#souls that seek and sense each other

[trashlie]

Dumb ILY Brainrot thoughts: Stalkyoo as the concept of Old Souls where lifetime after lifetime after lifetime they always find each other, bonded so deeply that nothing can ever truly keep them apart. Effortless because they have always existed, so comfortable because they have always been. A fateful run in that was anything but a coincidence

[astrologyvas]

1st house overlays/synastry

18+

please do not copy or repeat my work anywhere sun in the 1st house: as we know, the sun illuminates anything it touches. naturally, in synastry, the sun will light up & shine onto the house's personality, appearance, and approach to life. this is a great placement to have for both romantic and platonic endeavors because you feel a mutual understanding; like you're on the same page in the book of life. the house will feel an abundance of validation and recognition from the sun. something about the sun just makes the house feel good, like the world still has something to offer. the sun is very fond of the way the house deals with situations thrown at them. "i love the way you handled that". there's a natural sense of comfort found in each other, it feels like you just get each other. the house may find a lot of peace and serenity within themselves when they find their way back to the sun. gives me the energy of the house thinking "i wish they were here" when they're at a shitty party. the house's general character and disposition is highly aligned with how the sun sees themselves, giving a sense of familiarity and closeness. complimenting each other back to back energy. this person would be a great partner to go out with, because they will always give you the acknowledgement and confidence you're seeking. "should i get this tattoo?" "you would look amazing with that tattoo".

moon in the 1st house: there is no room for concealing emotions in this connection. both parties intuitively sense how the other is feeling, and can see their true motivations with ease. the house may feel almost unveiled by the moon, surprised by how quickly they are able to keep up with their emotions. this is the type of person you miss having as a friend when breaking it off with them, even if you were romantically involved. similar to the sun, the moon overlay shares a natural compatibility with one another. this synastry provokes emotional harmony and deep understanding. the feeling of telling them something you wouldn't ever open up about with anyone else. in this connection, the moon can serve as a tender reflection to show the house how to heal and nurture themselves. this overlay will make both not only physically attracted to each other, but also intensely emotionally. the moon finds the house's mind, body and soul irresistible, while the house desires the moon physically as a means of emotionally connecting. you are able to read each other exceptionally well, the energy of knowing how they feel just by the look on their face. the house will be openly receptive to the moon's way of reassurance. the house saying "i never thought about it that way" when the moon offers them consolation. both parties feel immense relief and comfort within each other. the person you look for in a crowd, to find they were looking for you too.

mercury in the 1st house: this overlay is a like-minded and stimulating bond. having this synastry makes connecting on basic levels practically intrinsic. it feels like you get along right away, and often share similar outlooks on topics and values. the way mercury speaks and allocates knowledge is admirable to the house, like mercury is able to lay out information in a way that resonates with them. the house feels listened to by mercury, like they don't understate the house's intelligence. mercury can easily enthrall the house person. it's like mercury has an innate ability to make any conversation exciting and intriguing for the house. both may steal slang and phrases from each other, because they like the way they sound coming from the other person. initially, the house may struggle to keep up with mercury's fast-paced nature, or find them hard to fully grasp. mercury may feel like they're much more charismatic and magnetic when they're in the presence of the house. it's like a switch flipping for mercury, being able to reel the house in with their words. both parties banter and make fun of each other all the time. the two of them may be very attracted to each other's hands and arms, like you can't stop staring at their fingers when they're doing random tasks. mercury will be inclined to mentally pursue the house, they want to win them over with the charm they exude. no matter what, mercury feels an unquenchable curiosity for how the house operates and perceives information.

venus in the 1st house: this is a connection that will cause intense physical attraction no matter what. in my personal experience, this has been an infatuation placement. the intangible pull these two feel for one another is powerful and consuming. venus finds the house very physically appealing, and the house basks in the planet's admiration. everything about the house, how they move, walk, and talk, venus can't get enough of. on a less superficial level, both parties will find the other very gratifying and enjoyable to be around. this connection will be fun under any circumstances, they can have a good time together even if they're on a sinking boat. venus will feel proud and confident in public with the house. "can you believe i pulled them?" energy. however, this placement can be bittersweet, in the sense of the house feeling like venus doesn't see their personality, only their looks. this can be difficult to overcome if there aren't substantial placements or aspects to show genuine admiration rather than shallow attraction. at its worst, this synastry can have the energy of shane & rachel from the white lotus. in this bond, both venus and the house share a similar taste for clothing, art and culture. the type of relationship where they like to dress each other up and pick out their clothes. the house will feel increasingly attractive and charming when in the vicinity of venus, and venus easily finds inspiration through the house. this is the person you have a hallway crush on at school.

mars in the 1st house: mars falling in the 1st house is an enticing, aggressively playful, and physically erotic linkage. this synastry gives me the energy of not being able to contain your smile, even though you're arguing. these two grind each other's gears, in a way that you want to strangle them, then make out. mars is instantly on a pursuit for the house, like they see them as something to conquer. the house thrives on the ego boost from mars' chase, and may deprive mars of their presence to maintain control. initially, the mars is definitely somewhat at a whim of the house. however, the house is physically captivated by mars. mars appears as a rugged, lustful meal of sex appeal for the house. "i could eat that girl for lunch". it's like mars gives the house a taste for life and adrenaline. eye-fucking each other across the room vibes. this overlay may feel like a game at times, like a nonchalant war to see who breaks the tension first. the house's behavior riles mars up, intentionally or not. the energy of mars making fun of the house constantly, while the house is telling them to shut up. the first impressions of this person are very strong and memorable, you definitely won't forget them after originally meeting. this connection is inspiring for the house, as if mars pulls motivation out of them. very lively and dynamic relationship. laughing, tickle torture, and angry sex.

jupiter in the 1st house: both the house and jupiter light up when they're around each other. jupiter, the planet of "so much abundance it's spilling off the plate," entering the 1st house is a great placement for self-esteem and confidence. both parties exhilarate and inspire each other plenty. jupiter is able to expand the worldview of the house, encouraging them to take risks and learn about life simply by having fun. jupiter's praise massively inflates the houses ego and self-worth. the house feels emotionally enriched by jupiter, like they can't help but feel fulfilled by them. the house may find that being around jupiter brings luck & opportunities for them, like things just fall into place. it makes me think of jupiter as a celebrity, and the house as their friend who gains recognition through jupiter's influence. jupiter feels very admired by the house in this connection. the house can learn a lot from this bond; it feels like jupiter is an infinite well of knowledge for the house to dive into. this synastry can almost be pedestal-like for jupiter, as if the house thinks they can do no wrong. be wary of rose-colored glasses and too much glorification. if the house is younger or less mature, jupiter can find their timidity annoying at times; offended that the house doesn't always trust jupiter's wisdom and direction. however, the mutual respect this connection brings is healing for the soul of both jupiter and the house. this synastry is groupie love, painting portraits of each other, and endless flattery.

saturn in the 1st house: this synastry will force you to grow outside of yourself. if saturn does one thing in this connection, its holding the house accountable for their bullshit. both party's insecurities and weaknesses are obvious to each other, like they're sprawled out on the table. saturn often tries to clean out the house's faults to help them grow. this can be suffocating for the house at times, especially if they aren't looking for or open to change. the house can subconsciously try to look good and doll up if they know saturn is going to be there. the house craves saturn's validation, and can succumb to imbalanced power dynamics if not careful. if saturn is afflicted or unevolved, this connection can be critical and envious in nature. the house easily expresses themselves, which can inspire jealousy in saturn for something that doesn't come as instinctually to them. saturn can really pick at the house's insecurities if they want to, and vice versa. these two need to be mindful of their jabs, and careful of being too mean and berating. if this connection is stabilized and healthy, these two can be the ultimate power couple that comes off as sultry and mature to others. saturn builds the house's confidence from the ground up, like they're a project for saturn to work on and improve. saturn returns are a great time for these connections, because of the structure and discipline the saturn person offers in the chaos.

uranus in the 1st house: in this connection, uranus loves to stir things up within the house and help them break free from the mundane comforts of life. initially, the house can find uranus to be totally weird, "out there," and sporadic. it's like the house is puzzled by how uranus acts. "i've never met anyone in my life like you before". uranus grows on the house very fast, and inevitably, they start thinking uranus is unique and ahead of their time. the house needs to be cautious of being too stubborn and apprehensive in order to keep uranus' flighty nature from kicking in. this connection can feel like you grow into the best and most authentic version of yourself through each other. uranus helps catapult the house into being who they truly are, leaving no room for self-doubt and embarrassment. the house may be fascinated with how uranus conducts and presents themselves. it gives me the energy of the house pulling a lot of fashion inspiration from uranus, because of how innovative and original the planet comes off to the house. the type of people you save to your pinterest board. this bond is electric and unpredictable, they love to keep each other on their toes. however, both may be resistant in relation to commitment because of the intense need for freedom uranian energy activates. these people provoke rebellion in yourself you've never felt before, like you want to see how far you can go before getting caught. uranus sees a plethora of untapped energy in the house, and thrives off inspiring them.

neptune in the 1st house: the converging of this overlay is dreamy and illusive. the energy lingering around this connection is an intoxicating, love-at-first-sight experience. neptune is bewitched by the house's beauty. this synastry is rose-colored glasses on steroids. underneath the blissful admiration and mesmerized gazes, neptune's blurry nature makes what you think you know about your partner and what is actually real an uncomfortable awakening. the house can feel a frustrating pressure to live up to neptune's unrealistic fantasy that they have projected onto them. on one hand, the house wants to indulge and relish in neptune's perception in order to maintain a beautiful and magnetic aura. on the other hand, the house wants to be loved for their true, genuine self. both need to tread carefully in this connection, as the neptunian influence can replace typical bonding and becoming acquainted with predetermined conjectures and assumptions. the feeling of cutting them off, then realizing you didn't know anything about them. however, this synastry is a great opportunity for combined spiritual expansion and growth. sex is an unearthly union between them. deep understanding is mutual and almost psychic. "you make me feel like a person". they slip into your dreams, and know what you are going to say before you speak.

pluto in the 1st house: pluto's presence in the 1st house can be an intensely metamorphic bond. this relationship goes beyond physical, into the deep intertwining of each other. the house portrays a fascinating allure towards pluto. pluto feels very tempted and inexplicably drawn towards the house, almost like the house is testing to see when pluto gives in. the house feels like pluto dominates their mind, which can quickly lead to them becoming smitten. pluto's persona intimidates and simultaneously attracts the house. in this connection, pluto will inevitably hold a lot of power, and can become jealous and overbearing regarding the house. this bond requires pluto to be mindful of arising insecurities revolving the house's outward charm to others. the house feels like pluto peers into their soul, seeing their vulnerabilities and weak spots. the house almost can't turn away, because of the intimacy they discover through this connection. this is the type of couple that turns heads when they walk in. if pluto is afflicted, this synastry is susceptible for forced change and control. pluto needs to be cautious of trying to mold the house into what they want, rather than what the house wants. by supporting the house, pluto can propel the house's spiritual and psychological broadening, and act as an important guide for the house to fulfill the immense potential that pluto sees in them.

[deception-united]

Let's talk about killing off characters.

Killing off characters is a dramatic device often used to advance the plot, create tension, or evoke emotional responses from readers or viewers. We love doing it. The initial shock, the mourning after. The effects of it on the other characters. It's fun.

Nevertheless, you can still achieve the desired impact on your plot and characters without necessarily resorting to fictional murder.

Here are some alternatives to drive the plot forward:

Character Transformation: Instead of killing off a character, you can have them undergo significant personal growth or change. This could involve overcoming challenges, facing moral dilemmas, or undergoing a shift in beliefs or values. Their transformation can still drive the plot forward and impact other characters. (I especially love it when the transformation is negative—like when a traumatic experience of some sort completely strips a character of their soul. But that's a sentiment for another day.)

Betrayal or Conflict: Introduce betrayal or conflict between characters that challenges relationships and creates tension. This can lead to significant plot developments and character arcs without resorting to death. And it can be cause for quite a lot of angst.

Separation or Estrangement: Have characters physically or emotionally separated from each other, causing tension and driving the plot forward as they strive to reconnect or deal with the consequences of their estrangement.

Sacrifice without Death: Characters can make significant sacrifices that don't necessarily involve their death. This could be sacrificing personal goals, relationships, or values for the greater good or to achieve a specific objective.

Injury or Disability: Instead of killing off a character, you can incapacitate them through injury or disability. This will create challenges for the character and those around them, leading to character development and plot progression as they're forced to adapt to their new circumstances.

Redemption Arcs: Characters who have committed wrongdoings can undergo redemption arcs where they seek forgiveness, make amends, or strive to become better individuals. This can drive the plot forward while also adding depth to the character. Keep in mind that this may not be a suitable alternative to death for some characters—for instance, the protagonist forgiving their abusive parent despite all they were forced to go through may evoke a sense of indignation rather than admiration for their supposed selflessness.

Revelations or Secrets: Introduce revelations or uncover secrets that have significant impacts on characters and their relationships. This can lead to conflict, tension, and plot twists without the need for death.

Forced Alliances or Unexpected Partnerships: Characters can be forced into alliances or partnerships with unlikely allies, leading to interesting dynamics and plot developments as they navigate these new relationships.

Loss of Power or Status: Characters can experience a loss of power, status, or reputation, which can drive the plot forward as they strive to regain what they've lost, seek revenge on those responsible, or adapt to their new circumstances.

Time Constraints or Pressure: Introduce time constraints or pressure situations that force characters to act quickly and make difficult, split-second decisions that may end up being quite regrettable later on. This can raise conflicts of who's to blame, or what should have been done.

I feel like I strayed off a little, but there you have it. Hope this was helpful! ❤

[sunsburns]

kiss of life (ii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

part one

summary: i actually suck at writing summaries but basically this is part two of part one of that soulmate au fic i posted a week ago lol

—or: luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and... well, you.

word count: 6.42k

warnings: sorry for any spelling errors, i haven’t checked yet, suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov as he's slowly being corrupted by kronos, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is stubborn and a dick, loser!luke, annabeth smacking some sense to luke, grover being an icon, reader is lowkey unreliable tbh... cliff hanger (again... lmfao sorry)

a/n: part two!!! thank you guys for all the love on the first part! i am so grateful for everything and i love reading all the comments and reblogs. i hope this one doesn't end up flopping lmfaooo. i honestly wanted this to be a short angsty fic but i got carried away and now i'm planning a whole multi-part fic for this, phew. anyways enjoyyy <;33

At eighteen, Luke was cursed with nightmares. 

They clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel the fragile front of peace that he had fought so hard to maintain. Each night, he would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, the echoes of his tortured dreams lingering in the corners of his mind like a haunting melody.

The Hermes cabin, once a sanctuary from the outside world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him with each passing moment. The moon, a silent witness to his torment, cast its ethereal glow through the window, illuminating the slumbering forms of campers. Some were children of Hermes, like himself, bound by the tenuous ties of blood and kinship. Others, however, were unclaimed, their parentage shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

And as Luke lay awake in the stillness of the night, a sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of doubt. In the depths of his troubled sleep, he could feel the tendrils of darkness closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. And try as he might to deny it, he knew that his nightmares held a deeper significance, a harbinger of events yet to unfold in the shadowy pits of fate.

His nightmares were callings. A taunting voice would echo through the corridors of his mind, its insidious whispers weaving a thought of deceit and manipulation. It masqueraded as a voice of reason, a beacon beckoning him towards a destiny that promised demigods everything.

At first, Luke dismissed it as nothing more than the ramblings of a tortured soul, the byproduct of his own restlessness. But as the whispers grew louder and more insistent, he could no longer ignore the chilling realization that they were something far more sinister—a call to arms, a summons to embrace his role as a harbinger of the new world.

The nights he wasn't shaking from night terrors, he was tossing and turning at the thought of you. And he didn’t know what was worse. He couldn't escape you. The haunting image of you lingered in his mind even during sleep — your lips, your eyes, your skin, your voice, and that shared scar and your demise.

But at least, you'd given up on him by then. Your persistent efforts to reach out to Luke gradually dwindled into nothingness. Though you were still everywhere, a shadow that seemed to torment his every move, you no longer gave him even a fraction of your attention.

Gone were the days of you seeking him out, your footsteps no longer echoing in the halls of Camp Half-Blood in search of him. You refrained from asking for Chris's help, no longer burdening him with questions on Luke's whereabouts. The notes you once left behind were now relics of a time long past, their words fading with each passing day.

And as the full moon rose once more over the waters of the lake, you no longer waited by its shores.

Luke turned in bed, his mind restless as he tried to shake the image of you. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, seeking comfort in the warmth they provided, but the chill of unease still lingered in the air.

His gaze drifted across the row of beds, each a testament to the diverse personalities that inhabited the Hermes cabin. The floor was strewn with a chaotic array of sleeping bags, toys, and discarded clothing, while a collection of rocks adorned one corner near the closets, and drawings adorned the walls.

Despite the usual chaos that reigned during the day, the cabin now lay quiet and still. The children of Hermes, along with the unclaimed children and the ones of minor gods, had finally settled into the embrace of sleep. 

But amidst the calm, a sense of unease gnawed at Luke's consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over him after he noticed the empty bed and the slightly ajar door. 

Luke pushed back the covers and rose from his bed. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the empty bottom bunk, hoping not to wake anyone. The sight of an old penguin stuffed animal discarded at the foot of the bed made him edgy. His eyes trailed to the traces of blood splattered on the hardwood floor, stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luke picked up the toy, its soft white and black material now stained with crimson. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he made his way out of the cabin, the urgency of his steps echoing in the stillness of the night.

He knew all too well who the missing camper was – five-year-old Penelope, one of the newest arrivals to Camp Half-Blood and possibly one of the youngest campers. Found wandering alone in the woods near the camp hill just a week ago, she had been brought to safety by a group of fellow demigods on a quest. Luke couldn't shake the resemblance she bore to a younger Annabeth, with her wide eyes and insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wouldn't be surprised if Athena claimed her as her own one day–that is if he ever found her.

Luke's worry for Penelope weighed heavily on his mind, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he combed through every inch of camp. The traces of blood he discovered fueled his unease, each droplet a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the safety of the camp's borders.

In his search, Luke traversed familiar paths and hidden corners, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night. He scoured the armour, the climbing wall, and the camp store.

Luke had known all about campers disappearing, whether it be on a quest or to escape and try to live a normal life with humans that never really lasted long enough as monsters would dwell within the shadows outside of camp. 

It was in the dim glow of the kitchen lights that Luke finally caught a glimpse of Penelope, perched on the counter in her pyjamas, her hair adorned with two loose pigtails. A sense of relief washed over him at the sight of her safe and sound, yet it was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating as he listened to the soft murmur of conversation from within. With a steady breath, Luke pushed the door open ever so slightly, peering through the crack to catch a glimpse of Penelope. And you.

You, who looked older than when you first met in the infirmary. There was an air of maturity about you, a gracefulness that hadn't been there before. Your features seemed more refined, your presence commanding attention in a way that spoke of inner strength and resilience. Luke couldn't help but notice how your beauty had blossomed, surpassing the standards of mere mortal allure. It was a beauty that seemed to defy classification, uniquely yours yet undeniably captivating.

Despite this, Luke sensed a shift in your demeanour—a resignation, perhaps, to the reality of his ignorance. You had lost any hope you once harboured for him. His guarded nature would forever keep you at arm's length. And while part of him knew that this was for the best, a small, almost imperceptible part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

For in the crossroads of his heart, amidst the shadows that threatened to consume him, there lingered a faint glimmer of longing. The thought of being intertwined with someone who could offer solace in his darkest moments, who could bring light to the depths of his despair, held an undeniable appeal. And as much as he tried to deny it, the chance of you approaching him once more tugged at the fringes of his resolve, tempting him to let down his guard and allow you closer than he ever dared to imagine.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing up this late?" You approached Penelope with a gentle smile, a cookie in your hand as a peace offering. 

Your words hung in the air, gentle and coaxing, as you tried to draw Penelope out of her shell. Luke watched from the shadows, his gaze flickering between you and the young camper, a sense of admiration stirring at how you spoke to Penelope.

Penelope hesitated, her gaze shifting between the cookie in her hand and you. 

"You don't know?" You persisted, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of playfulness. You settled beside Penelope on the counter, your posture was relaxed as you leaned in closer to her. "Is it... a secret?" you whispered.

Luke noted the subtle change in your demeanour, the way you seemed to adapt effortlessly to Penelope's shy nature. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, one that resonated deeply with him.

As Penelope nodded in response to your question, you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "Let me tell you a secret," you offered, holding up your pinky finger as a symbol of trust. "I am the best secret keeper in this camp. I pinky promise."

After a moment's hesitation, Penelope tentatively reached out, her tiny finger linking with yours in a hesitant pinky promise. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Penelope murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hurt."

"What?" You gasped in genuine concern, your eyes widening as you shifted your attention to the young camper. "Can I see?"

Penelope nodded silently, her arm outstretched towards you. Luke observed from his vantage point, his heart twisting with worry as he noted the faint hint of red near Penelope's elbow.

You took Penelope's arm into your hands gently, your touch tender and reassuring as you rolled up the sleeves of her pale pink pyjamas. Luke couldn't help but notice the familiarity of those pyjamas, a subtle reminder of Annabeth's kindness and resourcefulness in making Penelope feel at home.

"Oh, wow, that looks like it hurts," You remarked softly, your brows furrowing in sympathy as you retrieved a first aid kit from the nearby cabinets. "You're handling it very well," you praised Penelope, your tone gentle and encouraging. "So brave of you."

Penelope watched you attentively as you began to clean her wound, her small frame tense with discomfort. "I don't feel brave," she admitted quietly.

"No?" You glanced up at her, "why not?"

"I miss my mommy."

Her words were tinged with a sense of longing that struck a chord with both you and Luke.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thoughts drifting to his own longing for his mother. Penelope's admission resonated with him deeply, reminding him of the ache that never truly faded, no matter how many years passed, no matter how deep he tried to bury it. 

It was a sentiment shared by every demigod at camp, a silent ache that echoed through the cabins and training grounds. Yet, it was a pain rarely spoken aloud as if verbalizing it would make it all too real, too unbearable.

The yearning for a parent, for someone to fill the void left by their absence, weighed heavily on each camper's shoulders. It was a burden they carried silently, masking their vulnerability with bravado and determination. But for Penelope, the longing was raw in its innocence.

At just five years old, she was too young to fully comprehend the extent of her emotions. She couldn't grasp the complexities of her situation, the world of gods and monsters that surrounded her. All she knew was the absence of a mother's embrace, the absence of a comforting presence to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears.

It was a pain she didn't deserve, a burden too heavy for such a young soul to bear. The gods, in their arrogance and indifference, seemed oblivious to the lives they had shattered, and the pain they had inflicted upon their own children.

"Yeah?" You responded gently, "How much do you miss her?"

"This much," Penelope replied, her small hands spreading wide.

"Wow! That's a lot," you remarked, a sombre note underlying your tone as you processed Penelope's words. After a beat of silence, you shook off the heaviness of the moment and mustered a smile for her. "There we go. All cleaned up," you announced cheerfully, pressing a bandaid onto her elbow.

Penelope's smile widened in response, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she kicked her feet. In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she murmured her thanks to you.

"So, you wanna tell me how you got hurt?"

"I don't know." This had been the most Luke had ever seen Penelope talk, and while her voice was still timid, the words slipping out hesitantly, she seemed to confide in you. "I woke up because my arm hurt."

"The cut was just there?" You asked, and when she nodded, you hummed sympathetically. "...I get those too, you know."

Penelope's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," you affirmed with a soft chuckle. "A lot of people do. You get them from your soulmate. Did your mom ever tell you about soulmates?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, a long time ago, humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces," You explained.

"What?"

"I know, right? Super freaky. So freaky that Zeus decided to split them in half. So, now we have two arms, two legs, and one face."

"What happened to the other half?"

"That's our soulmate. Our other half. And Aphrodite gave us a gift to help us find our soulmate." The smile that had adorned your face slowly waned, "Every time you get hurt, your soulmate gets hurt too."

"Is that why you have a cut on your face?"

The question lingered, hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Luke held his breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response. But instead of answering, you reached out to Penelope, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you guided her off the counter.

"Let's get you back to your cabin."

Your words were gentle, a soft reassurance for Penelope's sake, but Luke could sense the undercurrent of sadness that ran beneath them. As you led Penelope away, Luke's heart ached in a way that felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time. It burned the same way it did when he returned from the quest when he hated the world and everyone in it, but this time, the only person he could find himself hating was himself.

He retreated from the door, clutching the stuffed animal in his hands. He felt a fleeting reminder of the times he would hide from the monsters with Thalia.

Luke's mind swirled with discordant emotions, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty. He knew he didn't deserve your answer, didn't deserve the solace of your words. He had made it clear too many times to count that he never wanted a soulmate, never wanted you.

But despite his protests, despite the walls he had built around his heart, Luke couldn't deny the tug that pulled him to you, the hunger in his soul that refused to be ignored. It was a longing he couldn't shake, a yearning that whispered of a connection he dared not embrace. Knowing that keeping you away was the only way to protect you from the darkness that lurked within him was what kept him sane.

"Luke?"

The sound of his name tore Luke out of his thoughts like a violent gust of wind. He spun around, finding you standing on the porch to the kitchens, Penelope at your side. She held your hand, a small beacon of warmth and light in the dimness of the night. 

It seemed too perfect, too surreal, and Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief. Were you trying to kill him? It had been too long since the last time he spoke to you, let alone stood so close to you, and here you were, the epitome of what a demigod should be, even if you were still in the dreaded bright orange camp shirt.

"Hey," he managed to say.

You continued to descend the stairs, each step cautious and deliberate. "What- uh, what are you doing up?"

"I was actually looking for Penelope." Luke motioned to the girl hiding behind your legs. When he caught her eye, Penelope grinned and let go of your hand, darting over to Luke and jumping into his arms. He lifted her easily, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed her the stuffed toy she had left behind. 

"Oh." You hummed, "I didn't know you're a Hermes kid?"

"I'm unclaimed," Penelope chimed.

"For now," Luke's voice was gentle as he held Penelope in his arms. "And what were you doing up?"

"I was looking for a bandaid. I got lost." Penelope's words were punctuated by a soft yawn, and she nestled her head against Luke's shoulder, her exhaustion evident in every movement.

You hesitated, your gaze shifting to meet Luke's. "I found her by the canoes... near the dock."

The silence that settled between you felt heavy, suffocating almost as if it threatened to engulf you both. Luke found himself wandering back to the memories of you waiting for him at the dock during the summer nights and the regret that weighed heavily on his heart for never approaching you. He remembered the countless times he stood among the trees, watching you from afar, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

Were you waiting for him there tonight? 

No, you couldn't have.

Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole. "Listen, I-"

"I'm gonna go." You cut him off abruptly, your voice carrying a hint of tension. "Counsellor duties and all. I've got cabin checks in the morning so... you know, I gotta print papers... and stuff..."

Luke frowned at your lame excuse. "It's midnight."

"It's never too early to start now." You huffed defensively. "Bye, Penelope."

"Bye," Penelope mumbled sleepily, her hand lazily waving in your direction as you walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night and the trail leading to the Aphrodite cabin.

As they made their way back to the Hermes cabin, Luke held onto Penelope tightly, feeling the weight of her small body in his arms. The night air was cool against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of shame for the unease he noticed in you earlier. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

Once they returned to the warmth of their cabin, Luke moved with a careful grace, mindful not to disturb the sleeping campers around them. He gently placed Penelope back on her bed and tucked her in. But as he began to step away, her small hand shot out, wrapping around two of his fingers. Luke froze, eyes wide with surprise.

"Luke?" Penelope's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife.

"Yeah?" Luke's voice was equally quiet.

"I think your soulmate is really cool." 

Penelope's words hung in the air, a simple statement that carried more weight than he could have ever anticipated.

Seven hours later, the memory of your face lingered in Luke's mind like an unshakeable ghost. Tossing back and forth in his bed, he tried to rid himself of the image, but it clung to him like a shadow. Each time he closed his eyes, your face flashed before him, haunting his thoughts. Even when he turned away, the spectre of Kronos lurked in the depths of his subconscious, a reminder of the choice that still loomed over him.

As morning broke over Camp Half-Blood, Luke found himself seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his fellow campers. Annabeth's presence brought a brief distraction.

She slid into the seat in front of him during breakfast and gave him a strange look, slightly out of breath from the morning rush, a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice carrying a note of concern. Pausing to tie back her braids, she studied him intently. "Who you looking for?"

Luke's response came too quickly, "No one," he replied, his voice strained. Thankfully, Chris had left earlier because he was in charge of the climbing wall in the morning, he wasn't there to tell Annabeth that Luke had been looking for you. His eyes scanned the sea of faces in the dining hall, a futile attempt to catch sight of you amidst the crowd. He felt pathetic. "What's up with you?"

Annabeth raised her brows. "Archery? Together? Remember? Or did you forget?"

"No. I didn't forget."

She only stared at him, skeptical.

"What?" he asked, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I get it," Annabeth's smirk hinted at a newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall, as she shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. "How long are you planning to keep this up for?"

Luke frowned, confused.

"This entire act you have with... you know," She didn't need to say your name for him to catch on. "It's getting out of hand, no?"

"I..." Caught off guard by her directness, Luke hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Choosing to play dumb, he feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." Annabeth's knowing look pierced through his facade. She was always too perceptive for her own good. Fixing him with a narrowed gaze, she gave him a playful kick under the table, the impact enough to draw a startled reaction from Luke. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she took another bite of her apple before teasing him further. "Well, Grover said you're killing yourself."

"What?" He blinked at her, taken aback, "I'm not killing myself. Grover's just being dramatic."

"I don't think so." She said, slowly, carefully forming her words. "I mean, if I had a soulmate..."

Luke's defences bristled at the mention of soulmates, a topic he preferred to avoid. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?" 

"I'm allowed to worry, "Annabeth reminded him, her words tinged with a gentle insistence. "Family, remember?"

The word 'family' carried weight, a reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged over the years. It was a phrase Annabeth often employed to coax Luke out of his shell, to encourage him to confide in her. When they were younger, 'family' meant everything to Luke, thanks in no small part to Annabeth's influence.

"You don't need to worry," Luke assured her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve. "I know what I'm doing." But did he? Luke longed for the simplicity of a time before he met you when the idea of having a soulmate seemed like a distant fantasy. Now, every decision he made, every scar he bore, carried weight, knowing it could impact you in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"The least you can do is get to know her before she leaves."

Her words struck a chord within him, prompting Luke to cast a discreet glance around the dining hall, searching for you amidst the bustling crowd again.

"She's leaving?"

"Not forever, "Annabeth clarified with a chuckle, "Just on a quest. Search and rescue. Nothing fancy."

"...How do you know this?" he said after a moment.

"Chiron told me," Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "He also told me to tell you that the ceremony is tonight. I hope that doesn't kill you."

It did kill him a bit. At least, it felt like it did. Luke Castellan moved through camp with a sense of urgency, his strides purposeful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding weapons, throbbed with a dull ache with the burn from the bow and arrow. 

Shoulders tense, skin prickling under the relentless glare of the sun, he scanned the bustling campgrounds.

The weight of his bow rested heavily on his shoulder, the familiar weight offering a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With practiced precision, he counted the arrows in his quiver, his movements fluid and sure. 

Then, he heard it—the sound that drew him like a siren's call. Your voice, lilting and laughter-filled, cut through the clamour of the camp, pulling him toward you like a magnet. There you stood, leaning against the doorway of the Hephaestus cabin, a clipboard clutched to your chest as you exchanged banter with Atticus, the skilled swordsmith whose craftsmanship had forged Luke's sword.

There was something different about you today, something delicate, more approachable than he had ever seen before. Last night, with Penelope, you had worn a similar expression—gentle, caring—but it was a side of you that Luke had never been privileged to witness. With him, you had always been guarded, reserved, as though afraid that he would cut or maim you.

As you scribbled something onto your clipboard, Luke found himself intrigued by the way your smile softened. It was a stark contrast to the confident facade you often wore, and for a moment, Luke felt a pang of guilt for pushing you away so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, you were drawing closer to Luke with each step, your path inexorably leading you toward him. Part of him craved to reach out, while another part hesitated, unsure of how to talk to you after all this time.

"Hey," Luke finally managed to utter as you drew near, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused, a hint of surprise flickering across your features as you registered his presence. "Hi?" Your response was tentative, laced with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, you glanced down at your clipboard, "I'm not changing my rank on your cabin. I know three is low, but I was being generous."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Luke's lips. He was all too familiar with the chaotic nature of Cabin Eleven, where overcrowding was the norm and taking turns on the sleeping bags was treated as a game. "No, no. I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought through the purpose of seeking you out. "I think we need to talk."

The confusion in your expression mirrored his own, and for a moment, there was a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging between you. "Talk?" you echoed.

Luke nodded, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "Yes."

"You want to talk...? To me?" 

"I hope it's not that bizzare."

He tried to smile for you, but it felt wrong. Luke couldn't shake the weight of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew all too well that he hadn't been the embodiment of an ideal soulmate. In his mind, there lingered a pervasive belief that you harboured nothing but hatred towards him, something that you made obvious with every interaction between you two.

He wondered if this was the way you felt during the days he avoided you. 

Luke had noticed the shift. There was a calculated recklessness to your actions, a deliberate disregard for your own well-being that bordered on self-destructive. You stubbed your toe on roots and table legs, tugged too hard at your hair, and scraped your knees. You started to pull your punches while sparring with Clarisse, just enough to ensure that he felt the sting of every blow. You never blocked a hit in the face, a twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that your pain mirrored his own. Together, you would limp into the infirmary, bloodied and bruised where you'd be grinning far too wide, barely offering an ounce of guilt when Luke held ice to his face.

You lowered the clipboard from your chest, letting it rest against your side as you faced Luke. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the dense foliage above, casting dappled shadows that danced across your features and forced you to squint against the brightness. The noise of children's laughter and the sound of feet pounding against the earth filled the air.

Your voice cut through the noise, "You've made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me, Luke," you began, your words carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. "You can't blame me for being surprised."

As you began to walk toward the next cabin, Luke fell into step beside you, "Can you just give me a chance—" 

"I think you're too late for that."

"I know, I just—" Luke's words faltered, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to articulate his feelings.

"I have nothing to say to you," you declared abruptly, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Luke skidded to a stop just in time, his gaze meeting yours as you regarded him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Seriously. I understand, okay? Did I come on too strong? Maybe. Yeah, I'll admit that" you acknowledged, your expression softening slightly. "Maybe coming to you hours after your shit quest was stupid, but I gave you space when you asked—"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your quest," Luke interrupted, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

With a quiet "Oh," you stepped back, your eyes momentarily averting his gaze. Were you embarrassed? Were you disappointed? Did you want to fight? 

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thanks. I'm, uh, I'm seeing the Oracle after this. So... not technically a quest yet."

"It's your first one, right?" Luke's voice softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"If you're worried about getting another scar, don't worry, I doubt it's anything dangerous," you reassured him, though your words held a hint of hesitation. There was a fleeting moment where your gaze lingered on him as if expecting a sudden change in his demeanour, but Luke remained still, his expression unreadable. "I just need to find Eros and go from there."

"Eros?" Luke's pace slowed, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he raised his brows in interest. Yet beneath the surface, a seed of annoyance sprouted, tendrils of jealousy winding their way through his thoughts. Your quest sounded far more intriguing than his own, and a bitter brew of envy churned in the depths of his stomach. Despite his inner turmoil, he attempted to play it off with a forced chuckle. "Has Cupid gone missing?"

"Apparently," you muttered bitterly under your breath, the resentment palpable in your tone. Luke sensed the edge to your words, though he pretended not to notice.

You sighed, "Is this conversation going anywhere? I really need to finish these cabin checks. I'm busy enough as it is."

Your words held an unspoken plea for him to leave, and though Luke understood, a pang of disappointment nagged at him. He couldn't entirely blame you; after all, he'd been an ass for months.

Both of you hesitated just outside the door to cabin eight, and Luke could feel your eyes on him. When you began to step away, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. You froze, eyes wide with surprise.

“I also wanted to thank you,” He said, words rushing off his tongue.

“For what?” you asked.

“For last night.” He wasn't sure why he brought it up, why he felt like he needed you to know. "With Penelope."

"It was nothing," you said, voice barely audible. "We gotta look out for each other, right?"

Then, you left, you hurried up the short staircase to the cabin door, barely sparing him a glance before knocking. From his place, Luke could hear someone welcoming you into Artemis's cabin. He watched you until the door was shut behind you, vanishing you from his sight.

As the ceremony approached, the hues of twilight painted Camp Half-Blood in a golden glow, a serene yet foreboding atmosphere enveloping the surroundings. Luke's unease mounted with the setting sun, casting stretched-out shadows that seemed to carry something unnoticed. He couldn't shake the image of the figure from his nightmares, its monstrous visage haunting his thoughts with each passing moment. Yet, amidst the creeping darkness, there was an allure to the unknown, a temptation that beckoned him; its words, its promise of seeing the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the white marble archway, half-expecting the nightmare to materialize at any moment, its twisted form emerging from the shadows with outstretched fingers. However, it was you who appeared, ascending the steps with graceful determination. Your presence seemed to dispel the shadows, bathing the surroundings in a radiant glow that eclipsed the fears that had once gripped Luke's heart. You were a blinding vice.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A sudden jab to his side sent him recoiling, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Luke winced, his gaze flickering to you as you flinched, subtly reaching for your own side. Quickly diverting his attention, he focused on the girl who had spoken.

Clarisse arched a brow at Luke, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Jumpy."

"Give him a break," Chris interjected, joining Luke's side and draping an arm over his shoulder. "Luke had a rough night, he lost a kid."

"Is that so?" Clarisse's grin widened. "And Chiron doesn't know? I'm assuming he doesn't otherwise, he wouldn't have picked you for this."

Luke scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Clarisse's sarcasm was palpable. "Oh, I don't doubt it. The most humble, too," she retorted, unfazed by his glare. "But let's face it, a search and rescue isn't exaclty your thing anymore. You're more of an action kind of guy. You live off the glory of victory. Chiron knows that."

She was right, Chiron did know that. Which was why he rarely requested Luke to stand in unless there was a catch. Then, the flames in the torches flickered to life, and silence enveloped the candidates. Each demigod chosen by Chiron swiftly took their place, standing tall and resolute by a marble pillar, eager to showcase themselves as the prime choice for the quest. Anything for Kleos. Anything for glory.

Chiron nodded, his gesture sharp and decisive, as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before addressing the assembly. 

"The Oracle has confirmed that this quest is a search and rescue," he stated, casting a brief, confident glance in your direction. "One where you will use all your best efforts to bring Eros back to the safety of Mount Olympus and restore the lost balance. I'm sure you know where to find him." His gaze then shifted to the rest of the candidates. "Here, I have selected some of our most compelling candidates from which you will choose one to join you on your quest, ensuring your success. Annabeth Chase, Atticus Brang, Chris Rodrigues, Clarisse La-"

As Chiron listed the candidates, you carefully evaluated your options, your eyes calculating. In the dim torchlight, Luke could just discern the thin line etched across your face, stretching from the end of your brow to your-

"I choose Luke."

The ensuing silence felt like something they could all drown in, leaving everyone stunned. Even Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she spotted Luke's bewilderment. Surely, he must have misheard. There couldn't possibly be any way you had chosen him, could there?

Chiron turned to you, his tone measured. "Are you sure?"

You never shifted your gaze from Luke, who refused to meet your eyes as he stared fixedly at the pillar across from him. Yet, the clenching of his jaw, whether from anger or annoyance or something else, was enough to elicit a satisfied smile from you.

"I'm sure," you affirmed.

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[polaroidpascal]

lunch box || joel miller

AO3 || MASTERLIST || FREE PALESTINE

pairing : joel miller x f!reader

summary : joel’s stubbornness has him working at ungodly hours on your saturday morning. you decide to do something nice for him, but of course he would realize your absence in bed, especially so early when you’re supposed to be off…

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, reader briefly gets picked up and carried, no outbreak, domestic life with joel, sarah and ellie briefly mentioned, joel is mid-to-late-30s, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v sex (practice safe ofc!!), joel being big slightly mentioned once, lots of talking and praise (my man cannot shut up), creampie, cum eating (reader teasing joel lol), general sweetness from them both <3

WC : 2.7k

a/n : this is the first fic i've ever written and posted so enjoy !! :)

Ever since you met, you knew that Joel was the one. Talking with him is easy, like your souls have known each other in every lifetime. Being in his presence is safe and comforting. He feels like home. On top of that, after you had been seeing each other for a while and he let you meet Ellie and Sarah, they made you feel so welcome in their family. Life just makes sense with them.

Joel has been a contractor all his life. Even though he can set his own hours, he prefers to start working early so he can be home with his daughters when they finish school. Today — a Saturday — was weird, though. The project he had been working on needed to be rescheduled because of weather, but Joel decided to keep his hours the same. You could tell he didn’t really want to get up so early on a Saturday, but his stubbornness forbade him from changing that. Last night as you drifted to sleep in his arms, knowing he would probably not have time to get lunch tomorrow, you decided you would do something nice for him. 

Sarah and Ellie spent their Friday night away at a friend’s house (which you and Joel definitely took advantage of the night before), and the house is eerily quiet when you stir awake in the wee hours of your Saturday morning. You can feel Joel’s sturdy arms draped over your sides, his entire body pressed against your back as if he’s scared you’ll float away if he doesn’t keep you close. You hear his slow, sleepy breathing in your ear and you know he’s still dead asleep. Carefully, you lift his heavy arms from you and slip out of his grip, kindly replacing yourself with a pillow, and resting his arm back down. 

He stirs to adjust a bit and settles once again. Success.

You head to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, Joel's life support in a cup, and pull out the things you need to make his lunch. After, you head back to the bedroom to grab a comfy change of clothes. You wait out the brewing with a quick shower hoping it’s less noisy than you think it might be. 

While you shower, Joel stirs awake a little before his alarm. He shuts it off to avoid the noise and turns back over seeking your figure — but you’re gone. Confused and still groggy, he gets up searching for you. He hears the shower running and…

Is that… singing?

He puts his ear up to the door and hears you faintly singing the songs he plays on his guitar for you, trying to be as quiet as you can. His heart swells at your beautiful sound and he almost opens the door to join you, but then the smell of coffee begins to fill his nose. He walks into the kitchen to see the last drips fall into the pot and the ingredients for a hearty sandwich sitting on the counter. Putting two and two together, he nearly tears up realizing your plans and decides to sit to the side and wait for you, not wanting to ruin your surprise.

You throw on your comfy silk pajama shorts and one of Joel’s old band t-shirts that swallow you up and return to the kitchen.

You don’t notice Joel at all.

He watches silently from the dark living room as you pour a glass of coffee for him into his favorite owl mug and glide around the kitchen putting his lunch together. He admires your freshly washed hair, already air drying a little bit, the way his t-shirt, oversized on you, drapes over your curves perfectly, and how you continue quietly humming his songs. A small fire ignites deep inside of him, and as you turn around to pack his food, he rises from his chair.

He silently saunters over stealing two big sips of the coffee you poured for him. You hear the cup clink lightly on the counter and turn around just as his big hands glide over your hips, embracing you from behind. “And here I was thinking I was surprising you,” you tease as his face buries into your neck, his naked torso pressed completely against you.

He chuckles. “You did, angel. I just saw it before you were ready, ‘s all.” He kisses and nips your earlobe and you mewl at the sensation. He trails down to your neck while his hands gently guide your hips back into his, feeling him start to grow through his plaid pajama pants.

“Joel…”, you whisper as you turn around in his embrace to kiss him. You find his hungry lips waiting to invite you in. He tastes deliciously like the coffee you made for him and you hum contentedly at it. Your hands trace his bare sides and chest all the way up to his hair, and you run your fingers through his messy locks.

As if he’s not stiff from sleeping, he hoists you up from the floor carrying you as you straddle him, hands still dancing through his hair, and brings you to the couch. Without breaking your kiss for even just a second, he puts you down laying on top of you as you descend, a comfortable weight that he knows you love to feel. His kiss melts into yours and your lips feel like they become one. He breaks away despite your protesting whine and quietly teases, “You know you didn’t have to get up so early on your day off just ‘cause of me, right? I’d probably have time later to pick somethin’ up,” and his lips fall back to yours, one of his hands coming up to tease your breast.

You moan softly, “Well, with your luck, today would be the one day you wouldn’t find time. Besides, I felt like surprising you.” You smile coyly at him and watch as his pupils grow somehow even bigger at you.

He stares for a second trying to figure out how he got so lucky finding you, and a smile threatens to erupt at the corners of his mouth. “You’re so sweet, you might give me a cavity.”

Your chuckle is cut off by a small gasp as he kisses a line down your neck, his beard ghosting your collarbone. Once he reaches the collar of your — well, his — shirt, he descends lower, sticking his whole head under the shirt that engulfs you. He kisses up your stomach until he reaches your chest, taking one nipple into his mouth and you gasp again. His tongue moves firmly over the growing bud at a quickening pace. “Yes, Joel…” you whimper, then suddenly whine as he bites you, quickly soothing the mark with his tongue.

His free hand rises up to replace his mouth as he moves over to give your other side the same treatment. You pant from both movements happening simultaneously, him drawing out more whimpers and moans from you. You squirm underneath him accidentally grazing his own growing member and he groans, already painfully hard for you. His sounds send a sudden rush of heat straight to your core. He continues at your nipple, one bite in particular causing you to cry out and you could swear you feel his cock twitch against you as he moans in reply, another rush of arousal already flooding within you again.

He kisses a line down your chest, down your stomach, until his hands find the hem of your shorts. Your legs spread making room for his broad frame as he drags your panties and shorts down, seamlessly replacing them with soft yet hungry kisses where they once sat. He tosses them to the side, licking and kissing his way back up your thighs, nipping at the sensitive inner skin.

Joel’s eyes practically look pitch black, his pupils so blown out with lust, when you see him eyeing your throbbing core and he groans.

“Good lord, sweetheart,” is all he can manage as he admires you glistening for him. His eyes trail up your body. He could come just from the sight of you: legs spread eagerly, eyelids heavy, pupils just as blown as his own, desire written on your face in big bold letters…

And you see how desperate he looks for you, but a sly smirk quickly spreads across his face, “Bet you taste even sweeter than you act.”

Unable to control his hunger any longer, he fiercely licks one broad, flattened stroke up your middle, tasting the fruits of his labor. He moans at your taste, sending vibrations over your clit. You let out a cry of pleasure and his hips subconsciously rut into the couch, desperately seeking some relief for himself. His tongue glides through your folds, broad strokes accompanied by tight circles around your clit and the occasional dip inside…

“Fuck, Joel!” you cry as he focuses at your hole, his thumb replacing his tongue at your clit drawing tight, fast circles as his tongue dips in and out of you. “Oh my god… yes, please… feels so…”

He can only moan in response, sending lightning through your body with every sound he makes. “Please… oh, my g-… don’t stop, Joel… I’m so close…”

He can feel your impending release and between gasps for air, he practically begs, “Let it go, angel… that’s it… come all over my face… doin’ so good for me…”

His words send you hurdling over the edge as you come — hard. Your hips drive up into his face, head dipped back, crying out in pleasure. Joel refuses to let one drop go to waste, lapping up your slick like an animal. He licks you through your orgasm until the aftershocks and twitching die down some. Then he rises back up to your face. “Taste so good for me…” he says as he kisses you deep, lips and beard soaked. You moan from his taste; like coffee but with a sweet hint of you mixed in, and he swallows every little sound.

He breaks from your lips, your foreheads touching and lips barely ghosting over each other. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, darling,” he whispers as he reaches down to free his cock from his pajama pants.

“Please…” you beg, eyes lazily gazing into his own. “Fuck me, please.”

He looks deep into your eyes as he rubs up and down your heat, coating himself and he slides in without any problem, going slow when you gasp so your body can adjust to his size. But your body seems to draw him in, swallowing him whole and pulling him into you deeper and deeper. “My god…” he gasps as he feels the lingering spasms of your soft walls choking his cock.

You can only manage to whine in response, your eyes silently begging him to move, and he obeys. He begins slowly moving in and out, already embarrassingly close to his own climax, but he desperately wants to feel you unravel on him. Gradually, he finds his pace, bottoming out inside of you over and over and over. Refusing to break eye contact with you, his free hand dips down seeking your clit as he furiously traces tight, swift, calculated circles round and round.

Your eyes bolt shut at the feeling of him filling you up and teasing your clit. You’re well past the point of forming full sentences, and he can tell. Breathlessly, he tries to coax more from you, “Look so pretty taking my cock, angel… so good… fuck, you feel so good… ‘m not gonna last, sweetheart…” His pace is unpredictable, plowing into you for a few thrusts and then slowing down to a near stop to avoid finishing too early. “Need you — oh, fuck… god, almighty… n-need you to come for me, darling… please…”

As he begs for your release and his hips begin to falter, he finds that spot that only he has ever been able to find within you, rapidly sending you over the edge again. Your walls constrict suffocating his cock. You writhe and whine, almost unable to even make a sound.

He works you through your orgasm, his own rapidly approaching as he watches your eyes roll back from pure bliss. “Yeah, just like that, gorgeous… shit, you’re soaking me… fuck me, dripping everywhere… fuck… Oh my god, I’m—”

He cuts himself off with his own grunting and groaning as he begins to paint your walls with his come. He whines and gasps, bottoming out with every wave of his orgasm until his cock twitches for the last time. He collapses over you, crushing you in the best way with his weight as he tucks his face into your neck. You’re both panting, your chests crashing into each other as you come down from your highs and try to recover.

Joel finally softens enough to pull away without completely overstimulating himself, grunting as he rolls off of you and brings you to your side, spooning you and leaving small, tender kisses on your neck. His hand rests over your waist just as it did when you awoke this morning, and you lay there for a little while your heartbeats return to a normal pace.

You feel his come slowly leak out with his absence but you don’t even care. Being in his embrace washes away any other thought from your brain. All you can care to think about is the strong man clinging to you as he comes back down to Earth, holding you close and never letting go. You’re listening to his breath trying to fill his lungs once more and feeling his raging heartbeat through his chest and against your back. This is your personal heaven. Wishing you could live in this moment forever, you close your eyes and savor the feeling in all its glory.

You feel your body threatening to drift back asleep, but one particularly deep and content sigh from Joel reminds you that he is, in fact, supposed to be leaving for work. Glancing at the clock, you gently remind him of the time, your smile audible as you say, “You have just enough time to clean up and put on your clothes. Good thing your lunch is already packed.”

He gives a breathy chuckle and hesitantly gets up with that classic dad groan he always gives. Even though all he would really like to do is spend the rest of eternity lying right here on this couch in this moment with you, duty calls. He glances between your legs and sees the mess he made. You catch a glimpse of his look, his ferocious blushing visible even in the dimly lit room as he stares quite obviously at your middle. 

Feeling particularly mischievous, you reach down to collect what you can, scooping it up as it coats your fingers. Joel’s mouth drops open in a stupor, watching in disbelief as you bring your fingers up to your mouth and lick your digits clean. You unmistakingly see his breath hitch at the sight and know that if time weren’t the major issue right now, he would pounce on the opportunity for round two.

“Goddamn, angel…” he says shakily, still in utter disbelief. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy. You’re lucky I have a job to go do,” he tells you with a dazed, fucked-out look and tone as he retreats to the bedroom to attempt to get ready for work. You get up and slip into the bathroom to clean yourself up some more before returning to the couch exactly the way he had left you. 

Emerging from your bedroom dressed with lunch in hand, he spots you drifting off back to sleep and walks over to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. Before you completely succumb to the drowsiness, you manage a soft and sweet, “I love you.”

He smiles and bends back down to plant another, longer kiss right to your lips and whispers back, “I love you more.”

He sees you smile at that before he turns for the door and quietly leaves for work, already counting down the minutes of his shift left before he can come back home to you.

[leejenowrld]

soft and slow sex with - nct dream reactions

soft and slow sex with mark is characterized by a deep sense of emotional connection and mutual trust. he values the intimacy and vulnerability shared between you, savoring each moment of closeness and affection. mark's touches are gentle and reassuring, as he seeks to provide you with comfort and pleasure throughout the lovemaking. he enjoys exploring your body with tenderness and care, focusing on creating a sense of harmony and unity between you. with mark, soft and slow sex is a celebration of love and intimacy, a sacred bond shared between two souls deeply connected to each other.

mark's voice is a soft whisper against your skin as he trails kisses along your neck. “i love you,” he murmurs, his words filled with sincerity and warmth. you can feel the love in every touch, every caress, as he cherishes the connection between you. his movements are slow and deliberate, his hands exploring your body with gentle reverence. “you mean everything to me,” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours as he holds you close. with mark, soft and slow sex is more than just physical pleasure—it's a beautiful expression of love and devotion, a testament to the depth of your bond.

soft and slow sex with renjun is characterized by tender affection and gentle intimacy. he enjoys taking his time to explore you, savoring each moment of closeness and connection. renjun's touches are gentle and loving, as he focuses on providing you with pleasure and ensuring you feel cherished and adored throughout the experience. his movements are unhurried and deliberate, allowing both of you to fully immerse yourselves in the sensations and emotions of the moment.

“you're so beautiful,” renjun whispers, his voice barely above a breath as he presses soft kisses along your collarbone. "i love you more than words can express." his words are filled with genuine affection, each syllable carrying the weight of his emotions. as he trails his fingertips along your skin, he gazes into your eyes with adoration, his gaze filled with warmth and tenderness. "you mean everything to me," he murmurs, his lips grazing yours in a gentle kiss. with renjun, soft and slow sex is more than just physical—it's a soulful connection, a shared moment of love and intimacy that transcends the physical realm.

soft and slow sex with jeno is a deeply intimate and sensual experience. he relishes the opportunity to express his love and desire for you through unhurried and passionate lovemaking. jeno's touches are tender yet purposeful, as he explores you with reverence and adoration. he enjoys creating a sense of anticipation and longing, teasing and tantalizing you with slow and deliberate movements that build to a crescendo of pleasure and intimacy. with jeno, every moment is savored and cherished, as he seeks to create lasting memories of love and connection with you.

"you're my everything," jeno whispers, his voice a tender melody in the quiet intimacy of the moment. his hands caress your skin with a gentle touch, each stroke igniting a spark of desire within you. "i love every moment with you," he confesses, his breath warm against your ear as he pulls you closer. with each word, each touch, you feel his love surrounding you, wrapping you in a cocoon of affection and passion. as you melt into his embrace, the world fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the sweet ecstasy of your connection. with jeno, soft and slow sex becomes a symphony of love, a delicate dance of souls intertwined in blissful harmony.

soft and vanilla intimate sex with donghyuck is a delicate dance of passion and tenderness. his touch is gentle yet electrifying, sending shivers down your spine as you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace. as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, his words carry a sense of longing and devotion that fills you with a deep sense of intimacy.

"i adore you," he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm against your neck. you feel a rush of affection wash over you, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and affection. with each loving caress, donghyuck communicates his desire to make you feel cherished and adored, his touch a gentle reminder of the bond that binds you together. in his arms, soft and vanilla sex becomes a sacred expression of your love, a testament to the unbreakable connection you share.

soft and vanilla intimate sex with jaemin is like being wrapped in a warm embrace, every touch and caress filled with tenderness and affection. he cherishes every moment spent with you, savoring the intimacy and connection that blooms between you. as his lips meet yours in soft, sweet kisses, you feel a sense of tranquility wash over you, melting into his embrace with ease.

"i love you," he whispers against your lips, his voice filled with sincerity and adoration. you return his affectionate gaze, feeling a surge of warmth in your heart as you bask in the depth of his love. with each gentle movement, he communicates his desire to make you feel cherished and loved, his touch igniting a spark of passion that burns slowly and steadily between you. in jaemin’s strong arms, soft and vanilla sex becomes a beautiful expression of the profound bond you share, a testament to the depth of your love and connection.

for chenle, soft and slow sex is all about emotional connection and romantic intimacy. he values the closeness and affection shared between you, savoring every touch and caress exchanged. chenle's lovemaking is tender and attentive, as he focuses on expressing his love and devotion through each gentle movement and gesture. he enjoys whispering sweet words of affection and admiration to you, creating an atmosphere of warmth and tenderness that enhances your connection and deepens your bond.

"i adore you," chenle murmurs softly as he traces patterns along your skin, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "you're so beautiful, so precious to me," he adds, his voice laced with genuine affection. you feel a warmth spread through you at his words, knowing they come from the depths of his heart. with each tender caress, he reaffirms his love for you, creating an intimate space where only your connection matters. in this moment, there is nothing but the two of you, lost in the embrace of love and desire.

soft and slow sex with jisung is a tender and affectionate experience filled with warmth and intimacy. he values the emotional connection and closeness shared between you, cherishing each moment spent in your arms. jisung's lovemaking is gentle and attentive, as he seeks to express his love and devotion through every touch and caress. he enjoys exploring your body with tender affection, eliciting soft sighs and whispers of pleasure from your lips. jisung's movements are slow and deliberate, allowing both of you to fully immerse yourselves in the sensations of the moment. with jisung, soft and slow sex is a beautiful expression of love and intimacy, a precious gift shared between two souls deeply in love with each other.

"i love you," jisung whispers against your skin, his breath warm against your neck as he holds you close. "more than anything in this world," he adds, his voice filled with sincerity and adoration. you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his love for you. "you mean everything to me," he continues, peppering soft kisses along your jawline. you melt into his embrace, feeling cherished and valued beyond measure. in this moment, there is only the two of you, bound together by a love that knows no bounds.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Between Fire and Stone

Daemon Targaryen/Strong!female

summary: anxious about her approaching union to Aemond, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen seeks comfort | word count: 2.8k~ | warnings: incest, reader is described with strong features, fingering, p in v sex, arranged marriage, Daemon being a cheeky cunt

A/N: idek what I was on to write this cos I'm not usually a Daemon girlie but here we are besties. Tysm @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for beta-ing 😘 appreciate you

The cold mist nipped at the skin around her ankles, a shiver running up her spine as she struggled through the jagged rock towards the Dragonmont. Her fingers brushed against the stark stone for balance, the other holding the lit torch to light her way before her in the darkness.

It was one of her favourite things, taking a stroll through Dragonstone in the hour of the wolf. Peaceful. Quiet. Something she could have all for herself. Away from the prying of her maidservants and the overbearing boisterous nature of her brothers. Though Jace, now a man grown, still held onto those immaturities.

Yet another thing that set her apart from her siblings.

For she, only a mere year younger than Jace, was considered a woman, ripe for marriage and bearing children, whereas the same hastiness was not pressured upon him. She knew her mother had never intended to bestow such responsibilities on her, but she understood, it was inevitable. As that time loomed ever closer, she found herself roaming her home more often, as if to savour the feeling of once being a child.

Where her brothers could seek adventure with their dragons once they were big enough to saddle, her egg had not hatched in her cradle. She would not inherit the birthright of the blood of Old Valyria, yet another judgement cast upon her that only inflated her sense of belonging at her mother's side. With her moonlit hair and pale lilac eyes, each of her children could not have looked more different.

Before the incident, there existed only one other soul who could truly fathom the depths of her solitude. No dragon. Ceaseless taunts. The notion of isolation, even amongst one’s family. Any semblance of camaraderie had been extinguished the day Lucerys took his eye. That defining moment when Aemond—her uncle—seized his birthright had marked the fracture in their familial bonds. In the aftermath, her mother, alongside her new husband Daemon, orchestrated a grand scheme to mend the shattered relations, a plan that involved her betrothal to him at an opportune moment.

Try as she might, she couldn't conjure the image of herself as his wife. The thought of residing in King's Landing under his roof refused to coalesce into a coherent vision. It remained an elusive spectre, haunting her thoughts with its intangible uncertainty.

Whispers of tradition and duty echoed in the hallowed halls of her childhood, spun by the gentle tongues of Septas who spoke of the sacred rites of marriage. Tales of Lords and Ladies, of the solemn exchange of vows, and the anticipated consummation on the wedding night. Some stories painted a picture of pleasure and intimacy, of unions founded on mutual desire and affection. Others whispered of duty, of sacrifices made for the sake of one's spouse, regardless of personal inclination.

Caught in the web of uncertainty, she pondered which version of Aemond awaited her, a tender partner or a distant lord, bound by duty and tradition. The unknown loomed before her like a shadow, casting doubt upon her heart and stirring a quiet fear within her soul. She knew not what to expect, but the uncertainty itself was enough to unsettle her, to sow the seeds of apprehension in her mind. And as the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, she couldn't help but wonder, which path would her marriage tread, and would she have the strength to endure whatever lay ahead?

Amidst the towering peaks of Dragonmont, she sought solace in the embrace of ancient flames and the soothing hum of Vermithor's slumber. Here, amidst the rugged terrain and the ever-watchful gaze of the dragons, she found a fleeting sense of peace.

But it was not the Bronze Fury that sang to her. 

“Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis,

Se gēlȳn irūdaks…

Ānogrose.”

She felt the rush of heat at the nape of her neck. Daemon stood straight, back facing her, his voice near-matching the hum of Vermithor’s deep exhales.

“It is late, Princess.” Unlike her, Daemon remained as he dressed during the day, shown when he turned to face her, with the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “What troubles you?” he asked.

She tried to raise her chin, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil that stirred within. 

“My fate,” she said, her careful steps drawing ever nearer. "I am to be wed to Aemond, but I fear what awaits me in that union.”

Daemon hummed, as if curiously amused.

She had known no father figure since Laenor. And though she knew sooner than her brothers the truth that lay beneath the careful picture her mother had forged, since she had been wed to Daemon, he had taken practice with his own daughters and become almost a father to her alike.

She felt his eyes sink over her once before returning to her eyes.

"Marriage is a weighty matter," he said. "But is it the marriage itself that troubles you, or something more?”

She did not miss the lilt to his voice. The one, that like his eyes had done many times before, made something squeeze in her gut. A fire burning bright. A feeling that brought her shame.

He was her mother's husband.

“I cannot say exactly,” she confessed. “Perhaps it is leaving Dragonstone. Mother and my brothers. And being alone in the capital with no face I recognise with trust.”

Daemon nodded almost indistinctly, his fingers reaching out to brush a lock of hair back over her shoulder, admiring her hair loose of its usual braids. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation both familiar and disconcerting. She fought to push aside the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, the warmth of his touch conflicting with the knowledge of their complicated relationship.

"Leaving behind the familiar can indeed be a daunting prospect," Daemon acknowledged, his voice a velvet caress, “But fret not. Within you resides the same fire that fuels your mother's resolve. Embrace it. You are as much Targaryen as any of them.”

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, at the way he seemed to see straight through her defences. She knew she should be wary of his advances, of the way he danced on the edge of propriety with his words and his touch. But there was something undeniably alluring about the way he held her gaze, about the way he made her feel desired and understood.

"Thank you, Daemon," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your support means more to me than you know.”

Daemon's smile was a slow, seductive curve of his lips, his eyes alight with a fire that mirrored the flames of the Dragonmont. 

"Ah, but my dear Princess," he replied, his voice low and husky, "you have yet to discover the true depths of my support.”

She felt her throat close up, the feeling mirroring somewhat what happened between her thighs.

What could he possibly mean?

“Do you fear it?” he asked. “The act of consummation?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson at Daemon's bold question, his words sending a jolt of both arousal and apprehension coursing through her veins. 

“It… is perfectly normal, I would think,” she answered, words failing her.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice a soothing caress against her skin. "There is no shame in feeling uncertain. It is only natural to have doubts, especially when faced with such intimate matters.”

She felt he was circling her, as dragons did their targets. And felt her heart thumping in her chest.

“With Aegon, I dare say, I would join you in your uncertainty. But Aemond, on the other hand… is a different matter entirely.”

“How so?” she asked, breathing out when he disappeared out of her line of sight, his presence at her back, fingers draping past the material of her dress.

“I am afraid he may be less… forthcoming with expressing his desires,” he purred. “He may be cold, or at least that is how it may be interpreted.” Her eyes met his with bated breath as he appeared on her opposite side, closer. “He may not be so adept with the pleasures of a female body.”

She swallowed, a chill settling on her front, her body reacting thus. He remained silent, as if daring her to say what he knew was already on the tip of her tongue. So, she took the plunge. “And…you are?”

Daemon smirked smugly, and she knew she already had her answer., “What do you think?”

Her heart raced. Her mind struggled to contemplate whether she should be honest or not, for she had heard stories and rumours. She knew she was treading dangerous waters, playing with fire in the form of her mother's husband, but there was a part of her that couldn't resist the allure of his confidence, his charm, his undeniable magnetism.

"I... I suppose I never considered such matters," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the admission.

Daemon's eyes danced with amusement as he stepped closer. "Perhaps it is time you did," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly down the curve of her spine.

Her skin vibrated with anticipation as she fought to maintain her composure in the face of his overwhelming presence. She knew she should pull away, should put an end to this dangerous game they were playing, but the lure of Daemon's charm was too strong to resist.

“Mayhaps I could demonstrate and put your worries to rest,” he suggested, crossing the imaginary but daring line seemingly without fear. “Rest assured, my experience in such matters is... extensive."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her resolve, her body betraying her with every flutter of her lashes, every quickened breath. “But… you and Mother—”

Her lips clamped shut with the bruising of his grip in the softness of her waist, urging her back to the rocky, hard wall. Only now, when faced with the Rogue Prince, did she realise just how small she truly felt.

“Your mother is preoccupied with her own affairs," he replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous allure. "She won't concern herself with our little... indiscretion.”

The realisation sank in that she was alone with Daemon in the secluded confines of the Dragonmont, far removed from the prying eyes of the world. And yet, she still felt her lips go dry when he hung the torch and trailed his touch upon her skin where he was taking her skirts with it.

She could not hide her nerves, or the beating rush of arousal, “Bu—but… with Aemond, I must—”

The air felt warm as her skirt was rucked around her hips. She squeaked when his calloused fingers swept through her folds, ashamed to find she was affected by what he was doing to her as her slick coated them easily.

Daemon chuckled, a pleased hum in his chest that she was wet and ready, while his other hand busied with the laces of his breeches, “Sweet girl. When my dear nephew has his cock buried inside you on your wedding night, he will not know the difference.”

His words, combined with the tight circles he applied to the forbidden bud tucked between her legs, had white hot pleasure burning in her veins. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. All she could do was look upon his pleased face with a hedonistic expression, feeling very much like they were doing something deliciously wrong but could find no reasonable excuse to cease.

“Do not look so surprised. I have seen the way you watch me. Are you not ashamed for looking upon your own mother’s husband with lust?” 

The more he touched her, the more arousal he coaxed forth, the sound lewd and forbidden in the raw silence of the Draognmont. She could not answer his question without subjecting herself to further embarrassment. Even so, attempting to concentrate enough to form words as his two forefingers slid within her tight, hot walls, was near impossible. She gasped quietly, the feeling so foreign and yet not unpleasant. And like Daemon in any other scenario, while his motions were forceful, somewhat brutal, they were calculated, without effort. Like it came innately. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, his digits buried deep inside curved towards him, stoking a fire at the hearth of her.

“Answer me.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes—I am ashamed—”

It was all she managed before the feeling began to crest, building and building as if she were climbing some great height and was about to tumble off. But she only exhaled shakily as Daemon withdrew his fingers from her fluttering, sensitive walls, using the moisture to lubricate himself with a careful caress of his manhood.

He chuckled at the wounded expression on her face. “No need for shame, Princess.”

She caught the glint of his ring as he wrung the fabric of her skirts in his fist. Her eyes widened as the head of his cock disappeared easily between her swollen folds, with no real full feeling until he pushed forward, both with hesitation and a sort of evil excitement.

Her back pressed against the jagged stone, her lips only parted to suck in air where it had left her lungs. It was a feeling she could describe very little, the sting of being stretched around him painful and yet once sheathed fully inside her, hips pushing against her own. Daemon wrapped his fingers around her fleshy thigh to tug her leg over his hip, a flash of white hot pleasure creeping up her spine. He only grunted, her slick ridges gripping him greedily without any effort on her part. 

For a few moments, he stayed like that as if waiting for any complaint, but when he found none, began a steady rhythm, fingers creating crescent-moon shaped welts in her skin. He did not share in her reaction. He simply raised one corner of his lips in a pleased manner, watching her face, treating it very much as a lesson in pleasure more than anything else.

She could scarcely think with the violent push of his hips, the notch of his belt stabbing into her each time.

“My nephew does not deserve this perfect. little cunt.” He grunted from the effort. “Tell me, Princess—when he is fucking you with his narrow little prick, will you be thinking of this instead?”

Her eyes slipped shut, her head tipped back and fingers coming to her own mouth to muffle the lewd sound that threatened to come out. Her perceived embarrassment at her own enjoyment of this only seemed to motivate Daemon further, and he widened her hips with a soft nudge of his knee against her leg and groaned at the way she tightened around him.

“You liked that, didn't you?” He breathed against her face, looking briefly down between them to watch how he rooted himself inside her over and over, as if unable to believe this was really happening. “I bet he won't make you this wet. I doubt the little cunt will even know how to make you come.”

Her skirt fell from his hand as it drew down between them, and she resisted the urge to squeal when he began to apply pressure in tight, sure circles around her bud.

“You shall have to teach him those pleasures.”

Her fingers gripped his forearms tight as she climaxed, her tight, hot walls spasming around him uncontrollably. It was so utterly different to the way she had pleasured herself before. This time, the forbidden combination of Daemon stretching her open around him and the pleasure he coaxed from her with his fingers meant that this peak seemed to drain her entire body of energy. Her body feeling boneless in his hold, that if he let go, she would surely lose her balance.

A flash of fear cracked like lightning across her subconscious. Surely he did not intend to spill inside her?

He did not overstimulate her for much longer as he neared his own end. Rather, he savoured the feeling of her warmth sucking him in for just a few moments more before pulling out, stroking himself vigorously to completion, warm ropes of his spend coating her lower stomach.

In the quiet dead of night with only her laboured breathing to echo within it, she felt her eyes could not keep up with her mind as she glanced back up at him. His rapidly cooling seed began to dribble towards her thighs, swiftly covered by her skirts once more as Daemon lowered her clothing back into place. The reality of the dangerous and yet delicious sin she had committed with him began to rise into clarity.

Upon his fingers shone the damning proof of his sordid claim on her, pearly in the glow of torchlight. “What a waste. I’d have liked to see it dripping from you.

But that pleasure… I shall save for my nephew, sweet girl."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

[roronoaswifey]

𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇.

summary. (how to get) the monster trio cumming in their pants untouched.

pairing. monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, vinsmoke sanji x afab!reader (separate)

wc. 1.2k

kazu’s note. take these crumbs as i suffer from writer’s block 🚶🏾‍♀️

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐃. 𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘— consented somnophilia, mentioned overstimulation.

nights like these, luffy found hardest to seek for sleep. there wasn’t anything specific that had triggered this sudden want, but one minute he’s trying to fall asleep with a boner, the next he’s got you on your back, one leg draped over his shoulder. your legs are spread so prettily, so welcoming and luffy can’t help but grind against your clothed cunt, the silk material of your pyjama shorts easing the movements. his pace is steady and careful at first, the bottom of his top tucked in between his teeth, his stomach contracting as his abs clench, bulge rubbing against your warmth, seeking for relief. you’re too good for him, staying still and quiet, letting him take care of both of you so nicely, without stirring awake.

though, luffy is known to be impatient; so to no surprise does he suddenly pick up the pace when you shift just slightly on your side, unintentionally opening yourself further and mumble an unintelligible moan. luffy whines as he ruts desperately, like an animal in heat, as he leaves open mouthed kissed down the skin of your leg, hand slipping past the waistband of your shorts and thumbing at your clit lazily. he’s got all this pent up energy he’s ready to release, and dear god, your quiet whines trigger something animalistic within. luffy leans forward, wanting to hear more of you, wanting to smell more of you, as he nuzzles his nose deep in the crook of your neck, humps growing more frantic and desperate. he feels his stomach tightening and suddenly he wants you awake to experience this with him.

being the perfect soul you were, you were drawn out of your slumber and woke up to a whiny luffy, babbling about how good you feel, how perfect you are for him, how he just can’t get enough of you. still exhausted but wanting to see your captain crumble at your touch, your slipped a hand at his raven locks and tugged tight while the other sat at his waist and encouraged him to rut deeper. he sunk his teeth deep into your flesh, soothing the wound with a swipe of his tongue and a mumbled apology. your soft whines and strokes at his back coax him into his anticipated orgasm, grinding and emptying himself while rubbing against your heat. he’s finished cumming but he can’t help but keep at it, wanting to share this blissful sensation with you, and so he forces his movements, mind set on having you cumming for him too. the overstimulation may be a lot, tears forming at his lash line and choppy whines echoing into the quiet night, but for the sake of you, he’s willing to put himself through the pleasurable pain, all but expecting the next upcoming orgasm.

𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐀 𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎— nipple play, slight masochism/sadism, mentioned degradation.

slick lips sloshed one over the other, the tilt of heads only deepening the contact as your tongue brushed and sucked at his. thighs straddling at each sides of his waist, zoro felt his mind go dizzy with arousal at the feel of your hips rocking into him. surely it was unintentional, simply following through with the flow, but with the slight bite of your teeth at the tip of his tongue and the way your scent clouded his senses, he couldn’t help but groan loudly into you. calloused hands searched for skin-to-skin contact with you, despite not knowing how to express however he’s feeling, and so he follows your rhythm, big hands easing into your grinding.

somehow along the lingering touches and grinding, had you taken account of the cold jewelry that sat beneath his top and into perked buds. now sucking onto his bottom lip and simultaneously flicking at the hardened nipple, nail grazing the flesh, had he noticed the painful strain at his dick in his pants. vice claw grip on your waist, zoro whined almost pitifully into your mouth, chasing your mouth further as drool pooled from both your mouths with teeth clashing, and the damn momentum of your clothed cunt rubbing over his weeping dick, on top of your mean tugs at his jewelled nipples. you mumbled something along the lines of how would the crew react to seeing their scary swordsman “all slutty just for me”, and dammit, zoro usually had great self control so he couldn’t understand why he could he felt his balls tightening at your degradation.

tongue shoved deep in your mouth, zoro hoped it’d be able to muffle his uncharacteristic moans, arms wrapping tight around your waist. when your kisses trailed from his jaw, to his neck, to the three golden earrings that chimed silently with movement, zoro felt himself finishing embarrassingly quick. your pinches at his pretty jewellery, sitting through sensitive brown buds, the dry stimulation of your hips rutting at his throbbing cock, the lick of your tongue at the shell of his ear, breath warm with a quiet moan resonating in his ear. it took no less than a “that’s it baby.” to get him to finish his load before it could even begin, hands lifting your hips up and slamming you down on his leaking bulge, emptying himself in his pants where he imagines you’d be, naked and warm and tight, milking him dry for what he’s worth.

𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈— face sitting, dacryphilia.

sitting down on the flat of sanji’s tongue, you grabbed ahold of the wooden bed frame before you for stability. rocking your hips back and forth, sanji watched through blue eyes as you tucked your bottom lip beneath your top row teeth, snaked a hand beneath the white button down top he wore a few hours ago, hand groping at your chest, body jerking at teasing flicks of your hardened buds. the sweet and divine taste of you sat on his tastebuds with such delicacy, leaving him with such a want— a crave for more. the overwhelming scent of your musk had his brain in mush and slacks impossibly tighter. you were blessing him the opportunity of you using him for your pleasure— and holy fuck, sanji could feel loads of pre dribbling down his slit.

you whined and cried and called out his name, fingers abandoning the bed frame and settling for the mess of golden locks below you, nails gripping tight. “sanji, please!” the tip of his nose had bumped into your clit, your cunt now truly engulfing all of him, and even with the lack of oxygen, he couldn’t find it in him to care. with encouraging hands, he guided you up and down, back and forth on his tongue, asking and pleading you to use all of him to your advantage through his own muffled whines. sanji’s thighs clenched, involuntarily searching for some release as the strain was gradually worsening. but no, this was purely about your pleasure and yours alone.

how could he not focus on your benefit alone when he has you riding his face while begging for more, sweet juices flowing down your cunt and down to his stubble, the softness of your plush thighs squeezing his head subconsciously. your breast bounced so hypnotically to the pace you set, head thrown back as you babbled praises and gratitude to the blonde. the hypocrite he was, hard on still begging for attention, but no, not when he felt splatters of tears trailing down your cheeks and onto his forehead. sanji’s often against the idea of a lowly man bringing a lady to tears, but something in the way your plump lips fell into a pout, teary eyes watching him with such want, that he couldn’t help the whiny moan that ripped through him, orgasm coaxing all throughout, staining his briefs white with shame.

ehhh 🙎🏾‍♀️

[sinkovia]

Consequences: Alternative Ending

-Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Mention of blood.

Consequences

As Simon drove to the bar, guilt weighed heavily on him, pressing down on his chest like a leaden weight. What was he doing? Not only had he put his hands on you, but he had also broken the promise you both made to each other.

What was he thinking, treating you like that? Speaking to you in such a hurtful manner when everything had been entirely his fault?

With each passing moment, the gravity of his actions sank deeper into his conscience, gnawing at him with relentless intensity. He couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of remorse and self-loathing that consumed him.

As he drove, his mind raced with thoughts of you, the pain he had caused, and the irreparable damage he had wrought upon your relationship. The realization of his own behavior filled him with a profound sense of shame and regret.

Unable to bear the weight of his guilt any longer, Simon made a U-turn, the screech of tires against asphalt echoing in the quiet night, and began driving back to the house.

Every mile brought him closer to you, to the chance of making things right, of seeking forgiveness for his unforgivable actions. He couldn't believe what had gotten into him, how he could have hurt the one person he loved and cared about most in his life.

He would make amends, he would get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness, and he would do whatever it took to repair the damage he had caused.

Just as he began retracing his steps back home, his phone began to ring, and he saw your caller ID flashing on the screen. He answered, putting you on speaker as he focused on the road ahead.

"Sweetheart, I'm so-" His words faltered as he heard your cry of pain echoing through the phone. His heart seized in his chest as he listened to your strained voice.

"Simon, something's wrong with the baby, it hurts, it hurts so much, I don't know what to do." Every word pierced through him like a dagger.

His heart plummeted as he listened to your cries, his foot pressing harder on the gas pedal. “I’m coming, sweetheart. Just hold on. I’m two minutes away, baby.” Simon reassured you, his voice laced with urgency and fear.

Your cries of pain tore at his soul, and tears blurred his vision as he raced home.

Simon wasn’t a religious man, but in that moment, he found himself praying fervently to any higher power that would listen. He prayed for your safety, for the well-being of your unborn child. He knew that this was his punishment, his reckoning for the harm he had caused.

"Simon I cant-"

A sudden thud on the other end of the phone made his stomach plummet. His heart pounded against his chest as panic seized him, his hands trembling and slick with sweat.

"Y/n, baby, what was that? Are you okay?" Simon's voice cracked with worry, but he was met only with silence. With adrenaline coursing through his veins, he sprinted to the front door as soon as he pulled into the driveway.

With a forceful push, he burst through the door, his eyes scanning the rooms in a desperate search for you. "Y/n, where are you?" he called out frantically, his heart hammering in his chest.

Racing to the bathroom, his worst fears were confirmed as he found you unconscious on the floor, blood pooling beneath you. "Fuck, no, no, no," he muttered under his breath, his hands shaking as he scooped you up into his arms.

"Y/n, baby, I need you to open your eyes for me," he pleaded as he carried you to the car, buckling you into the passenger seat. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other periodically checking your pulse, Simon sped towards the hospital with a single-minded determination.

Simon burst into the ER with you cradled in his arms. The nurses sprang into action, swiftly transferring you onto a stretcher and wheeling you away to the surgery room.

The sight of you, unconscious sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He paced the waiting room, unable to sit still as his hands shook with fear and anxiety.

Sinking into a chair, Simon buried his face in his hands, consumed by guilt. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had caused your suffering, that his actions caused you stress and had put you and the baby in danger.

With each passing second, Simon's mind raced with a litany of regrets and what-ifs. If you didn't make it through this, he knew he would never forgive himself. The thought of losing you, the love of his life, because of his own actions was unbearable. All he could do now was wait, gripped by the crushing weight of uncertainty.

When the nurse finally called his name, Simon practically bolted from his seat, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Is she okay? Is the baby okay?” Simon's voice was filled with anxiety as he pleaded for reassurance.

The nurse motioned for him to follow her, and Simon eagerly complied, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Your wife and baby are okay, but there are some complications with the pregnancy,” she began, her tone grave. Simon's breath caught in his throat, fear gripping him like a vise. He willed the nurse to walk faster, desperate for answers.

“The placenta began to detach from the uterine wall, pressing against the cervix, resulting in bleeding. While the placenta has stabilized for now, if it continues to dislodge, there's a risk of miscarriage. However, if she reaches the thirty-two-week mark, premature delivery is an option, with the hope that the baby can complete development in the NICU.”

Simon listened intently, absorbing every word with a sinking feeling in his chest. “Is there anything we can do to prevent her placenta from pushing further down?” his voice laced with desperation.

The nurse shook her head sadly. “Unfortunately not. What will help is bed rest—no walking or any physical movement that would cause her uterus to push the placenta further down.”

“So she’ll stay here until the baby is delivered?”

“Yes,” the nurse confirmed as she opened the door to your room. As Simon rushed to your side, his eyes filled with tears, you turned your head to meet his gaze. With a weak smile, you reached out to touch his cheek as he gently cupped your face.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I’m so so sorry, this is all my fault,” Simon whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

You shook your head gently, “It’s okay, what matters is that you answered. I don’t know what would have happened if you didn’t.”

Simon's head dropped against your hand, “I should have never said those things to you, I should have never put my hands on you like that, I should have never broken our promise. I don’t know what I was thinking love, I'm so sorry.”

You gazed into his eyes, seeing the remorse and regret etched in his expression. Despite the pain and uncertainty swirling around you, you found it in your heart to forgive him.

“I forgive you, Simon. We'll get through this together, okay?”

He nodded, his grip tightening on your hand as he leaned in to kiss you gently on the forehead. "I love you so much,"

Simon's hand gently cupped your cheek again, his thumb moving back and forth. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he murmured, his gaze shifting to your stomach. “How do you feel?”

“I feel a bit uncomfortable, but I'm okay,” you replied, gently moving your hand over his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Simon exhaled deeply, nodding in relief. “I'm glad.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door, and both of you turned your attention to the doctor walking in, followed by a nurse wheeling in a machine.

“I was told you didn't know the gender of your baby,” You nodded in confirmation, exchanging a glance with Simon as your anticipation grew.

“This here is an ultrasound machine. You both can listen to your baby’s heartbeat, and we can find out if it’s a boy or girl,” the doctor explained. Simon's grip on your hand tightened, and you offered him a reassuring smile, though your thoughts lingered on the safety of your baby.

“This won’t hurt them or make the placenta move?” you asked with concern. The doctor shook her head. “No, everything is safe for you and the baby,” she reassured.

Simon leaned closer to you, anticipation and nerves intertwining as the doctor prepared the ultrasound machine. The room seemed to hold its breath as the gel was applied to your bump, and the doctor began to maneuver the wand.

Then, there it was—a steady, rhythmic thumping sound filling the room. Your baby's heartbeat, strong and clear, echoed through the space. Tears started spilling from your eyes, and Simon let out a choked sob as your grip on each other's hand tightened, your eyes still glued to the screen.

Simon's voice caught in his throat as he struggled to contain his emotions, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. In that moment, as you listened to the steady beat of your baby's heart, you felt an unbreakable bond between the three of you, a love so deep and pure that it brought tears of joy to your eyes.

The doctor continued to shift the camera around until she got a better angle and took a few pictures. She gasped and smiled, “Are you ready?” You quickly nodded your head, gripping onto Simon's hand harder.

“You guys are having a baby girl!” the doctor announced. You sobbed out and smiled, turning to Simon, whose tears prickled off his eyelashes, the joy in his heart insurmountable. He cupped your face and kissed you.

“Congratulations! I’ll give you both some time to yourselves,” the doctor said before leaving the room.

"We're having a little girl, sweetheart," Simon couldn't contain his excitement, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he showered you with kisses.

"We can finally pick a name!" Your eyes sparkled with joy as you looked up at him. He gently took your hand and planted soft kisses on your knuckles, each one filled with love.

"Did you have any names in mind, love?" Simon asked, his eyes filled with anticipation as he awaited your response. Your smile softened as you gazed up at him, a glint of excitement in your eyes.

"Yeah, I was thinking about Marie…" you began, the name of Simon's late mother rolling off your tongue with a sense of reverence and love.

Simon's smile widened, his eyes glistening. "Marie Riley, that's a beautiful name, love," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness.

You smiled back at him, your heart swelling with affection. "I know," you replied, gently cupping his cheek, feeling a sense of warmth and connection in choosing a name that honored his family.

The next two and a half months passed by in a blur, the days blending into one another as you remained confined to the hospital bed. Simon never left your side, his presence a constant source of comfort and support.

Every morning, he would slip out to your favorite breakfast place, returning with a tray of steaming hot food just in time for your waking moment. His care and attention were evident in every detail, from the way he fluffed your pillows to the gentle way he brushed your hair away from your face.

During lunchtime, he would disappear briefly, only to return with a homemade meal that he had lovingly prepared himself. The aroma of his cooking would fill the room, warming your heart as much as your stomach.

In the evenings, he would set up your new laptop, eager to continue your tradition of watching your favorite show together. He would sit beside you, holding your hand as you laughed.

And every week, like clockwork, he would arrive with a fresh bouquet of flowers, the vibrant colors brightening up the sterile hospital room. His apologies were a constant refrain, a reminder of the regret he felt for his actions on that fateful day.

Despite the passage of time, his remorse never wavered, his determination to make things right driving him to do everything in his power to ensure your comfort and happiness. Each day was a testament to his love for you, a promise to never let you down again.

“I’m so sorry, love,” Simon whispered, his voice thick with emotion. You reached up and cupped his cheek, offering him a reassuring smile. “Simon, it's okay, really it is. We’re okay, I’m safe, Marie is safe, you’re safe. That’s all that matters now.” Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his softly.

“I love you, Simon, always,” you murmured as you pulled away, looking up at him with affection. Simon's gaze softened, filled with so much love it made your heart swell. “I love you more, Y/n,” he replied tenderly.

You shook your head teasingly. “Impossible, there's no way—”

But your words were cut short as a sharp, searing pain tore through you. You screamed out in sheer agony, gripping Simon's arm tightly. “I think the baby is coming,” you managed to gasp between breaths, the pain radiating through your entire body.

Simon's eyes widened in alarm, and he immediately called for a nurse. A group of them rushed in, swiftly wheeling your bed to the delivery room. Simon stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand firmly as you braved through the intense waves of pain.

“I can't… it hurts, it hurts so much,” you cried out, your voice trembling with agony. Simon grabbed a small rag, wiping the sweat from your forehead, his eyes filled with worry.

“They're going to give you a shot for the pain right now, sweetheart. You need to try and sit still, can you do that for me, baby?” Simon's voice was gentle yet urgent as tears began to gloss your eyes. Despite the agony, you nodded, bracing yourself for the needle.

The momentary distraction of the shot didn't alleviate the excruciating pain coursing through your body. After a few minutes, you were still in agony, the intensity no less than before.

“It hurts, it hurts so much, I can't take it, I feel like I'm being torn apart,” you sobbed, your voice filled with anguish. Simon cursed under his breath, frustration evident on his face. The epidural had failed, leaving you to endure the pain without relief.

The nurses worked tirelessly to make you as comfortable as possible, while the doctor instructed you to begin pushing. Each push felt like an insurmountable feat as you cried out, clawing into Simon's arm for support.

“You can do this, sweetheart. Just one big push, I know you can do it, love,” Simon encouraged, his voice unwavering despite the tears in his eyes. He gently wiped the sweat from your forehead as you struggled through the pain.

With each push, you felt as though you were reaching your breaking point. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Simon felt utterly helpless, knowing there was nothing he could do to ease your suffering.

“Just a few more pushes, the baby is almost out,” the doctor reassured, urging you to keep going.

Simon squeezed your hand tighter, his voice trembling with emotion. “Just a few more pushes, love. You’re almost there, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his heart breaking with each scream of pain that echoed through the room.

The baby finally emerged, and the doctor immediately began stimulating her chest. “Why isn't she crying? Is she okay? Is my baby okay?” You sobbed, your heart pounding with fear. Simon's eyes were wide with worry as he watched the doctor work, his hand gripping yours tightly.

Then, Marie’s cry pierced the air, filling the room with relief as both you and Simon let out a sigh of relief. Tears streamed down your cheeks as they gently placed Marie on your chest, her tiny body nestled against yours.

You kissed the top of your daughter's forehead, your breaths becoming increasingly labored. “Are you okay, love?” Simon's voice was filled with concern as he glanced at the doctor and then to your heart monitor, which showed your heart rate declining.

“What’s happening? Why is her heart rate dropping so quickly?” Simon was panicking as he looked from the doctor to you. Your head was tilted back against the pillow, your eyes half-lidded as you gazed at Marie.

“She’s losing too much blood,” the doctor explained gravely.

Simon's heart sank as he watched your eyes flutter closed, the heart monitor reading a flatline, the sound echoing in his ears.

“No, no, no, no,” he muttered frantically, his hands shaking as the nurses handed him Marie. The sound of Marie crying seemed distant as he focused solely on the constant, agonizing sound of your flatline.

The nurse grabbed the defibrillator and yelled "clear" before administering a shock to your chest. Simon's gaze never left your face, his tears falling freely as he gently held his daughter, the weight of fear heavy in his heart.

“Clear!” Each shock caused your chest to lift up, but still, the ringing of the flatline on the heart monitor remained unchanged.

Simon's world shattered as he watched the nurses desperately trying to save you. He begged and pleaded with them, his voice choked with fear and desperation, as they worked frantically to revive you.

Despite their efforts, the defibrillator failed to bring you back. Your body unable to withstand the trauma of childbirth.

Simon watched helplessly as the nurse put the pads down and the room fell silent, the only sound being the relentless sound of the flatline, a cruel reminder of the fragile line between life and death.

"What are you doing? Do it again!" Simon's voice reverberated through the room, filled with desperation and anguish.

The nurses and doctor exchanged somber glances, their silence speaking volumes. "I’m sorry-" the doctor began, but Simon cut her off with a choked voice, his emotions raw and unfiltered.

"No, don't fucking apologize. Don't you dare fucking apologize. You bring her back, goddamn it!"

Simon’s breathing was labored, his chest heaving with every sob. Tears streamed down his face, his voice trembling with emotion. "You have to bring her back, please. I'm begging you, please just try again."

Simon was consumed by a profound sense of loss and emptiness. The love of his life, the mother of his child, was gone, leaving behind a void. It was as if a part of him had been torn away, leaving him adrift in a sea of grief with no hope of salvation.

As the reality of your death settled over him like a suffocating blanket, Simon felt as though his own heart had stopped beating. The world around him seemed to fade into a blur of pain and sorrow, each breath a struggle against the weight of his grief.

But amidst the darkness, a small glimmer of light emerged. Marie's cries ceased, and Simon's gaze fell upon her tiny face. Her eyes, wide and curious, mirrored yours in a hauntingly familiar way. It was as if you were looking back at him through her innocent gaze.

Sinking into the nearest chair, Simon cradled Marie close to his chest, his tears mingling with hers as he mourned your loss. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, the words a futile attempt to convey the depth of his remorse.

An apology meant for you, for all the things left unsaid and undone, for the pain he had caused, for everything he had done wrong, a lament for the loss of both you and the life you had dreamed of together.

As he held Marie in his arms, Simon couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at him from the inside.

This was the consequence for his actions.

If only he hadn't acted the way he did towards you, if only he had been more understanding and supportive, maybe you wouldn't have faced such complications in your pregnancy. Maybe, just maybe, you would still be alive, smiling beside him as you marveled at your daughter together.

But now, as he cradled your daughter next to your lifeless body, Simon realized the cruel irony of life's give and take. Marie would forever be a bittersweet reminder of the love you had shared, a beacon of hope in the darkness of his grief.

Every time he looked at her, he would see traces of you in her eyes, hear echoes of your laughter in hers. And though the pain of your absence would never truly fade, Simon knew that he would do everything in his power to honor your memory and protect the precious gift you had left behind.

Tag list: @shinchanboi

[dewdropdinosaur]

Redemption is Best Served Hot

LUCIFER x READER

Part Two

Summary: You are like the mom Charlie always wanted. And like the partner Lucifer wishes he had.

Warnings: NONE.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! See pinned post for details

In the bustling underworld of Hell, where chaos and mayhem were the order of the day, there stood a peculiar establishment known as the Hazbin Hotel. Run by the optimistic and determined demon princess, Charlie, the hotel aimed to rehabilitate wayward souls and give them a chance at Heaven. 

You, an older demon, found yourself entangled in the unique tapestry of the Hazbin Hotel. Drawn to Charlie's mission and warmth, you had become an essential part of the hotel's daily operations. As the pseudo-mother to Charlie and the other inhabitants, Y/N provided a sense of stability and care in the tumultuous underworld. A pillar of support for the lost souls seeking refuge within the hotel's walls, helping with the cleaning, aiding anyone with anything; you were in fact quite literally acting mother to all six inhabitants. Not that they minded, each loved you in their own way. Even Alastor, who would not admit it to himself that maybe your cooking could have rivaled his own mother’s.

“Nifty darling, here. Don’t run around with that old knife. This one is much sharper.” “Oooooo, thank you! BUGS PREPARE TO DIE!”

“Angel, poor thing. Come here, let me draw you a bath and we can talk all about it….or we can just sit in silence. Whatever you would like.” “Yeah…that woulds be good.” 

“The new shipment just arrived, Husk! Do you want me to help you carry it in?” “Nah, I got it. But thanks.”

“PENTIOUS! What did I say about letting the Egg Bois into my kitchen?!”  “Sssssory Mssss Y/N.”  “It’s alright dear, just…please be more mindful of them. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Vaggie, no you may not kill Alastor.” “But..!” “No buts! You will respect Charlie’s wishes. And that goes for you too, Alastor.” “Oh me? Darling, it would be a pleasure to do as her highness commands.” 

And so on and so forth as the world goes. 

Over the years, Lucifer, the charismatic and charming ruler of Hell, found himself increasingly drawn to you after the original spout with Heaven. It wasn't just your unparalleled dedication to the hotel or the unwavering support you offered to Charlie; it was a magnetic force that pulled him towards you. Lucifer, accustomed to the chaos and seduction that surrounded him, found the calm demeanor and genuine kindness irresistible. In the dimly lit chambers of the hotel, Lucifer found himself captivated by your unwavering dedication and boundless compassion. He admired the way you effortlessly navigated the tumultuous currents of Hell, offering solace to those who had long abandoned hope. 

One evening, as the residents of the Hazbin Hotel gathered for a makeshift family dinner, Lucifer couldn't help but steal glances at you throughout. Laughter echoed through the room, bringing an unusual warmth to the usually cold and unforgiving realm. Lucifer found himself captivated by the way you effortlessly connected with the diverse souls seeking salvation and he felt his heart twinge a little. The scene was sweet, almost too much so. It made him long for something he had never had with Lillith or thought he could ever have. He hardly touched his food all night, too enthralled with you and your presence. You were like an angel, ironically so. 

After the meal and asking the Egg Bois to clean up(they were kind enough to oblige), you retreated to the hotel's back rooms with a book in hand, a haven of peace in the chaotic underworld. Lucifer followed, the air thick with an unspoken tension. You, engrossed in a book, hadn't bothered to notice the King of Hell until he cleared his throat. With a small flush of embarrassment at accidentally ignoring him, you looked up and met Lucifer's piercing gaze with a soft smile, setting your book aside. 

“What can I do for you Lucifer?”

"Quite the family you've built here," Lucifer commented, his voice a silky blend of charm and authority.

Smiling and setting the book aside, you laughed softly. "They're a unique bunch, but they deserve a chance at redemption, don't they?"

Lucifer nodded, taking a step closer. "And what about you, Y/N?” 

Your gaze met Lucifer's, eyes reflecting a depth of understanding about the true meaning of his question. "We're all seeking something, aren't we? Redemption, forgiveness, a second chance."

Lucifer reached out, gently tracing a finger along Y/N's cheek. "And what do you seek, Y/N?"

Your  heart fluttered, and as you took a deep breath you held his gaze. Oh how he loved that dazed look in your eyes. He wanted you to look up at him that way everyday if possible. Just the way your sparkling and your lips parted so sinfully sweet, he knew even the original sin barrer himself could be tempted. "I seek a chance to make a difference, to maybe bring a little of Heaven down here when I could never do it when I was alive."

Lucifer leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "Perhaps you've already brought light to the darkest corner of my realm."

Lucifer then pulled away, a small flush gracing his cheeks. He tipped his hat in acknowledgement before leaving the room without another word. Once outside the door, Lucifer pressed back up against a wall and could feel his undead heart about to beat out of his chest. Placing a hand over his chest in order to calm himself back down, the King of Hell flew back to his castle with a giant grin on his face. 

You too were no stranger to the effects of his…flirting. A giant grin and flush appeared on your face as you sunk back down into the chair you were sitting in. Giggling like a schoolgirl, you kicked your feet happily and ignored the book you were once reading. 

A forbidden connection sparked between Lucifer and you, a dance of redemption and desire in the heart of Hell, where the Hazbin Hotel stood as an peculiar beacon of hope. For in the heart of Lucifer Morningstar, amidst the chaos of Hell's domain, love had found its most unlikely champion.

[yuutaok]

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Spring Leaves, But I Never Will

Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

In the eerie mountain forest, you seek to find what is missing. Lost and disoriented, you encounter a mysterious boy with eyes like the dead, his presence is captivating. With a gentle hand, he beckons you, and you follow.

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Word Count: ~4.4K

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact), P in V, AFAB! Reader, prone bone, unprotected sex, creampies, posessiveness, supernatural/paranormal stuff happens, open-ended ending, Reader is lost in a forest and meets Yuuta, Yuuta is a freak

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Author's note: Hiii I am back with a vengeance. Belated birthday fic for Yuuta ♡ Life exploded me so I never got the chance to finish until now. Also, I would like to thank Sen (@/ banjjakz) for inspiring some of the horror aspects of this <3 They have such a lovely way of writing such mysterious horror that I deeply wanted to try my hand at, so please go read their Yuuta fics bc they are sooooo delicious ok I'll stop swooning now byeeeeee

Lost amidst the dense, foreboding forests of the mountains, you trudged forward, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the winding trail. Your heart felt heavy with the weight of recent events, the memory of your painful breakup still fresh in your mind. It had only been a couple of days, of course your heart would still hurt and your hands would still shake. And still, the need to escape, to clear your head and find solace amidst the solitude of nature, had driven you to embark on this day-hike alone.

The townsfolk often whispered about this mountain as a haunt for the heartbroken.

And so, here you were.

The hike was pleasant. You took the time to leisurely look at every interesting formed rock or beautiful sprouting flower that you had stumbled upon. Spring had just begun and it felt nice to be in the calm serenity of nature. You took care to not stray too far from the beaten path but still found your way crunching through the trees to look at specimens that caught your eye. It was a great way to get your mind off of things, to forget about life for just a moment.

But now, as the sky darkened and the woods grew eerily silent around you, regret gnawed at the edges of your resolve. Perhaps venturing into the wilderness alone had been a mistake, a reckless act born of heartache. Panic tightened its grip on your chest as you realized that dusk was fast approaching, and you had yet to find your way back to civilization.

With each step you took through the dense undergrowth of the forest, the sense of urgency weighed heavy on your shoulders. Nervously, you glanced at the sky, watching as the sun dipped lower and lower, casting long shadows that danced ominously through the trees. Hope flickered like a dying flame within you, faltering as the daylight waned faster than anticipated.

Your mind wandered to the rumors that had long circulated about the mountain, tales of heartbroken souls seeking solace among the towering trees, only to vanish without a trace.

It was said that the forest held secrets whispered confessions etched into the bark of the old oak trees, and love letters left behind by those who had come seeking solace from their pain. But these were not ordinary declarations of affection; they were haunting, twisted reflections of despair, each word filled with grief, obsession, and heartbreak. You have heard people say that love is the worst curse of all.

Some claimed to have heard mournful voices echoing through the woods, the ghostly whispers of lovers calling out into the darkness, their cries fading into gusts of wind and rustling leaves. Others spoke of strange symbols carved into the earth, cryptic messages left behind by those who had succumbed to the forest's embrace.

You still had decided to come, despite the unsubstantiated rumors that were whispered by the old grannies in the surrounding town. You’d be damned if you suffocated under the weight of your heartache. But as you delved deeper and deeper into the forest, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched— honestly, maybe the old ladies knew something you didn’t.

Panic clawed at the edges of your mind, threatening to consume you whole. Desperate, you called out into the silent woods, your voice echoing into the vast expanse of darkness that surrounded you, “Hello…? Is anybody out there? Can anyone hear me?”

But the only response was the feeling of eyes on the back of your head and the haunting whisper of the wind through the branches, carrying with it a sense of desolation that chilled you to the bone.

With each passing moment, the forest seemed to close in around you, its shadows stretching like grasping fingers eager to ensnare their prey. You were never quite fond of the dark.

Heart pounding, you broke into a run, stumbling through the underbrush in a frantic search for anything familiar. Each rustle of leaves and snap of twigs beneath your feet sent a jolt of fear coursing through your veins, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you raced against the encroaching darkness.

And then, just as panic threatened to consume you whole, you burst through a thicket of bushes, only to collide with an unexpected figure standing in your path. The air left your lungs as you fell flat on your ass.

You looked up at what, or who, you had just crashed head-on into.

It was a boy, his dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity as he regarded you with an enigmatic smile, despite you just pummeling into him with your full force. The shock of the encounter left you speechless, frozen in place as the realization dawned that you were not alone in the woods after all.

You made eye contact with the stranger, and a chill swept through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. His dark hair fell in tousled waves, framing his pale face in an unsettling contrast. His tired eyes bore into you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. A curtain of bangs parted across his forehead, framing his features in a shadowy veil. His lips twisted into a smile and held a hint of something that lurked just beneath the surface.

There was an undeniable aura of unease that surrounded the boy, a sense of foreboding that lingered in the air like a haunting melody. As he extended a hand towards you, offering salvation in the darkness, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeply unsettling about him.

"Are you lost?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. "It's dangerous to be out here alone at night. I can lead you to safety."

You looked up at the stranger incredulously, as if you would be dumb enough to follow a stranger you met out in the woods!

Sending your apprehension, the raven-haired boy smiles kindly, “I promise, I don’t bite. Please, it’s getting late and I don’t think I could live with myself if I left you out here by yourself.”

Weighing out your options, you realized that maybe this was your best choice. It’s either that or freezing out in the woods, or better yet being eaten by some wild animal that you hardly can find yourself against.

You looked around, dazed. With darkness closing in around you and no other options in sight, you accepted his offer.

“Alright,” you sighed. “But please don’t try anything, I’ve been told I have a killer right hook.”

He looks at you, obviously amused, “Of course, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

And begrudgingly you had to admit, despite everything in your body screaming for you to keep running, you felt completely and utterly relieved to see him.

As you followed the raven-haired boy deeper into the woods, the sense of unease only intensified, wrapping around you like a suffocating cloak. "Where are we going?" you finally asked, your voice trembling slightly with apprehension.

His dark eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion as he turned to face you, his expression guarded yet strangely calm. "To my cabin," he replied, his voice low and steady. "It's not far from here. You'll be safe there for the night. You can rest for as long as you need to."

Though his words offered reassurance, there was a lingering doubt in the back of your mind. You had heard stories of people disappearing in these woods, never to be seen again, and the thought sent a chill down your spine.

There was something about the dark-haired man that unsettled you, something that whispered of hidden dangers lurking beneath his calm exterior. And even so, something about him drew you in, made you feel so immediately safe with him.

"Who are you?" you pressed, your voice wavering with a mix of fear and curiosity. "And why were you out here alone?"

Yuuta hesitated for a moment as if weighing his words carefully. "My name is Yuuta Okkotsu," he said finally, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "I live in the woods, away from civilization. As for why I was out here...let's just say I have my reasons."

His cryptic response only fueled your apprehension, but as the darkness closed in around you and the sound of rustling leaves filled the air, you realized that you had little choice but to trust him, at least for now. With a nod of reluctant acceptance, you followed Yuuta deeper into the woods, praying that you had not just made a grave mistake.

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

His cabin appeared suddenly, a rustic structure nestled amidst the towering trees, its windows glowing with the warm light of a fire within.

"I don't usually invite strangers into my home," Yuuta admitted, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite place your finger on. "But I can't leave you out here alone. You're welcome to stay until morning." Though grateful for his offer of shelter, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a shroud.

There was something about Yuuta's demeanor, a subtle intensity in his gaze, that sent shivers down your spine.

You stepped into Yuuta's cabin, grateful for the warmth and shelter it offered. The cozy interior enveloped you in a comforting embrace, dispelling some of the tension that had gripped you since your encounter in the woods. It was humorous actually, how warm the cabin felt in comparison to the uneasiness its owner gave you.

“Home sweet home,” Yuuta said as he took your coat and nodded his head for you to follow him.

Yuuta wasted no time in playing the role of a gracious host, offering you a change of clothes and access to his shower. His bathroom was neat, he didn’t have much, just the basics, but it was still appreciated nonetheless.

As the hot water washed away the dirt and grime of the forest, you felt a sense of relaxation seeping into your bones, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves.

Emerging from the shower feeling refreshed and revitalized. You found Yuuta busy in the kitchen, a delicious aroma of spices and savory delights wafting through the air.

As you peered over his shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the bubbling pot on the stove, filled with rich, fragrant curry. The sight stirred memories of comforting meals shared with loved ones, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. "That smells amazing," you murmured, your mouth watering at the thought of indulging in the hearty dish.

Yuuta glanced up from his cooking, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's just a simple curry," he said modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "But I find that simple comforts are often the most satisfying."

You offered to help, eager to contribute to the meal in some way, but Yuuta shook his head gently. "No need to trouble yourself," he insisted, his gaze softening as he gestured for you to take a seat at the table. "Relax and settle down. I'll take care of everything."

Though you hesitated for a moment, the warmth of Yuuta's demeanor and the promise of a delicious meal were too enticing to resist. With a grateful smile, you sank into a chair, content to watch as Yuuta worked his culinary magic, the comforting rhythm of his movements lulling you into a sense of peace and contentment.

As you settled into Yuuta's cabin, you couldn't help but take in your surroundings with a sense of curiosity. The interior was simple yet cozy, with polished wooden floors that creaked softly underfoot and walls adorned with faded photographs and intricate tapestries.

The cabin had a rustic charm to it, its bare furnishings lending an air of simplicity to the space. Yet, despite its minimalistic design, everything seemed meticulously arranged, each item in its rightful place. There was a sense of order and precision that spoke to Yuuta's meticulous nature, a trait that you found oddly comforting.

On the shelves lining the walls, you noticed an eclectic array of books, their well-worn spines bearing the marks of countless readings. From classic literature to obscure texts on folklore and mysticism, the collection spoke of a curious mind.

Nearby, a shelf displayed a collection of handmade erasers, their vibrant colors and whimsical shapes. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of these charming little creatures. There was a sense of warmth and homeliness to Yuuta's cabin that made you feel strangely at ease. It was as if the space itself radiated a sense of comfort and belonging, welcoming you with open arms into its cozy embrace.

Before you knew it, the food was done and Yuuta served you a steaming plate.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said, nervous.

“It’s my pleasure,” Yuuta replied.

With the two of you sitting down to eat, you found yourself opening up to Yuuta in a way you hadn't expected. You told him about your recent breakup, the pain and heartache that had driven you to seek solace in the wilderness.

Yuuta listened attentively, his dark eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that surprised you. "It's dangerous to be out in the woods alone," he said softly, his voice tinged with a note of concern. "Who knows what evils could be lurking in the darkness? I'm glad I found you when I did." A chill ran down your spine.

Though he had shown you nothing but kindness, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling of anxiety that crept up around Yuuta's presence. He was good company, however, and you worked hard to ignore the way your hands clammed up and each hair on your skin stood up when he leaned in closer to speak with you. You chalked it up to your nerves.

The two of you continued to converse, him asking you more about your life and you asking about his. As Yuuta shared snippets of his past, you found yourself drawn to him in a way you couldn't quite explain. There was a sort of charm to him, an undeniable allure. Despite the lingering doubts that were dancing in the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the attraction you had towards him. You felt like a moth catching fire as it approached an open flame.

With a sigh, Yuuta leaned back against the cushions, his gaze drifting to the dancing flames of his fireplace as if lost in thought. "You know," he begins, his voice a low, melodic murmur that sends shivers down your spine, "I wasn't always a hermit living in the woods." His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken sorrow.

"What happened?" you ventured softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, to not disturb the mood.

Yuuta's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of sadness lurking in the depths of his dark eyes. "I used to live in the city, surrounded by noise and chaos," he admitted, his words tinged with bitterness. "But... I lost someone very dear to me." His voice trailed off, grief etched into the lines of his face.

"She was my childhood sweetheart," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper as if speaking the words aloud pains him. "We were inseparable, bound together by pure, untainted, love.”

A heavy silence fell between you, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the wind outside. "She was taken from me," Yuuta murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "And I... I couldn't bear to stay in that world any longer."

As he spoke, you sensed the weight of his sorrow pressing down on him, a burden too heavy for one mere person to bear alone. "I tried to move on, to forget her and the pain of losing her," Yuuta admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "But no matter how hard I tried, I could never escape the memories of our time together."

“So I left," he confessed, "I left everything behind and retreated into the solitude of the forest, hoping to find something to fill the hole in my heart.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his sorrow, and you could not help but feel a surge of empathy for the man before you. At that moment, you realize that Yuuta and you are not so different after all, both haunted by heartbreak, seeking solace in the expanse of trees. In his eyes, you saw a reflection of your desires, a longing for connection and understanding.

But even as your heart yearned to unravel the secrets hidden within Yuuta’s dark and mangled heart, a sense of unease lingered at the edges of your consciousness. There was still something unsettling about the way the shadows seemed to dance around him, as if alive with an energy of their own. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on…

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

As the night stretched on, the air thick with a palpable tension, you felt a strange sense of drowsiness wash over you. Your eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion as you let out a quiet yawn.

With a soft smile, Yuuta reached out to you. His was touch gentle, yet firm, possessive even. You felt yourself lean into his touch as if he weaved an invisible spell around you.

"You look tired," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that seemed to echo with the whispers of the forest itself. "Come with me, let me take care of you."

His words washed over you like a warm embrace, dispelling the last glimmers of doubt and fear as you allow yourself to be guided by his steady hand. With a silent nod, you allowed Yuuta to lead you to the bedroom, the warmth of his presence enveloping you like a protective shield as you sank into the soft embrace of the bed.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting shadows across the walls like dancing spirits. He leaned over you, his body flush against yours, his hand steady and reassuring against your skin.

As you lay there, the haze of drowsiness clouding your senses, you felt Yuuta begin to pull away. You grasped at the hem of his shirt, silently begging him not to go.

His features were veiled by the shroud of night, his smile, though unseen, seemed to materialize in the darkness. With a gentle pull, you drew him down to lay beside you.

"Do you want me to stay?" Yuuta's voice, a soft murmur, caressed your ear as his head nestled against your shoulder.

"Yes," you found yourself pleading, the words slipping from your lips in a whispered plea. "Don't leave."

Yuuta's lips brushed gently against your neck, his touch tender yet possessive. "I won’t,” he murmured, “I won’t ever leave,” his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,”

In your sleepy state, you found yourself melting into his touch. Yuuta's kisses trailed a path of fire along your skin. Each kiss was a feather-light caress that seeped into each layer of your skin, burning you from the inside out.

Slowly, he moved up your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake as he explored every inch of your skin with adoration.

As Yuuta's lips found their way to your jaw, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, lost in the dizzying whirlwind that you now understood as Yuuta Okkotsu.

His movements were calm and deliberate, his touch gentle yet commanding as he explored every curve and contour of your body with dedicated devotion. Each touch left you yearning for more. You would die if it meant you could feel this loved forever.

Soon enough, Yuuta’s lips found yours, his kisses both tender and possessive, his passion evident in the way he claimed your lips.

As his lips danced with yours, you found yourself with the thought of never being apart from him. It filled you with a sense of completion. You could feel the depth of his devotion. Could he feel yours?

As if to answer your question, Yuuta’s touch became more urgent, his hands roaming over your body with a ravenous hunger. You felt happy that you could be consumed so ardently, that you found yourself secretly hoping that you at least tasted good.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you realized Yuuta was removing your borrowed clothes bit by bit. He made sure you were left in your panties.

His strong hands moved to caress your bare skin, his fingers leaving imprints on your body. Yuuta’s nails and grip dug into your skin as he kissed you. His hands moved to explore every curve and contour of your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. You wondered if he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

You leaned up to deepen the kiss, which only furthered Yuuta’s excitement. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his touch seeming eager, desperate, or perhaps so incredibly lonely, even.

Yuuta’s wet kisses left you dizzy, your senses were overwhelmed by him. Noticing the strain between his legs, you reached your hands down to unbutton his pants & paw at his boxers. Yuuta obliged by tossing them off to the side with your lost articles of clothing.

You moved to guide his hips to meet yours. With him between your legs, you moved to grind against him. You both gasped as his hard member pressed against your soaked panties.

You look up to see his reaction but notice something in Yuuta’s eyes become dark. His grip on your hips became tighter as his nails dug crescents into your soft skin.

Yuuta took this moment to grind himself deeper into you, his cock sliding between the lips of your pussy soaked panties. You let out a wanton moan, grinding back against him, desperate for any form of friction or release. You felt his cock rub against your swollen clit, moving back and forth in a way that left you crying out for more.

As Yuuta continued to tease you, he paused for a moment, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low voice, "Do you want this?”

You shivered, a chill running down your spine.

With a hitched breath, you nodded.

“Will you be mine?" He asked, his eyes peering deep and dark into your own. You felt like he could see right into you like he was clawing his way into your soul to make a home in it.

You were okay with that.

You nodded again, “Yes, I’ll always be yours.”

With a glassy darkness in his eyes, he flipped you over onto your stomach, his movements rough and commanding as he positioned himself behind you. He tsk’ed as he ripped your ruined panties off, throwing off into the darkness of the room.

Well, you didn’t need those, anyway.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your ear as he whispered, “I’ll make it so you can’t ever think to leave,” sending shivers down your spine.

Yuuta trailed hot kisses along your skin as he positioned himself above you. With a low moan, he pressed himself against you, the throbbing hardness of his member seeking entrance to your dripping heat.

And then, with a thrust, he entered you. Yuuta’s hands gripped your ass as he slowly sunk his hard length into your wet core. You sucked in a breath, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as he filled your pussy completely. He was big. So much bigger than you anticipated.

‘We fit together perfectly’, you thought to yourself.

His pace was slow, with him getting used to the tightness of your cunt. You looked up at him with adoration as he leaned over your shoulder to give you a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. A trail of saliva left between your lips when you parted.

Yuuta’s spent no extra moment finding his stride, his movements becoming rough and unyielding as he fucks you with such devoted reverence. You’re helpless. All you could do was beg for more as you gulped in the air.

It’s obscene, the way he makes you moan. You’re powerless to fight against the way he makes your heart skip and your stomach churn. You feel on fire like he’s burning you to a crisp of ash and dust only to resurrect you again if only to just keep fucking you.

Yuuta’s movements become more urgent and the tension between you reaches its peak. With each thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your senses overwhelmed by Yuuta.

Suddenly, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through your veins, your body convulsing with the intensity of your release. With a cry, you shatter into a million pieces, the only thing able to leave your mouth is the chant of, “Yuuta-- Ah, Yuuta, Yuuta.”

“I’m here,” he replies, voice strained feeling your pussy tighten around his cock, “I’m right here.” Feeling the wetness and tightness of your cum triggers Yuuta’s climax, and with a stifled moan, he follows suit, pouring his hot cum into you.

Yuuta pulls you into his arms, his leaky cock still hard inside of you. Your dark-haired lover kisses your temple and leaves sweet whispers across the sweat of your skin. He holds you close, entwining you into him as your eyelids get heavy and you feel sleep take over your spent body.

You feel loved.

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

In your dreams, you find yourself lost in a labyrinth of shadows, the air thick with the scent of decay. Whispers echo through the darkness, taunting you with half-formed promises and cryptic warnings.

You stumble through the endless maze, searching for an escape, but the shadows seem to shift and twist, leading you further into the depths of your despair.

And then, just when you think you can bear it no longer, you see him. Yuuta stands before you, his dark eyes looking into yours as he reaches out to you with a hand shrouded in darkness.

He whispers something, you don’t understand. But you still reach out, taking his hand into yours.

You awaken with a start, the echoes of your nightmare still lingering in the recesses of your mind.

Heart pounding, you sit up in bed, the room bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains.

Yuuta is gone, but his warmth remains.

A sense of foreboding settles over you like a shroud.

[fangsandfeels]

Got hit with more thoughts about spawns and Cazador...

...and naturally, I'm posting it here because I'm no longer a functional human being.

I remember the lingering question that Astarion seemingly being only one of the spawns using seduction to lure victims in. At least, there is no menition of other’s doing so, except for Petras. So, why is that? Why Astarion was the only one?

In my opinion, it stems from Cazador’s very particular choice of victims. In all these years, he acquired only seven spawns (except for the thousands of Turned nobody knew about), and almost all of them used to be accomplished or talented people:

- Violet, a beloved and talented songbird from Reithwin;

- Dalyria, a respected doctor working in the Parliament;

- Leon, a sorcerer (a spell modifiaction he came up with shows how good he is at his magic);

- Astarion, a magistrate with a promising future, centuries of life ahead of him, and a beauty worthy of a thousand paintings.

Following this tendency, we can assume that Yousen, Aurelia, and Petras also were similarly talented or good at something enough to attract Cazador’s attention and make him envious.

The bastard thinks very highly of himself. He calls himself the most intelligent and beautiful creature out there, and spends hours writing letters to other vampire lords, trying to convince them of his grandeur. He attempts to inflate his ego, making it finally big enough to overcompensate for his miserable inferiority complex, in any way he can: so, whenever he spies someone with a talent or potential, someone who might be better than him at anything, he snuffs them away, adds to his collection, and then breaks them over and over, making them believe that they’re nothing. He is the father who gives them purpose; they are his spawn who owe him everything; and everything they have belongs to him.

And maybe, aside from tortures, and humiliation, and gaslighting, and forcing “siblings” to hurt each other, he came up with one more way to break them - when he forces them to hunt, he forces them to use everything that made them special, loved, respected, and admired for the most gruesome things.

- Violet, previously a talented singer whose voice was fondly remembered up to Reithwin’s fall, using her voice to catch attention; using her image and charm to lure people into the palace to their death.

- Dalyria, picking her victims around apothecaries and temples that responded to the people's suffering by closing doors in their faces, seeking out refugees and ailing citizens low on coin, offering to help them, kindly inviting them to “her place” (if we take Karlach’s family as an example, finding a healer who would agree to help a less-than-wealthy family is quite a problem at the city).

- Leon, using his talents and magic to nab people from the street, to drag them to Cazador without a fight while knowing that he will never be able to use the same power against the bastard himself.

- Astarion, a previously sophisticated, proud, and beautiful elf, stripped of his dignity and pride, using his body to either seduce poor young and inexperienced souls (fulfilling their image of an ethereal and caring lover) or let himself be pawed at by drunkards and brothel-goers.

I don’t think any of Cazador’s choices were accidental. I don't think he had to roam the streets at night, looking for potential candidates; that he ever Turned any of them by chance.  

They all caught his eye at some point, became an object of his obsession, and then fell victim to a scenario where they were confronted by a promise of salvation - and each time, it made Cazador giddy with excitement and a sense of self-importance. He took them away from the world because he could. He will twist and shape them to his whim because he can. And then, he will take everything from them, reducing them to miserable wretches because this is who they should be, compared to him.

They will belong under his heel, scared, helpless, and obedient, worshipping him and fearing him. Forever.

[justblades]

⋆｡˚ ♰・priest! sunday x afab! reader

┈─ ・(ex)plicit, mdni. contains 2.2 spoilers, blasphemous themes, impregnation, clit stimulation, oral sex, controlling sunday, not proofread.

Even a mere mortal can sense the regret lingering in the atmosphere of the vicinity, a small space dedicated for confessions and atonement of sins committed by those who believe in the Harmony. Numerous pews stand in rows before a single one, each being occupied by two people at best, to which you draw closer to the confession box— one more person to go and it is time to purify your tainted soul.

It was just muffled murmurs of two people from the latter reverberating inside the hall's six walls, along with the sound of the ceiling fans whirring. Your mind starts to drift onto something else: although you have no idea what others hold with regards to their sins, you still could not help but think that yours is shameful.

You can see the person beside you exit the birch box with teary eyes and stuffed nose as she holds a handkerchief to her face. "Next please." a resolute voice echoes, signalling for you to step forward into the confessional. With a wobbly stature, you stand up and tread forward, proceeding to close the oak door behind you.

The golden lights from the hall seep through the confession booth's partition, gleaming upon your stature - creating a silhouette as to where only the advocate from the other side can peer through the woodworks. You attempt to clear your voice before speaking, a dry throat halting the words you intend to verbalize within.

"I humbly ask for your blessings and the forgiveness of Xipe . . ." You mutter as your eyes dart to nothing that catches your interest except for the parquetry etched on the wooden floorboards. Your head held down low, staring at its intricate designing.

"Please feel free to proceed. I have sought their presence within us." The priest answers. "I have committed a grave sin of succumbing to passing emotions. Primarily, I struggled with regulating the purity of one's mind and it was late that I realized I indulged in an extreme activity to quench the thirst for sexual pleasure." 

A reassuring hum resounds. "As a devout follower of the Harmony, I believe my actions do not align with the path I stride. Therefore, I ask for forgiveness and assistance on how I will repent for the sins I have committed." After forming the confession where in sentences you never thought have ever been uttered, it feels as though a heavy weight was lifted off your chest and the shackles on your feet disintegrated.

Glancing at the frosted, colored glass window in front of you, you noticed how the warm yellow lights in the background flicker repetitively in an instant, as well as the birch surroundings creaking. "By committing a grave sin, you've engaged in an activity with a partner you are not married with." The priest reiterates as if the faulty lights are a common occurrence.

You hum in response. "And by committing an even graver sin, you took part in an activity with an objective aside from procreation. Please correct me if I'm wrong."

"Yes, esteemed advocate. Everything you said was indeed correct." Your heart starts racing, "Do you promise yourself you'll turn your back on this lascivious history to start anew?" He queries.

"Yes, Mister Sunday."

"Even if you were to encounter challenges to test your faith for the Harmony?"

Hesitation ruptures through your composure. Your resolution suddenly cracks, as if it was merely a façade with a longing for forgiveness to move on.

"Be honest." Like the advocate could read your mind as of the moment, you believe in the capabilities of Harmony, so there was no use in feigning cleanliness when you know it in yourself, you still struggle. "I wish to seek assistance from those with wisdom."

You receive another firm hum in response, "Very well. Please see me in the reconciliation room a short time after." Your mind spirals into confusion and bewilderment, the emotions painting your features like you were an open book to the audience.

Trekking off the confessional booth, you did not dare to spare a glance back at the priest and only made your way to the distinct, separate room - the reconciliation. It was small, enclosed, and only an oak table, two pairs of engraved chairs, a single ligneous partition and a kneeler reside within the space. Your vision anchors to the sculpted wooden cross sign hung on the beige walls, illuminated by a faint golden lamp on the table.

Patiently awaiting the presence of the priest, you stood still with a heavy heart, seeming like the relief you felt previously was only a glimpse of what you could've been if you didn't commit such grave sin. If only.

The door swings open, followed by the entrance of the figure you were anticipating. Faded sky blue hues of hair tumble upon the male's shoulders, along with the golden earrings he was donning. Feathered ears diluting into white ripple from his footsteps, and his distinct, golden halo stays afloat behind his head.

Being vis-à-vis with the highly esteemed figure of the Penacony like this tugs your heartstrings in unease. It felt bizarre, as you could recall from others' experiences that when you encounter priests or advocates of the Harmony, your heart rests. As for Sunday, it was the polar opposite. Chills run kilometers up and down your spine, your throat starts to become dry.

You trail your vision downwards, setting your sight upon his graceful features. His eyes were a radiant yellow tinged with an ocean blue, framed by his particularly long lower lashes. He purses his lips tightly, curving upwards, flashing a small smile. "Please take a seat." He motions for the chair in front of your figures, your eyes noticing the cross cut out gloves he's wearing.

Sitting down with guard held up high, Sunday follows suit as he opens the drawer from the oak table, retrieving something of a color white and frilly in texture, as you make of what you could from your peripheral vision. "This will certainly be of help to put your faith to test. If you would kindly turn around."

Your hands rest on your lap and as you hear the last phrase that came out of his mouth, you subconsciously gripped a handful of the fabric you're wearing in alertness. Not until your vision was impaired as Sunday blindfolds you with the latter material, it was soft and delicate to the touch - you could not see anything but faint shadows against the lighting. Everything was ivory white in stark contrast, and you could barely peer through the lace folds to see the priest.

"I will now be tuning your mind with the Harmony to which you will face repercussions if statements untrue to yourself are said." He pauses. Unsure where this will lead to, you had no choice but to nod in continuation. "Under the light of the Harmony, all wickedness is revealed. I implore them to shed their light."

What used to be a blurry white in your vision now fringes into colored edges, the prominent colors being purple, white, red, orange, and yellow.

"This will serve as a gentle reminder that I am assisting you to a path where grave sins  are not succumbed to, and only ▅▅▅ exists alongside philosophy to instill moral duties to a functioning member of a society."

His words cut through the thick atmosphere, thawing the glacial tension growing with each passing second.

He lowers his stature to face you, gloved fingers trailing from the hem of the laced blindfold down to your cheeks, cupping your face lightly with a careful grip. "Does this send a shiver down to your spine?" Sunday inquires and you shake your head in disagreement. It seems like he has a whole plan on how this will play out, and you were merely a pawn in his chessboard to see what you would react under these circumstances he will put you in.

The touch ghosts a caress on your lower parts, specifically, the frame of your chest. His thumb twirls on the middle part with an unraveled goal of making your buds perk up underneath the confinements of your clothing - making you grit your teeth as a poor attempt to stifle the sound threatening to escape.

A question arises amidst the confusing situation, a question that will surely be received in a poor taste as it will question his authority and legitimacy. You wanted to ask, is this really necessary?

However, the aura he exudes now was far different from what he displays when he's in front of the audience of the masses. He seems more strict now, judging from the tone lacing his voice from his query earlier. "Does this feel good?" He proceeds to unbutton your top, letting the fabric come undone and fall down to your lap. A singular  gloved hand of his snakes its way to your back, and with a single fidget, your bra was unclasped.

The priest takes his precious time in all these. He carefully observes the clothing that you wear, as he had come to adore the fact that you were wearing pearly white brassiere, one that was similar to the blindfold's texture and design, it was frilly in the edges and soft to the touch.

A light chuckle slips out, "Well? What's your answer?" Desire and temptation brews within your stomach, even spiking higher as he caresses your mounds with both of his hands. His touches feel light and blissful at the same time, like your body was basking in the warmth and enjoyment the priest had to offer. You struggle to keep your body still, knees trembling even though you were only sitting.

"N-No, Mr. Sunday."

A sharp throbbing ache courses through your head, granting him a wince of both surprise and pain. "It appears that you haven't put your mind and whole heart to this yet." He says as he walks away from your stature, leaving you dumbfounded. As silence encompasses the vicinity, you hear the male seat himself on the chair across from you. "Come to me." He simply orders.

"Just take steps forward and trust me."

With blind faith, you solemnly obey - approaching his figure with an extremely bleary vision. As your feet meet with an obstacle, seemingly the chair's legs, you stop in your tracks. "Now straddle my lap." Following suit, you feel a bulging sensation under your remaining clothing. Your breath becomes even more jagged than before, especially now that your clothed folds come in contact with his throbbing dick. It was clear cut enough that it was his erection continuously growing.

A brief moment passes and Sunday continues to envelop your hard buds within his lips, teeth grinding on your nipples in an attempt to inflict pain and pleasure all at the same time. "M— Mr. Sunday . . !" You yelp but he does not halt. He proceeds to twirl his warm, slick tongue all over your glazed areolas, your boob dancing in rhythm with his mouth in somewhat harmonic tunes played by your stifled mewls.

His other free hand pulls you tighter to his chest as he adjusts his position, bucking his hips upwards to create some sort of friction. The tip of his covered cock brushes against your already wet slit, granting him another lewd sound - this time, a soft moan. "I— I— I can't—" your hands clutch on the man's broad shoulders, feeling his long, muted blue and white locks tangle along your fingers. "You can. Yes you can. Only a little bit more you would be rewarded by proving your loyalty to the ▅▅▅."

Your sense of hearing downgrades as your mind drifts into pure bliss, lower limbs becoming numb as more pleasure courses through your veins. As if it's still not enough, Sunday simply lowers your remaining clothes to your feet, revealing your folds sopping wet with arousal already.

With haste and care in Sunday's every movement, he lays your back on the table in between the chairs, forcibly revealing everything down there to him — for him to revel in. The gelid wind traces shivers upon your sweat dewed skin, especially your folds now glimmering with muddy white liquids.

He raises your legs and stands up, resting your lower limbs upon his shoulders. The position is embarrassing enough as it is, but having the priest tower over you is another experience that feels even more intense than what unfolded previously. Not to mention that the throbbing pang in your head brought by your dishonesty upon the Harmony worsens minute by minute.

The male buries his face in your inner thighs first, flicking his tongue over your soft skin while his eyes are darted on your face, in high alert to which action of his you will react the most to. "Need I remind you to be honest this time around? Or is the headache that you're feeling not sufficient for you to stay true to your words?" He asks with a demanding tone, the margins of his lips drawing closer and closer to your slit.

"I have learned my lesson, Mr. Sunda—"

Gloved fingers begin to stimulate your clit, moving in motions you cannot fathom with your current state - your lower body jerking up in response to the stimulation. A sly smile creeps up on Sunday's face, his navy blue pupils fixating on each of your actions and expressions.

All you could think of was the fact that he didn't even let you finish, he went straight to pleasure you more, the sensation becoming more overwhelming as he starts to glide the tip of his tongue on your folds. "Do you feel good?" Although his voice was muffled from the proximity from his face and your pussy, you could comprehend and immediately answer, "Yes! I-I feel good . . !"

You rack your head back once Sunday buries his face further into your inner thighs, wallowing himself in your slit as he sucked on your sweet spot, sticking his tongue into your velvet walls while still toying with your clitoris. You bite back your moans, you cannot afford to lose the remaining dignity you had in you left - if there was any.

"Don't do that."

His voice sounds stern as ever, you were left with no choice yet again but to let mewls and moans come undone at this point in time. You were noisy, along with the sucking sounds accompanied by your hums of pleasure, continually bouncing off of the reconciliation room's four walls. "Very good. As for the last part, you must continue to be truthful, to stand by the ▅▅▅, and to ▅▅▅ to what I ought to be ▅▅▅ for you. Do you understand?"

Much to your relief, your vision was once again back to normal as he unties the lacey blindfold on your eyes. This time, you could see Sunday's disheveled hair, as well as the golden earrings dangling at every movement he makes. He swiftly unzips his slacks, therefore revealing his cock he had been concealing for so long before. It stands in its full glory, hues of purple and indigo veins threatening to pop - it was evident he's at his limit.

"Use your mouth. Make me feel good." He commands and peers at you with a somber expression. You muster enough strength on your body to stand up and kneel in front of him, positioning your head in a perfect angle to receive him. Slowly parting your lips open, he shoves his dick inside you, granting you a hoarse moan of satisfaction slipping past his lips.

You bob your head up and down and as if it felt natural to wrap your digits around the remaining length of his cock, you pump him in accordance to your pace, taking him inside with no hesitation, with only one goal in mind: to make him feel good. You could feel the crown of his dick kiss your throat every time you go deeper, making your eyes water as you try to keep yourself from gagging for the priest's satisfaction.

"That's enough, stand up." Your momentum was cut off as he hooks his arms on yours, making you stand from your previously kneeling position. It seems he has indulged enough in your submission and now it is time for him to try something new, something far more amusing in his perspective.

With both of your statures still standing up, he flips you around, making your back face him. He can examine every nook and cranny of your body in this way, and with a hum of approval, he bends you over slightly, wrapping his arms around your waist and reach for your tits. Your breath deepens, more beads of sweat proceed to trickle down your naked body. "M-Mr. Sunday, are we really going to do it?" you ask as he wraps his hand around himself, brushing his tip on your entrance.

He stops in his movements. "Do you have a problem with that?" A domineering tone laces that sole sentence, one that a person cannot delve deeper furthermore.

With one more stroke, he finally pushes himself inside your velvet walls, molding themselves around the shape of Sunday's dick - wallowing in the pleasure and warmth he emanates inside you. "So . . . warm . . ." He whispers, his breath ghosting a caress on the shell of your ear.

Sunday builds up his pace from a painfully slow one to picking it up, thrusting into you with additional force, pistoning your pussy as he's balls deep. Sounds of skin slapping add onto the lewd tune you two have been playing for the past hour, a whole sixty minutes of pleasure pooling your stomach and arousals seeping out of your holes.

Your legs start to quiver once more, exhaustion gnawing at your bones. But amidst this, Sunday kept you still with his force, hitting your sweet spots with the tip of his cock. If you could beg for mercy as of the moment, you certainly would take the chance. But to who, exactly? To whoever aeon is witnessing this lascivious act unfold in front of them, committed in such a religious place?

Or perhaps to Sunday, who you've knelt to before, received him inside your body in more ways than one. Perhaps. Perhaps it is he who shall show you mercy in the heat of the moment.

"M-Mr. Sunday, please forgive me!"

Interest sparks inside his mind, revelling in the way of being viewed as someone highly, someone sought out, someone in a legitimate authority. "You shall be forgiven." He states as he bites down on the blade of your shoulder, teeth leaving a bite mark and an aching sensation alongside it. You could do nothing but wince in pain, but waves of pleasure start to crush upon your conscious self.

Surely this is too much pleasure to handle for someone asking for forgiveness as they committed a grave sin for partaking in debauchery . . . but to be done this way by a priest is a little too exhilarating.

He picks up the pace, earning himself more moans of pleasure escape your lips, "I'll ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ inside you." Sunday says as a fair warning, but a sentence you could only form at the present time was a lighthearted "Do as you please, Mr. Sunday."

With one single thrust, strings of satisfaction sprawl inside your womb. It feels warm yet again, but now, comforting in stark contrast to the nervousness welling up in your heart earlier.

"Well done. As you've shown resolution that you're on a path to atone for the sins you've committed in the past, you shall be forgiven."

[suntoru]

❝ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑! ❞

─ ✰ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: scaramouche thinks you’re an awfully clumsy human being. you’re lucky he loves you just as much as you like to see him suffer.

─ ✰ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, kissing, slight blood (you get hurt), 1.4k words

─ ✰ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this is very half baked ill write more genshin I SWEARRRR

"stupid," scaramouche mumbles under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

if you didn't know any better you'd think he was degrading you, but his actions betray his words. though his tone may sound brash and condescending, you've grown accustomed to his prickly demeanor. there's a subtle shift in his voice, a hint of concern mingling with a sense of protectiveness. he squats down right next to where you're clutching your bloody knee.

pulling you snug against his chest, his touch is surprisingly gentle as he carefully inspects the scrape you received from tripping over a rock. despite his initial dismissal, there's a sincerity in his actions that speaks volumes. it's as if beneath his layers of harshness and sarcasm, there lies a genuine desire to ensure your well-being, hidden behind a facade of indifference.

he sighs, tenderly blowing air on the scrape in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain. "does it hurt?" he mumbles, his tone attempting to regain some of his abrasive personality. but when it comes to you, he finds it impossible to maintain his usual harshness. you nod softly, your eyes glazed over in a blurry haze, and he can't help but feel a strange sensation in his chest. or rather, the place where he would feel a sensation if he had a heart.

he's at a loss for how to make it feel better, his mildly annoyed faltering in the face of your discomfort. his nose crinkles. if it were him in this situation, he would have brushed it off easily, perhaps even stomped on the flowers in the surrounding area for good measure. a scrape like the one on your knee would be insignificant to him.

but mortals are so fragile, so easily breakable. you cry over small, uncontrollable events, like someone passing away or falling on your knee. you're bad for his health, he swears silently to himself. every time you trip or stumble or shed a tear, he finds himself inexplicably worrying about you. it's a strange feeling, one he's not accustomed to— caring for the emotions of someone other than himself. he doesn't like feeling vulnerable, yet in your presence, vulnerability seems inevitable.

but it's not all mortals he feels this way for. if it were one of his subordinates, he would have had them punished severely for shedding tears over such a small thing. however, with you, he finds it's different. he knows, all too well, the nature of human life, witnessing countless souls fade away in the blink of an eye; your lifespan is but a fleeting moment compared to his eternity. perhaps that's why he worries so much. scolding you for not taking proper care of yourself, angrily patching you up when you get hurt— these actions have become common occurrences.

yet, it doesn't stop the sinking feeling he gets every time it happens. it's as if with each scrape, each tear, he's reminded of the fragility of your existence. and in that reminder, he feels an unfamiliar pang of concern, a whisper of something resembling... affection. how strange.

he finds his fingers instinctively wiping away a stray tear rolling down your cheek, a frown marring his usually composed features. retrieving a spare bandaid, patterned with cute bunnies that you had insisted on buying, he takes extra caution when tending to your wound. somehow, you always manage to find trouble, a fact that both frustrates and perplexes him.

you're such a baby, always getting yourself into situations that require his attention. and yet, for some reason, he doesn't exactly mind it. after all, he'd rather you seek his comfort over a dimwit like a certain ginger harbinger.

you nuzzle into his touch, letting out soft sniffles as you pout sadly, wincing at the pain. he tries to be as gentle as possible, tenderly placing the bandaid over the scrape with the utmost care. and when you're not looking, he shoots a glare at the stupid rock that caused you harm, silently cursing its existence.

"hurts..." you mumble, tugging on his sleeve with pleading eyes. "will you kiss it better?" you ask, your voice tinged with vulnerability. he hesitates, his mind immediately conjuring up logical reasons why such an action would be ineffective and potentially harmful. but the look on your face melts his resolve, and with a resigned sigh, he leans in and tenderly presses a kiss on top of your so-called 'boo boo'. it's a small gesture, but he can't deny the warmth that spreads through him at the sight of your grateful smile.

in one motion, he tilts his oversized hat downwards, completely blocking his face, leaving you blinking softly and cocking your head in confusion. what could he possibly be doing?

"...scara?" you question, attempting to shift to where he seems to be looking. but as soon as you move, he shifts his gaze elsewhere, and you mimic his movements, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

"would you stop that?" he scowls finally, ceasing his movements and refusing to meet your gaze. his cheeks are tinged with a pretty pink hue, gradually deepening into a full-blown red, a clear sign of his embarrassment. you can't help but stare at him innocently before bursting into laughter, playfully pinching his cheek as you tease him about his flushed face.

"aww, scara, you flustered?" you taunt, but he swats away your hand, attempting to evade your playful teasing. "i'm not—" he begins, his voice trailing off as he struggles to find the right words, but the embarrassment on his face speaks volumes. with a bratty huff, he removes his beloved hat from his head and places it firmly onto yours, obstructing your vision. his hand remains firmly placed on your head to ensure you don't pull it off.

"hey!!!" you protest, squirming in an attempt to lift the hat, but his grip remains steadfast. he's adamant on not letting you see his face; perhaps you've gone a bit too far now. is he pouting at you? gently, you intertwine your delicate fingers with the hand that's pressing down the hat, silently coaxing him to relent. eventually, he does, allowing you to lift the hat and meet his gaze, although he still stubbornly avoids making direct eye contact, staring off into the distance with a petulant expression.

he resembles a toddler at this moment, cheeks puffed in annoyance, yet his hand remains firmly clasped against yours. despite his outward irritation, you don't miss the way his thumb gently moves back and forth, caressing your fingers.

it's endearing, really, and you can't help but smile at his adorable display. surely, he wouldn't mind too much if you continued to tease him, would he? with that mischievous thought in mind, you press a tender kiss to his cheek, lips as soft as custard pressed sweetly against his pale porcelain skin. nuzzling into his face softly, he predictably flinches back, his embarrassment turning a deeper shade of red.

"hah? what was that for?" he hisses, but you can see the subtle fluster dancing in his eyes, betraying his composed facade. suddenly, he feels trapped in a dizzying spiral of butterflies in his stomach, unable to think clearly as every single thought in his head revolves around you. "hm?" you giggle mischievously, playing innocent.

"i'm just... kissing it better."

bonus!!

a day later, scaramouche stealthily makes his way back to the spot where you had tripped and hurt yourself. squatting down, he inspects the object responsible for your fall with a disdainful glare. it's just a stupid, ugly grey rock. annoyingly mundane.

"you'll never be a precious gem like you wish you were," he snarls, his voice dripping with contempt as he channels his elemental skills against it, slamming it against various surfaces with relentless force.

"you're boring. get out of my sight." with each strike, he vents his frustration, punishing the rock for its audacity to cause you harm. he continues to torment the poor rock, his determination unwavering until it's reduced to mere shambles, pebbles scattered haphazardly across the ground. only then does he allow himself a satisfied huff, a smirk of triumph gracing his lips as he surveys his handiwork. with a sense of accomplishment, he strides proudly away, eager to return home to you.

© SUNTORU 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[ivesambrose]

ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ🪞

Applicable to future spouse, soulmate, whatever term you prefer 🧡

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at Ivesambrose@gmail.com

Services Offered

Thank you for the tip 🌹

Masterpost

Picture 1

- Both of you are intellectually driven. Good at observing and reading people. Assertive and often cut throat when circumstances call for it. Will prefer independence and being single over empty or surface level connections.

- May have dealt with a strict mother figure or sibling.

- Seeks wisdom and travel above all. Academics and knowledge is also extremely important to both of you. You and them may also be overqualified or haven't liked sticking to one particular degree or field for long.

- Both of you might like trekking or feel connected to the mountains and outdoors.

- Often display obsessive and perfectionist behaviour in terms of work. Might have specific hyper fixations.

- Might have struggled and overcame addictions or addictive behaviour or have faced controlling partners or people in their lives.

- One of you prefer leisure time and being left alone to pamper yourself when stressed or overwhelmed, other might resort to channeling that into sports, working out or getting work done.

- Animals feel safe around both of you.

- Prone to sleep paralysis or vivid dreams. One of you can't tolerate alcohol or recreational drugs at all.

- May have mercury and 9th house synastry. May have Sagittarius, Libra or Leo in chart.

Picture 2

- Both of you carry grief that has made you feel stuck, may have made you feel ashamed or guilty. But y'all have channeled that into perseverance. Might have been victims of bullying or have witnessed it. This has given both of you a strong sense of justice and the desire to help those in need, the underdogs and the oppressed.

- Neither of you back down from something you're dedicated towards even if it takes time.

- Both of you might come across intimidating to most.

- One of you posseses good language, understanding and networking skills. Are rather mutable. The other is a natural born leader. These two qualities overlap or interachange in each other's presence with time.

- Fiercely protective of loved ones and just as nurturing. Often too sympathetic and need to establish stronger boundaries.

- Life has knocked both of you down a notch several times but it has given you two the ability to rebuild stronger foundations every single time.

- Don't necessarily do well under pressure but will come up with the most radical idea or breakthroughs when least expected.

- May have dealt with intimacy issues.

- Need to be very mindful of the people both of you trust and are vulnerable with.

- Can be an extremely influential duo together. May lead a rather non traditional life.

- Might have 8th and 12th house synastry or moon synastry. Might have cancer and aquarius placements.

Picture 3

- Both of you believe in fate, destiny and luck. Right place and right time but are also rather controlling by nature. Some days you'll go with the flow and let things happen other times you will take charge.

- Both of you cannot and will not back down. Life has thrown daggers at you, yet you have overcome them. Unmatched determination.

- One or both of you may have suffered from anger issues and now transmute that elsewhere.

- Excellent wordsmiths and magnetic personalities. Might be good writers, poets, directors, planners etc

- Both of you have distinct, attractive and memorable voices.

- May struggle with anxiety or insomnia. Might stay up late at night cuz that's when your brain feels most active.

- Both possess emotional intelligence but tend to carry burdens, emotional labour and resentment for long periods.

- Love luxury that is earned after hard work.

- Fond of fragrances.

- Passionate and intense lovers by nature but just as picky.

- Old souls, have a personal relationship with time and it's fleeting nature. Might prefer preserving memories.

- Work better independently, make excellent entrepreneurs.

- Both love to travel or travelling is extremely important to both of you.

- Might have Saturn, mercury, Sun and 10th house synastry. May also have nodal synastry. Might have Mars or Jupiter influence in chart.

[stylesispunk]

"Where is my love?"

Joel miller x f! reader

summary: Isn't she coming to me?

w.c: 7k>

warning: angst, mentions of death, and grief.

a/n: this is a sad one and closer to my heart because grieving is the love we can give to people who are gone. The only change of this is that has been ten years since the "end of the world" and is based on the last chapter of the show. reblogs and comments are always appreciated and for the love of god, can you please help me with inspo for writing, I want to write for other characters, so if you have any suggestions are welcome. Have a lovely reading 💌 dividers by @/saradika

masterlist

Your paths crossed a long time ago. When the world had descended into madness, the souls met the dead in a now forgotten land. He came across you, and he fell in love with you. The sunlight radiating after the freezing storm was a fire keeping his brittle heart warm.

You had saved him from ending his own life that day, when he had lost faith in a horror movie without an ending or a purpose. He did lose everything he had known—everything he had ever loved and protected—but he had met you.

For him, you were an angel, not delicate nor free from sins, but an angel who appeared after he thought he had met his spirit in heaven.

You have looked after him and Tommy for days, taking care of their well-being and taking care of the reminiscing scar plastered on Joel’s forehead as a reminder of his almost-death encounter with his angel, you.

And you had loved him ever since; you found yourself increasingly drawn to him, not just for his vulnerability under your eyes but because he had brought sense back to life. His presence seemed to chase away the shadows that had been going to hunt you since now.

As the days turned into weeks, months, and then years, the bond between you and Joel only grew stronger. You found yourself drawn to his strength, his resilience in the face of adversity, and the way he faced each day with unwavering determination.

You had loved him after acknowledging every terrible thing he had done, and you loved him anyway. The darkness inside of him, taunted by the loss of the previous time, didn’t prevent you from looking at him as if he hung the stars of the sky. You both looked at night before sleeping, trying to find some reassurance.

Together, you faced the challenges, from the first days of the end of the world to the QZ, to Ellie, to where you were right now, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything.

Now, here in Jackson, in the quiet moment before sleep, you and Joel would still gaze up at the stars, finding solace in the vastness of the night sky. And as you held each other close, you found reassurance in the knowledge that no matter what tomorrow brought, you would face it together.

Joel broke the silence, his voice soft yet filled with the weight of years gone by. "You know, I never thought I'd find this kind of peace again. Not after everything that's happened."

You turned to him, your eyes meeting his in the darkness. "We've been through hell and back, Love. But somehow, we made it together."

He reached out to intertwine his fingers with yours, seeking the comfort your touch brought to him. "I don't know what I would do without you," he admitted, his voice breaking a little.

"You don't have to find out," you replied, a gentle smile playing on your lips. "We're in this together, remember? No matter what."

Joel nodded, his gaze returning to the heavens above. "Yeah, together," he echoed, as if trying to convince himself of the truth of those words.

"You will never lose me,” you whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his forehead. "And I'll always be here to guide you home."

He closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of your lips over his skin. "I love you," he murmured, the words carrying the weight of a lifetime of pain and longing.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart overflowing with love for the man beside you.

Being in Jackson brought you back to a civilization, to peace, to a place where you could both sleep next to each other at the same time without fearing other people coming for you.

But as much as you cherished the peace and stability that Jackson provided, you couldn't escape the reality of everyday life. With it came the mundane challenges, the petty conflicts, and the occasional tension that threatened to disrupt the tranquility you had found together. There were disagreements, misunderstandings, and moments of frustration that tested the strength of your relationship.

You felt a rush of joy as you entered the door of your Jackson home. You couldn't wait to tell Joel about the trade you had made, so you were looking forward to seeing his reaction.

"Joel," you called out, your voice full of anticipation as you approached the living room where he was sitting. "Guess what? "I made a trade today."

Joel looked up from his book, interest in his eyes. "A trade?" "What did you get?"

You smiled, holding out the little camera you'd traded for some extra food supplies. "I exchanged some of our extra coffee for this camera! It's in excellent condition, and I thought we might use it to save some memories."

As you proudly showed the camera, Joel's initial curiosity turned into an unhappy face. He set down his book and looked at you with a mixture of disbelief and stress.

"You traded all of our extra coffee for a camera?" Joel repeated, his voice filled with frustration. "We rely on that coffee, you understand. It's not simply an extravagance; it's a product in high demand here in Jackson."

You faltered, understanding the potential repercussions of your impulsive trade. "I know, Joel, but I thought..."

"You thought what?" Joel interjected, his irritation growing. "That a camera was more important than having enough food to get us through the winter? "What if something happens and we need that coffee?"

You bit your lip, feeling a sense of remorse rush over you. "I didn't think of it that way. I just thought it would be wonderful to have something to save our memories."

Joel sighed and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I understand, but we must prioritize our needs before our wants. You cannot go out there and make bad decisions."

His words hurt, and you felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You didn't plan to compromise your safety, but in your excitement, you forgot to consider the repercussions of your actions.

"I'm sorry, Joel," you said quietly, feeling a sensation of shame rush over you. "I didn't mean to cause any harm."

Joel's gaze softened slightly as you apologized, but the tension in the air remained. "It's okay," he said softly. "Just stop being this childish," he murmured, strolling past you to the kitchen and leaving you in

Joel's gaze softened slightly as you apologized, but the tension in the air remained. "It's okay," he said softly. "Just stop being so childish," he replied, walking past you to the kitchen and leaving you in the living room with a bitter taste in your mouth.

A wave of guilt swept over you. You didn't mean to act impulsively or selfishly, but you now see that your actions had far-reaching implications.

Feeling the weight of Joel's disappointment, you remained in the living room, staring at the camera in your hands, your heart heavy. You realized he was correct; you needed to be more responsible and more aware of the circumstances and the actions that could affect your survival; being at peace in a place did not imply the risk had passed.

With a heavy sigh, you lay the camera down on the table, the excitement you had felt earlier replaced with a sense of regret. Joel's words lingered in your head, reminding you of the excitement you had felt earlier, replaced by a sense of remorse. Joel's words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the need to grow and learn from your mistakes.

You walked upstairs to your room, and with a heavy heart, you lay in bed, the events of the day on your mind. Despite the comfort of the blankets that surrounded you, you couldn't shake the sense of remorse and sorrow that persisted within you.

You closed your eyes and replayed the conversation with Joel in your head, each word stinging like a sharp reminder of your failure. You knew you'd let him down, and the thought gnawed at you, leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

And as you drifted off to sleep, the weight of Joel's disappointment gradually began to lighten. A few hours later, you awoke to the faint click of a camera shutter. Blinking sleepily, you opened your eyes to see Joel standing by the bedside, a tiny smile on his lips as he held the camera.

"What are you doing?" you said, your voice still laced with sleepiness.

Joel chuckled and lowered his camera as he neared the bed. "Just capturing a moment," he said, his eyes filled with adoration as he glanced down at you. In confusion, you furrowed your brow and sat up slightly in bed. "A moment of me sleeping?" you asked, feeling both amused and fascinated.

Joel nodded, his smile growing wider. "Yes, a second while you sleep. You looked beautiful; I couldn’t resist."

Despite the lingering anger from earlier, Joel's gesture made you feel warm. It was a modest act, but it showed a lot about his remorse and faith in your relationship. Reaching out, you took the camera from Joel's hands, studying the image of yourself sleeping soundly.

"I look horrible," you muttered. Joel softened his smile and leaned in to kiss your forehead. "Liar," he muttered. "Sorry for how I acted earlier." He moved forward, pressing his lips against your cheek this time.

"You're just an old, grumpy man," you remember, with a tiny giggle. His soft kisses eased the tension between you. His amusing response lightened the mood and lifted the sadness that had been in your heart.

"Old grumpy man, huh?" Joel chuckled, shaking his head in mock indignation. “I’ll show you what this old, grumpy man can do,” he said, planting a more urgent kiss on your lips this time.

You worked hard in the weeks following your fight with Joel to repair the distance that had grown between you. Despite the apparent signs of peacemaking, you still had a persistent sense of insecurity.

Then a new woman arrived in Jackson. She was closer to Joel's age, and you couldn't help but notice the easy connection that had developed between them. They spent a lot of time together, whether on patrol with Tommy or speaking in the common areas of Jackson.

You tried to ignore the jealousy that was bubbling up inside of you. After all, Joel had always been polite and accommodating to strangers, so there was no reason to suspect anything other than friendship between them.

But as the days went on and you saw Joel and the new woman form a stronger bond, your concern grew. You couldn't escape the nagging suspicion that there was something more between them—something that harmed the precious trust you'd worked so hard to build. 

On today's evening, as you watched Joel and the woman laugh from across the room, you felt a pang of jealousy. You excused yourself and withdrew from the privacy of your thoughts since you could no longer contain your feelings.

You were alone in the living room, struggling with opposite emotions. Part of you felt ashamed for doubting Joel and allowing jealousy to cloud your thinking. But another part of you couldn't help but feel sad and insecure as if you weren't enough for him; after all, it wasn't just you, him, and Ellie outdoors any longer, and here in Jackson, you weren't the last woman in the world.

As you sat alone in the living room, buried in your thoughts, the sound of steps broke your state of trance. Looking up, you noticed Ellie enter the home, looking bright and cheerful, until she spotted your teary eyes.

"Hey, I missed you at dinner in the bar," Ellie said, concern etching her features as she approached you. "Is everything okay?"

You tried to brush off her concern with a forced smile, but Ellie wasn't fooled. "Yeah, everything's fine," you replied, your voice betraying the turmoil within you.

But Ellie wasn't about to let it go that easily. She moved closer, her gaze searching yours with intensity. "No, it's not. What happened? Why are you crying?"

Your heart ached at the concern in Ellie's eyes, and despite your best efforts to hold back the tears, they continued to fall. "I...I don't know," you admitted, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. "I just...I don't know where Joel is."

Ellie's brow furrowed in confusion. "Joel? He's eating with Tommy and the new girl, why?"

You shook your head, unable to articulate the jumble of emotions swirling inside you. "I don't know," you repeated, feeling the tears threaten to overwhelm you once more. "I just...I need to talk to him."

Sensing the urgency in your voice, Ellie nodded in understanding. "Okay, let's go find him," she said, taking your hand and leading you out of the house.

As you followed Ellie towards the bar, your heart raced with fear and anticipation. You knew that whatever awaited you there, you couldn't continue to let your doubts and insecurities consume you.

Once inside the bar, you noticed Joel in the crowd, his gaze settling on yours with a warmth that shot an emotion through your chest. It was as if a magnetic force drew you closer together, despite any remaining doubts.

You moved across the crowded bar, Ellie's hand firmly clutched in yours, Joel's smile widening, and his gaze never leaving yours.

Finally reaching Joel's side, you felt a wave of relief sweep over you as he held you in his arms. The warmth of his hug swept away the residual frost of doubt, leaving you with an eager sense of calm and belonging.

"I missed you," Joel murmured, his voice soft as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"I missed you too," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you leaned into Joel's embrace, reveling in the familiar scent of his cologne and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For a moment, the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only you and Joel locked in a tender embrace. It was as if time itself had slowed to a halt, allowing you to savor the precious moments you shared together.

As Joel pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, you felt a rush of emotion swell within you, a profound gratitude for the love and support he had always shown you.

As the tender moment between you and Joel lingered, a voice interrupted, pulling you back to the present. "Hey, Joel!" called out a cheerful voice, and you turned to see a woman approaching, a bright smile on her face.

Joel turned to face the stranger, his arm still wrapped over you protectively. "Oh, hey Rachel," he said, a warm smile on his face. "This is my girlfriend," he added, introducing you. Then he turned his face to introduce the stranger to you. "This is Rachel, and she is new to Jackson."

You smiled politely at Rachel, but a tinge of dread came over you as you watched how she drew in closer to Joel, her hand casually resting on his free arm. You repressed a jealous pang and pushed yourself to keep a friendly demeanor, even though your heart squeezed with uncertainty.

"It's nice to meet you, Rachel," you said, your voice solid despite the tumult inside you.

Rachel returned the welcome with a warm grin, and her eyes flickered with intrigue as she glanced. between you and Joel. "Likewise," she replied, her tone friendly but tinged with a hint of flirtation.

As the night went on, you couldn't ignore the sense of unease that hung in the air. Despite your best efforts to ignore it, Rachel's lingering touches and seductive glances at Joel gnawed at your insides, stoking the jealousy that threatened to engulf you.

With each passing moment, it became more difficult to ignore Joel and Rachel's growing friendship. Their laughter and friendly banter got on your nerves, reminding you of the bond that they had.

You tried to ignore your misgivings and enjoy the evening with Joel, but insecurity weighed heavily on you. It felt like you were on the outside looking in, watching helplessly as Joel and Rachel got closer with each passing second.

Rachel's flirtations became more daring as the night progressed, her touches lingering a bit too long and her laughter provocative. Despite your best attempts to remain calm, the jealousy simmering beneath the surface threatened to explode.

You stole looks toward Joel, hoping to find reassurance in his eyes, but he seemed unaware of the impact Rachel's actions were having on you. It was as if she had enchanted him, consuming all of his attention.

You excused yourself from the table, unable to take the sight of Joel and Emily's flirtatious behavior any longer. You could understand, after all, that Joel was a handsome man who hadn't received this much attention since the world ended; yet, that didn't make it any less painful.

As you excused yourself from the table, a slew of feelings surged through you—pain, jealousy, and a deep sense of isolation. You longed for Joel's reassurance, his acknowledgment of the hurt that Rachel's behavior was causing you, but as you stole a glance at him, you saw only obliviousness in his gaze.

With a heavy heart, you moved away, your footsteps quietly echoing on the bar's hardwood floor. You felt Joel's stare on your back, but you couldn't force yourself to look into his eyes, scared of what you might find reflected there.

As you approached the edge of the room, you hesitated, your back facing Joel, struggling to find the perfect words. Finally, you spoke, hardly rising above a whisper. "I need some air," you remarked, your voice filled with anguish.

After a period of silence, you felt Joel's hand on your arm, warm and soothing. "Hey," he replied quietly, his voice full of concern. "Are you okay?"

You turned to face him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of longing and frustration. "I just...I need some time," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "I'll be outside."

Joel's expression softened, and his eyes filled with understanding as he nodded in response. "I'll come find you," he promised, his voice gentle as he squeezed your hand.

But instead, as you walked towards the house, the weight of the evening's events bearing down on you, you felt Joel's presence beside you. His steps were quiet, but his presence was comforting, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your pain.

"Hey," Joel said softly, his voice breaking the silence between you. "I'm sorry about back there. I didn't realize... I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

You glanced sideways at Joel, the warmth of his gaze softening the edges of your frustration. "It's not your fault," you replied, your voice tinged with sadness. "I know you didn't mean to."

Joel fell into a step beside you, his hand reaching out to brush against yours. "I just want you to know that you're the only one for me," he said earnestly, his voice filled with sincerity. "No one else matters, not like you do."

“You could have told her about it,” you said, frustration edging into your tone.

Joel's expression faltered slightly at your words, a hint of defensiveness flickering in his eyes. "I didn't think it was necessary," he replied, his tone tinged with irritation. "I didn't want to embarrass her or make things awkward."

You felt a surge of frustration rising within you, the sting of jealousy and insecurity reigniting in your chest. "But by not saying anything, you made me feel like my feelings didn't matter," you countered, your voice tinged with hurt. "You made me doubt myself; doubt us."

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice strained. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I just didn't know how to handle the situation."

The tension between you hung heavy in the air, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions pressing down on both of you. You wanted to believe Joel's assurances of love and devotion, but the lingering doubts and insecurities threatened to cloud your judgment.

"I need to rest," you said, changing the subject, your voice steady but tinged with sadness. "Tomorrow, we need to get up early for the patrol.”

“Actually, I’m not coming with you,” he said carefully.

“What? Why?”

“I’ll promise Rachel to...“

The air crackled with tension as Joel's words hung between you, his admission weighing heavily on your heart. Anger flared within you, fueled by hurt and betrayal.

"Why?" you demanded, your voice laced with frustration and disappointment. "Why would you choose her over me?

Joel's expression softened, and his eyes filled with regret. "I’m not choosing her over you; I would never do that," he replied, his voice tinged with guilt. "I didn't realize it would upset you."

You shook your head, unable to hide your frustration. "You should have talked to me about it first," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "You should have considered my feelings."

With a heavy heart, you turned away from Joel, the ache of disappointment echoing within you. As you retreated into the solitude of your thoughts, you couldn't help but wonder if your relationship could withstand this latest test or if it was destined to crumble beneath the weight of unresolved conflicts and broken promises.

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight!” you exclaimed as you kept walking.

The next morning dawned with a strong sense of tension in the air, the previous night's events still fresh in your mind. As you awoke from your sleep and began to prepare for the day ahead, the pain of disappointment and deceit chewed at your heart, casting a shadow on the early sun.

With a heavy sigh, you pushed aside any remaining doubts and concerns, determined to focus on the task at hand. As you approached the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, a soothing reminder of Joel's presence.

You discovered him standing by the counter, holding a warm mug of coffee, and preparing a second cup for you. His expression was solemn.

His eyes were downcast, as if weighted down by the events of the night before.

"Morning, angel," he said, his voice tinged with regret, as he gave you the mug. "I made some coffee."

“Thank you, but I’m leaving,” you replied, shortly walking towards the door.

"Angel, wait," Joel called out, his voice pleading as he reached out to gently grasp your arm, halting your departure. His touch was warm against your skin, a silent plea for you to stay and hear him out.

You hesitated, torn between the desire to escape the tension that hung between you and the longing to resolve the issues that had driven a wedge between you and Joel. With a heavy sigh, you turned to face him, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you like a leaden blanket.

“Take care; you know your safety is the most important thing for me,” he reassured, meeting your sad gaze.

"What a shame you're not going to be there to protect me," you replied bitterly, unable to mask the hurt in your voice. The words spilled out before you could stop them, a reflection of the pain and frustration that churned within you.

Joel's expression softened; his eyes filled with remorse as he reached out to gently cup your cheek.

Joel closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss filled with longing and remorse. It was a silent reassurance of his love and commitment, a promise to mend the wounds that had been inflicted upon your relationship.

As the kiss lingered, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the weight of uncertainty lifting ever so slightly from your shoulders. Despite the pain and hurt, you knew that Joel was sincere in his desire to make things right, and you were willing to give him another chance.

Pulling away, Joel met your gaze with a mixture of regret and determination. "We'll talk when you get back," he said softly, his voice filled with resolve. "I'll be here waiting for you, ready to make things right."

With a nod of agreement, you returned Joel's gaze, a silent acknowledgment of your shared commitment to each other.

As you and Tommy ventured out on patrol, the rhythm of your footsteps echoed against the deserted streets of Jackson. The tension that had weighed heavily on you began to ease slightly, replaced by a sense of purpose as you focused on the task at hand.

"So, what happened between you and Joel?" Tommy asked, breaking the silence that had settled between you. His voice was filled with concern, and his eyes were studying your expression carefully.

You sighed, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind. "We had an argument," you admitted reluctantly, the words heavy on your tongue. "I just don't know how to trust him again."

Tommy nodded in understanding, his expression sympathetic. "I get it," he said softly. "But you have to remember, Joel cares about you more than anything. He'd do anything to protect you, even if he doesn't always show it the right way."

You mulled over Tommy's words, the weight of his reassurance providing some measure of comfort amidst the uncertainty that plagued you. Despite the doubts that lingered in your mind, you knew that, deep down, Joel's intentions were genuine and his love for you was unwavering.

"I know," you replied, a sense of resolve creeping into your voice. "I just need to figure things out."

Tommy placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his gaze filled with empathy. "You will," he said confidently. "And when you do, Joel will be right there waiting for you, ready to make things right."

With a nod of gratitude, you continued on your patrol, the weight of uncertainty still heavy on your shoulders but with a glimmer of hope shining through the darkness. As you walked, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Tommy's support and reassurance, knowing that with his guidance and the strength of your bond with Joel, you would find a way to navigate the challenges that lay ahead.

“Of course, you will say nice things about your stupid brother,” you joked.

Tommy chuckled at your jest, the sound carrying through the quiet streets as you continued on your patrol. "Hey, he may be stubborn and thick-headed sometimes, but Joel's got a good heart," he said with a grin. "And he cares about you more than anything."

You couldn't help but smile at Tommy's words, grateful for his unwavering support and his ability to see the best in Joel, even in the midst of conflict. "Thanks, Tommy," you said sincerely, the weight of uncertainty lifting ever so slightly from your shoulders. "I appreciate it."

Tommy nodded in response, his expression filled with understanding. "Anytime," he replied, his voice laced with warmth. "We're family, after all. And family sticks together, no matter what."

As you and Tommy continued your patrol around Jackson, everything was eerily quiet, with the only sound being the subtle crunch of gravel beneath your feet. The weight of insecurity lingered in the air, but you pressed on, determined to do your job and safeguard your town.

A group of people appeared from the shadows unexpectedly, their faces hidden by the night's darkness. Your heart jumped into your throat as you understood the danger that was immediately surrounding you.

You weren't a weak person; in fact, people considered you a powerful fighter, always merciless when it was required and determined to save the ones you cared about, so your instincts kicked in and your senses heightened as adrenaline flowed through veins. Despite the suddenness of the attack, you maintained your composure, guided by your training and expertise.

Until one of them grabbed you and pinned you down, your heart raced with a mix of fear and determination. You struggled against their hold, every muscle in your body tensing as you fought to break free. Despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the grip of your assailant remained firm, their strength overpowering.

With a surge of desperation, you summoned all your strength and training, channeling it into a fierce struggle to break free. Your mind raced with thoughts of escape, of finding a way to overcome this unexpected obstacle and emerge victorious.

Beside you, Tommy fought valiantly against the other attackers, his determination matching your own as he defended against the onslaught. Though outnumbered and caught off guard, you refused to give in, clinging to the hope that help would soon arrive.

“So, you’re Joel’s Miller girl,” a feminine voice said.

The voice cut through the chaos, freezing you momentarily as you tried to recognize the mocking tone. Despite the tense situation, a surge of anger flared within you at the mention of Joel's name. You refused to let fear or intimidation weaken your resolve.

With renewed determination, you continued to struggle against your assailant's hold, your mind racing with thoughts of escape and survival. Every fiber of your being was focused on breaking free and finding a way to overcome this threat and protect yourself and Tommy.

“Tommy!” you exclaimed, worry creeping up with you.

“I’m fine!” he reassured back.

“What do you want?” You asked the girl, who is now in front of you.

The girl smirked, her eyes filled with venom as she peered down at you, pinned under her. "What do I want?" she said, her voice full of scorn. "I'd like to send a message to your dear Joel. I want him to understand that no one is safe, including his girl."

Her statements enraged your fury, but you kept calm, refusing to show any signs of weakness in the face of her remarks. "And what message would that be?" you asked, your voice steady despite what was occurring.

As she drew in closer, the girl's smirk deepened, and her eyes took on a malicious glitter. "The message is simple," she stated, her voice low and frightening. "I will take away what he loves.

the most from him, as he did with me.”

“What?” but before you could even realize what was happening, you felt a sharp pain through your abdomen.

The sharp pain ripped through your abdomen, stealing the breath from your lungs as you gasped in shock. A guttural cry of agony escaped your lips as you felt blood seeping from the wound, staining your clothes crimson.

The girl's cruel laughter echoed in your ears as she withdrew the weapon, a twisted smirk of satisfaction twisting her features. "That's the message," she said coldly, her voice dripping with malice.

You didn’t want to die here without seeing the smiles of the people you loved.

Your vision blurred as waves of pain washed over you, threatening to drag you into unconsciousness. Through the haze of agony, you fought to stay conscious, your thoughts consumed by a desperate need to survive, to make it back to Joel, to warn him of the danger that now threatened you both.

“Hey, stay with me. I’m taking you to Jackson,” Tommy said desperately, but his voice was just an echo at this time.

The world seemed to spin around you as you fought to hold onto consciousness, Tommy's voice barely registering amidst the haze of pain and confusion. Every fiber of your being screamed in agony, but you refused to succumb to the darkness that threatened to consume you.

With a herculean effort, you summoned whatever strength remained within you, clinging to Tommy's words like a lifeline. Through sheer force of will, you forced your eyes to focus, locking onto Tommy's determined gaze as he lifted you into his arms.

The journey back to Jackson was a blur of agony and desperation, with each step sending waves of pain coursing through your battered body. But with every labored breath, you clung to the hope that burned within you—a determination to survive and protect those you loved.

As the walls of Jackson loomed into view, relief flooded through you, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness. With Tommy's unwavering support, you stumbled towards safety, with the promise of medical aid and the comfort of Joel's embrace urging you forward.

As you were carried through the gates of Jackson, the weight of exhaustion and pain threatened to overwhelm you.

Tommy stepped into Jackson's doors, crying out for help as you lay practically still in his arms. The wound in your stomach was major, and he couldn't shake the thought that you would die as a result of his inability to protect you.

As Tommy stormed through the doors of Jackson, his voice buzzing with desperation, terror spread throughout the neighborhoods. People turned their heads, concerned expressions on their faces, as they saw you almost unresponsive in his arms, crimson blood covering the clothes you were wearing.

A crowd swiftly gathered around Tommy, their alarming murmuring filling the air. Tommy ignored them, focusing entirely on getting you the help you so desperately needed.

As Tommy went towards the improvised infirmary, frantic yells sounded out, requesting the medical attention they had here. His steps were heavy with guilt, and each instant seemed to last forever as he feared the worst.

Finally, the infirmary doors swung open, and a team of medics led by Jackson hurried forward to take you from Tommy's arms. They worked fast and effectively, their expressions serious as they assessed the seriousness of your injury. 

Tommy stood back, his hands quivering with terror and remorse, as he saw the doctor rush into action. He couldn't shake the notion that your condition was a result of his failing to safeguard you from harm.

Joel's heart was tight with fear when he saw a commotion near the infirmary. Without hesitation, he raced towards the crowd, his instincts screaming for him to get to you as soon as possible.

Joel's heart raced in his chest as he pushed his way through the crowd, finally arriving at the infirmary entrance. He saw you, pale and frail, in the arms of the doctors, your life hanging in limbo.

Joel moved forward without hesitation, arms outstretched, reaching for you. "No," he murmured hoarsely, terror and desperation evident in his tone. "Please, don't let her die."

The medics stepped aside, allowing Joel to take you into his arms. As he held you close, he could feel the warmth of your body against his, but it was too still, too fragile. Tears welled in his eyes as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, silently praying for your recovery.

“Hey, angel,” he murmured, finding strength in his voice. “Open those beautiful eyes of yours for me, baby, okay? Please, do it!” He continued sobbing as he caressed your hair. “I can lose everything, but not you... Oh god, not you, please?”

Joel kept holding you in his arms, preventing you from going away from him, and you could feel his touch, his care, and his voice pleading with you to stay with him. You wanted that, you wanted so bad, but the strength was dying inside you, and everything you ever knew went black.

You became a lifeless frame in the arms of your biggest love. When you stopped breathing, Joel’s heart stopped beating because, as if it was glass, it shattered.

The look of the doctor and the face of Tommy told them the truth he didn’t want to acknowledge, confirming the unthinkable: you were gone. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as Joel's world shattered around him. He clung to your lifeless form, his body racked with sobs as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of his loss.

"No, no, please," Joel choked out, his voice breaking with grief as he held you close, unwilling to accept the truth of what had just happened. Tears streamed down his cheeks unchecked, his sobs echoing in the silence of the infirmary.

For a moment, time stood still as Joel clung to you, unwilling to let go and unwilling to accept that you were gone. The world around him blurred, and the pain in his heart was too overwhelming to bear.

But as the reality of your loss settled over him, Joel's grief turned to rage, a primal, consuming fury that burned through him like wildfire. With a guttural cry of anguish, he cradled you in his arms, his body trembling with the force of his emotions.

In that moment, Joel felt as if his world had come crashing down around him, leaving nothing but darkness and despair in its wake. He had lost everything—the love of his life, his reason for living, his angel.

And as he held you close, his heart shattered into a million pieces, each one a painful reminder of the love he had lost and the life that had been snuffed out too soon. For Joel, the world had ceased to exist, consumed by the gaping void left in the wake of your passing.

He was never going to kiss you again; he was never going to hold you close at night or wake up to your smile in the morning. The future he had imagined, filled with laughter and love, now lay shattered at his feet.

A few hours later, Joel woke up in your shared bed, and you were sleeping next to him.

Joel's hand extended out to touch you, and a sense of warmth and comfort came over him. For a little while, he felt the smoothness of your skin beneath his fingertips and the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed peacefully beside him.

But then reality slammed back in like a tidal wave, yanking him from his comfortable state of sleep. His hand gripped the empty air, his fingers wrapping around nothing but chilly emptiness.

Joel's eyes opened abruptly, and he found himself lying in the dimly lit space, alone in the bed that had previously accommodated both of you. The ache in his chest returned with vengeance, a searing pang of anguish piercing his heart as he realized you were no longer alongside him.

Joel let out a deep sigh as he ran his hand through his hair, the memories of the dream still fresh in his mind. It felt so genuine and so vivid that, for a brief minute, he believed you were still alive and with him.

You were gone, taken from him in a cruel twist of fate, and no amount of dreaming could bring you back to him.

It's been a week, and he didn't attend your funeral because he was unable to accept that you were no longer alive.

Until today, when he stepped out of the house, which was surrounded by the flowers that some members of the community had left for you, and walked to your graveyard.

As Joel approached your graveyard, he felt an enormous burden settle over him—the weight of grief and loss that had been his constant companion in the days since your death. The walk appeared longer than it had ever been, with each step weighed down by the weight of his grief.

As he reached the grave, Joel's heart tightened with agony and need. The sight of the newly turned earth and the plain headstone traced your name as if it were your face. Joel's heart tightened with agony and need. The sight of freshly churned ground, with a simple monument marking your final resting place, acted as a sharp reminder of your absence.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you; I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

Tears welled in Joel's eyes as he laid a bouquet of flowers at the foot of the headstone, each bloom a silent tribute to the love and loss he felt in his heart. The scent of the flowers mingled with the earthy aroma of the graveyard, a poignant reminder of the fleeting beauty of life and the inevitability of death.

Joel's voice quivered as he spoke, every word heavy with the weight of his despair and sorrow. He kneeled near the grave, his hand resting on the cool surface of the headstone, seeking comfort in the memory of your love.

"I want you to know that it was never me who protected you, but you who protected me," Joel said quietly, his words barely audible above the delicate murmur of the wind through the trees. "You were always the one who gave me strength, who showed me what it meant to love and to be loved."

As Joel spoke, tears streamed down his cheeks, revealing his real and unadulterated grief. At that time, surrounded by the serene tranquility of the graveyard, he felt profound loss, a yawning void that could never be filled.

"But now you're gone," Joel added, his voice breaking with sadness. "And I do not know how to go on without you."

Joel rose to his feet after one final long glance at the headstone, a sensation of purpose coming over him. He may have lost you, but he promised to always carry your love with him, to respect your memory in all he did, and to find a way to move forward, even in the face of his greatest pain.

You were always in every star shining above, in the sky.

He was back in the dimly lit room, with the weight of the grief still over his shoulders, and with trembling hands, he reached for the small camera you had traded, his fingers tracing the familiar contours of the device.

As he turned it on, the screen flickered to life, illuminating the darkness with a soft glow. And there, displayed before him, was the image he had captured of your sleeping, your peaceful expression a bittersweet reminder of how simply you could make him happy.

With a heavy heart, Joel reached out, his fingertips gently tracing the patterns of your face on the screen. It was as if he could feel your presence beside him.

Tears welled in Joel's eyes as he lingered on the image, his heart aching with longing for the touch he could no longer feel. But in that moment, surrounded by memories of you, he found a glimmer of solace, a reminder that though you were gone, your love would always remain.