Frank had kindly encouraged you to take a peek through a number of cardboard boxes full of women’s clothing in your size that he’d collected from the boutique and insisted that you go on and help yourself to whatever your heart desired out of them.

 After plucking a pair of dark wash blue jeans from one box, a long sleeved olive green blouse from another box, and a matching, white lace underwear set from a third box, you’d gone into the bathroom and started making the transition back to your usual appearance, minus the dirt and the grime for the time being.

There’s a part of you that’s relieved to see yourself looking a lot more—well, looking a lot more like yourself. On the other hand, there was another part of you that almost grieved the short lived feeling of what it had been like to look like a normal woman. Perhaps that’s the reason why, instead of putting your hair back into its usual braid, you decide to leave it down, loose around your shoulders.

“I told you it suited you,” Frank states with a little grin. Affectionately, he runs his fingers through it one more time before pulling you into his arms for a warm hug. “Thank you for coming over for lunch..”

After you and Joel had said your thank you and goodbyes to Bill and Frank, you started the journey back home. Not that the QZ was really a place that you wanted to consider home, but it was where you had spent the better part of the last six years. The truth was, you couldn’t stand living in the Boston QZ, but it was probably the closest thing to a home you’d ever have again.

 And it only felt like that because of Joel.

He’d crossed your path when you first arrived in Boston after Providence had been overrun with infected. Like most of the other survivors, you had found yourself in Boston, as it was the closest operating QZ and only about fifty miles away. It was a rougher crowd in Boston than in Providence and you’d found that out the hard way on your third night there when you’d been walking back to your quarters after that day’s work assignment had run late into the evening.

You had been trying to get to where you needed to be before it went past the set curfew hour and you remembered being so preoccupied with trying to avoid a disciplinary lockup that you hadn’t noticed the two goons who had been following you from the work site.

It happened in the blink of an eye—one minute you were walking and the next you’d been shoved into some empty alleyway. They roughed you up, and although you had tried to fight back, you ended up being overpowered and found yourself pinned down to the ground on your back by one of the assailants; meanwhile, his partner in crime eagerly unbuckled his belt and reached for the button of your jeans. Before it could go any further than that, the sound of a much older man’s deep voice threatening the promise of two broken jaws sent them running into the darkness as fast as their trembling legs could carry them.

That was the night you’d met Joel Miller. 

The one man in the zone that nobody in their right mind would ever dare fuck around with.

He’d scolded you for being stupid enough to walk the streets alone so close to curfew hour and then took you back to his apartment where he’d cleaned up all of the cuts and scrapes on your face with a torn, cotton blue handkerchief and some cheap whiskey. The two of you hadn’t been apart from each other since that night for longer than a day, if that.

So, the bottom line was that Boston wasn’t home. It never was home, and probably never would be.

It was Joel. He was home. 

It didn’t matter where you laid your head to sleep at night. Whether it was on a clean pillow in Lincoln or on that old, shoddy mattress that you’d noticed was starting to sprout bits off fluff through open tears in Boston—hell, you could lay your head down in the dirt at night and as long as Joel was there by your side, you wouldn’t give a single shit about it.

Gripping the straps of your  hundred liter pack, you glance up at Joel, your eyes meeting his own pack that he carried on his back. For a majority of the walk back, he’d stayed at least a few steps ahead in front of you. He hadn’t really said much of anything to you since your shared kiss in the middle of Bill and Frank’s living room.

Somehow, even several hours later, the feeling of his lips on yours still linger and you had to wonder, did Joel feel the same? Was it on his mind too? Or was he trying to forget that it ever even happened now that you two were heading back into the cold, hard reality of living in the QZ?

You’d be lying to yourself if you said that it wouldn’t devastate you if that were actually the case.

The two of you make it back just after nightfall. You and Joel sneak past the authorities and despite the fact that it was well after FEDRA curfew hour and the zone is crawling with guards on night patrol, you manage to make it all the way back to your shared apartment without being caught. Being thrown in lockup would have put quite the fucking damper on what had otherwise been one of the most decent days that you’d had in a while.

Joel’s silence towards you holds on pretty strong as he shoves his way through the front door, dropping his heavy pack with a loud thud on the floor. He stalks over to the couch and drops down onto it; his legs and feet are aching from the long, nearly five hour trek back to the QZ. Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel leans his head back and then closes  his eyes, his chest rising and falling steadily with each breath of recovery he takes.

Taking off your own pack from your shoulders, you set it down beside his, and then walk over towards the couch too. However, instead of joining him as you usually did, you stand in front of it—in front of him, and although his eyes are still closed, you know damn well he can sense you standing there. 

And yet, he refuses to acknowledge you.

Shuffling your weight from one foot to the other, you wrack your brain in search of something, anything to say—though you know he’s exhausted, it’s still incredibly obvious that there’s a tension that lingers over the both of you. In reality, it had followed you and Joel the entire way back from Lincoln, but at least out in the open, it hadn’t seemed that bad. Now that you were back in the apartment and confined to such close quarters together, it could be sliced with a fucking machete. 

Finally, you speak, saying his name softly. “Joel?”

“Hmm?” comes his reply, his head still resting back on the couch.

“We should—um, we should probably talk.”

His eyes snap open, but he fixes them on the crumbling ceiling of the apartment. “Talk ‘bout what?”

“About the fucking weather outside,” you answer, flatly.

Joel lifts his head from the couch, raising an eyebrow at you. “Oh, is someone feelin’ like being a smartass tonight?”

You sigh irritably. You should have known better than to think Joel would actually make this easy for you. “Listen, about what happened back at Bill and Frank’s house earlier today—”

He’s quick, too quick, to cut you off. “It was nothin’.”

You feel your heart drop down deep into the pits of your stomach. “It was nothing?” you repeat after him, wondering if you’d looked just as stunned as you had sounded. “Really, Joel? It was nothing?”

Joel gives you a subtle, but curt nod. “We both know it was nothin’ at all. Best we just forget about it. Pretend like it never happened.” He stands up from the couch and kicks off his worn, faded leather boots. “S’real late. We should probably get to bed.” He brushes past you and starts towards the bedroom.

You spin around on your heel, and while your words are gentle, they hit him in the back like a ton of fucking bricks. “It wasn’t nothing to me, Joel.”

He halts abruptly in his tracks and freezes, his wide shoulders squaring.

“And you know what, I don’t think it was nothing to you either.”

Slowly, Joel pivots on his heel and turns around to face you. “You listen here. I ain’t exactly too sure where you went off and found the fuckin’ balls to even think you can speak for me, but I’m gonna need you to go put ‘em the fuck back right now or else we’re gonna have a problem, darlin’. That understood?”

A chill runs up the length of your spine. Though he keeps his voice calm, there’s slight, dangerous edge to his tone that almost makes you back down—somehow, you will yourself to stand your ground. “You said it to me yourself, Joel.” You lift your chin slightly. “Earlier in Lincoln. You said you don’t want a life without me. Remember that?”

Joel’s jaw clenches.

He couldn’t deny the exact words that had come out of his own goddamn mouth, now could he?

You take a careful step towards him. “Am I your weakness, Joel?”

Instantly, he drops his eyes away from yours, his voice lowering as he asks you, “Now where the hell would you get an idea like that?”

“Frank told me—” You stop  as he lets out a scoff, shaking his head. “He did, Joel. He said that I’m your weakness.”

“Did he now?” Joel’s eyes are now on the floor.

He can’t even look at you.

“Yeah. He did.” You take another step forward, and then another. And even when you stand right in front of him, your body just mere inches away from his, he forces himself to keep from meeting your gaze. “Joel?”

He stiffly shakes his head. “Don’t,” he utters through tight lips. 

You try again. “Joel?” Knowing he would be too stubborn to give in, you bend slightly at your knees, crouching down in front of him just a few inches or so, low enough to place yourself into his view. You then slide your index finger underneath his chin and lift it, forcing him to look at you as you draw yourself back up to your normal height. Your expression softens once you see the battle he’s fighting behind those tortured dark brown eyes of his. “Just tell me the truth, Joel. Please,” you beg him, softly. “Am I your weakness?”

Joel reaches up with his hand, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. He tears your hand away from his face and holds it down at your side, but doesn’t let it go. “Why the fuck are you askin’ me that? Huh?”

“Because,” you reply, the gentle tone of your voice causing his grip around your wrist to tighten. “You sure as hell are mine.”

Your eyes glaze over his parted lips, and before you can even think about making another move, Joel releases your wrist and both of his hands fly to either side of your face as he brings his mouth down to meet yours. Just like back in Lincoln, you thought he would attack you, devastate and ruin your lips with his—though he kisses you with fervency, you can feel that he’s being careful, almost as if he were afraid he would break you into pieces if he became too rough with you. You almost want to speak, let him know that there was no need for him to hold back, but you’re too preoccupied, far too busy getting yourself lost in the taste of him.  

Desperate to be even closer to him, your arms find their way around his neck and you close the remaining gap of space between the two of you by pressing your body flush against his.

This causes Joel to suddenly break away from you, your name falling from his lips in the most delicious way you’d never heard before.

“What?” you question him, breathlessly.

When he says nothing back to you, you take a step backwards, away from him, and lift your hands to the buttons of your blouse. Slowly, almost seductively, you undo the first top button and then move on to undo the second one. When the third one comes undone, you use your index finger to move the material of your blouse aside, revealing your bra underneath—the white lace sits delicately on the soft curve of your breast, igniting a blazing fire deep in Joel’s lower belly.

Though he longs to let you finish so he can see more of you, Joel catches both of your hands in one of his halfway down, stopping you from going further. “Don’t,” he warns you, his voice strained, hoarse. “Don’t go doin’ somethin’ you’ll regret, darlin’.”

You tilt your head slightly, giving him the most innocent, angelic look he’d ever seen in his entire fucking life. “You think I’ll regret this?”

Joel can only nod helplessly at you as you tug your hands out of his and turn your attention to his shirt instead. His breath audibly catches in his throat as your fingers start working on the buttons of his brown plaid flannel. Heart hammering painfully in his chest, he looks down at you as your hands move on from one button to the next. He’s become borderline intoxicated by the sweet, sweet scent of whatever shampoo you’d used back in Lincoln to wash your hair, and it’s causing him to lose his grasp on what very little common sense he has left.

Joel feels the heat flood to his face when you push his shirt off of his shoulders and take a long moment to admire his form. Sure, his physique may not have been what it used to be now that he was in his fifties in comparison to his younger days, but he’s still in decent shape. His upper body isn’t ridiculously built or muscular, but thanks to hours of physical labor in the QZ, he still had this broadness to him—Joel’s back, his shoulders, and his arms, fucking hell, those arms of his that you could just melt right into, arms that you would feel so safe in, no matter what.

Your eyes drink him in, and you find yourself memorizing every last distinguishing mark on his upper body. You make a mental note of every single freckle you see, of each and every one of the battle scars that he possesses and commit them to memory. You were certain that most of Joel’s scars had come from this life, but you had to wonder if any of them had come from his past life. His first life.

“I ain’t a pretty sight,” he murmurs, shaking his head slightly.

“Says who?”

“Says me,” Joel replies without missing a beat. He inhales sharply as you reach out and place the palm of your hand on his chest.

You can feel his heart slamming against his chest wall right against your hand. “Your heart is beating so fast,” you whisper. You step towards him and gingerly press your lips against his neck, causing him to draw another sharp breath of air.

Unable to fight his desire to touch you any longer, Joel reaches out to finish undoing the rest of the buttons on your blouse. He discards it on the floor along with his own shirt in one quick, swift movement.

“Fuck,” he breathes out as soon as his hands met your bare skin.

The contrast of his roughness and your softness just about drove him wild. He leans down, claiming your mouth with his once again, and although he tries to keep himself from being too rough with you, Joel can’t help how hungry his kisses are—he almost feels as if he’s a starving man who hadn’t had single crumb to eat in weeks, and you’re a three course meal that had miraculously fallen into his hands. He wants to devour you, and yet, Joel uses every ounce of strength he has in him to show at least a little bit of restraint. He knows you aren’t delicate, but he fears that if he isn’t careful, you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands much like a doll made of porcelain.

His teeth lightly nip at your bottom lip, his silent demand for more and you give it to him. He slides his hands up and down your sides, and while his touch is doing inexplicable things to your body that feel so fucking foreign, it also feels so fucking good. And you want more. 

So, so much more.

Joel groans into your mouth as you rake your fingernails down the front of his bare chest. “Baby.”

Your heart skips an eager beat.

Never in this lifetime did you think Joel Miller would call you that. But then again, never in this lifetime did you think you two would ever be in this position. Half naked, wrapped up in each other’s embrace.

“Baby.” He says it again, pulling away slightly.

“What’s the matter?”

“If we don’t stop right now—” Joel trails off mid-sentence, letting his two hands continue to roam and explore your upper body. He finds it in himself, finally, to push the delicate straps of white lace down your arms; you decide to lend him a hand and reach around your back to unhook the lingerie, adding it to the growing pile of clothes on the stained linoleum floor. Pulling you flush against his chest, Joel groans again and then tears his lips from yours, moving them down to the sensitive flesh of your neck.

As he does  so, you start to guide him backwards towards the bedroom.

“Careful,” Joel mumbles against your skin, causing you to exhale a tiny, breathless little laugh.

Somehow, even with his arms wrapped around you and his lips fused to your neck, the both of you manage to get around the wide, single wall that divides the bedroom from the rest of the apartment. As Joel feels the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress—the very same mattress that you two had been sharing for the last few years—he lets out an odd noise, something in between a groan and a sharp exhale of breath. He snakes an arm around your waist and turns you so that he’s able to carefully lay you back onto the mattress. He follows in suit and crawls on top of you, his body hovering over yours.

“It ain’t too late, you know.” Joel pauses and brings a hand to your face. He brushes a lock of your hair out of your eyes and tucks it behind your ear, his finger grazing your cheek as he does so. “It ain’t too late to stop.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Do you want to stop?”

“Yes.”

Your heart sinks. “You want to stop?”

“No.”

A puzzled expression crosses your features. “But you just said—”

“Jesus Christ, I don’t even fuckin’ know.” He closes his eyes, furiously shaking his head.

“Joel. Look at me.”

With a heavy, frustrated sigh, Joel obliges. His pools of intense, dark brown swim with an array of different emotions, from lust and desire to concern and fear. “Things won’t be the same,” he tells you, shaking his head again. “We cross this line and there’s no goin’ back for us, do you understand that, darlin’?”

You chew nervously on your lower lip. Your hand is at the back of his head, your fingers anxiously toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. Of course you knew that there was no going back—but hell, you didn’t want to go back, not if it was to a time where you went about your days thinking that you meant nothing to Joel Miller. Not to a time where you didn’t know what it was like to be kissed by him, or to be touched by him.

Finally, you will yourself to reply to him.

“Is it shitty of me to say that I don’t care that we’re crossing a line we can’t come back from?” you ask, quietly. “It doesn’t fucking matter to me, Joel. I want this and I can tell that you do too.” The same hand that had been in his hair moves to the side of his face. “What are you so afraid of?”

“Losin’ you.”

You honestly hadn’t thought that he would actually give you a reply, at least not one that contained the truth, so when he does, it takes you completely by surprise.

“You won’t lose me,” you assure him, though you know better than to make a promise you weren’t absolutely certain you could keep in a world like this one. Joel had lost people, you had lost people, but you would do everything and anything that you could possibly do to keep from losing each other. “It’s like I told you in Lincoln, okay? We are in this together. I’ll never leave your side, Joel. Never.”

“But—”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

Joel leans down, letting his forehead rest against yours. “I want to. I want to believe you, I swear it. More than anythin’ in this world, I want to believe you. But my mind is sayin’ there’s just no fuckin’ way.”

You delicately touch your fingers to his chest, feeling his heartbeat again. “What about this, what does this say? This thing in here that I can feel racing against my fingertips as we speak?”

“It’s tellin’ me to make you mine.”

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you tilt your face up towards his for another kiss. This kiss is different from any of the others you two had shared that day.

No, this kiss was softer, it was tender—sweet like honey.

Loving, even.

“Then do it,” you encourage against his lips. “Make me yours.”

“Only if that’s what you want.”

“I do. More than anything, Joel.”

With your reassurance, he finally releases any hesitations he had, and Joel gives you a subtle nod of his head, one you almost didn’t catch.

He gingerly pushes you back onto the mattress and kisses you lightly on the lips one more time before he begins to trail his way down your neck. He continues to move down your chest and stomach, and as his nose skims against your skin with each kiss, Joel can still detect a hint of soap from your shower earlier that afternoon. As soon as he reaches your waist, his hands reach for the button and zipper of your jeans, undoing them both with ease. He lifts himself up on his knees, silently beckoning for you to lift up your hips so he can slide your jeans down your legs. You’d never been more grateful that you’d chosen a pair of pretty lace underwear instead of the usual cotton shit that you wore.

Joel hooks his index finger underneath the elastic waistband, slowly pulling them down your legs as well before tossing them aside. He lets his eyes lock themselves on every part of you, his burning desire for you only fueled by everything that he sees.

Much to your own surprise, you aren’t all too shy. There you are, lying before him completely bare—Joel can see everything, but you cannot possibly care less about any freckles, any stretch marks, any scars, or any other so-called imperfections on your body.

He’d let you see him—now you were letting him see you.

Joel would be lying if he said he’d never thought about this—thought about you like this. He had often tried his best to keep those thoughts at bay considering how much older he was than yourself, but fuck, he could never deny the fact that you were the prettiest damn thing he’d laid his eyes on since the world had gone to shit. Joel often imagined that every inch of you was nothing short of perfection and hell, he’d been right. He brings himself back down over you and lets his mouth make its way back down your body.

“Joel.”

The sound of your voice as you say his name is unrecognizable, to both you and to him. 

It’s low, husky, and like sweet music to his ears.

“What is it, baby?” He asks you as he stops right in between your legs. He glances up at you for a brief moment. His gaze meets yours, as if looking for permission to proceed. The instant he receives your nod of approval, Joel starts to plant another trail of burning kisses along the inside of your thighs, going back and forth from one to the other.

His beard scratches the delicate skin there as he carries on, moving slower and slower the further he goes up your legs in an effort to get your anticipation built up. You only find this agonizing and you’re just about ready to lose your goddamn mind. The moment you open up your mouth to tell him to cut it out with all of the teasing, Joel dips his head, his mouth finally moving to the apex of your thighs.

You gasp out his name, your back involuntarily arching off the bed.

Joel moans into you—something about how he just knew you would taste so fucking sweet—and lets his tongue swirl around your arousal, eliciting the most heavenly noises from you. He switches off between using long, firm strokes of his tongue over your clit and taking you into his mouth, his chosen technique causing your hips to buck upwards, asking for more. He hums against your cunt and lifts his arm, draping it across your hips to hold you down in place. The sounds escaping you, every curse word, every whimper, every little cry of pleasure, bounce off of the paper thin walls of the apartment.

Even though you’re certain your neighbors are getting an earful, the truth was that you couldn’t give two shits as to who heard you or not. Hell, there was a woman a few doors down the hallway who often threw suggestive glances at Joel when she saw him and you can only pray to the heavens above that she can hear what he’s doing to you.

You feel the beginning of an orgasm coiling up inside of you in your lower belly. It’s tightly wound, mere moments away from snapping and springing forward. With no sheets on the mattress for you to grasp, you clenched at air, trying your best to fight it in a futile attempt to draw the pleasure out for as long as you can. You never want this to end. Joel didn’t get the memo and he keeps on at it, and before long, his lips and tongue send you tumbling over the edge.

As you cry out his name over and over again, his mouth continues to keep at it slowly, helping you ride out the high of your orgasm. Once the sensation of the intense climax begins to subside, you drop your head back down onto the mattress and focus on trying to catch your breath.

Joel looks up at you and forces  himself to bite back his groan.

It’s  dim in the room, but the moonlight that filters in through the window illuminates what had to be the most stunning sight he’d ever fucking seen. Your hair wild, skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your mouth plump, swollen from his kisses.

Joel pulls himself back up to you. His mouth meets yours, letting you get a taste of yourself. He then lets his thumb graze over your bottom lip, asking you, “You alright?”

“Just a bit breathless is all.” Suddenly, it dawns at you—what comes next. Up until this moment you had been fine, and now, your nerves feel like they had been lit on fucking fire. You swallow harshly, knowing you had to tell him. “Joel?”

Sensing the sudden shift, he frowns. “What’s wrong?”

 “Joel, I’ve never—the thing is, I’ve never—”

You stop, clamping your mouth shut, unable to say it out loud.

It takes  him a second or two, but he finally understands.

You’ve  never been with a man before. 

Not like that. Not like this.

“As much as I want you, we don’t have to go any further than this,” Joel assures you, his nose skimming lightly against your cheek. “You tell me to stop and I’ll stop, darlin’. No questions asked.”

And you believe him.

You know he would only take what you were willing to give him.

At this point, you were willing to give him everything.

Your hand reaches down between your bodies, brushing against the waistband of his jeans. “I don’t want to stop,” you tell him. “I really don’t.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Are you—?”

“Damn it, Joel! I said what I fucking said, now can you please get rid of these? Or am I going to have to do it for you?”

Joel drops his face into the crook of your neck for a second, letting out something mixed between a scoff and a chuckle before he finally obliges to your request.

He stands up from the mattress just long enough to unbuckle his old, worn out leather belt—he then unbuttons his jeans and pushes them off before climbing back over you.

You place a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer towards you.

As you do, you feel his hard, thick cock brush against the inside of your thigh.

 “Joel,” you gasp out his name, wetness pooling between your legs all over again.

“Askin’ you one last time, sweetheart.” Joel’s mouth ghosts over yours. “You sure ‘bout this?”

“Yes. I’m sure.” You hope you don’t sound as desperate as you’re beginning to feel. ���Please, Joel. I want you.”

You couldn’t have been anymore sure that this was what you wanted.

Still, that didn’t exactly stop the wave of apprehension from washing over you as you felt him settle himself between your thighs and against your entrance. Joel must have sensed your nervousness, because he pauses, pressing his lips against your forehead. He lets them linger for a moment, as if silently reassuring you that he would take it easy. He pushes himself inside of you, slowing down the further he goes. It hurts, at first. It’s a sharp feeling of discomfort unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Painful. You can’t help the small cry that escapes you, causing Joel to abruptly stop his movement. 

“Relax, baby,” Joel murmurs, taking your hand in his. He laces his fingers together with yours and gives it a gentle squeeze. He remains still as he waits, willing his body to listen to yours before picking up where he left off.

It takes you a minute to adjust to him, and while the discomfort doesn’t completely go away, a new sensation joins in, one of searing heat and the sudden urge to feel more of him.

Joel’s opposite hand is curled into a fist at the crown of your head, and he finds himself having to silently remind himself to get a grip. As much as he wants  to take you the way his body is telling him to take you, he refuses to do anything that can potentially hurt you. Though he’d given you his hand for the sake of comforting you, he found it ended up being more for his benefit than for yours. He holds it tightly as he gives another gentle, experimental thrust.

“Joel, move. Please. I need you to move.”

“Baby—”

“Please,” you all but plead him. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and push your hips forward, wanting to feel every inch of him that you could.

“Fuck!” Joel curses out in a moan. As careful as he wants to be with you, he knows that if you keep it up, that would all go out the fucking window.

Any discomfort or pain that you might have felt initially vanishes completely, having been replaced with nothing but explosive waves of ecstasy that come with each and every single one of Joel’s thrusts.

There isn’t one single part of you that isn’t lost in just the most heavenly haze as he picks up his pace and delivers swift, smooth strokes. Just when you think it cannot possibly get any better, Joel dips his head and begins whispering into the hollow of your neck. “You feel so good, baby. Fuck, I’ve been dreamin’ of this for years now, y’know that?”

“Joel,” you whimper his name.

“You’re mine, you understand me? You’re all fuckin’ mine,” Joel whispers breathlessly. He continues to pick up the pace as he demands, “Tell me you’re mine, sweet girl. Need to hear you say it—”

Biting your lip, you look up into his eyes and nod your head, managing to find your voice in between your moans. “I’m yours—all fucking yours, Joel.”

You’re close and so is he, you can feel it.

“Fuck!” Joel curses out as his entire body begins to shudder. He gives you one last, deep thrust that brings you both to come at the exact same moment.

Joel collapses beside you onto his back, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath and recollect himself.

You’re in a similar state, though perhaps a little more shaken.

“C’mere.” Joel pulls you close to him, tucking you into his side. “You’re tremblin’ a little. You alright?”

“I’m alright.” You look up at him and raise an eyebrow. “Are you?”

He remains silent, as if thinking over his answer.

Your throat goes dry—he didn’t regret it, did he?

“Joel—”

“Earlier, you asked me if you were my weakness.”

You nod. “Yeah…”

Joel pulls you so that you’re laying across his chest. He holds you close, squeezing you as if he’s afraid someone’s going to come along and snatch you out of his grasp. “Pretty sure you know by now that you are,” he says, his fingers subconsciously running themselves through your hair. “You’re my weakness, my Achilles’ heel, whatever the fuck you wanna call it—all I know is that if somethin’ ever happens to you, I don’t know what the fuck I’ll do.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me, Joel.”

“What if I can’t keep you safe?”

You frown. “Joel, I’ve been by your side for what, six years now? And you’ve always kept me safe. Hell, you saved my ass on the night we met. If it hadn’t been for you showing up and scaring those guys away—” You stop, shoving the thought of what could have possibly happened to you that night out of your mind. “I told you. I’m the safest when I’m with you. I know I am.”

“But—”

You silence him with a kiss. “Joel, stop looking for a reason to push me away.” You toss him a small, exhausted smile. “Besides, I think it’s a little late for that now anyway, don’t you think?”

You lay your head back down onto Joel’s chest and he continues to run his hand through your hair, over and over again. He surely must have known that he’s lulling you into a deep sleep.

“Joel?” you say his name, drowsily.

“What is it, baby?”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you mumble into his chest. “Ever.”

Joel holds you closer, trying with every fiber of his being to set aside his fears as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

[akamorrison]

cups hands around mouth] gabe went through a phase where he wore nothing but hot pink belly shirts.  for three weeks.