#questioning his humanity..perhaps.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kaiist · 2 months ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

“Zephyr, could you pass the salt?” you ask, reaching across the kitchen counter.

“What?” Xavier looks up from his phone, brow slightly furrowed. The dim light of the kitchenette creates shadows on his face while he stays close to you at the kitchen island as you cook.

“Xavier,” you repeat, “the salt?”

He nods and slides it over. “Here,” he says simply before returning to the counter without another word. You continue preparing dinner together in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the soft hiss of vegetables sizzling in the pan as Xavier slowly lulls to sleep.

After eating, you’re both relaxing on the couch when you murmur, “Zephyr, can you grab that blanket?” Your eyes remain fixed on the phone in your hands.

“Who?” Xavier turns to you, his expression shifting slightly as the corners of his mouth turn downward.

“I said—”

“That’s not my name,” he says quietly. “Who is Zephyr?” Though his voice remains calm, there’s an unusual intensity to his gaze now, a subtle tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there moments before.

You struggle to keep a straight face as you respond, “What? I said Xavier.”

“No,” he says quietly, a hint of a pout forming on his lips. “You called me... Zephyr.”

You burst into laughter, unable to maintain the charade any longer. “I’m just messing with you! You should see your face right now.”

Xavier studies you for a long moment, his lower lip still protruding slightly. Without another word, he shifts position and lays his head on your lap, then gradually slides his arms around your waist until he’s essentially draped across you like a human blanket.

“Xavier?” you question, surprised by the sudden weight.

“Mine,” he mumbles into your shirt, his embrace tightening slightly as he closes his eyes, still wearing that subtle pout. “I’ll make sure you remember. Just wait.”

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

“Here you go, Zayden,” you say, setting a mug of coffee down in front of him.

“Thank you,” Zayne accepts the cup with a nod, taking a sip before continuing his reading. His pen moves efficiently across the paper as he makes notes.

Throughout breakfast, you don’t notice anything amiss, though you catch him glancing at you occasionally with an unreadable expression, his dark eyes thoughtful beneath furrowed brows.

Hours later, as evening settles over the city, you return home from your mission. Zayne has arrived home before you, having completed his hospital rounds early for once. The transition from Dr. Zayne to simply Zayne happens as soon as you walk in—his tie is loosened, sleeves rolled up, the rigid posture softening just slightly. You’ve picked up takeout from his favorite restaurant, grateful for the rare evening when you can actually spend time together.

“Zayden, dinner’s ready!” you call out, arranging the food on plates in the kitchen.

“That’s not my name,” his voice comes from directly behind you, making you jump slightly. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

“I—what?”

“Twice, you called me Zayden,” he says. “You did the same thing this morning at breakfast. I assumed you were still half-asleep then. Now I’m curious who’s occupying your thoughts.”

“Oh! I didn’t even realize—” When you explain it was just a mistake—perhaps a character from a show you’ve been watching, or a colleague’s name that stuck in your subconscious—Zayne’s expression softens.

He hums, stepping closer to you. He places one hand on your waist and the other under your chin, tilting your face up to his. “I’d prefer you keep your focus on the present, specifically on your actual boyfriend, Zayne.” He presses a brief, firm kiss to your lips before pulling back, the matter apparently settled for now.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The afternoon sun streams through Rafayel’s studio windows as he works on a new painting.

“Gabriel, this came for you,” you say deliberately, holding out a package that arrived earlier.

No response. Rafayel continues painting as if he hadn’t heard you. Instead of returning to his canvas, he turns to his fish bowl where Reddie swims in lazy circles.

“Reddie, did you hear something?” he asks the fish, leaning toward the bowl. “Strange, I thought I heard someone addressing a stranger in our home.” He tilts his head, listening dramatically. “Maybe someone been sneaking some random man around when I’m not looking. That would explain why that someone is using names that aren’t mine.”

“Gabriel?” you try again, louder this time. The continued mispronunciation is clearly not helping your case.

Rafayel ignores you completely, continuing his one-sided conversation with the fish. “What do you think, Reddie? Should we be concerned? There’s clearly someone here speaking to people who don’t exist.” He sighs.

You try again, louder this time, fighting to keep the laughter from your voice.

Rafayel’s back stiffens further, but he doesn’t turn around. Instead, he continues speaking to Reddie as if you’re not even in the room. “You know, Reddie, loyalty is such a rare quality these days. At least you will never forget my name.” He strokes the top of the fish bowl gently with one finger. “Perhaps we should compose a song about abandonment and betrayal. I could return to the opera with a tragic ballad about a forgotten lover...”

You can’t contain your laughter any longer. “Rafayel, it’s me!”

His head snaps up immediately, his face breaking into a bright smile. “Oh! There you are, cutie! I didn’t see you come in. Is that for me?” He jumps up. “You’re just in time, I want to show you something.”

You soon find yourself caught and marked with colorful fingerprints as payback for your prank.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

The soft lamplight illuminates Sylus’s study as he reclines in his leather armchair, engrossed in a vintage hardbound book. You approach with a cup of tea in hand.

“Silvan, are we still on for tonight?” You approach the table, trailing your fingers along its cool surface.

He continues examining his book, turning a page with deliberate slowness, making no indication he’s heard you. The only sound in the room is the song coming from his vinyl.

You clear your throat and try again. “Silvan? About tonight’s dinner...”

He finally looks up, a barely perceptible smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. His eyes—those unnaturally intense eyes that seem to see through every deception—fix on yours with amused interest. “Are you addressing me, sweetie? I believe you have me confused with someone else.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts subtly. Sylus has never been a man to tolerate carelessness, even from you. Especially from you.

“Sylus,” you correct yourself. “I meant Sylus.”

“Better,” he says, turning back to his book and marking his place with a bookmark. “And yes, I still plan to indulge you with my company tonight. Though I find myself curious about this... Silvan.” The way he lingers on the incorrect name sends a slight chill down your spine despite the warmth in the room.

You internally sigh, messing around with him always goes wrong for some reason.

Hours later, you find yourself at an exclusive restaurant. Sylus swirls the deep red wine in his glass, studying its color before taking a sip. He appears completely at ease. Just as you begin to think the earlier name slip has been forgotten, he casually remarks, “You know, (other name), this restaurant has excellent desserts. You should try the chocolate soufflé.”

Your head snaps up from your plate. “What did you call me?”

“Oh? Now you understand how it feels,” he chuckles, voice pitched for your ears alone. “Though I must say, your jealousy is far more entertaining than mine could ever be.”

His laughter fills the space between you as you struggle not to retort back.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Delicious aromas fill your apartment as Caleb moves around the kitchen, preparing what promises to be an impressive dinner. You lean against the counter, watching him taste-test the sauce, admiring the way he looks in casual clothes instead of his uniform.

“Calvin, this smells amazing,” you say, reaching for a piece of chopped vegetable from the cutting board.

The wooden spoon in his hand freezes mid-stir. “Who?” His voice remains light, but you notice the immediate tension in his shoulders, the slight narrowing of his eyes as he turns to face you.

“The food,” you gesture to the simmering pots. “Whatever you’re making, it smells incredible.”

“No,” he says deliberately, each word precise and measured. “What did you just call me?”

“I said Caleb,” you keep up the act.

“Did you?” He sets down the wooden spoon and wipes his hands slowly on a kitchen towel before approaching you. “Because I clearly heard you call me by another name.”

The playful atmosphere from moments ago has evaporated completely. Though he’s not in uniform and you’ve known him for years, you’re suddenly very aware that this is the man who commands an entire fleet with unquestioning authority.

“It was just a slip of the tongue,” you insist, feeling the cool edge of the counter press against your back as he moves closer. “I don’t even know anyone named Calvin.”

“A slip,” he repeats, his voice deceptively soft as he stops directly in front of you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his body. His eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your heart beat faster.

His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing your lower lip, “I need to be certain my name is the only one on these pretty lips. Now,” he says, stroking your cheek gently, “Let’s try again. Who am I?”

“Caleb,” you breathe, and the smile that spreads across his face shows satisfaction.

“That’s right,” he confirms, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment. “And don’t you forget it. Not ever.”

Based on this request.

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stylesispunk · 2 months ago

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"I don't want to look at anything else but you"

post outbreak! Joel miller x f!reader

summary: You and Joel had found peace in the quiet life you had built together in Jackson. Despite him hurting from the growing distance between him and Ellie, he knows he has you and you have his back.

wc: 6,4k.

warnings: a bit of angst for joel but is mostly fluff. Age gap but not specified. Remember English is not my first language and i'm lazy when it comes to checking.

a/n: okay. I didn't write a lot of blind faith during this week and I'm giving you this other joel fic as a sorry and because i'm already grieving Joel. I hope you like it 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Ever since you and Joel had settled into a normal, quiet life in Jackson. The dynamic between the two of you changed. The cold mornings spent outdoors turned into mornings wrapped in sheets. Just the two of you, your head on his chest and his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. The first taste of normalcy Joel had experienced since the world had ended that September, back at more than twenty-three years ago.

It hadn't been the easiest path, not for you, nor for him. Years ago, when your paths connected, everything was just a form of ashes and violence; the QZ had been nothing more than a temporary shelter with concrete walls and a rot at its core. But somehow, in that rotten place disguised as the safe, you had found Joel. Or perhaps he had found you. Either way, you clung to each other ever since.

He was older than you, weathered by loss no human could even bear, hard edges above the walls he had built around himself, walls that didn’t crumble easily. And you, well, you were younger, yes, but you’d also seen enough to understand him without needing him to utter a word. You both learnt the secrecy of a language driven by gestures and glances. That's exactly what got him first. The way you looked at him, not with pity or fear, but with a kind of love that had grown as a rose after a long winter.

You were his constant, the thing he always saw beyond the horizon. The light at the end of the alley was where everything seemed to be driven by madness. He had never told you just how much that meant, how many nights he lost sleep, awake beside you in that worn-out mattress you both shared at QZ, eyes tracing the ceiling, wondering what he had done to deserve someone like you. Maybe he didn’t deserve it. But you stayed anyway. Even when the Fireflies spread lies about change. Even when the world outside called to you both with the promise of something more deserving of a life.

And then came Ellie. The girl who turned everything upside down. The moment Joel took her in, you followed without hesitation, without question. Because you never questioned, you followed your heart, and your heart was him. You were the only one who never questioned him. Not even when he made the choice that changed everything. You didn't utter the truth of your mind, but instead you just held his secret like your own, wore the burden of it in silence. And when the truth finally tore open the fragile thread between Joel and Ellie, you were the one caught in the middle, because you had learnt to love them both in different ways.

And what was love in days like these? A tool that could give you strength or weaken your strength. A tool, still, after all.

Ellie had barely spoken to Joel in months now, but you still caught her glancing toward your porch sometimes, like she missed him but couldn’t quite forgive what he did, what he had taken from her. You didn’t push. You gave her space, the same way you gave Joel comfort when he needed it. Even when he didn’t say it, you could feel the guilt radiating off him in waves crashing into his charade.

But he still came home to you. Always. His hands shook slightly when he poured whiskey into a glass at night, the ghosts of the past flickering behind his tired eyes. And you would press your fingers to the side of his face and whisper that he was not the man he used to be. That maybe, finally, after all this time, he deserved peace.

The quiet life he was used to before the world ended.

He didn’t say much in response. Joel wasn’t one for poetry or pretty words, but his love was there in the way he kissed your forehead in the mornings before you even opened your eyes. It was in the way he made sure the firewood was stacked high so you’d never get cold. It was in every silent glance across a crowded dining hall, in every soft murmur against your temple when the nightmares woke him.

Joel had built a warm home for you. A place where both of you would end up dying after cherishing all the love you had shared for each other. After a fulfilled life, a happy life.

He became a fundamental part of Jackson, a community that grew every year thanks to his efforts and help. A community where he had become loved, and not just by you. While Joel reviewed maps and extensions that could continue to be built, you were part of the group patrolling the outskirts of Jackson.

And when you rode out past the gates on patrol, he stood on that porch, arms crossed, waiting for your silhouette to disappear into the trees. He never said “be careful,” never asked you to stay. Because he knew you wouldn’t. But he always waited for you to come back home to him.

Because no matter how many years passed, no matter what came between him and the world, he knew one thing:

You were the one thing he had never wanted to live without. He would rather die before seeing life leave your body in a lifeless frame.

Joel had become a fundamental part of the heart of Jackson, a community that grew every year thanks to his efforts and help. A community where he had become loved, but not just by you.

And while Joel reviewed maps and extensions that could continue to be built, you were part of the group patrolling the outskirts of Jackson, bringing people in, making sure the community was at peace.

Today was one of those freezing days of winter when snow covered all paths. Winter had hit the streets, and each minute outside seemed to threaten to take one of your fingers away.

You'd been riding with Rick for nearly two hours in silence, save for the sound of snow crunching under your horses’ hooves and the occasional radio crackle from the patrol team. The morning was cold, but sunlight still broke through the trees in patches, casting gold across the frostbitten forest. You were glad for the silence. Patrols were always easier when you didn’t have to think too hard or talk too much.

But Rick was fidgeting, and that was making you nervous.

You noticed it as you dismounted to check the broken fence line on the north perimeter. He stayed unusually close behind you, clearing his throat every few seconds like he was about to say something and then thinking better of it.

You finally turned to him with a raised brow, snowflakes sticking to your lashes.

“Spit it out, Rick. You’re twitchier than those clickers.”

He looked at you, flushed already from the cold but turning visibly redder. “Okay, so, I wasn’t gonna say anything. Like… ever. But if I don’t, I think I’m gonna explode."

You leaned on the fence and blinked. “That sounds pretty dramatic.”

“It is. I’m being dramatic,” he admitted, letting out a nervous laugh. “Look, I know you’re with Joel. Everybody knows you’re with Joel. Joel definitely knows you’re with Joel. And he could probably kill me with, like, just with a stare. But… I....I kinda like you. I have for a while.”

You stared at him, not sure if you’d misheard him or if he’d actually just said that. “Rick.”

“I know! I know. It’s not cool. It’s kind of stupid. But I figured maybe if I just said it out loud just once, I could move on and stop acting like a dumbass teeneager every time you’re around.” He ran a hand over his face, half laughing, half mortified. “Jesus, you’re gonna tell Joel and he’s gonna bury me under the tomato garden, huh?”

You couldn’t help it; you laughed. Hard. Rick blinked at you like he wasn’t sure whether he’d just been spared or sentenced.

“I’m not gonna tell Joel,” You said, still chuckling as you shook your head. “Unless I need an excuse to make him do the dishes.”

Rick exhaled loudly, shoulders slumping in relief. “God, please don’t do that.”

“Hey, I might. That’s great blackmail material,” you teased, giving him a playful nudge with your elbow before getting back to work on the fence. “Look, I appreciate the honesty. I really do. It’s weird, but kinda sweet, in a ‘high school crush’ kind of way.”

He gave you a sheepish smile. “I’ll take it.”

“But Rick,” you added, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, your voice gentler now, “Joel’s it for me. I love him. He is my husband, law or no law. You know that, right?”

“I do,” he said quietly. “Hell, everyone does. Just needed to clear my chest.”

“Well, chest cleared,” you said, patting him once on the shoulder. “Now let’s go back to our work or something. You’re not gonna make me do all the work just because you embarrassed yourself, are you?”

He laughed, finally relaxing. “Nah, I’ll take point. You just hang back.”

“Perfect,” you muttered, smirking as you mounted your horse.

As the two of you rode off, the moment settled behind you like footprints in snow. Something a little strange, a little uncomfortable, but harmless in a weirdly comforting sense. You knew Rick wouldn’t cross any lines. He wasn’t that kind of guy. And besides, by the time the sun dipped low and Jackson came into view again, your thoughts were already back at home.

To the porch where Joel would be waiting, arms crossed, pretending he was there spending time instead of waiting for you.

The way his jaw would twitch the moment he saw you, trying and failing to hide the relief in his eyes. To the warmth of his hand on the small of your back when he pulled you close and muttered a “Took you long enough.”

Because no matter what happened outside those walls, you always came back to him. You always would. Until the end of your life.

The sun had dipped behind the trees by the time you and Rick made it back to Jackson. The patrol had been uneventful after the confession, thank God, and Rick had thankfully returned to his usual self, cracking a dumb joke or two to break the tension. You left him at the stables with a casual wave, brushing the snow off your coat as you handed off the reins.

As you stepped out into the chilly late afternoon, your breath puffed white in the air. The lanterns strung along Jackson's paths were starting to flicker on, casting a golden hue over the snow-covered streets. You shoved your gloved hands into your pockets and turned toward home.

And then you saw Joel walking your way, just down the path near the greenhouse, shoulders relaxed in that slow way of his, with the glasses still perched low on his nose that made you pause and smile like a fool. He rarely kept them outside. Said they made him look too damn old. But there they were, catching the glow of the lanterns as he walked, reviewing something in a worn notebook.

He looked up as if sensing you before he even saw you.

The second his eyes found yours, his entire face shifted, like watching ice melt under a flame. His mouth tugged into a lopsided smile, soft and real and just for you. And God, it still got you. After all this time. After all the hell, the healing, the hurt, he still looked at you like that.

“You’re late,” he said, voice low and warm as he closed the notebook and tucked it under his arm.

“You’re wearing your glasses,” you replied, unable to keep the grin off your face.

He huffed. “Didn’t mean to. Just got caught up in the numbers. Didn’t wanna strain my eyes again.”

You stepped closer, heart easing in your chest the way it always did when he was near. “You look good.”

Joel gave you a look, tilting his head. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No,” you said, wrapping your arms around his middle. “I mean it. There’s something kind of... sexy librarian about you.”

He let out a dry laugh, hand coming up to tug the glasses off and hook them into the collar of his shirt. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know, but you love it, though.”

“I do,” he said without hesitation, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Then his gaze shifted a little more serious, a little softer. “Everything went alright out there?”

You nodded, leaning your shoulder into his chest. “Yeah. Nothing we couldn’t handle. Rick confessed his love for me, though.”

Joel stopped mid-step. “He what?”

You burst out laughing at his expression. “It was harmless. Kind of awkward. I think he mostly just needed to say it to get it off his chest.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, but there wasn’t an ounce of jealousy in his face, just amused disbelief. “Poor boy.”

“Right?” you said, still grinning. “He looked like he was about to faint. Said you’d probably bury him under the tomato garden.”

Joel gave a thoughtful nod. “Not a bad idea.”

You swatted his arm as he slipped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close against him. His body was warm, solid, familiar.

“You know I only love one grumpy man in this town,” you murmured, tucking your hand into the space between his coat and flannel.

He looked down at you, something tender and unspoken in his eyes. “I know.”

Your steps slowed, gravel crunching gently beneath your boots as the space between the two of you closed even more. You turned to face him, chin tilted up, your hands sliding into the open edges of his coat to rest against his chest.

Joel's brows lifted just a bit, eyes flickering between yours and your mouth. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. You leaned up and kissed him softly, just enough to make him pause and breathe you in. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek in that way that always made you feel like you were something rare. Something precious under his stare.

The kiss lingered, unhurried because you had all the time in your hands now.

When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his. “Tell me about your day,” you whispered.

Joel hummed low in his chest, his nose brushing against yours. “Not as exciting as yours, apparently,” he muttered, and you could hear the faint smirk in his voice.

You grinned. “Still wanna hear about it.”

He sighed, but it was soft. Content. “Well, I argued with Tommy about expanding the southeast fence. Again. He’s still convinced we need to pull it in tighter. I told him he’s just scared of dealing with the extra patrols.”

You chuckled. “He is scared of extra patrols.”

“Damn right,” Joel muttered, clearly pleased you agreed. “Helped Maria sort through some of the winter inventory. Got roped into fixing a leaky pipe in the clinic because somebody thought I was the only one with ‘good hands.’”

You looked up at him with a grin. “Well… they’re not wrong.”

That made him laugh again, the sound low and rough and good. “Are you flirting with me, darling?”

“Maybe.”

“After all these years?”

“Especially after all these years.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for a beat. “You keep that up and I’m gonna have to warm you up properly once we get inside.”

You raised a brow. “Promise?”

Joel groaned and gave a playful shake of his head. “You’re trouble.”

“You love it,” you said again, smiling as you slipped your hand into his and started walking toward home, where the hearth was probably still warm and the bed even warmer.

And God, you really did love this life. This normal, beautiful, quiet life with him.

As you reached your home, Joel’s hand squeezed yours gently before slipping away. He paused on the porch, his eyes drawn toward the garage across the yard. A faint flicker of light glowed from the crack beneath the door, soft, irregular, probably from that old lamp Ellie refused to replace. You followed his gaze, the air suddenly still around the two of you.

“She’s in there,” Joel murmured, his voice lower now. Not tense, exactly, but something sad, almost wary. You knew that tone. He’d been using it a lot when it came to her lately.

You nodded, shrugging off your coat. “Yeah, she seems to spend a lot of time in there.”

Joel lingered, eyes fixed on the garage like he could see right through the wall and into her thoughts. “Do you know if she’s going to the New Year’s thing tonight?”

You turned to look at him, reaching out to take his gloves from him as he pulled them off. “She didn’t say a lot to me this morning.”

Joel nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. He looked older when he worried, shoulders heavier, jaw tighter. “I wouldn’t blame her if she doesn´t.”

“Things are different now,” you said softly, brushing a bit of snow off his shoulder. “She’s still figuring out how to be... okay with everything. With you, okay. With both of us.”

“I don’t blame her,” he said after a moment. “I just… I hate not knowing how to make it better.”

You stepped closer, resting a hand against his chest. “Maybe it’s not the right time. You’re still here, waiting, still being there for her.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. He looked at the garage one more time, eyes soft with regret and longing, something like hope, but worn thin.

Then he turned back to you, lips brushing your forehead as he let out a long breath. “Come on," he said quietly. “Let’s get inside before you freeze that smart mouth off.”

You smiled and nudged the door open. “Too bad. I had plans to use it tonight.”

Joel laughed under his breath as he followed you inside, letting the door close gently behind you.

The world felt warm and still when you opened your eyes.

That fuzzy kind of stillness where the light was soft and golden through the curtains, and your limbs were heavy in the best way, boneless and relaxed under the weight of a thick blanket. You blinked slowly, adjusting to the calm, to the scent of pine still lingering from the firewood and Joel’s flannel shirt close by.

Your head was resting on his lap. Joel sat slouched back against the couch cushions, legs stretched out, a book open in one hand, his glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t noticed you waking yet. Or maybe he had, and just didn’t say anything.

The fingers of his free hand combed lazily through your hair, tracing slow, thoughtful paths over your scalp and down to the nape of your neck. Over and over again, like it was as natural to him now as breathing. That kind of tenderness that wasn’t loud or showy, just there, anchoring and steady.

You smiled, sleep still in your voice. “You’re gonna put me right back to sleep doing that.”

Joel’s eyes flicked down from the page to meet yours, and a slow smile spread across his face. “And that's a bad thing?”

“No,” you murmured, shifting just slightly to curl closer into his thigh. “It’s a really, really good thing.”

He hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest, low and warm. His thumb brushed along your temple in a soft arc. “Didn’t mean to wake you. You were out cold.”

“Blame your lap. It’s cozy for this kind of weather.”

He chuckled, eyes returning briefly to his book. “Didn’t think you’d fall asleep halfway through telling me about how Rick nearly dropped his gun while trying to impress you.”

“He did!” you laughed, eyes closing again. “It slipped right outta the holster when he tried to be all cool and stretch like nothing hurt. I nearly fell off the damn horse.”

Joel shook his head, the quiet amusement clear in his face. “That man is a disaster.”

“Mmm, but at least a harmless one,” you yawned.

Another beat passed, quiet except for the sound of pages turning and the fireplace crackling low in the background. His fingers never stopped moving in your hair.

“Do you ever miss it?” you asked softly, not even sure where the question had come from. “Before here. All the chaos we used to live in. The constant movement. The adrenaline. Sleeping on the dirt, perhaps?"

Joel’s hand slowed, just slightly. You felt the pause. Then the steady rhythm picked up again, gentler.

“Sometimes,” he admitted after a moment. “Not the danger, but the feeling of having to keep going. No room to think too hard. Now Ellie doesn’t talk to me.

You nodded, eyes still closed. “That will be temporary, you know.”

“Yeah.” His voice lowered, more thoughtful. “But I’d trade a hundred years of running for one of these. You and I like this.

That made you laugh again, and his hand cradled the back of your head as you shifted to look up at him.

“You’re getting soft in at your old age, Miller.”

He looked down at you over the rim of his glasses, brow raised. “Say that again and see if I let you keep using my lap as a pillow.”

You smirked. “You’d miss me.”

“I would,” he said quietly, and just like that, the teasing faded into something real.

You smiled at him, “I should start getting ready for the party tonight.”

“You look perfect just like this.”

“How romantic, Joel Miller, but I probably smell bad.”

Joel snorted softly, eyes crinkling at the corners as he closed the book and set it aside. “Darling, we’ve both smelled worse. Remember when we reached Bill’s house?”

You groaned dramatically, burying your face into his thigh. “Don’t remind me. That was not my best moment.”

“I didn’t mind it then either,” he said, his fingers grazing down your jaw, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You could be covered in mud and I’d still think you’re the prettiest girl in the room.”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by how easily he could say something like that now. It hadn’t always been like this. It used to come out in actions, his silence, his worry, the way he stood between you and anything that even looked like a threat. But now he let himself say it. He let himself mean it.

And you never took that lightly.

“I’ll take the compliment,” you murmured, sitting up slowly and stretching under the blanket. Joel helped you out of it without a word, and you lingered just a second longer to brush your lips over his before standing.

He watched you, content and quiet, as you moved toward the bedroom. “Do you want me to wear that sweater you like?” you asked over your shoulder.

Joel raised an eyebrow. “The one with the buttons?”

You nodded, already pulling your hair back into a messy bun.

“Hell yeah,” he said, voice a little rougher now. “That one drives me crazy.”

You laughed as you disappeared around the corner, the sound making Joel lean his head back against the couch with a quiet, contented sigh. His hand drifted absentmindedly to the spot where your head had been resting only moments ago, like some part of him still needed to hold on.

From the window, he noticed the light in the garage had gone dark. Maybe Ellie was getting ready too. Maybe tonight would be a little bit closer to feeling whole again.

You stepped out of the bedroom a few minutes later, brushing the last bit of lint off the front of your sweater, the one with the buttons Joel never shut up about. It was a little snug at the waist, hugged you just enough to make you stand out. Paired with the jeans he said made your legs look dangerously good, you were banking on at least a solid double-take.

Joel looked up from the couch, still lazily sprawled across the cushions, glasses sliding down his nose.

And damn if you didn’t get more than a double-take.

His hand went straight to his chest like he’d been physically struck. His mouth opened, then closed again like he forgot how to breathe.

“Jesus,” he muttered, sitting up straighter, eyes trailing slowly from your boots to your eyes. “Are you trying to kill me?”

You grinned, one hand resting on your hip as you posed, just a little. “What, this old thing?”

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You look…” He trailed off, searching for the word. “I don’t even get a word for it. Beautiful doesn’t do it justice.”

“You’re such a liar,” you teased gently, though your cheeks were already warm.

“I’m not,” he said, still staring. “You walk into that party looking like that, I’m gonna have to fight half the town.”

You walked over and stood between his knees, his hands naturally coming to rest at your waist, thumbs sliding along the hem of your sweater.

“Don’t worry,” you said, brushing a hand through his hair with deliberate slowness. “I’m only going with one man tonight.”

His eyes met yours, serious under all the teasing now. “You’re mine,” he said lowly, not like a warning, but like a vow you would say at a wedding.

“I always have been,” you whispered back.

And for a second, it didn’t matter where you were going or who’d be at the party. There was only this, his hands steady on you, your breath soft against his, and the quiet thrum of a life you’d built together piece by piece.

“Come on, Miller,” you said, pulling back with a smile. “Get dressed. Can’t show up to a New Year’s party looking like you just came in from the stables.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “I was gonna wear the flannel you like, but now I’m reconsidering.”

You leaned down and kissed him slowly, “Wear the flannel. Then you lose it later.”

Joel groaned into your mouth. “You’re evil.”

You smirked. “You love it.”

He planted a kiss on your lips before standing up from the couch.

.......

The lights in the main hall of Jackson’s community center glowed warm and low, casting golden halos over strings of mismatched decorations, handmade banners, old Christmas lights, paper stars that crinkled every time the door opened and let in the wind. Music played softly from an old radio in the corner, laughter and voices mingling with the hum of people pouring in, already loosening up with drinks and stories.

You stood near the back wall, a glass of something vaguely sweet in your free hand, the other laced tightly with Joel’s. His thumb brushed slow circles over your knuckles as you chatted with Maria, who was animatedly retelling something Tommy had done earlier that day involving a runaway chicken and a very confused patrol dog.

You were half-listening, smiling and nodding along, but you felt it more than saw it, that Joel wasn’t really paying attention. His body was here, steady beside you, but his focus had shifted.

You followed the subtle line of his gaze, and there she was, Ellie.

She was standing on the edge of a table, watching Dina dance in the middle of the place. Her hair was surprisingly neat. She wore one of the jackets Joel had patched for her last winter, and she looked better. Not completely at ease, but not avoiding people either. Laughing at how Dina enjoyed herself, her face lit up in that rare, open way that used to be more common. That Joel hadn’t seen in too long.

Your fingers squeezed around his, gently tugging his attention back to you. He blinked, then looked down, sheepish.

“She showed up,” you said quietly, so only he could hear.

Joel nodded, but didn’t speak at first. His jaw worked slightly, like there was something caught there that he couldn’t quite get out. “Didn’t think she would,” he murmured eventually.

You leaned your head into his shoulder, your hand still holding his like it anchored you both. “She’s trying,” you said softly. “Just like you are.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just watched Ellie for another long moment. His face unreadable, but you could feel the storm behind it, the guilt and the love and the endless what ifs he carried like extra weight on his worn-out back.

“She still wears that jacket,” he said finally, voice a little rough.

“She still loves you,” you said, just as sure.

Joel looked down at you then, the depth in his eyes something that stole your breath a little. “Do you think it’ll ever go back to how it was?”

You turned slightly to face him, brushing your thumb along the inside of his wrist. “No,” you said honestly. “But maybe it’ll become something new eventually.”

He nodded slowly, like he was trying to believe it. Maybe tonight helped.

The minutes had stretched into hours, in a few ones. A new year would come into your lives and you were enjoying the hope that brought to all people in the community. Yes, you were enjoying the party, until something completely shifted the ambiance.

When Ellie’s voice came.

Loud. Angry. Hurt.

“I don’t need your fucking help, Joel!”

You froze. The room quieted, just a little. Just enough for you to react to it.

Joel didn’t say anything at first. You watched his face, how it closed off, his expression almost neutral except for the way his jaw clenched. There was something like shame in his eyes. Like he’d overstepped. Like he knew this was coming after him.

He turned. Not fast. Just quietly stepped back, like every inch he put between himself and Ellie was one he’d deserved. He didn’t look at you. Just walked toward the door of the hall, shoulders tight, hands in his pockets, and disappeared outside.

You turned slowly, your gaze falling on Ellie.

She was still standing there. Chest rising and falling like she'd just finished running. Dina was beside her, wide-eyed, unsure whether to step in or stay back. The room had started to move again around them, but you stayed where you were, heart sinking.

Ellie looked at you. And you didn’t say anything. Didn’t frown or shake your head. Just stare at her.

There was disappointment in your eyes—yes. A flicker of sadness too, not just for Joel, but for her. For the pain stitched between them. For the ways she still didn’t understand that Joel didn’t defend her to take control, or because he thought she was weak, but because he loved her.

Because she was still his. And whether she was ready to admit it or not, he would always be hers.

Ellie looked away first. Back to her shoes. Her jaw tensed like she was biting back words. But she didn’t say anything else.

You waited another beat, then gently set your glass down, excused yourself from the people at your table with a small nod, and went after Joel.

The cold had settled deep by the time you made it back home.

The porch light cast a soft glow across the wooden steps, and there he was sitting in the chair like he had nowhere else to be, guitar in his lap, hands quiet on the strings. He wasn’t playing. Just holding it, his fingers curled around the neck like they used to when he didn’t know what else to do with his hands.

His glasses were off, resting on the side table next to him. The soft creak of the porch boards under your steps made his head lift, and his eyes met yours.

You smiled gently. “Hey, cowboy.”

Joel didn’t say anything right away, just gave you the ghost of a smile before looking down at the guitar again.

You crossed the porch and crouched in front of him, resting your hand on his knee. “She didn’t mean it.”

He let out a breath, slow and tight. “Yeah, she did. Maybe not in the way she thinks. But she did.”

You didn’t argue. Instead, you just leaned your head against his leg, wrapping your arms around his knee. “Come inside,” you murmured. “It’s freezing.”

“I like the cold,” he said quietly.

“You’re getting old,” you teased, tilting your face up toward him with a smile. “Your bones can’t handle it anymore.”

That pulled the faintest smirk from him. “You keep talking like that, and you’re getting a snowball to the face next time it drops.”

“Promises, promises.”

You stood up and reached out a hand to him. He hesitated for a moment before placing the guitar gently against the wall. His hand slid into yours, warm and rough and steady, and you led him inside.

The house welcomed you with its familiar warmth, soft light spilling from the kitchen lamp. You tugged him into the living room and stopped, turning to face him, fingers still wrapped around his.

“You remember how to dance, Joel?”

He raised a brow. “Now?”

You nodded. “Now. Just us.”

There was no music, just the sound of the wind outside and the hum of life still buzzing faintly in town. But you stepped closer, placing your other hand on his chest as he found your waist, and you started to sway slowly, like there was a song only the two of you could hear.

You looked up at him, voice soft. “You know there’s no life for me after you, right?”

His eyes flicked to yours, searching. Quiet.

You swallowed. “Not just no one else… No life. I’m not made for this world without you in it.”

His jaw tensed, his hand tightening slightly on your hip.

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. More than I even thought I could love anyone."

Joel's voice was rough when he finally spoke. “You shouldn’t say that.”

“But it’s true.”

His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, and you saw the fight in him, the weight of it all, the doubt, the guilt. But you also saw the way his heart ached for you. How much he wanted to believe he deserved it.

“You’re all I have,” he said finally. “You and her. And I keep messing it up.”

You shook your head and pulled him closer, pressing your forehead to his. “You didn’t mess anything up tonight. You stood up for her. That’s what love looks like, even if she doesn’t know how to take it right now.”

Joel let out a shaky breath. You leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered. “Always.”

And with his arms wrapped around you in the middle of that quiet living room, Joel let himself hold on.

You kept swaying with him, barely moving, your arms snug around his broad frame like you were afraid he might drift away if you let go.

The firelight from the hearth flickered softly across his face, casting shadows that danced along the lines etched into his skin. You lifted your gaze, taking him in, really taking him in.

His hair was more silver than brown now, especially at the temples, and his beard had followed suit, peppered with white that hadn’t been there when you first met him back in the QZ. The creases around his eyes were deeper, more permanent, carved by years of worry, loss, and that rare, secretive laughter you’d always tried to pull from him like a prize you needed to win. His hands, still strong, still steady, were rougher too, scarred by more than just time. And his eyes, God, those eyes. Still the same deep brown, still full of everything he never said out loud, but they were heavier now, more tired.

But even in all of it, in every reminder that time had passed, that the world had taken its toll on him, he had never looked more beautiful to you than this.

This was the man who had survived when others hadn’t. The man who had chosen you when he could’ve kept his walls up forever. The man who still held you like you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world.

Your fingers slid up his chest, fingertips brushing over the soft fabric of his flannel before curling lightly at the collar. You rose up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, slow and lingering there. Then another, along the edge of his jaw. One at his temple. His brow.

Joel's hand tightened on your hip, the other cradling the back of your head now, and his breath caught when your lips found the corner of his mouth.

You pulled back just an inch and whispered, “I love all of it. All of you. Then. Now. Always.”

He looked at you like he was trying to memorize your face.

And then you kissed him, soft, deep, like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. His lips moved against yours with that familiar tenderness, that unspoken hunger that had never gone away, no matter how many years passed. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate. It was slowly marked by the safety that glued you together.

When you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, breath warm on your lips.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

You shook your head gently. “That’s not your decision to make.”

Joel let out a quiet, broken laugh and kissed you again, softer this time, like a thank you.

You leaned in again, drawn to him like the tide to the moon. Your lips brushed over his once more, slower this time, tender and unrushed. A kiss that said everything without needing words. His hand slid up your back, fingers splayed gently between your shoulder blades, holding you to him like he never wanted to let go.

When you finally pulled away, your noses still touching, you smiled against his mouth. “Happy New Year, Joel.”

He exhaled softly, his breath warm as his eyes opened to meet yours. “Yeah?”

You nodded, heart full. “This is to us,” you whispered, “to spend more years like this. Together.”

Something flickered in his gaze, quiet, reverent, a little disbelieving, like the weight of your love still knocked the air out of him every time. His thumb stroked along your jaw, rough and careful all at once.

“Until the end, darling,” he said hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion.

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, resting your head against his chest, right over the steady thrum of his heart. And there, in the soft quiet of your living room, with the muffled echo of tiny fireworks somewhere in the distance and his arms holding you like a vow, you knew there was no one else you’d ever need.

Joel held you there for a long, quiet beat—his hand resting at the small of your back, the other curled at your nape, cradling you gently like the world might crumble if he let go.

Then he tilted his head slightly, eyes finding yours again under the soft glow of the fire. There was something raw in them now, unguarded, soft in that way only you ever got to see properly.

“Happy New Year, baby,” he said, voice low, gravelly, full of something deep and real. “To more years. However, we’re lucky enough to get.”

You felt your throat tighten, the words catching in your chest. But then he said it, firm, steady, like it had lived in him for years.

“I love you,” you said at the same time, putting a smile on both of your faces.

Your hand slid to his cheek, thumb brushing over the slight stubble there. His eyes closed at your touch, leaning into the warmth.

This was your beginning. Again, and again. Every year. Every moment. Joel was your home. You were his. As long as the world allows you.

#fic: I don't want to look at anything else but you #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller angst #pedro pascal

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softbabybelle · 6 months ago

Text

corruption 001. 𓍯𓂃 rֶָ֢ cameron

rafe cameron x shy!reader

𝜗𝜚 Summary : rafe finds sarah's best friend sitting in her room after she sneaks out to see her boyfriend, topper, and offers to keep her busy while teaching her something new.

𝜗𝜚 words : 2.5k

𝜗𝜚 c!w : weed, smoking, drvgs, suggestive.

part 2. part 3.

by the time sarah had re-entered her own bedroom, you were laying on your back across her bed, twisting your hair above your face, absentmindedly playing with the strands.

"i have a favour to ask." upon hearing your best friend's voice, you turned so you were laying on your stomach.

you liked having sleepover's with sarah but sometimes, she wasn't all that reliable. "m'kay." though you already had an idea what following words would pass her lips.

"i just got off the phone with topper and he wants me to go meet him." she settled herself against her drawers. "but my dad'll kill me if i stay out past curfew. think you could cover for me?"

you batted your lids at the girl, frowning for various reasons. you'd brought all your stuff so you and sarah could hang out, you were getting a little tired of her using you as an excuse to see her boyfriend and you were downright petrified of ward cameron. there was something awfully frightening about your friends' parents.

but you didn't like to be troublesome. so a small "okay." passed your lips with a thin smile.

it took sarah less than twenty minutes to get ready and before you knew it, you were waving goodbye as she snuck out the window.

she left the tv on so you could watch one of your shows but you were much more inclined to reading the book in your bag. at this point, you'd grown accustomed to sarah leaving you during the middle of your sleepover's, you had to come prepared.

the reason she invited you over and snuck out was because she knew ward wouldn't dare go near her room when she had a friend over. none of her family did.

well, none aside from one.

"sarah!" you heard a familiar voice from behind the door followed by a bang against it that rafe cameron would later excuse as a 'knock'. "listen, i know you took my fuckin' charger, so give it ba―oh."

rafe was sarah's older brother, you'd seen him around plenty of times and he'd surely seen you. at this point, you practically lived in the house. many times you'd sat across from him at the dinner table or sat on the beach chairs with sarah while he was in the pool. though you didn't often speak to him.

perhaps that was your fault more than it was his, though.

"you're here." he stated, glancing around the room for the white charger he was missing.

rafe often initiated conversation with you but it was only in your shy nature to nod after he said something and use less than two words to communicate before scurrying down the hall after sarah.

this time, she wasn't here to be your human shield.

"uhm, yeah." you sort of just squirmed, hoping he didn't ask about why you were in here alone.

but you didn't often get what you hoped for. "where's sarah?" snatching up the charger. upon his question, you blinked at him, a stretch of panic flashed across your face. you didn't even need to say anything, your look gave it all away. "snuck out with topper, huh?"

your top lip snuck your bottom teeth in. "please don't tell." you weren't used to being so confined with rafe. sure, you'd been in a hallway with him before but come to think of it, you weren't sure you'd ever been in a small room like sarah's, alone, with the door shut.

"wasn't going to." he counters. his eyes pass over the room, raking down to you. you were sitting on the bed with a little book in your hands, pink bookmark sticking out from the page you left it on. "you don't need to be sittin' pretty in here all alone, though." he approached the door before turning to face you. "you comin'?"

it was as if he'd expected you to follow. you hastily stood, pink blush across your cheeks. "where are we going?"

he shrugged. "my room." as if it'd been obvious.

a nervous pit swirled in your stomach. you hadn't spent enough alone time with rafe to be invited into his bedroom. sarah was the one out of the two of you who talked to many guys. you kind of just stood idly by, a nervous look on your face as you bit your bottom lip and angled your head to look at the ground. you supposed rafe wasn't so bad, though.

after all, you practically grew up with the boy.

but that didn't make it any easier.

"so, uh, how's school?" he sniffed, inviting you into the room before shutting the door closed.

you'd been around sarah and her friends long enough to know that the smell swirling the room was weed. something you'd never so much as touched. the room also had a smell of some expensive cologne, the same one you often detected from rafe.

"it's okay." you offered, standing idly near his dresser, hands messing with the hem of your shirt. "what about you?"

a soft sort of smirk fell across his face. "i'm not in school anymore." he reminded you before taking a seat on the bed, taking something out from the beside table's drawer.

"i knew that, sorry." you felt your face flush. you hated this, always making yourself look silly when you spoke to rafe. it was why you avoided him in the first place. you wanted nothing more than to run out of the room to where you came from. but sarah was gone, meaning you had nobody to use as an excuse or a getaway.

you'd merely have to endure.

he didn't say anything, only offering a humorous huff from his lips.

"you mind?" your eyes trailed down to what was in his hands, the source of the smell you'd detected earlier. "asked you a question, sweetheart."

"oh, uhm." your eyes snapped up to meet his, head feeling floaty at the name. "i don't mind if you smoke. it's you're room."

again, he offered no response but continued to take out his pieces. he was currently in search of a lighter. "what are you standin' all the way over there for? sit down. i don't bite." but there was a quirk to his lips when he said it that made you think he did bite.

"sorry." you mumbled before shuffling to the bed to sit on the furthest edge you could.

you didn't miss the way rafe rolled his eyes. he looked back at you, studying your features. "split one with me?" he was testing the waters. he knew you enough to gauge assumptions about you. asking him? you didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't have sex. you were the type of girl who stayed in your friends bedroom reading a book while they snuck out to meet their boyfriend.

he wanted to see if you'd give in.

your eyes were watching his hands, the way he rolled paper between his fingers. "uhm, 've never smoked."

ding ding ding.

he cocked his head. "want to try?" he could see immediate panic flash across your features. in a way, it was exactly what he wanted. he wanted to soothe you into this, not for you to instantly kneel at his every command. he knew you weren't easy. "c'mon, baby, 's just me. promise i won't let anything happen to you."

"i don't know." you shook your head slightly.

you were no stranger to the names he used on you. he often spoke them in a soft yet playful voice, especially around sarah. you just thought he liked seeing his sister get angry, tossing a pillow his way and telling him to stop treating you like one of his 'notches on his belt' but if he was only keen on making sarah angry, then why was he calling you such things while you were alone, sarah nowhere in sight?

"how long have you known me?" since you were very, very young. "one can't hurt. you trust me?" you slowly nodded, eyes still wavering to his hands. "so what'do you say?"

you knew you shouldn't. if your parents ever found out, they'd kill you with their bare hands and rafe would be next in their death note journal.

but there was something about the way he was looking at you that had your stomach folding in two.

besides, you never did like upsetting people.

if you didn't say yes, rafe would think that you didn't like him. he would be upset that you'd be so mean to refuse such a kind offer.

so nonetheless, a small squeak of an "okay." left your lips.

"atta girl. c'mere." he gestured down and you blinked at him confusedly. was he asking you to sit in his lap? you swallowed thickly. "c'mere." he repeated, this time between a soft chuckle. he reached out for you, helping you to sit flush against his lap.

instantly, you swore you had never been so red in your life.

your eyes were all wide and embarrassed, cheeks flaming red hot while you tucked your bottom lip under your top one again. a habit you supposed you'd die with. to say you were shocked to feel his hand against your face was an understatement. his thumb pulled at your lip from between your teeth, securing it away from harm. "don't do that." he mumbled. "you know how to take a pull?"

awkward and embarrassed were two words you swore were forgetting their meaning. this was above and beyond that. "you just... suck, right?" you squirmed in his lap at your own words.

"inhale, sweetheart." he moved the rolled blunt up to your lips. "open." you complied and he stuck it between the two, lifting the lighter to set the top to a low burn. "don't try to keep it in, 'kay?"

you nodded, inhaling the blunt and finding a strange sensation fill your mouth.

you'd never smoked a cigarette before, much less a blunt.

it was a weird feeling but you did what he said, you didn't try to keep it in. you moved the blunt from your lips with your fingers and didn't feel the need to couch heavily. you just blew the smokey air back out.

"good girl." the soft pads of his fingers trailed softly against your bare thighs below your sleep shorts. you felt your stomach do flips at the praise. "did so well. you sure you haven't done this before?"

you nodded with a slight giggle. "'m sure."

you watched as he lifted the blunt to his lips, taking a drag, then another. he didn't seem as phased as he did. "mm, don' know if i believe you on that one, princess."

"i haven't!" your hips gently reached up against his own. "swear." before simmering back down.

he lifted the blunt to your lips. this time, he didn't need to tell you to part your mouth, you just did it. "cross your heart 'n hope to die?"

he was staring at you so intently that you swore you'd never seen anyone's eyes so vividly, never been more interested in the squiggles of blue in someone's iris or the way his pupils slowly began expanding.

all you could offer was a slow nod as he watched you take another inhale of the blunt, eyes suddenly now steady on your lips, watching you stain the end of the paper pink with lipgloss.

a smirk fell on his lips as he leaned back onto the headboard. one minute, you were too shy to leave sarah's room, now you were sitting on his lap, smoking a blunt with him.

rafe merely had a way with women.

"so what, you feel like 'm corrupting you yet?" his steady smirk and sly hand trailing up your thigh.

a giggle passed your lips as you shook your head. "no."

he hummed. "plenty of time for that." you weren't too sure what he'd meant, though you hadn't actually asked him either.

it didn't take long for you to get high. rafe realised this within less than a few minutes. your pupils had turned wide, eyes gone glassy and suddenly you couldn't stop licking your already wet lips. you were staring at him, a little too much, not that he was complaining. he'd spent too long waiting for you to shyly meet his eye. with the weed in your system, you couldn't seem to look away.

"can i ask you something?" his voice was low, hardly a whisper as he spoke now, as if afraid he'd awake something and the room would turn to dust, the moment would fade from his memory and this moment would dissappear.

"uh-huh." you were busy looking at him, downright gawking. your eyes were shamelessly staring right at his lips.

he wasn't as buzzed as you. but to be honest, he'd been doing this a long time before you. "have you ever been kissed?"

it was his turn for his eyes to advert to your lips. all glossy and wet. for the thousandth time, your tongue peaked out, wetting them again before biting your bottom lip.

he couldn't get you to stop biting it, no matter how hard he tried.

he'd merely have to train you, when the time came.

"mm-mm." you shook your head at him. finally, your eyes broke from his lips and looked up at his eyes. he could see now, how truly buzzed you were. your eyes were all red and glassy, it was almost as if he could feel you floating. you tilted your head at him. "are you gonna kiss me?"

his hands ran up and down against your skin. "do you want me to?" a hesitant nod followed his question. "say please." pulling the blunt up to his lips for another drag. it was almost out now.

it was a mindless tease but he felt you squirm in his lap again. "please, rafe." voice but a whiney murmur.

he blew the smoke out from his lips and watched it fall into your own parted mouth.

your eyes fluttered shut and he didn't give you a chance to think, his lips replacing the smoke. his were hungry, your's were soft, inviting. and he took the invite as soon as it'd been handed to him. his hand ran up your back, shoving your body as close to his own as he could. he wanted the heat to envelope him, wanted your skin against his own. wanted so badly to rip off every piece of clothing that tainted you. wanted you to be his for the taking.

but the way you suddenly pulled back, those doey, bloodshot eyes and fearful voice murmuring the words, "you're not gonna tell sarah, are you?" told rafe exactly what he already knew.

he need to be patient with you. take his time unravelling you until there was nothing left.

he shook his head, fingers soft against your face, running across your cheek.

"don't worry, sweetheart, your dirty secret's safe with me."

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somnoir · 27 days ago

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Our darling mother

Wraith and Specter were mortal enemies with the same powers. Perhaps the same species. But with very different aspects.

The Justice League knew very well that their newest member of the YJ was part of a species that was known to earth as "Ghosts". Denizens of another dimension that essentially posed as the interdimensional afterlife. Where should manifested into something else, born of ectoplasm and such.

Specter had a hybridisation of ghost constitution. Being half human and all. However, unlike most ghosts, her special powers typically made her as fast as speedsters. Her speed, accompanied by her ghostly abilities, made her scarier than most speedsters.

Then there was what was considered to be her arch nemesis.

Wraith was what one called an independent criminal. He wasn't affiliated with anyone. Occasionally worked with some rogues but that was only to his own benefit. Batman and Cyborg had identified his goals (or what they could consider to be his goals). The destruction of an entire government organisation along with something else. Perhaps slaughter.

Specter had been familiar with such a villain.

"He's... Not so bad. Not really. His heart is in the right place but his execution of it is cruel." Specter said, "Some ghosts have been experimented on before and Wraith almost became one of them... None of us ghosts like the G.I.W. but Wraith is determined to slaughter not only them but their associates too."

"Meaning?"

"If you have a connection to the G.I.W. then you won't be spared from his wrath... The last time he tracked down one of their scientists, he killed the man's wife and mother."

Batman grimaced, looking at the glitches out picture of Wraith. He could compare the man to be around Jason's height—or taller. Specter had reported that Wraith was a fair bit older than her.

While Specter was a ghost that was best with speed, Wraith was destructive power. Strength in it's most dangerous form. He was capable of leveling mountains and summoning fireballs bigger than the daily planet sculpture.

The last time they fought Wraith without Specter, Superman and Wonderwoman were immediately shot down. Hell, even Batman was struggling after the bastard decided to play dirty. Batman quickly decided Wraith was an enemy after the ghost targeted Red Robin—as if knowing Bruce would immediately falter when one of his children were in immediate danger.

But there were times when some of them couldn't help but not blame Wraith. Not when they had failed to save ghosts who were being tortured and vivisected. Not when it was Wraith who frees them all.

(Bruce knows damn well that Jason seemed to be more inclined to Wraith than any of them.

"He's protecting his people, old man." Jason had once said.)

It's another crisis. Another fight. Lex Luther has apparently joined hands with the GIW. And broadcasting live was a ghost missing their limbs and trapped inside a tube of glowing green.

Before anyone could even say a word, the watchtower shook. Specter didn't seem surprised but her eyes were colder than the ice she conjured.

"Why the fuck is Wraith outside?" Barry warily muttered, already preparing for a fight once they saw the ghost hovering outside. He wasn't attacking, cursing, or doing anything else. He was just floating, staring at Specter.

"Ellie." Wraith growled, eyes glowing red while Specter's eyes shone venomous green. "You gonna keep playing hero, Polaris?"

Specter growled back, "Let him in."

They all shot her a confused look. Batman should be asking questions. Superman should be refusing. Wonder Woman should be demanding for a reason. But the two ghostly beings were staring at each other like they finally agreed on something.

Constantine slowly lowered the forcefield that kept ghosts out and some ghosts in. Wraith floated through the glass of the watchtower and stood before Specter—towering over her.

"You gonna admit it?"

"I already agreed with you that the GIW were trash—but that doesn't give you the right to arbitrarily take the lives of those that weren't involved in their operations!" Specter yelled.

"So what? We keep them alive then someone's gonna come back to avenge their damned souls. Might as well wipe 'em out before they can come back to bite our asses!" Wraith yelled back.

"Dante! Mom didn't fucking raise you to be like this—"

"OUR MOTHER IS BEING BROADCASTED BY THOSE BASTARDS! OUR MOTHER IS IN THEIR FUCKING CAPTIVITY!" Wraith—Dante snapped, pointing to the screen where Lex Luthor went on about the ghosts. "Our mother has been missing for two months and the GIW had him. It's because of that krypton obsessed fucker that I failed to track him down!"

"IF YOU HAD JUST LISTENED TO ME AND LET ME TALK TO THE LEAGUE—"

"—YOUR LEAGUE IS FUCKING USELESS—"

"—MOM WOULDN'T—

Batman gritted his teeth, "ENOUGH!"

Everyone fell silent, unable to speak any further. It was hard processing all this.

Wraith and Specter were siblings... Their mother was the ghost in captivity. The two of them have been searching for their mother for months.

Constantine choked on whatever drink he had, letting his own flask fall and staring at the screen in suddenly horror. "Shit... SHIT! THAT'S THE FUCKING GHOST KING!" He screeched, pointing at the screen as realization struck him like lightning. Then he pointed at the two Ghosts, "And you're... Holy—"

"Ellie, you and I both know how this will end if mother isn't save within the fucking hour." Wraith snarled, "The realms will go to war."

"Spec?" Conner murmured softly, trying to see if their friend would actually—

But then Specter looked resigned, a little regretful, but also cold. Like she was prepared to fight them all. Slowly, but damn surely, she was walking towards Wraith and standing beside him.

"Specter." Diana narrowed her eyes.

"I'm sorry." Specter bowed her head just a bit, "But my brother is right... If the King of the Infinite Realms is not saved within the hour... There will be war. As your friend, I am inclined to warn you that you will not win. Not when the Realms' warriors were once yours. We have our Kryptonians. We have fallen demigods. We have many more than that."

Everyone's breath hitched.

"So please... Please help us." Specter pursed her lips. "Because I don't want a war... But I want my mother safe."

"My sister speaks for herself," Wraith scoffed, "I don't give a flying fuck about you people. But Luthor did something to block me and now I can't track them. Since you're all heroes, I suggest you get to work... Or else I'll lead the ghosts myself to burn your world down."

Teeth—sharp and eldritch. Glowing red eyes turned to Bart Allen—the boy from the future flinched away, as if horrified.

"You speedsters seem familiar with me." Wraith chuckled, "Know that I will not hesitate to eviscerate this world like the other timelines."

High King Phantom was retrieved from the secret facility Lex Luthor and the GIW created with an anti-ecto forcefield that had them go undetected by other ghosts. Constantine and the Supers were quick to find it and tear it to bits.

Wraith did not go to war. Specter thanked them and promised that there will be no war.

Danny was very concerned as to what the hell his children got up to during the months he was gone. Clockwork happily told him how his children developed fratricidal tendencies.

#Our darling mother #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #crossover #danny fenton #dan phantom #dani fenton #Danny is a mom #Danny is their mom #Dante and Ellie have different perspectives on things #But they have their mama's heart

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