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loveliestlovelygirl · 2 months

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divine temptations | 111

say yes to heaven, say yes to me

fallenangel!anakin x nun!reader | lore 🪽 | playlist

synopsis: anakin, a seraph, has lost himself to his obsession of you. with every moment he can, he watches over you as you attend to your daily duties around the convent. and day by day his desire grows. when your guardian angels fail to protect you, anakin believes he has no choice but to intervene, breaking numerous heavenly laws in the process.

w.c: 2.2k+

highlights: {minors dni} dark content, heavy religious themes and imagery, inspiration taken from catholicism primarily, sexual themes, corruption kink, light sexualization of the reader as a nun, fem!reader & use of she/her pronouns, attempted sexual assault

table of contents | 222

The crux of his obsession began with your voice. Harmonious and pure. Passionate and sweet. The soft vibrato and splendid timbre of your voice could be heard above all the clatter from the realms of Earth. The melodies you sang haunted him from the rise of the sun to the white shadow of the moon. And while he needed not sleep, he found no rest as he smoldered in his selfish desires for you. After he had fulfilled his duties for that day, when he was alone, he remained perched in the Heavens watching over you, drowning in the beauty of your voice, and lusting for your human touch.

His name was Anakin. And day after day he watched you, wishing he could descend to the realm which held your precious life. But that was a boundary that he was forbidden to cross. He was confined to be a guardian of the Heavens, not of Earth. To him, it was a cruel, cruel fate. Watching you from above, lightyears of distance between your realities, was as close to you as he was permitted.

An angel of his status, chosen to protect the thrones of the deity, a seraph, should give no eye to the realms beneath him nor find solace in the voice of human girl. The way that you had captivated him was unnatural and unholy. If anyone found out he entertained himself with you, he might be marked with shame by the highest councils, until he repented publicly. Though he might never obtain such a position as his ever again. As it were, he found himself considering these things, as if shame might be a solution to making contact with you.

He'd prefer to be your guardian angel than a guardian of his own father. He wanted to serve creation rather than its Creator. And that was sin. He could not deny this secret was a source of guilt. And it would not be long before the all-knowing Maker noticed how far from perfection Anakin had fallen.

But he wasn’t afraid of the fall. He wanted to connect with you in a deeper way than this parasocial existence. He wished to be your guardian angel. But you had many. Someone so beloved by the Creator had five guardian angels. And he hated each of them with equal rage.

Hate was dangerous. It was said that hatred lit the path of the fallen. And if it were true, then he had already doomed himself the moment he began desiring you.

He watched you as you prayed in the chapel, kneeling on the bench and making the Sign of the Cross, touching your beautiful skin with your fingertips. Contentment marked your face, and he felt it in your soul. It was only a feeling he had when he listened to your voice pray and sing with such grace and beauty. In your dainty hands, you held the rosary beads and began to say your prayer. Holding the first bead between your fingers, you whispered Our Father to yourself. Day after day you’d repeat the same prayers with equal passion. Your love and faithfulness to the one who gave you life was unmatchable. You had sacrificed much to serve him, cutting off your family and material possessions entirely to live a humble life in the convent. Your prayers never revolved around your desires, only for others. You often prayed for your sisters. Never for yourself. Anakin often wondered if you had any dreams of your own at all. Despite all his abilities, he could not hear your thoughts. He only heard what you said aloud to yourself.

As you worked with your hands in the garden, you often sang psalms of praise when you thought no one was around to listen. You sang softly, the most beautiful melody which would stain his thoughts day and night forever. He would hear you even when you were silent; the barriers of all the heavenly realms echoed with your voice, to his ears never ceasing. But perhaps, it’s only because he desired you so.

His obsession was different than that of men. Though not immune to your divine beauty, his craving for your touch transcended that of sexual pleasure. Sex is something created for humans to enjoy with other humans. His being was never made for intercourse with mankind, and he viewed it as a simple animalistic action. A way to express desire, but to him it was lacking in true passion.

What he felt for you was true desire.

He wanted to consume you.

Corrupt you.

He wanted you to desire him, crave him, lust over him, with every atom of your body and with every piece of your soul. He wanted to see you overturn your religious convictions and worship him instead. He wanted your prayers, your psalms, your whole heart.

Was that too much to ask?

Forbidden was what it was. Sacrilegious even. And enough to get him cast out of the heavenly realms forever.

But the longer he wished for you, the more he thought that it might be worth it. There was nothing he wanted more than you. And only you. He wanted to live out the rest of eternity adored by you. That would be enough.

But you were unaware of his existence. Which awakened rage within him strong enough to tear galaxies apart.

He could see you, but as long as he remained in his dimension, you would never be able to see him or know that he existed. He was forbidden to show you his glory, to share his voice, and to touch your skin. It was never meant to be.

And yet he still found a way to make contact, against all heavenly odds.

You were plucking red apples from the orchard trees close to the road. It wasn’t a common route from the convent to the market, but some used it. Anakin had finally caught a break from the council meetings with the Thrones and Cherubim and sneaked away to see you. He hated that your sisters sent you out alone where you could be harmed.

Your five guardians flitted around you in a circle. He knew that they would do almost everything in their power to keep you safe. Everything except actually physically intervening. For you, there would be no limits in how far Anakin would go to protect you. He would break every earthly and heavenly law.

For you.

And only you.

When you had filled your basket with apples, you climbed down the ladder to rest. You leaned back against the tree and looked up at the sky. If you had eyes to see the other dimensions, you would have been looking right into his eyes. His heart swelled with pride, knowing that you shared a connection, even if you didn’t know it yet.

An older human male was steering a small buggy pulled by two horses. Anakin had been watching him for miles coming down the road. Your guardian angels seemed to be unconcerned about his approach. And they could hear the thoughts of humans, which meant that you were likely safe.

But there was something about that man Anakin didn’t like. Perhaps it was only his proximity to you. He was jealous of anything that was closer to you than he.

You sang to yourself softly, and Anakin drew as near as he were permitted just to listen to your voice.

“You have a lovely voice,” the man said to you. He had gotten off his buggy and walked over the road and a stretch of grass to meet you at the tree.

Anakin held himself back somehow, though if he saw fit, he could scorch the man from the inside out until he returned to dust.

You looked up at this stranger standing over you, and instantly, your eyes widened in fear. Anakin assumed it had been a long time since you’d spoken to a man. It was natural for you to be afraid. You thought you were all alone.

Anakin only watched the interaction transpire.

“Thank you,” you said back, your voice trembling.

“Would you sing a song for me?” the man asked.

“I think… that you should leave. This is private land, sir.”

A sane person would have backed away and said his goodbyes, but he didn’t. And Anakin knew instantly that he should have trusted himself to know this man’s intentions for you. This despicable creature kicked the basket from your lap and grabbed you, holding you by the throat against the tree trunk.

Your guardian angels had failed you. All five of them. Were they not paying attention to his evil thoughts? How had they missed them? They held the power to influence the thoughts of men. They could have convinced him to turn away and leave you alone.

But they didn’t.

They were going to let this man defile you.

Anakin watched them scrambling around, trying when it’s too late to change this man’s heart. But they could do nothing to interfere with free will once man had decided.

And Anakin thought that to be a stupid law. One meant to be broken.

With a singular motion of his index finger, Anakin sent lightning from the clouds, lightning that struck this man and stopped his heart. He was burned and scarred instantly and fell back, turning to ash.

You screeched and cried and sobbed, crumbling to your knees in a shaking mess. He wished he could comfort you, but he had already done enough to ruin himself entirely. But it was worth it to keep you safe. This was as close to you as he had ever gotten. The electricity from his lightning bolt just buzzed your skin. And he felt it. He wanted you to feel him in some way.

Your guardians looked up at him all at once with fire in their eyes. Anakin smiled and gave them a wave. They were angry and picked him up. He could not overpower them when they were together.

They carried him to the high council and dropped him in the center of the chamber. Anakin did not need to explain himself; they already knew what had transpired.

“Need we remind you of the law of free will? The law given to humans by our Creator?” the Throne of Reason, Mace, said. His eyes were full of judgment and understanding at the same time.

Anakin picked himself up and stood, stretching out his layers of feathered wings. “I could not stand by and watch her be harmed.”

Mace closed his eyes and clasped his hands together. “You are in dangerous territory, young one. You know that what you did is one of the greatest of sins. To interfere with man’s will—” Mace pressed his lips together, “in such a physical way. Using the Heavens’ power against mankind. Anakin, you killed a man today.”

This was all such a waste of time. He knew what they were going to say. How they would interpret his actions. But why was no one speaking of that human’s sin. Rape. Raping a young maiden. That wasn’t worthy of a discussion? It wasn’t worthy of being mentioned?

“What about him?” Anakin asked defiantly.

Obi-Wan shot him a warning glare from where he sat. Obi-Wan was a cherub, one that was usually too busy attending to the wishes of the Creator to attend the high council. But Anakin did not doubt that his friend’s presence was needed today.

“The human?” Mace did not appreciate the diversion from Anakin’s sin.

“Yes. He was going to hurt her! And they—” Anakin pointed at your guardian angels, his entire being catching fire from his rage, “they weren’t going to intervene in any real way. They failed to listen. If I could hear the thoughts of men, I would have done something before he laid a hand on her.”

“Your obsession with this human is… concerning. Don’t think we haven’t noticed. Why are your thoughts on the Earth realms? Need I remind you that your duties are the greatest in all of Heaven?” Mace said.

“But they could have done something!”

Disapprovingly, Mace shook his head. “You can’t know that. Only the Creator does. And it is not your place nor mine to judge men. That is for the Principalities to determine. They enact rightful punishment on humanity. You are not to interfere.”

Obi-Wan spoke up, coming to Anakin’s defense. “He is young. Neither you nor I can say that we haven’t made mistakes.”

“It wasn’t just a mistake. He broke the law. He overstepped his boundaries. He killed a man.”

“In his eyes, he was protecting her.”

Mace sighed. “She does not need him for that.”

Anakin stood there for a long time, drowning in their criticisms. His chest felt heavy, and he couldn’t hear himself think. He couldn’t hear you. All that he could do was worry for you. He knew the human mind could not erase trauma. It would remain with them for good. Tears streamed down his face at the thought of your pain which you did not deserve.

“I don’t need to listen to any of you! You have no authority over me!” Anakin announced without shame. Seraphim were of the highest order.

“I was not the one who called this meeting,” Mace said sympathetically. He looked above.

There was only one who held authority over him.

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photo1030 · 11 months

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Leather and Lace - Chapter 15: Feelings Revealed

PART 1 - I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU

Summary: You finally confront Arthur about how you feel about him, and force him to make a decision, whether you are ready for the answer or not.

*This is a long one and will be broken up into multiple parts.

*Special thanks to the wonderfully talented @rivetingrosie4 for beta reading this for me.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

**This exquisite image comes from @kmartkiddieisle

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @plumbeeb @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know.

Arthur isn’t sure how it happened. He let his guard down, that’s for damn sure. Some bounty hunter had recognized him when you and Arthur were in Ourey last week. He had a tip that Arthur was in the area, but not sure exactly where. And as luck would have it, the hunter was in the saloon for a drink when he just happened to glance over his shoulder and see the very man he was looking for sitting at a table in the corner with a lady, chatting away without worry, like the world wasn't on his back.

Earlier this morning, Josiah Trelawny had come to the camp, asking if you could tend to one of the locals in need of medical attention. There still aren't too many doctors in this area, and this particular fellow is a friend of Josiah's. Dutch agreed to let you go, as long as you got paid for your trouble, of course. And, naturally, Arthur insisted that he be your escort.

After the two of you had made a brief stop in town for needed medical supplies, this bounty hunter spotted Arthur again. He followed the two of you at a distance, careful to not let Arthur catch on that he was being followed. The hunter patiently lingered in the woods that lined the house while you two tended to the sick individual. And once you had left the homestead, he tailed you and Arthur, waiting for the opportunity to take down one, Arthur Morgan.

And now, this bounty hunter has you as his hostage.

The clouds in the sky dance playfully around the sun, alternating sunlight and shadows upon the Earth's surface below as the three of you stand in the clearing. The bounty hunter pulls you tight against him as your hands clutch at his forearm, which has a vice-grip around your shoulders. He holds a well-used revolver to your head with the other. His hot breath carries across your neck and stinks of tooth-rot as his face hovers close to yours. You can feel his torso and hips dig into your backside and it makes your skin just crawl with repulsion.

But the hunter is not focused on you. He stares past your shoulder at the man who is his main target. A sneer of superiority crosses the hunter's lips, exposing his blackened and snaggled teeth. He triumphantly displays his upper hand to Arthur, elated that he has discovered the notorious outlaw's weakness. You.

You watch Arthur's expression turn from surprise at being snuck up on, to one of outrage. His jaw clenches, and you can see the muscles of his face twitch as he grits his teeth together. His beautiful blue eyes, always a beacon for you to stare into, have turned hard and icy gray. Arthur's shoulders square and set, seeming to add another few inches to his already intimidating stature. Although you have heard of how menacing Arthur Morgan can be, you have rarely seen it yourself in person. And it is a terrifying thing to witness. In fact, the last time you saw him this angry was the day the two of you met. And unfortunately, it was a similar scenario then, as well.

"Let her go," Arthur grits out in a low, calm voice. "She ain’t got nothing to do with this."

But the bounty hunter only laughs at Arthur's request, as if it is the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. "Since when do you give a damn about anyone else, Morgan? Hmmm?" And then the hunter's face changes to an exaggeratedly surprised expression as if he just had a profound realization. "Oooo, wait a minute now. You like this one, don’t you, Morgan?" He turns his face into yours just slightly, but keeps his steely eyes trained on Arthur. "I can see why. She’s real nice." He begins to rub his face along yours, taunting Arthur. "Nice and soft. Skin so pretty. It'd be a real shame if something were to happen to this face." His hand creeps up to cup under your chin, pulling your head back to him even tighter as he shoves the barrel of his gun harder into your temple, causing a quick and soft gasp to escape your dry lips.

Arthur's face contorts just slightly, breaking his cold exterior for just a fraction of a second. And in doing so, it reveals to the hunter that he has indeed hit a nerve, causing a smug smile to dance across his mouth.

"You best get your damn grimy hands off of her," Arthur threatens, his voice almost a growl now and his hands balling into fists of rage. "I ain't gonna tell you again." Arthur's warning sends shivers down your spine as you hear the words drop from his lips. His movements and tone are so slow and deliberate, with a menacing air that radiates off of his body so acutely that you almost do not recognize the man standing in front of you.

The bounty hunter just grins horribly and opens his mouth to drag his tongue along your cheek, further provoking Arthur. The act makes you close your eyes and whimper in disgust. You slowly open your eyes again and keep them on Arthur, not wavering from his gaze. You don’t cry or beg while being held by this pig, but remain perfectly still. The only thing that betrays your anxiety is how your body trembles ever so slightly from your broken breathing.

Arthur can clearly see the fear in your wide eyes. It makes him angry--both at this man, and at himself, for putting you in this situation. He will kill this man for his transgression. There is no doubt about that. It's not as if Arthur likes killing. But he has killed men for far less noble reasons than protecting you. So it stands to reason that this man's end is most certainly inevitable now.

As you stand there with the cold metal of a gun barrel digging into your temple, and with this horrible man pressed against you, you suddenly realize that the reason you are afraid is not so much that you could die right now, but that you could die without Arthur knowing that you love him. Before this moment, you have never divulged your heart's secret to him. And now, you may never get a chance to. You may never hold him or to ever know what it is like to properly kiss him. And worse yet, you'd never know if Arthur ever felt the same about you in return.

As the two men stare each other down, the air goes very still—as quiet as a cemetery at night. You can see Arthur's muscles tense like a spring ready to snap. Your chest begins to heave, drawing air into your lungs much faster now. Your heart races with anticipation. You watch Arthur like a hawk, your gaze never wavering from his. And then you see it. You see Arthur's eyes cast down ever so slightly. The hunter doesn't even notice, but you do. And your eyes go even wider with the recognition of it. It's a clear signal of which direction you will need to move.

Faster than what seems humanly possible, Arthur's body explodes into motion, pulling his gun from its holster. The mere second you see his muscles twitch, you let your body go absolutely limp like a wet string in the hunter's grasp. You slip through the man’s arms and drop down to his feet, crumpling hard to the ground. You cover your head with your hands and your knee knocks into your jaw as you curl into a ball as tightly as possible.

Three gunshots crack loudly through the air, echoing off of the treeline and ringing in your ears. You hear a loud, wet thud next to you, thick and heavy as a body hits the dirt. You are hesitant to look up, but you quickly realize that it can't be Arthur. The sound is too close in proximity to you to be him. You slowly lift your head and look over to see the bounty hunter lying motionless next to you. His eyes are wide open and still carrying the look of shock in them. You take quick note of the red weeping holes in his chest. Of the three shots that rang out, two were fired by Arthur, both hitting the hunter with deadly accuracy, with the third shot being a feeble attempt by the hunter to squeeze off a hit before bullets tore through his chest and he slumped to the ground.

But it is silent once again, now. The only sound you hear is your own heavy, terrified breathing as the smell of gunpowder lingers in the air. You stare at the dead man, confirming that he will not be a threat to you any longer. Speechless, you then turn your wide and shining eyes up at Arthur, still trying to catch your breath. Arthur stands perfectly still, a calm now settling over him. This is not a new sight for him, but one that he has been forced to pursue repeatedly. While you are sitting in the dirt, stunned, Arthur seems unphased by the dead body lying ungracefully in a heap on the ground. Sighing, he holsters his gun and slowly walks over to you.

Arthur looks down at you, tilting his head slightly. "You ok?" His voice is soft and concerned. You can only nod silently as he extends his hand down to help you stand.

You place your trembling hand into his much larger one. And in this very moment, the strength that you find there provides a comfort to you that you could not have possibly imagined. His other hand slides under your elbow, providing extra support as he carefully assists you to stand, checking that you have not been harmed in any way.

Once you've come to your feet, you suddenly launch yourself into Arthur's chest, throwing your arms tightly around his neck before he can stop you. For you, it is the safest place to be right now. Your eyes screw shut as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, your arms encircling his shoulders as you cling to him tightly. And instead of recoiling, Arthur evenly returns the gesture. A flood of relief washes over him, now that you are safe in his arms. You feel his strong arms circle around your waist and back, holding you securely to his broad chest as his chin drops to hover above your shoulder, his cheek pressed into your hair.

You still have yet to cry, but you are trembling terribly. And he holds you even closer, his hand sliding up to cradle your head now, in an effort to soothe your shaking. "It's alright," his voice floats from his lips as they hover next to your ear. "I got ya, girl. I always got you."

The two of you stay this way for several minutes, not another word spoken. You feel the nervous energy drain from you as Arthur holds you to him. His body pulls it from you and replaces it with his own body heat. Finally, you pull back from him and you gaze into each other's eyes. Your lids flutter at the wave of love you feel for him. Your gaze floats from his vividly blue eyes to his lips. You want so desperately to kiss him.

Arthur's breathing hitches slightly as he notices your chest beginning to float up and down as your heart rate speeds up at the thought of it. He catches you studying his face, your eyes lingering on his mouth. Your hands begin to slide from behind his neck, and across the plane of his shoulders, before gliding down along his arms. Your hands grasp slightly at the bulk of the muscles they find there as they travel. And suddenly, your fingers feel something wet. The quick change in sensation yanks you from your romantic reverie. You look away from his face and down to where your right hand lingers on his bicep and see bright crimson red seeping through the fabric of his green shirt.

"Your arm!" you gasp softly, blinking the fog away from your mind. The sight of Arthur's blood sharply startles you and quickly pulls your mind out of the clouds.

Confused, Arthur stares at you for a moment, not even paying attention to what you're saying, before looking down at himself. He sees the blood on his shirt from where the hunter's stray bullet cut across his arm, but quickly dismisses it. "It’s just a graze, I’m alright." He gives you a weak smile.

"We need to wrap this," you stutter, trying to collect your thoughts and pull yourself together. Looking around for your horse, you whistle for Blue as Arthur has taught you. The horse picks his head up at the sound and quickly comes trotting over to you from the bushes where he's been grazing. You hurry to get bandages out of your saddle bag and begin to wrap the cotton around Arthur's arm to quell the bleeding. Arthur says nothing, but simply watches your every move as you work. A grin pulls at his lips as he watches how you fuss over him, amused at how your attention has been drastically redirected. His eyes cascade from your beautiful hair, now a disheveled mess, and over your face before settling to your hands and delicate fingers, now painted red with his blood.

Suddenly, off in the distance, you begin to hear voices and hoofbeats. Arthur's head snaps up to attention, his eyes narrowing as he tries to focus on the direction it’s coming from. It could be colleagues of the bounty hunter, or it could simply be passers-by. But either way, the two of you should not be found with a dead man. As you tie-off the bandage around his bicep, Arthur sets his hands on both of your arms in urgency. "C'mon, we need to get out of here."

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Thankfully, you and Arthur make it back to camp with no more distractions after that. Once you arrive home, you quickly pull Arthur to your med tent to stitch up the gash in his arm from the bullet graze. With that properly taken care of, you split up and head to your own tents to get cleaned up and settle down after the afternoon's events. Eventually, you both wander back to join the rest of the gang who have gathered around the main fire, where you are met with curious faces when they notice Arthur's bandage and the exhausted expressions upon both your faces. With a cup of hot coffee in your hand (and a whiskey bottle in Arthur's) you begin to recount the day's events about the bounty hunter to your friends.

"It's a good thing Arthur was there, then," suggests Abigail when you finish speaking, her eyes dancing back and forth between you and Arthur with a soft approving smile on her face.

From where he sits perched upon an overturned crate, Micah snorts a laugh of disbelief at her statement. "Well, that’s one way to look at it." He leans over to spit dismissively into the grass at his feet. "The way I see it, that piece of shit was there for Arthur, not her," he emphasizes with a wave in your direction. "She wouldn't have been in trouble in the first place if it weren't for him. So it’s more like Arthur was damn lucky he was able to pull that off without getting either of their asses shot. No?"

Leave it to Micah Bell to try and stir things up. Especially when it comes to Arthur.

You pitch a heated glare at Micah over the plumes of smoke that dance in the air, one that matches the burning embers that you all are sitting around. "You have no idea what you're even talki-"

"He’s right," Arthur confesses, cutting you off mid-sentence before you can rant and tear into the weasley man sitting across from you. He takes another gulp from the whiskey bottle and casually stretches his leg out a bit and resettles his weight to get more comfortable. You snap your head to look from Micah to Arthur now, his statement halting you in your tracks. You simply stare incredulously at Arthur, eyes blinking in disbelief.

"I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you just said," the sarcasm dripping from your voice as you shake your head at this nonsense. "It sounds like you said that 'Micah Bell is right'?"

"If that guy hadn’t known me, he may have just passed us by." Arthur keeps his tone calm and stares into your eyes as if to drill this belief into your stubborn head.

"Or he would have just killed us both!" you interject, your voice getting more annoyed by the second as you ball the fabric of your skirt into your hands.

"I shouldn’t have taken you out of camp," he argues back stubbornly, his grip tightening on the neck of the whiskey bottle in his hand. "Should've had Charles do it."

"You always do th-!" your voice raises now as you start to get angry.

"Either way, it’s done now," Dutch's deep voice booms sharply from where he’s sitting by the fire. His voice cuts through the mounting tension between you and Arthur, his hand slicing through the air in the finality of discussion. "No harm done. (Y/N)’s fine, that fella’s dead, Arthur is in one piece. It's over." Like a parent reprimanding his children, Dutch's tone is firm and unyielding in ending this argument before it can even begin. His dark eyes dart menacingly back and forth between you and Arthur, just waiting for any protest.

You bite your tongue as you hold Arthur's gaze with an unspoken irritation. After a moment of silence, Arthur abruptly gets up and storms off, intent on hiding away in his tent before he can say or do something stupid that he'll regret.

Your eyes follow him, glaring angrily out of frustration, desperately trying to ignore the stinging sensation of tears about to spill forth. The only sound to be heard is the crackling and popping of the fire in front of you.

From where she sits next to you, Abigail places a comforting hand upon your arm and sighs in disappointment. "Just let it go, (Y/N). Let him wallow."

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The next few days are odd, to say the least. Arthur isn't specifically ignoring you, but he is definitely distracted and in his own head. There is much work to do in camp, so the distraction is welcome, but he is certainly conflicted. A few days ago, he was finally ready to sit you down and profess his affections for you; to finally come clean and speak out loud what has been rolling around in his head and bubbling in his heart for quite some time. But now, that horrible self-doubt is creeping its way back in, like ivy that climbs up the garden wall. And he feels guilty about it, too. One minute you two are inseparable, the next he won't come near you with a ten-foot pole. It has to be confusing to you, he figures. It has to be, seeing as it confuses the hell out of him, too.

Today, Arthur and Micah are riding out to follow a lead on a job. Normally, Arthur does not care to work jobs with Micah. But with John and Javier out on another route, and Bill and Charles each following their own leads, these two men are left for Dutch to send out. The two set out and make their way over to the next town to meet a man about a tip on a supply run. And with Arthur being quieter than usual, it doesn't take long for Micah to start running his mouth.

"You still poutin' over that mess with the bounty hunter, Morgan?" Micah glances over at the other man and his horse, a merciless tease in his voice as he pokes at what he knows is still a sensitive subject.

Arthur gives no answer except more silence and a scowl that deepens as he sits stiffly in his saddle while they travel the dusty road.

Micah gives a slight shrug at Arthur's lack of response. "Maybe that was an eye-opening experience?"

"What in the hell are you going on about now, Micah?" the outlaw asks irritably, finally giving Micah a brief glance in acknowledgement.

"Oh I don't know, I'm just thinking out loud is all," he says, feigning innocence. "But I'm just wondering if (Y/N) is really meant for this kind of life."

Arthur says nothing, but his eyes shift from Micah back to the path ahead of them at the thought. Micah takes quick notice at how Arthur's shoulders tense and his eyes become harder.

"I'm starting to wonder if she'd be better off without you, Arthur. I mean, let's be honest, she really don't fit in too well with the likes of us, now does she?" Micah pauses to gauge the reaction. And he sneers to see he's succeeding in getting under Arthur's skin and decides to keep prodding. "If you really like (Y/N) that much, maybe you should just stay away from her. She'd be a hell of a lot safer that way, don't you think?" Micah smirks to himself as he plants the seed into Arthur's brain. But of course, he'd swoop in on you in a heartbeat if Arthur were out of the way. “It's kinda selfish if you ask me, cowpoke.”

"Yeah, well good thing I didn’t ask you!" Arthur shouts, finally tired of Micah's needling.

Micah drops the reins of his horse for a moment and holds his hands up in surrender. "Now hold on, I didn't mean anything by it. Like I said, I'm just talking out loud here. But one of these days, that woman is gonna realize she don’t belong here with us, Arthur. And you’ll wake up one morning, or come back to camp, and..." he makes a gesture with his hand like smoke dissipating into the air, "... she’ll be gone.”

This statement makes Arthur freeze in his tracks. Although this is an idea that has been festering in the back of his mind for a while now, it is something he is not prepared to hear out loud. And certainly not something to be pointed out by the likes of Micah Bell. "Can you just shut your mouth for one damn moment so we can get this job done?!" Arthur snaps.

Micah says nothing, but holds his hands up again with a shrug.

This conversation germinates in Arthur's mind and puts him in a foul mood for days afterwards. He keeps a distance from everyone, including you. You don’t take too much offense to it at first, since you understand that Arthur sometimes gets in his own head, often needing solitude for lengths of time. Especially after running a job with Micah Bell. In fact, the space is actually a bit convenient right now, since you're trying to keep away from Arthur as well.

The run-in with the bounty hunter has forced you to take a hard look at your situation. You need to decide if you should finally confront Arthur and tell him how you feel about him. The thought of losing him the other day was almost too much for you to bear. But you are also well aware of Arthur's misgivings about personal attachments. You do not want to force Arthur into a scenario that he is not comfortable with. And, while Arthur is worried about endangering you, you are worried about being his weakness, his liability. That bounty hunter was quick to realize that you were the way to get to Arthur. Fortunately, Arthur was more than capable of dealing with that idiot. But what if he wasn't? What if Arthur is ever put in danger because of his weakness for you?

The problem is, you don’t know how much longer you can try to hide your feelings. The girls in camp already know how you feel about Arthur, and it’s pretty obvious to everyone else, for sure. You're almost positive that he feels the same for you as well, so what’s the point in denying it? You thought he’d have made a move or at least said something to you by now. You have tried to leave some not-so-subtle hints, but every time you think something will happen between you two, he always pulls away, leaving you confused and lonely. You know Arthur doesn’t have a high opinion of himself, and that things would need to go slow if this is something that you should pursue. But how can he deny what is so obvious to everyone else?

One late afternoon you're sitting in your tent, restless from having this internal struggle yet again. So you decide to take matters into your own hands. You huff in frustration, launching yourself off of your cot, a look of resolution on your face as you smooth out your skirts. "OK, that’s it. It’s now or never.” And you burst forth out of your tent in search of Arthur.

You head out into the common area of the camp, surveying your surroundings. And of course, you spot him by the horses, brushing down Buck. He’s been stewing over there a lot, ever since that job with Micah.

You take a deep breath. "You can do this," you whisper to yourself. And you head over to the hitching posts. Your pace is hesitant at first, but the longer your gaze fixates on Arthur, the faster you walk with determination. As you get closer, you casually walk up next to your horse, Blue, rubbing his nose as he nickers at your approach.

“Hey, you,“ you say, giving Arthur a little grin along with your usual greeting for each other.

“Hey…” he grumbles out in reply. He lifts his face, but quickly averts his eyes, as if guilty of some act against you.

"Want to go out for a ride with me?" you ask, your voice hopeful. Your hand absentmindedly caresses Blue's muzzle as you gaze at Arthur, trying to pin him down.

His hands pause in their work, not sure how to answer. He really does want to go out and to be alone with you, but in light of recent events, he thinks twice about it.

You can see the gears turning in his mind to try to find an excuse when he averts his eyes and doesn't answer you.

"Come on, please?" you whine, adding a little childish stomp. "I’m getting restless just sitting around here."

Arthur takes a deep breath as he considers his answer. “Yeah, I don’t think it's…”

"Come on, if you don’t come with me, I’ll just head out on my own," you cut him off with your threat before he can say no. Your hands plant firmly on your hips as you stare him down. "You don’t want me going out by myself, do you?"

Damn it. You know he can never say 'no' to you.

With an eye roll and an exasperated sigh to match, he simply gives you an “Alright, fine.”

Smiling triumphantly with a look that could melt Arthur in moments should he look upon you for too long, you spin around and get Blue saddled up as quickly as you can before Arthur can change his mind.

The afternoon temperature has started to drop to a comfortable degree as you and Arthur head down the path and out of camp. There’s a pleasant breeze carrying the fragrance of autumn in the air. You travel fairly quietly through the woods, only making small talk here and there, before heading to one of the overlooks that you like to frequent. It's a pretty little spot, tucked up on a ridge looking down over the valley. It gives an unobstructed view of the horizon and expanse of the land before you.

The overlook itself is littered with the last bit of wildflowers for the season and is covered with lush grasses that sway with the wind. This place has always been a peaceful getaway for you, and you were so thankful when Arthur brought you here to show it to you. Ever since, this is where you come for clarity and peace of mind. And you couldn't think of a better place to finally tell Arthur of your feelings for him.

You pull your horse to a stop and eagerly hop down from Blue's saddle. Blue follows behind you like an overgrown dog as you wander through the tall grass. Arthur slowly drops down from his saddle, watching you from behind. The sun is in front and off to the left side of you, casting your face and body in a warm, golden glow. Arthur instantly takes notice of how angelic you are. Your billowy skirts unfurl as they catch on the grass and your white blouse soaks up the amber colors of the sun's rays like paint to a canvas. You are so beautiful in this moment that it makes Arthur's heart ache, knowing he’ll never have happiness with you. Micah’s words ring through his mind as he watches you and he has to remind himself that good things don’t happen to bad men.

After you wander to sit on one of the large boulders that jut out of the red soil, you bend over to pick one of the wild daisies growing at your feet. You twirl the bud absentmindedly between your fingertips as you look about at the glorious view. A calm begins to settle over you as the smooth, cold surface of the rock beneath you radiates through your body. Your eye catches a few hawks circling in the sky out over the field in front you. You watch as they magically hover in the air and a contented smile crosses your face. Blue wanders over past you, snorting and nuzzling into your back as he passes, sniffing to find treats in your pockets.

"Get out of here, Blue, I ain’t got nothing for you," you chuckle, pushing his nose away. You look over your shoulder when you notice that Arthur hasn’t followed you. "You gonna join me?" you ask, a smile gracing your features to match the twinkle in your eye.

Arthur stands next to Buck, silent and fiddling with the horse's reins as he shifts his weight. Reluctantly, he walks over and slowly sits down next to you.

The two of you sit quietly for a bit, enjoying the view, until you nervously clear your throat. "So, I'm afraid I haven't been completely truthful with you, Arthur. There’s something that I want to talk about with you." You look down at your hands in your lap as you speak, your fingers rolling over each other. "It’s something I’ve been thinking about for awhile now." Taking a brief pause, you swallow before you continue. "I’m not really sure how to tell you this, to be honest."

Arthur’s stomach drops and his breathing becomes shallow as he notes how uncomfortable you are all of a sudden. You won't look him in the eye, and you're fidgeting. Something has you all worked up. And then it hits him: You're leaving. He’s sure of it. After what happened with the bounty hunter, he can't really blame you. And you've brought him out here to tell him. What else could have you this anxious? Arthur can feel his spirit deflate in disappointment. Everyone leaves at some point. But at least you are kind enough to tell him personally after all this time. Micah was right.

"God, I didn’t think I’d be so nervous about this," you mumble to yourself, your hands sweating as they continue to roll over each other in your lap.

"Look, (Y/N)…you don’t have to…" Arthur tries to speak, tries to put your mind at ease, but you hold your hand up to shush him, interrupting before he can get too far.

“Arthur, please, just…let me get this out before I lose my nerve,” you say quietly.

So he sits quietly as he sets his hands upon his thighs, fingers nervously drumming. His mouth goes dry, eyes fixated on the tips of his boots, waiting with trepidation for you to say what you have brought him here to tell him.

You close your eyes and take a deep, steadying breath...

“Arthur, I’ve come to realize…that…I have feelings for you."

And there it is, finally out in the open. Your words hang in the air for him to hear and ingest. No going back now, no hiding it any longer. And with this revelation, a great weight is lifted off of your chest.

You stop, looking at him out of the corner of your eye, testing the waters to see his reaction. But he sits there, not moving, eyes still aimed at his feet. His head is spinning, as this is not the news he was expecting to hear. He’s elated that you're not leaving after all, and breathes an internal sigh of relief. Yet that feeling of happiness quickly turns to shock and concern, when he fully realizes what it is that you have just said to him.

“What did you say?” he whispers, his body rigid with tension.

Suddenly, you become very apprehensive at Arthur's response. You thought he’d be happier than this.

“I care for you, Arthur. Deeply," you say emphatically.

You gently reach over and place your hand over his that still rests on his thigh, and lean forward to try to peer into his face to gauge his reaction. His eyes flicker to your delicate hand on top of his own calloused one. He is frozen in this moment of time, paralyzed. He’s prayed to hear those very words from your lips for so, so long. Yet, he has also dreaded it. For Arthur truly believes that he could be the very end of you.

With a great pain in his chest, Arthur slowly withdrawals his hand from under yours. You look in confusion from where your hands were once folded together, to his face, but he still won’t look at you. Your heart begins to pound loudly in your ears.

"Arthur?" Your voice quakes with trepidation, yet he still sits there, not moving, not speaking.

"Say something. Please?" You sound so small as you beg for a response from him. This void of silence is crushing.

Arthur closes his eyes and winces, knowing the next thing he has to say is the most painful thing he’s had to do in a long time. "I….I can’t," his voice barely a whisper.

Your eyes shoot open wide. "What?" your voice cracks in disbelief.

"You don’t want me, (Y/N)" he says, shaking his head, his gaze still fixated on his boot-tips.

"Why on Earth not?"

"I'm not a good man. You deserve better in this life, and so much better than me.” Arthur's answer is so simple in its delivery, as if this is something that you should have known all along.

You are stunned into silence for a few minutes, processing what he’s just said to you, desperately trying not to get upset. "Don’t I get a say in what’s best for me?" you challenge back.

“No, not in this case." Arthur still won't look at you, and his voice maintains a sad and low tone. His calmness over such a thing is almost maddening to you.

"Look at me, Arthur," you demand desperately. "Look at me!" He turns just enough to give you a side glance before guiltily averting his eyes again when he sees the tears starting to gather around your irises. "Can you really sit there and tell me you feel nothing for me?" you ask incredulously.

“It's not a matter of what I want, (Y/N)." He tries to speak calmly to you, hoping to make you understand and trying not to upset you any more than he already has. But you are not having any of it. Your emotions are a churning sea right now; intense and uncontrollable.

"Like hell it’s not!" your voice is starting to rise now. "Your wants, your dreams, they matter, Arthur. You matter. I know you don’t see that, but I see you, Arthur. I see you." You begin to rapidly blink back the tears forming in your eyes, desperate to get through to him.

"I tell my dreams to ghosts at this point," he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. His eyes dart around rapidly, trying to look anywhere but at your face right now. He abruptly stands up, pacing a few steps. He draws his hand over his mouth, wishing this conversation was not happening.

"It’s OK to give everything you got, Arthur, but you have to keep something for yourself too,” you implore as you watch him pace in front of you.

“Not this time," he says sternly, finally looking at you with such intensity. "What the hell do you want with someone like me, anyways?!" his own voice now rising to meet yours. "I’m old, I’m ugly, I’m mean…”

“Jesus, you really are broken aren’t you?" you ask in wonder as you take in the sight of him, watching him nervously unravel before your eyes.

“Bah…” he grunts angrily, waving you off. He turns away from you to face the horizon line again, getting more annoyed by the second. But still, you keep pushing.

“Why are you making this so hard, Arthur?!”

“Because!" he spins back to face you again. "It’s only a matter of time before you figure out what a piece of shit I am, (Y/N)! I can’t go through that again. Not again. Not with you.” He waves his arm to decisively make his point. And it is now that you fully understand his greatest fear and worry.

“You don’t know that!“ you beg.

“Yes, I do!" he shouts angrily at you, his volume startling the horses grazing nearby. He is now past his breaking point, his chest heaving with the battle of emotions within him. "Why can’t you just leave things as they are, (Y/N)?!”

“Because that’s not good enough!" you holler back, not willing to give up on him. "Is that what you really want, Arthur?”

“That’s how it has to be. You shouldn’t even be here!” He throws that bomb back in your face, unaware at the severity of its delivery.

The statement cuts you like a knife, twisting into your heart so deep that it makes you gasp and your eyes go wide. And the moment it escapes Arthur's lips, the look of shock on your face makes him regret saying it. Aside from your feelings, Arthur is your best friend. He is the one who brought you here. How could he really think that? It is a blow that he meant to end this argument, but he severely underestimated the damage it would do in its wake.

You are shaken to your core. This is certainly not how you thought this conversation was going to go when you imagined it in your head. You can feel your fingertips and toes go numb, your nerves alight.

You simply stare at him, speechless, before you lean forward and bury your face into your hands, trying to comprehend this nonsense. This lovely moment that you envisioned has gone so horribly wrong. You were so sure that Arthur would fold you up into his massive arms upon your revelation. This adolescent awkwardness that the two of you have danced around for so long could finally be put behind you and you could move on together. You could put an end to the shared notion of loneliness that sits deep within you both. It was a gamble. You would expose the delicate nerves of your heart in hopes that he would accept it. But you sorely miscalculated. Maybe you are too naive? Maybe this romantic notion of loving an outlaw is just a silly idea after all?

You sniffle back the tears that still threaten to spill forth, determined to keep yourself together. Defeated, you slowly stand up, avoiding his watchful gaze, and turn to head back to the horses. Arthur's chest is heavy with guilt from having to hurt you like this. He gingerly reaches out and catches your elbow before you walk away from him.

“Please, (Y/N)," his voice quiet again, pleading for forgiveness. "This is for your own good.” His blue eyes implore you to understand his reasoning.

"Right, Arthur. My own good."

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2

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acrystalwitch · 7 months

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First an introduction to Lucifer: Usually in my deity guides this is where I’d share a bit of mythology on the deity I learned from their texts. Here will be a lot of UPG and SPG instead from him and other followers of his instead, as the texts he is in purely see him as evil and misunderstand him. This might ruffle some feathers so again please know; I understand I’m speaking from my own UPG a lot.

From the best of my understanding, and from what Lucifer has shared with me…

Lucifer was an Angel from the Christian religion. He was his father’s most beautiful Angel.

His father made the angels to serve him and always rule under him, he was the only god in his pantheon and wanted to stay that way.

The angels never even questioned it, things were how they were and that was that. But, Lucifer started to question it, he felt it was unfair and cruel for a god to create so many creations just to serve him and worship him, it was selfish and controlling. So he asked to be treated as an equal, and instead was punished.

In that he gathered all of the angels he’d been able to rally behind his cause. He wanted to free them of the idea that told them they couldn’t ever be more than his servants. Lucifer revealed to them that they were all no different from gods themselves. They rebelled against their controller, and lost.

Lucifer and his angels were kicked out of their pantheon and thrown into Hell, being called ‘demons’ now.

The demons rule different parts of hell and Lucifer is said to be the king of all of it. But I also believe he spends most of his time on Earth.

When Lucifer saw that his father created humans and was doing the same to them in Eden that he’d done to the angels he felt so sorry for them. He snuck his way into the garden and tried to get them to pull the veil from their eyes. He helped them see that they could make decisions for themself, and that’s the energy he continues to try and bring to us all wherever he can.

He is a deity of love for humanity, love for freedom and independence. A god of rebellion and justice for those who have been walked all over. He is angry and sad and kind and fair. He is pride and self love. Confidence and knowing yourself inside and out.

My personal experience with Lucifer:

He is the 3rd deity I brought into my personal pantheon I worship and he is very key to my pagan practice.

He came into my life to help with a lot of my religious trauma and things revolving around the church and my childhood and my parents.

He also helps with a lot of my gender and trans issues, as I and many others that work with him see him as a more non-binary being (I use he/him pronouns mainly but I have always felt Lucifer isn’t binary)

He appears in meditations to me as a blonde man, looking kind of sad at times, but other days very excitable and probably the one that makes me laugh the most (next to Thor)

WHY ALL THE LEMONS

You might’ve noticed almost everything I do surrounding lucifer I talk about lemons or have images of lemons.

Plain and simple answer is, lucifer really likes lemons 😂

It just kind of became our thing because I’ve always really liked sour fruits. They seem misunderstood like him, but also bright and sunny , with that sour kick.

On that note…

Other offerings for Lucifer

(Of all of my deities Lucifer cares the least about physical offerings and the most about spending quality time together)

- yellow, orange, red, black candles

- sunstone

- citrine

- carnelian

- flower agate

- gold jewelry

- wine

- Sun water

-chocolate

- citrus/lemon incense

-coffee

-tree fruits

Non physical offerings

- acts of rebellion

- artwork

- poetry

- shadow work

- hanging out with him while you do mundane activities

- learn about yourself, get to know yourself

If you have a lot of trauma in your past about the Christian religion and have felt like he might be reaching out to you, it could be worth pulling out your preferred divination method and having a check.

He has worked wonders for me already and I’ve found a lifelong friend in him as well. Of all my deities I’d say he’s the most understanding of humanity and what we go through and it just feels like talking to a wise friend sometimes.

#Lucifer #lucifer devotee #lucifer deity #Lucifer guide #witchcraft #paganism #pagan witch #crystal witch #deity witchcraft #demonology

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mayfieldss · 2 years

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Favourite t-shirt - Jeremiah Fisher

Warnings: Language

AN: Based on the song 'Favourite t-shirt' by Jake Scott, recommended to me by my bestie @hiya-its-amber (I had to give you a shoutout I'm sorry)

Jeremiah Fisher has had a crush on you for as long as he can remember. He doesn't know when it started, nor if it will ever end, but it's there like a burning fire in the back of his throat, a pounding in his heart and a screaming riot in his mind. He's played it cool so far, pretending that with every touch of your hand, his body doesn't burst into flame, but it's beginning to get to him. Especially with his brothers teasing and Stevens too. It was a joke, partly, but with every comment on how he acted around you, he came closer to confessing.

"Dude, you're so gooey over her, it's gross". Conrad brought it up once more, though he was heavily concentrated on the TV in front of him, intent on beating Steven at a game of call of duty. "It's literally hard to watch, you know she likes you too, right?" Jeremiah's stood in the kitchen with his eyes glued to the door in front of him, having just watched you leave. You'd come by to invite him to group hangout at the beach and had invited Conrad and Steven too, asking them to pass the offer over to Belly, but according to Steven inviting them had been an afterthought. An apparent cover-up for your feelings for Jeremiah.

"Dude we're best friends, why do you always have to bring this up?" He manages to pull his eyes from the space at which you'd once been, intent on convincing his brother that nothing was happening between the two of you.

"Dude, you will literally do anything she asks you to do" Conrad spares a glance at his brother, a grin on his face at the fact he still found himself lying through his teeth over his feelings for you. He grins wider when his brother makes another attempt at defending the so called platonic relationship.

"Because we're best friends, and best friends do anything for each other!" Of course, it was a lie, Jeremiah cared for you beyond that of friendship and his brother would always know as much. He knows well enough too that he's being too defensive for his argument to be at all convincing, but he can't stop himself. "She would do anything for me too, it's not one sided".

"Exactly," Steven cuts in, providing Jeremiah with his view of the situation "It's not one sided, you're both so stupidly fucking in love with each other and it's sickening" His eyes are on the game, and Jeremiah hates the odds of winning this argument, knowing that the two losers in front of him were right about one thing. He is in love with you. So stupidly fucking in love with you.

At the beach Jeremiah can't think straight. The hang out consisted of him, Conrad, Steven, Belly, and a few of your friends that had come to town for a visit. Jeremiah had been told their names and he believed they were something along the lines of Jane and Tyler, though, he couldn't be sure. He was so hopelessly focused on you; he couldn't pay mind to anything else. You were laughing, grinning at something Steven had said, and Jeremiah couldn't take his eyes off you. The night had fallen, stars shining in the now darkened sky, but he could have sworn that you lit up the beach. It was so cliché, but with every second he spent looking at you, he found himself convinced that you were the sun itself. If so, he was earth, hopelessly revolving around you.

He can't quite fathom how he came to be here with you, why you would want to be here with him in the first place. His best friend for reasons he couldn't comprehend. After much contemplation and much playing it cool, Jeremiah finds it in himself to put an arm around you, pulling you just that bit closer. It was a habit of his to do so, often paired with him whispering something stupid into your ear, though, tonight he can't think of a joke to share.

"Race you down to the water?" He mutters the words into your ear, watching as you scrunch your nose at him, considering the night air, the stars, and your friends.

"Always" Your lips brush against his ear as you speak, whispering your answer back before pushing yourself up, rushing to the shoreline. Jeremiah doesn't have time to think, quickly pulling his shirt over his head, throwing it onto the sand behind him as he races after you, hoping to beat you there. Of course, he doesn't, your head start enough for you to win, feet splashing in the shallows of the ocean as he reaches you. You're smiling wide, panting for breath as you laugh and the man Jeremiah can only guess is called Tyler, shouts something incomprehensible in your direction. All you do is wave back, Jeremiah kicking up the water at your feet.

"You won" He's out of breath, though it's not the fault of his running, but rather the way you look in the moonlight, which steals the air from his lungs.

"Maybe if you hadn't stopped to remove your shirt, you would have caught up" placing your hands on his chest you shove him backward, a grin plastered on your face. Jeremiah can barely keep it together at the feel of your hands on his skin, even more so at the fact the contact is lost so quickly, but he takes a step forward, recovering the space lost from your push.

"It's my favourite t-shirt, I didn't want it to get wet" the words sound stupid as they leave his lips and he curses himself for the way they sound, but you're unbothered by the statement.

"It was just a race to the water, we're not jumping in" the small laugh that escapes you brings an idea to mind, Jeremiah raising a brow.

"No" You know where this is going before he can say a word, trying to sidestep the boy, but he is on you in seconds, arms pulling you close and lifting you up. He'd tried to throw you over his shoulder, though you'd moved just in time to prevent being put in the compromising position, instead wrapping your legs tightly round Jeremiah’s waist, arms round his neck in an attempt to say, 'If I go down, you go down with me'.

However, it's not going to save you, because Jeremiah wouldn't mind a midnight swim, and he doesn't at all hate the way your arms feel wrapped around his neck. Having you this close to him is exhilarating, always has been and most likely, always will be.

"Jere, I'm not gonna let go so if you try and dump me into the waves, it won't work" You're clinging to him as he takes a step further into the ocean, trying to convince him not to drown you both.

"Who said I wanted you to let go?" Jeremiah lets the words slip, finding that he isn't afraid to say them. The sentence is pure truth hanging in the moonlit air, and all you do is slap his shoulder, before gripping him tightly again. "You're gonna get us both soaked Jere, not just me". He's halfway to the big waves now and you're kicking his back as best you can with your heel, doing your best to hold on while doing so.

"Well, sharing is caring" the words come out as a chuckle and you fake annoyance as you unwrap your legs from his waist, pushing at his shoulders with your hands in an attempt to escape your impending doom. But Jeremiah's got a hold of you and he's not letting go.

As he lifts you up, both your bodies are hit with the ice cold of a wave. It's a shock to the system, and you squeal at the contact of the water soaking through your clothes, laughing as you wrap your legs around him again in an attempt to climb away from the water.

"It's freezing what are you doing!" Your nails are practically digging into his shoulders as you speak, another wave shocking you into silence as you bury your head into the crook of Jeremiah's neck for protection from the salty spray.

"It's summer, and in summer we swim". As Jeremiah speaks, he turns his back to the next wave, blocking you from it as best he can.

"When the water isn't mind numbingly cold, we swim" You correct, the words a mumble against his shoulder. It's here that Jeremiah laughs, deciding that your now shivering figure, clung to him like a spider monkey, has had enough. He takes a few steps toward the shore, and you raise your head, glancing behind you.

"Oh, thank god, we're going back" a sigh of relief leaves your lips before you're pressing thankful, joke-filled, kisses to Jeremiah's neck and shoulders. It makes him nervous, how much he wants the contact of your lips on his skin to be more than friendly, and he finds himself holding you just that little bit tighter. Once you're out of the waves, you untangle yourself from his body, walking on your own two feet back toward the group of friends you had previously left behind for the waves.

"How was the water?" Steven shouts knowing full well that it wasn't a pleasant experience, having watched your reaction to the icy waves from the sand with the rest of the group. All you do is poke your tongue out at him, a childlike response, before moving to sit with your out of town friends. Jeremiah, though he would love nothing more than to place himself by your side, moves to flop beside his brother a few feet away.

"You two are practically a couple, minus the kissing" Conrad follows his brothers gaze as he speaks, his eyes landing on you.

"She was kissing me before" Jeremiah's words are barely a mumble but Conrad hears them, sitting up straighter as his eyes swing to his brother. Before he can say anything, make a comment, or scream I told you so, Jeremiah shakes his head "Not like that, I told you we're friends".

"So, you kiss in a friend way?" Conrad's tone is teasing wanting more than anything to label his brother as a friends with benefits kind of guy. There is a grin on his face, though Jeremiah holds a lack of one.

"No, she was kissing my neck, in the joke kind of way when we were in the ocean before" He spares a glance to the waves, now left behind for refuge of the golden sand. He could picture himself standing in them now, letting what had played out minutes before roll through his mind like a film. Your legs around his waist, arms around his neck, lips on his skin.

"Kissing your neck in the joke kind of way? I'm sorry bro, I don't follow" Conrad doesn't know if he should look to his brother or to you, the girl that destroys Jeremiah's train of thought.

"It made me nervous man" Jeremiah lets the words slip before he can stop himself, Conrad meeting his eyes as he turns his gaze from the water. He wants to say something else but can't find the words to explain what he thinks he needs to, so Conrad finds them for him.

"You want to kiss her in the not a joke kind of way. You want it to be real" this time his words aren't teasing, something like understanding hanging between, Conrad's eyes shifting to Belly for the shortest of moments. He snaps himself out of it quickly enough, nudging his brother’s side with his elbow. "Here comes your girl".

He was right, you making your way over to the two boys, Jeremiah's shirt in hand. Once close enough, you threw the article of clothing at him, it smacking Jeremiah in the face as it landed in his grasp. "What are you two gossiping about?" You squat down in front of them, hands in the sand to stop yourself from tumbling over. Positioned like a frog or someone trying to imitate the pose of spiderman, you smile wide, though, there was question behind your eyes.

"That's a secret" Conrad jokes prodding you in the arm just hard enough for you to flop backward into the sand.

"A secret that can't be shared with me?" You look to Jeremiah now, wanting him to let you in on the conversation. After a moment you glance back to Conrad and gasp.

"You were gossiping about me, weren't you?" you shuffle onto your knees "I hope it's only good things".

"Not everything is about you Y/N" Conrad pushes you back again, your friendship having always consisted of playful snarky comments.

"You're right Connie, your crush on Belly has nothing to do with me". With a grin you lean forward, place a hand on Jeremiah's shoulder and use it to push yourself up from the ground. Jeremiah has the temptation then to pull you back down, watch as you collapse on top of him in a fit of laughs. He wants you close, but he lets you walk away. Instantly he regrets it. Pulling his shirt back over his head, eyes locking with yours as you look over your shoulder, he can't help himself. He goes after you, abandoning Conrad in the sand.

"Hey" Jeremiah comes up behind you, pulling you into him. Your clothes still wet from your run into the waves, your body sticks just slightly to his own.

"Hey, gossiper" his arms wrapped around you and your back against his chest, you can feel his heart beating in his chest, matching the beat of your own. "You out of breath hot shot?" You tilt your head back as far as it will go to see the face of the boy holding you, a grin on your lips.

"No" He wrinkles his nose at you, arms squeezing just that bit tighter.

"Well, I can feel your heart trying to punch its way from your chest" You manage to turn yourself in his hold, Jeremiah's heart jumping to his throat as you slip your hands under his shirt, placing them on his chest. "Holy shit Jere, are you having a heart attack?".

He lets himself laugh, the action no doubt rippling through your hands as he does so. "No, I'm fine". In truth his mind was spinning, making wild cries of 'Kiss her you fool!' as you stare up at him, a sight for sore eyes.

"Jere," You remove one hand from his chest to grab his own, pulling it up and pressing it upon the place where his heart should be. "Your heartbeat is crazy".

"Maybe I'm just crazy about you" there is confidence in his statement and even so, you can't help but snort at the words.

"That was so cheesy Jere" You pull your hands out from under his shirt, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Seriously though, you okay?" Your voice is gentle, genuine, and it takes everything Jeremiah has not to kiss you right there. He thinks about it, his mind swimming in that singular thought, pressing his lips to yours and seeing what would happen. Would kiss him back, and if you did what would it feel like? He thought about your hands in his hair, and his own tangled in yours, kissing you passionately and endlessly in front of stupid Tyler and Jane. He realises soon that he's zoned out, not at all helping him to convince you that he is in fact okay as you pull him back to reality. "Hey, Jere you there?" Your hands are back on his chest over his shirt, worried eyes burning into him as you wait for a response. He blinks, once, twice, until finally he's back with you, out of his fantasy.

"Yeah, I'm cool, I'm fine" In truth he's still distracted by the thought of what would happen if he just closed the gap between you, if he just brought you that little bit closer.

"You sure?" You're genuinely concerned, hands moving up to cup his face and Jeremiah finds himself wanting to stay like this forever, just you and him together on the sand. "Yeah, I'm great". He pulls you in for a hug, head resting in the wonderful space between your neck and shoulder. He's perfectly fine just like this, standing here with you. He's never been better if he's honest and he only wishes he would have the courage to say everything he's thinking. Maybe he will.

You pull apart only when you hear the calling of Jane, alerting you that her and Tyler are heading back to town, ready to get some rest. You spare a second with Jeremiah, brushing his cheek with your thumb before you rush back toward your friend, pulling her into the embrace he had been consumed in moments ago. He watches you hug Tyler too, and there is something in his chest that tightens. He hates himself for it because of course you're going to show affection for other people, but tonight Jeremiah can't help wanting it all to himself.

Conrad appears beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder as you both observe the scene. "She likes you, not him". It's a kind gesture from his brother, who had been drowning in bad moods over the past couple of weeks and he's grateful that someone has faith in what you feel for him.

Jeremiah watches as you return, Steven at your side just as Conrad is at his. "I'm gonna head back to the house, you guys coming?" Steven's voice is implying something, though, Jeremiah can't pinpoint it until Conrad jumps in. "Yeah, I'm gonna head up too" His eyes flick to Jeremiah as he speaks, "You two should have some fun, bond or something" It's a gesture so obvious that it's painful and Jeremiah winces at the words, wishing he could push them back into his brother’s mouth. Before he can say anything though, Steven is racing up the sand, Conrad following in a slow jog, not so enthusiastic.

"What are those two up too?" You mutter the words, but Jeremiah hears you fine, wanting to kiss the amused grin that lingers on your lips. He watches you shiver too, a sliver of guilt worming into his heart at the memory of carrying you into the frigid waves.

"Are you cold?" His voice soft as he speaks, you shift your eyes to him, sucking in a breath. "A little, yeah".

Jeremiah must look like a fool, but in the next moment he's pulling his shirt over his head, turning it back in the right way and passing it to you without a second thought. It wouldn't do much, but it was better than nothing at all.

"Jere, you need this" You're holding it out to him as you speak, the fabric gripped tightly in your hand. Jeremiah loves you for it, loves you for everything you do, as he pushes the shirt back your way.

"I walk around without a shirt all the time, I'm sure I can go without it" You chuckle at that, nodding with a smile and Jeremiah thinks it's a blessing to make you do so. "Put it on". He waves a hand toward the shirt, and you shake your head still, eyeing him closely despite yourself. "You're distracting when you're shirtless, you put it on" You push the shirt back in his direction, Jeremiah raising a brow at the statement, heart skipping like a broken record. "Well, you're distracting fully clothed, so I guess we'll both struggle tonight".

Taking the shirt from your hands he moves forward, "Arms up". You poke your tongue out at him, though do as you're told, raising your arms as he pushes the shirt over your body. When he steps back, the wind is knocked out of him. He watches as you twirl, an unstoppable grin crawling onto his lips at the sight of you.

"How do I look?" You're grinning back at him with everything you have, and he finds it in himself step forward again, taking your hands in his own. "You look so good, it hurts".

The shirt is far too big for you, but you don't seem to mind, pulling your hands from his to curtsey in the article of clothing and twirl once more, as if you were wearing a dress. He loves it and hopes that you forget to take it off at the end of the night, just so he can see you again in the morning when you come to return it to him.

"Dance with me Jeremiah Fisher" you're already spinning again, and a laugh escapes him as he watches you, joining you within seconds to twirl you himself, like prince and princess in a fairy-tale. There wasn't any music, save for the beat of the waves against the sand, but it didn't really matter, the dance more continuous twirls and jumping, accompanied by the laughs shared between you both, than anything proper. With each second that passed Jeremiah found himself falling harder, as if he hadn't fallen as far as he could for you already, and the courage he had been long awaiting seemed to find itself in his heart. With one final twirl he pulled you in close, hands holding yours.

"I really like your shirt" the words are a whisper out of your smiling lips, "I understand why it's your favourite".

There are so many things Jeremiah could say, wants to say, but instead he settles for the simplest thing he can manage. "It looks better on you". He watches as you bite the inside of your cheek, one side of your mouth quirked up in a mostly concealed smile. You let go of his hands, a part of him freezing at the thought he'd gone too far, before you move your arms over his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He gets the hint and feels happier than ever. Slowly he moves his arms around your waist, and you laugh at the close proximity at which you were to each other. It was certainly an indicator to any passer-by on this night, that you were something more than friends.

"Can you kiss me already?" Your smile is infectious, a grin from ear to ear that makes Jeremiah chuckle before he does as he's told. The kiss was slow, the feeling of your lips on his is unlike anything he thought it would be, and he finds himself bringing you closer, an almost impossible task. You're kissing him back and he loves it, the act switching from long passionate kisses to short pecks between breaths for air. You certainly didn't feel cold anymore, the warmth of Jeremiah's body flush against yours more than enough to frighten away any chills the previous midnight swim had caused. He's determined to trace the shape of your lips until the feeling is burned into memory, but sadly oxygen is something one needs to survive, the need to officially part from each other nessacary after many, many minutes.

The first words spoken after the fact come from you, panting for breath "This is a really cool t-shirt". The sentence sends you both into breathless laughter, Jeremiah unable to stop himself from sneaking continuous pecks to your lips between chuckles.

"You want me to give you a ride home?" It's a stupid question, only asked for the sake of conversation, the both of you knowing well enough that Jeremiah would give you a ride regardless of your answer, but all you do is nod lips upturned in a smile he wants to kiss onto his own. Instead, Jeremiah nods in the direction of the car, arm making its way over your shoulders. "C'mon".

The drive to your place is filled with that of you scolding Jeremiah, screeching at him to keep his eyes on the road. Every second he gets, he glances your way, taking in everything that you are, and everything he never wants to forget. Each time you caught him, eyes locking with yours, you would swat at him gently, pointing toward the windshield "Eyes up front Jere, you're gonna get us killed".

It goes on like this until he finally pulls into your drive, dreading the last moments he's to share with you for the night, wishing they could be longer. As he puts the Jeep in park however, you're the one looking at him, eyes scanning his features with uncertainty as you fumble to undo your seatbelt. "I'll see you tomorrow?" The words come as a question and Jeremiah nods "Yeah, of course".

He's smiling, hoping that you will too and soon you do, leaning over to kiss him one last time before you leave. He's glad for the goodbye, taking his time to hug you tightly before you open the passenger side door, exiting the vehicle.

You wave as you close it, walking a few steps up your drive before you stop. Jeremiah waits, curious as to what you were doing, before you turn back to the car, walking fast round to the driver’s side window. In seconds you're leaning in, kissing him once more and it drives him crazy just how good it feels. The kiss is passionate, fast paced and soon you pull away, something of a shy grin on your lips. "Bye".

Jeremiah smiles back, a happy exhale escaping him. "Bye".

From here he watches you go, jogging back round the car and up your driveway, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't help but think about how good you look in his favourite t-shirt.

AN: Lowkey despise this

GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreads

THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY TAGLIST: empty

JEREMIAH FISHER TAGLIST: empty

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crimeronan · 2 years

Text

"No," Adam said, "he really is an eldritch god. Like, actually. We spent some time together on the astral when he was... I mean, he's not shitting you. That's all I'm saying."

Gansey ran a thumb contemplatively over his lower lip, brow furrowed.

Hennessy, meanwhile, had other apparent priorities. "You two fucked while he was in questing spirit tentacle mode? Holy shit, Parrish. That's the most interesting thing I've learned about you. Was it hot?"

"And didn't even invite me," Gansey murmured, halfway between rueful and amused. "So. A god. That's certainly something. How does all of that affect weekly Mass?"

"Oh, Jesus," Ronan said. "Don't make me figure that shit out right now."

"Stop giving him all this credit, both of you. You're making it sound like he's the reason the earth revolves around the sun. Quit all the ego stroking, he preens enough as it is. 'Eldritch god' my ass." Hennessy pulled a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket, fished one out, and lit up. "He's a fucking fairy. Can we move on?"

Henry, sunning himself on the other side of the porch, lazily raised a hand. "Well, we already knew that."

"YES," Hennessy crowed, smacking a hand down on the concrete ground. "Yes. Thank you for appreciating my wordplay. This is the funniest thing that's ever happened, actually. Slurs eternal for Ronan Lynch."

"Remind me not to let you design my tombstone," Ronan said, slinging a leg over hers and leaning against her shoulder.

"Maybe that's why you decided to be gay as a human," Adam suggested. "Because it's really funny."

"That honestly does sound like something I'd do," Ronan agreed.

Gansey settled down on Ronan's non-Hennessy-occupied side. After a moment, he hugged Ronan tightly around the waist, forehead pressed to his shoulder. "I should have known," he said, laughing a little, breathless. "I should have known. You've always been..."

"An eldritch horror?"

Gansey laughed again. "No. Beautiful."

#everyone on the dash talking about gansey findinf out. has brainwormed me. the tbem #my writing #greywaren #greywaren spoilers #ronsey #pynch #rodansey #hennessy #horrible nightmare trauma pals #trc #cdth

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justagalwhowrites · 11 months

Text

Lavender - Ch. 29

Getting out of Boston with the Fireflies doesn't go as planned. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-28, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 5.5k

You stuck close to Ellie as you made your way to the building Joel and Tess used to stash things for smuggling, just on the outskirts of the QZ. It was pouring rain, the chill of the coming fall already setting in.

When the seasons changed the first time after the outbreak, it had caught you off guard. Logically, of course, you knew that the Earth was still turning, still making its annual orbit. The sun still rose and set, clouds still burst, fruit still turned rotten on the vine. But when the leaves started turning around you as you neared what would become the QZ for the first time, it was disorienting. Everything else had stopped, everything else had come to an end. Why would the seasons still change?

It was a similar feeling now. The already shifting world made you unsteady, like things should have been frozen when Ellie showed up at your door. Her unchanging self was monumental. It felt as though things should stay the same while humanity reckoned with it.

Tess went into the building first and jerked her head toward a corner and you grabbed Ellie, bringing her there with you while Tess and Joel checked the small building.

“We’re clear,” Joel said before going and settling in the main room.

“Try to stick behind me,” you whispered to Ellie. She glanced up at you. “It’ll be OK, they won’t hurt you but…”

“How well do you know these people?” She asked, her eyebrows drawn together.

You weren’t quite sure how to answer that.

“We’ve saved each others’ lives more than once,” you said. She just nodded and followed you into the main room.

Your eyes automatically drifted to the place were Joel had been on the floor when you’d pushed his bones back into his body and pierced his chest so he could breathe. You stood opposite Joel and Tess, Ellie’s small body partially behind you, partially beside you. You glanced at her but she glared back. Of course she wasn’t going to listen, not fully.

“Look kid,” Tess looked at Ellie. “I don’t have time to fucking coddle you so we’re going to talk like you’re an adult.”

“Fuckin’ fine by me,” she snapped. You ground your teeth.

“What the fuck do the Fireflies want with an infected girl,” Tess said, adjusting the grip on her gun. Your muscles tensed.

“I told you,” Ellie snapped. “I got bit three weeks ago, haven’t turned. No one lasts that long.”

“So?” Tess said, looking to you.

“They think she’s immune,” you replied. “That’s why they’re moving her - us. They think she’s immune and with her they can can reverse engineer a cure.”

“Can they?” Joel asked, looking at you.

You sighed.

It’s not like you’d gone to actual college for this. You knew how to run experiments, how to recreate work that had already been done and make adjustments to try to learn something new. You’d never formally learned how to develop a vaccine or invent a medication. If you’d been actually trained on how to do this shit, developing the treatment you had probably wouldn’t have taken you more than a decade. But then, there was a very good chance that no one who knew how to actual develop stuff like this had survived.

“I don’t know,” you said eventually. “But having a starting point… That makes a big difference.”

“Tommy talked about this shit for years,” Joel shook his head, looking at you. “You didn’t fuckin’ buy it then.”

“Not sure I buy it now,” you shrugged. “This isn’t my area of expertise, Joel. If you recall, I wanted to go into pediatrics and then all my training revolved around keeping people alive. I never learned much about developing vaccines or medications before the outbreak and sure as hell didn’t have much of a chance to learn about it after.”

“Fireflies are always on this shit,” he muttered. “Should just go back…”

“So you’re ready to just give up on Tommy then?” Tess asked him, brows raised. “Because who gives a shit what the Fireflies believe or don’t believe, if they’re willing to give us what we need if we bring her across Boston then fuck it, let ‘em.”

Joel looked between you and Ellie before he sighed.

“She so much as twitches…”

Ellie made a choking sound that made you whip your head around only to see her hand outstretched, head cocked, eyes rolled back, all exaggerated mocking. You glared at her until she stopped.

“Alright, geez,” she put her hands up. “No one here wants to have any fun, got it…”

You raised your eyebrows at her and she just mirrored your expression, almost a taunt. You resisted the urge to sigh.

“We should rest,” Tess said. “Get underway first thing.”

“I’ll keep watch,” Joel said, still looking uncertain as he went toward the front room.

Tess just nodded before stretching out on the ground. You turned to Ellie.

“I’ll be right back,” you said.

“But…” she frowned.

“You’ll be OK,” you smiled a little, grabbing your bag and following Joel.

He glanced up when you came in, already having settled on top of a box in the corner where he was well hidden from someone glancing inside the building but had a good view of the entry points.

“Need to check your hand,” you said, nodding to his battered knuckles.

“’S fine,” he muttered, looking away from you.

“Joel,” you said quietly. “I know what you do to yourself when you beat someone to death. Let me take care of your hand.”

He glared at you for a second before he sighed.

“Fine.”

You went and set your bag beside him before you knelt at his feet, tucking your flashlight between your cheek and your shoulder as you looked him over. His knuckles were bloody but he hadn’t broken through to the bone this time. You delicately traced the bones of hid hands, the structure of him below his skin and veins. You wrapped your smaller hands around his large one, lining your fingers up where you thought the damage might be worse.

“Open and close your hand for me,” you said. He obeyed. You felt the fracture and nodded.

“You’ve had worse,” you said, releasing his hand and going into the pack. “But if you’re about to head to wherever the hell it is Tommy ended up, you should probably start the trip in as close to one piece as possible.”

You got out the medical kit, part of you uneasy about having to dip into your supplies so early. The Fireflies should have plenty of gear but it still bothered you, your stomach twisting. Like it was an omen.

You used alcohol wipes on his cuts, followed by antibacterial ointment, looking his hand over one last time before getting out a wrap. You set the light down for this, able to do it fine by touch.

“I wanted to apologize,” you said after working up the courage to do it.

“For what,” he replied. Not really asking.

“For what I said when Andrew got hurt,” you started wrapping his hand, trying not to think about the way you knew how it felt when he skimmed it over your skin, tracing your shape in the dark. “It wasn’t your fault, I know you wouldn’t have let something happen to him. He’s a grown man, he made his own choices. It’s just sometimes hard for me to remember that he’s not still the kid I picked up on my way to the QZ, that he doesn’t need me to protect him. I was just… I was so fucking scared and I took it out on you and that wasn’t fair.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“Did you mean it?” He asked.

“No,” you said. You didn’t need to think about it. “At least, not all of it. Sometimes I wish you’d never called me that night. Seems like it would have been a lot easier for a lot of people if I’d never known what was going on. I would have just gone back into the house, Nan would have been there, that would have been the end of it. Simple.”

You could feel him stiffen.

“What about Andrew.”

“He’s why it’s sometimes and not all the time,” you said absently, picking up the flashlight to check your work. It was oddly easy to be honest with Joel. He was just a habit you fell back into, for better or for worse. “Otherwise… no. I didn’t mean it.”

You repacked your bag before standing up.

“Anyway,” you shrugged. “Since I’ll probably never see you again after tomorrow I just… wanted you to know that. I’m going to go try to sleep while I can. I’m fucking exhausted, Fireflies don’t care much about rest, as it happens…”

“Why’d you go to Marlene?” He asked.

You frowned, tuning back to him.

“What?”

“Marlene,” he repeated. “Why’d you go to her. Tommy?”

“I didn’t go to her,” your frown deepened. “I haven’t talked to Tommy in weeks and I trust Marlene about as much as I trust a snake oil salesman…”

“How’d the Fireflies find you then?” He frowned, too.

“Not sure,” you shrugged. “Ellie showed up at my door, I tried to take her to the clinic but we were intercepted. My guess is Marlene was following Ellie but I don’t know why. She knew about the bite and put a gun to my head…”

“Literally?” Joel asked, on his feet, voice sharp.

“Yeah,” you looked at him, confused. Why would he care? Why would he be surprised? “But it’s the Fireflies, that’s how they operate, isn’t it? She put me at gunpoint and leveraged Ellie to get us to go along with them…”

“That…” he stood, tense for a moment before shaking his head and sitting down again.

“In her defense, you did point a gun at me earlier today,” you said dryly.

“Yeah and you knew I wasn’t going to fuckin’ use it,” he muttered.

“Did I?” You asked. He just looked at you, face hard. You frowned. “Actually, speaking of Marlene… Earlier today, you blamed her for Tommy leaving.”

He nodded once.

“That’s not what you told me.” He just looked at you, as though staring you down would make you stop asking. “Joel, come on. We’ve been… whatever this is for, what, 24 years? After tomorrow, it’s over. Don’t lie to me now. What’s the point of it?”

He looked at you for a moment before he sighed.

“The explosion,” he said, his eyes still on you. “The one where you got hurt… I saw Tommy there. Confronted him. He helped set it, plan it. Told him he had two choices, he could either leave the fuckin’ Fireflies and turn them in or he could get the fuck away from you. Wasn’t about to let him get you killed for his stupid fuckin’ cause, knew he’d try to drag you down, too.”

“Tommy…” you managed. Joel just nodded once, hardened look still on his face. Your stomach twisted. Part of you wanted to believe he was lying but you knew he wasn’t. You knew him too well, you couldn’t trick yourself into it.

You just nodded once.

“Should’ve told you,” he said, looking outside. “But you were friends… He didn’t have many of those, didn’t want to ruin it.”

You tried to stop your hand from shaking. You swallowed the bile in your throat.

“Since I doubt we’ll be alone together again,” you said, voice surprisingly steady even though it felt like someone had cracked open your chest and was reaching into your blood and your marrow to try to pull him out of you. It wasn’t working. It just hurt. “It’s been… good to know you. I hope you take care of yourself.”

You didn’t wait for a response. Instead, you went to lie down on the ground near Ellie, relieved that both she and Tess seemed to be asleep so neither of them would hear you cry.

***

Joel wished he could remember exactly when Boston became such a fucking shit show to maneuver through. He wasn’t sure now if it was a gradual decline - not that it had ever been an easy thing to do - or if, suddenly, the infected and the raiders became especially bad.

Today, the issue was infected.

There were swarms of them it seemed. The four of you had managed to stay off their radar so far but it would be a delicate balance getting you and the kid to the old statehouse without setting them off.

He let Tess decide the route. He was too distracted, too busy thinking about your conversation with him the night before.

He hadn’t expected an apology from you. He still wasn’t sure he deserved one, not after what he’d said and done to you over the last 15 years. Anyone watching him would have thought he was some kind of fucking sadist, that he enjoyed hurting you. The curse of you - of knowing you, loving you - was knowing exactly how to rip you open and get you to stay away from him. It took a lot to trigger your sense of self preservation. He’d finally pushed you there without intending to and he hadn’t expected you to ever forgive him for it, let alone apologize.

And then you said you didn’t think you’d see him again and his blood went cold. It wasn’t that you hadn’t made that obvious before. You said you were leaving, that you didn’t think you were coming back to Boston. He’d understood that, superficially, but there was part of him that was so deeply in denial about what that meant he hadn’t even begun to piece it together. You would be gone. He would never hear your laugh or touch your skin or press his nose into your hair and breathe you in again.

He knew then that he’d never really thought of things with you as over. Even as he tried to shove you as far away as he could manage, even as you railed against him, part of him held out hope that he’d find his way back to you. Once he was able to repair the broken parts of him, once he was capable of it, once he could convince you to forgive him, you would be there smelling like lavender and leaving your goddamn hair in his shower.

That wouldn’t be possible if you were a country away. How was he supposed to just let you go a whole fucking country away?

He watched you in the morning, out of the corner of his eye. He watched you braid your hair again. You pulled ribbons out of your bag and tied them on the ends. You checked on the girl. You went into your bag and pulled out a blister pack of pills, handing them to her.

“What’s this?” The girl frowned, turning the pack over in her fingers.

“Birth control pills,” you replied, taking one from a blister pack of your own. “You should start taking them now. Make sure you do it daily and at the same time every day. It’s a good idea to keep them on your person so if you get separated from your stuff, you’ve still got them…”

The girl looked at you, incredulous.

“You think I’m looking for a fuckin’ boyfriend out here?” She held the pills back out to you. You looked down at them but you didn’t take them.

“Look,” you glanced toward Tess and Joel and lowered your voice, Joel turning his head slightly so his good ear was closer to you. “I’ve been out here before. Sometimes it’s not up to you. I will do everything I can to keep you safe but if that happens, it’s a lot better if you don’t have to worry about pregnancy. Trust me.”

His stomach twisted. The girl’s face turned serious. She took the pill.

You and Tess both tried to lighten things for her after that, the two of you answering whatever questions Ellie seemed to have, you sometimes teasing her.

“Be careful you gremlin,” you said as she walked along the edge of a crater left by a bomb. “I’m not climbing in after you.”

“Psh,” she scoffed. “Yes you would.”

You just smiled a little. You didn’t deny her.

He and Tess led the four of you up to plot a route, locating the swarm of infected in town.

“Jesus,” you breathed. Tess glanced over at you. “Sorry, haven’t been out in a while I guess.”

“Keeps getting worse,” she said before looking to Ellie. “And they’re all connected. You step on one piece of fungus in one part of the city, the whole pack of ‘em are on you.”

The girl swallowed hard.

“This applies to you, too,” she said. “Infected don’t just bite. They can and will rip you to pieces if they have the chance. Immune or not.”

“Should cut through the museum,” Joel said. “We can stay up high, keep it a straighter shot.”

No one fought him on it and, at first, it seemed like the right call. The fungus leading inside the building was dried and dead.

“That’s a good sign,” you said, looking at Joel. “Right?”

Tess looked at him. They both got out their guns. You followed suit.

“Ellie,” you said quickly. “In there, you do whatever they tell you the second they tell you…”

“Oh come on,” she rolled her eyes.

“I mean it,” you said. “It’s life or death shit, they know what they’re doing…”

“We’re not going to let you get hurt if we can help it, kid,” Tess said. “But you need to listen to us.”

“Well then can I have a gun?” She asked, turning back to you. “Because if it’s that dangerous…”

All three adults spoke in unison.

“No.”

“Can’t be that bad then,” she muttered, tightening her grip on her flashlight.

Joel and Tess shared a look.

“Stay behind us,” Joel said, looking at you and the kid. “The both of you.”

For a minute, Joel thought they might have gotten lucky. Everything pointed to the place being abandoned by infected. The tendrils of fungus had started to rot, there were no inhuman sounds.

Then you spotted the body.

You let out a small gasp and tucked your gun into the waistband of your jeans, rushing to check the man’s pulse. Joel didn’t need to wait for your look of disappointment, he knew the man was dead.

“Maybe he came in here to get away from them,” Tess whispered quickly, looking from Joel to you. “This doesn’t mean…”

“This doesn’t mean what?” Ellie asked when Tess didn’t finish her sentence. “Was that people or infected? Guys?”

You got back up, pulling your gun back out and standing so close to the girl that you were pressed against her back. Your eyes were wide, looking at Joel.

He tried to set aside his fear for a moment. The clawing, vicious thought of watching you die. The knowledge of what failure now would mean.

“From here on out, we are silent,” he whispered. “Not quiet, silent.”

Ellie opened her mouth to argue and you clamped a hand over her mouth while Joel put a finger to his lips. He mouthed the word ‘silent’ at the girl and she nodded against your hand.

Joel and Tess took the lead, moving slowly, silently. Ellie was in the middle and you brought up the rear.

The clicking began when you were in one of the gallery rooms. Joel put his arm out, directing the three of you back into a nook around a display, hopefully enough to protect from the clicker’s version of vision.

You had an arm across the girl but she was still leaning around Tess, trying to see, her eyes wide. Joel was reminded, for half a moment, of Sarah.

Not of the violence of her death. Not even of anything sorrowful. Just of her, him and you at a museum. It had been busy that day, it was hard to get to the signs on the displays to properly read them. She kept leaning around people, trying find new vantage points, eyes wide and desperately curious. That yearning to understand why, to know things.

‘Blind,’ he mouthed at the girl, gesturing to his eyes. She nodded, leaning back into you.

A clicker passed the door. Joel gestured quickly, sending Tess one way and you and the girl another. If one of you made a sound, at least it wouldn’t lead them to everyone.

He kept watching you. You kept Ellie close, the gun in your hand. He could tell you were trying to force yourself not to panic, could see you counting your breaths.

The clicking came into the room. Your eyes met his. There was desperation there but an almost quiet acceptance. As though you understood that your life was over but wanted to press on anyway.

Joel used his flashlight to point to where to go next, guiding the four of you through the maze of exhibitions and beyond the infected. He went first, moving carefully,

Not carefully enough.

He felt it half a second before he heard it, the crunch of glass below his feet.

His eyes instinctively looked to you. Your eyes had somehow gotten wider. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you look quite so terrified.

The clicker shrieked and knocked him prone and before he got a chance to press his weapon to its chest to fire, the sound of a gunshot split the air, blood spilling onto him. The infected on top of him shrieked and ran for you. He watched it happen almost in slow motion. The clicker moving for you, you trying to fire the gun and nothing happening, the trigger not moving.

Your gun had jammed.

You threw the girl away from you.

Your eyes met his again for a split second before the clicker was on top of you, a soft yelp coming from you as you tried to hold it back. Ellie jumped on the infected, trying to hold it back from you, blocking any hope Joel had for a shot at it.

Joel scrambled to reach you but Tess beat him to it, tackling the clicker, the three of you tangled together with the infected until he heard the clicker shriek a last, gasping shriek before falling silent, Tess’ knife in its throat.

Two more scrambled into the room and Joel was ready for them this time, not worrying about keeping quiet. They’d been loud enough that anything in the building was already on its way there if they weren’t there already.

It only took three shots each to fell the other two.

The room was almost eerily quiet then. He looked to the three of you.

“Everyone OK?” He asked, breathless.

You shakily lifted a sleeve, testing your arm before you nodded.

“Twisted ankle,” Tess said. “Had worse.”

“Well shit,” Ellie muttered. He looked to her as she examined a shallow bite on her forearm. You rushed her, taking her arm in your hands as you looked her over. “It’s fine. If it had to happen to one of us…”

You sighed.

“Should have stayed out of that one, Gremlin,” you brushed her hair back before you looked to Tess. “When we’re in the light I can splint your ankle.”

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here,” Tess said, limping toward the exit.

The second all of you were outside, Joel shut the window tight and you dropped your bag down, Tess sitting down and stretching her leg out.

“Keep going with her,” you said, getting out your medical supplies. “Rather you put some distance between her and this fucking place. We won’t be long.”

Joel ground his teeth, not liking the idea of leaving you here.

“Joel,” Tess said, imploring him.

“C’mon kid,” he jerked his head toward the wood board between buildings. He pulled a scrap of fabric from his pocket and handed it to her. “Cover that, before Doc gets a chance to work on you.”

“Thanks,” she said, looking across the board.

“I know it’s high and looks bad…” he tried to remember how to sound reassuring. How he used to talk to…

“Not bad,” she said, climbing on top of the plank and plowing across. Joel looked over his shoulder at you wrapping Tess’s ankle. He followed the girl.

“So where are you going when you get the car?” She asked, her hands looped through her backpack straps.

“None of your business,” he muttered.

“Fine, damn,” she rolled her eyes before lowering her voice. “Long as it’s not with me and Doc…”

“What’d you say?” He snapped.

“Nothing,” she glared at him.

“Sounded like somethin’.”

“Just something that goes along with what Doc said about you earlier,” she walked ahead of him. He paused before trying to catch up with her.

“What’d she say?” He asked.

“That you’re an asshole,” she looked up at him, smirking. “But in a mostly harmless way.”

He glanced back in your direction again.

“Yeah, I don’t want to know anything about whatever that is,” she muttered.

Joel didn’t ask what she meant by it.

He was relieved when you and Tess caught up with them before they reached the statehouse.

“Which of us do you think they’re least likely to shoot?” Tess muttered as the group got closer.

“I don’t think they’ve got a reason to hate me quite yet,” you sighed. “I can do the talking at least to start. Then you can make your demands and we can be done.”

He looked at you on instinct at the last part.

He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He needed to find Tommy. Needed to make sure he was OK, that he stayed safe. He needed to protect you and know that you were safe. He needed for this to not be the last time he saw you.

What if he forgot what you looked like? He’d left the photo he had of you in the QZ. It was the only one he had, what if he didn’t go back and you faded? Even if he made it back, that photo was black and white. What if he forgot the precise shade of your eyes?

“Something’s wrong,” Tess frowned, running up to the truck outside the statehouse.

“Tess,” Joel followed her quickly.

She pulled the doors open, ducked below the truck, tore open the back. The gas tank on the truck had been shot out.

“Where the fuck are they?” She looked to you, to the girl. You just stood there. “Where the fuck are they, Doc!”

“Inside,” Ellie pointed to a trail of blood going up the stairs. “I think they’re inside.”

You took the stairs two at a time and Joel ran to keep up with you.

By the time he caught you, you were inside, down on your knee at the body closest to the door, checking for a pulse.

“Shit,” Tess said, coming in behind him with the girl in tow.

“He’s cold,” you said quietly. “This happened at least half a day ago, maybe longer. They may have been dead before we even left the QZ.”

“Fuck!” Tess yelled. Joel frowned, following after her.

“Tess,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

“There must be a map or a radio or some kind of fucking plan somewhere besides one of these idiots’ heads,” she ripped papers off a table, looking for something.

“What happened?” Ellie asked, looking up at Joel.

He took a cursory glance.

“Some of them got infected,” he nodded to one. “Ended up fighting the ones who weren’t. All killed each other.”

“Fuck,” Ellie muttered. You came up behind her.

“Doc,” Tess went to you, her eyes wide and desperate. “Marlene had to tell you something, where was she sending you…”

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. “West, that’s all she said….”

“Tommy?” She asked. You were quiet. “Come on, the man you were fucking didn’t tell you where the fuck he was going?”

“Just west,” you shook your head. “We can try to go to where we last heard from him, it can’t be that far from there, see if anyone knows anything…”

“Let’s just go home,” Joel said, an odd haze of relief passing through him at the idea. This was simple. Go home. With you. Neither of you would be across the country. He wouldn’t need to rely on his memory to keep you close, it would all be OK.

“No,” Tess shook her head, storming to another pile of supplies in the corner. “No, we have to do this…”

“Tess,” he said again.

“I’m not going back there!” She yelled, panting for breath, her hands shaking, papers clutched tight. “Even if I fucking could I wouldn’t want to, I’m so fucking tired of pretending like that’s a life in there, Joel! Aren’t you?”

“What do you mean even if you could?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head, smiling darkly. His stomach sank.

“It was bound to happen eventually,” she said. “The shit we do.”

She pulled her shirt to the side, exposing her neck. The bite there was vicious, the tendrils of cordyceps already stretching and reaching up toward her brain. Joel stepped back on instinct. She laughed once.

“Tess…” you breathed, going for her, but she held up her hand, keeping you back.

“You have to get them there, Joel,” she said, releasing the shirt.

“No,” he shook his head.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes you do. They’re sitting ducks without you. Get them to Bill and Frank. They already know Doc, they’ll take them, they can figure it out from there…”

“Tess,” he said again, his voice cracking.

“I haven’t asked you for much Joel but I’m asking you for this,” she said. She looked to Ellie. “Show him your arm.”

The girl looked to you for a second before obeying. Her wound was different from Tess’, less angry. As though she’d gotten a cut on the playground, not been attacked by an inhuman monster.

“She’s real,” Tess said. “She’s real and Doc can help do something with her and you can help make this world something worth fucking living in again, Joel. Get them there.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Joel saw something slinking across the floor. Strands of fungus, connecting to others. He looked back to Tess. She saw it too.

He ran for the door and threw it open, a swarm of infected on the horizon. He closed it again.

“How many?” Tess asked.

“All of ‘em,” he said. “Fuckin’ all of ‘em we’ve got a minute at best.”

You were going for your bag.

“I’ve got a euth kit,” your voice was wet. “I can administer it and you can go upstairs. Stay out of sight, it’ll only take a few minutes, it’ll be peaceful and easy…”

Tess ignored you. She shoved a barrel of gasoline on its side.

“What the fuck?” Ellie backed away from her, watching the fuel spill at her feet.

“Won’t need the kit, Doc,” she said, going to the next barrel and knocking it over, too. “If I’m going down, I’m taking them down, too…”

Joel swallowed back bile. Tess, why did it have to be Tess? The one fucking constant thing in his life for the past 15 years, the person who came the closest to accepting him for what he’d become without asking why. She had become family, the only person now who knew what he was and he’d failed her, too….

“Joel!” She yelled at him, snapping him out of his own mind. “You have to do this. You can do this. Save who you can save.”

He looked at her for a moment, let himself recognize what he was about to lose, before he turned and all but ran for you and the girl.

“NO!” Ellie shrieked as he grabbed her. “We can’t just leave her! We can’t just let her die like that!”

He looked over his shoulder to make sure you were following as he dragged the kicking, screaming girl. You were walking backwards, looking at Tess as she looked back at you, something unspoken passing between you, like a secret you both held.

At the last moment you turned and grabbed Ellie’s hand, pulling her along with Joel, running to put as much distance between yourselves and the building as you could.

When the explosion shook the earth, you stopped with him, both of you looking back as the building burned, the screams of infected on the air.

A/N: And so four becomes three and our core group are heading on their adventure. Gonna be some ANGST next chapter!

I do have a taglist. If you'd liked to be added (or already asked and I missed you - I'm so sorry! Please ask again!) comment below!

Thank you for reading and being patient with me posting this soooo much later than I wanted to. I so appreciate you all and hope you're still having fun reading this piece! Love you!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings @arizonadaydreamer @mumma-moonchild @blackroseguzzi @candypeaches16 @kittenlittle24 @wrappedinfiction @oatmeaiboy @pedritosdarling

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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joltyflare · 25 days

Text

(Sun and Moon Show Theory #2: Eclipse Will Bring Solar Back)

This is a pretty common and obvious theory by now, especially after today's lore in LAES. It seems like it's very clear this is the direction the shows (SAMS and LAES) are headed. But I still think it's worth posting!

I think Eclipse is working on bringing Solar back. I also believe he will succeed at being the one to bring him back rather than Moon.

His motives are now more obvious than ever: He wants to prove himself. Everyone is constantly berating him and calling him useless and whatnot and we know Eclipse has always had quite the ego. We also know he is intelligent...and regardless of what he thinks about his status as being a mere copy of himself, we know that he is aware that he is still intelligent and still has his pride. He especially wants to prove he is the more "dominant" one between himself and Moon (unable to accept that New Moon isn't the same Moon he had this rivalry with and that he doesn't care to be his rival now). When he visited Moon and Moon started going on about how nobody would ever love Eclipse, Eclipse made that remark about him being unable to bring back Solar. The way he did this and then immediately mentioned wanting to prove who is the dominant one makes me believe that Eclipse feels like he can bring back Solar and one-up Moon in doing so.

Of course, another reason he wants to do this is because Puppet and Frank's words actually got through to him. He knows he needs a purpose to feel fulfilled. He always needs a goal to work towards, otherwise he feels incomplete. Apparently, at least for the time being, his goal seems to revolve around being superior to Moon. Ever since his first death that seems to be the case. Moon and Eclipse can't seem to get away from each other and seem to be drawn together like moths to a flame at this point. If he redeems himself, I still feel like it'll be hard for him to pass up this rivalry even if it does become a more friendly rivalry. But, regardless, the words of Puppet and Frank seemed to have sparked something within him that he couldn't shake off.

But there's also the fact he visited Earth and spoke to her. When he visited Sun and Moon's home, he simply seemed to be investigating (more on that later) but when he visited Earth he seemed interested in actually talking to her. He appeared to be there primarily to speak to her about Solar's death. When he asked her if she really needed Solar and she said yeah, he let out this long sigh. I can't help but wonder if that set him fully on the path to finding Solar. After all, she seems to be the only person to have shown him true kindness thus far and he's finally believing that she is genuine as well as starting to respect her as an individual. Maybe he's starting to care about her. He didn't mock her or anything and simply seemed curious on her thoughts. Some people were saying he could have possibly gone to Monty's place to investigate further but I find it doubtful, since Solar didn't have much relevance to Monty's home or anything like that. I think he was there for Earth and maybe trying to disguise the fact he was there for her by just turning and looking away from her as he spoke.

Anyway, that's it for the motive part of this theory: Needing a purpose, wanting to prove himself (especially to Moon), and maybe feeling a bit of sympathy and empathy (especially toward Earth).

As for the evidence...well, there's that whole conversation that sparked him even considering being the one to bring Solar back. Or even considering it to be a plausible thing that can happen. After Puppet and Frank practically ordered him to do this, he yelled at the air about how it was probably impossible and then muttered "unless..." despite seeming somewhat dismissive still. Then he apparently went into Sun and Moon's home to where Solar died, brushed his finger along the floor, and left. And he of course went to where Earth was for whatever reason...and, of course, proceeded to talk to her about her grief over Solar. He has also seemingly abandoned the immediate desire to kill Ruin. Then he went to Moon and was somewhat mocking him over the fact he couldn't revive Solar and then went on about how he wanted to prove to be more dominant...which is an interesting thing to just suddenly say.

But today's episode is what really sells this theory for me. I mean he was thinking really hard about something, openly said he's not planning on hurting Sun, Moon, or their family, and then needed to think some more and started talking to himself about how he needed code, a lot of power, and maybe something else? He seems to have almost everything he needs. He even doubts that Sun and Moon will even want his help, which makes sense when combined with how he has been treated by the two brothers since Solar's death. Yeah...all this is pointing in the direction of Eclipse reviving Solar.

It's obvious Solar will come back! There are very few people who even think he'll stay dead and even staff in the official server are as convinced as fans that he'll be coming back. Bringing him back, at least according to Puppet, is important to the balance of things as well. The way he died even leaves a lot in the air and makes me feel like his story would indeed not end there. I mean fans were in an uproar more than any death in the series as well, so there's that.

But my main belief is that they wanted to do a Solar redesign anyway. They never wanted to get rid of Solar and they seem to like killing off characters as an excuse to give them new models. A lot. Solar's model in VRchat was glitching a lot anyway and there were hints he'd get a new body regardless but this would make the most sense if we were to get the one we see in thumbnails. Regardless as to why, I think this is gonna be an exciting part of his return!!

I might make a post explaining why I think they'd have Solar die to simply get a new body for him. Some of it obviously has to do with a redemption arc for Eclipse and it ties in well with he plot but there's more things design-wise that make me feel it's the only way to give him the design we see in the thumbnails.

Anyway, yeah, I think Solar is coming back and I think Eclipse will bring him back. Also, no, I do not think Eclipse will have to sacrifice himself for this to happen...so I hope Eclipse AND Solar fans (such as myself) can enjoy the prospect of his return!!

#tsams #sun and moon show #eclipse #sams #sams eclipse #rambles #tsams solar #tsams eclipse #eclipse sams #sams solar #solar sams #tsams theory #sams theory #sun and moon show theory

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envy-of-the-apple · 1 month

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Read through EKM again and again and every time I seem to pick up something new!

It almost seems like Suguru sees himself as a lesser Satoru, strong but not the strongest. He has his own strange fascination and then yearning for Ms Moon, the way he constantly watches her, picks up on all her little movements, attributes meaning to her actions.

When she leaves, he’s not just guilty or angry at what it does to Gojo, her audacity to leave him in shambles, it’s that she chose to leave Geto too. Rejecting Satoru Gojo is rejecting Suguru Geto, who’s built his whole life around the sun. That moment where he desperately wanted to reach out and grab her at that office…then that visceral anger when he realises that not only had she been quietly living her own life, she hadn’t (in his eyes) thought of them once after she left while Satoru is constantly seeking out physical replacements for her and Suguru constantly compares those replacements to her memory and digs up old year books to refresh his mind about her.

Geto does so much self-deception in this. He thinks he takes Ms Moon’s refusal to accept her fate, his outrage and hurt at her departure, on Satoru’s behalf but no, he takes it so personally. He’s not disgusted at her the way he is at the lackeys and hanger-ons, he’s disgusted that he and Satoru feel the need to chase after her when she’s not anywhere on their level.

Egotistical ass. I’m obsessed. The metaphor on the Earth is very fitting. The Earth needs to revolve around the Sun to live but it also needs the Moon the revolve around it to live as well. Just not as blatantly as the need for the Sun.

The cheating one will probably blow my mind. I can’t wait to see the new dynamic. But given the emotional range of these two, even with assistance, I bet half the cheating moment is going to be those two morons fantasising about their missing third, being all excited for their future throuple only for the belated realisation that there was no discussion with their aforementioned third and she sees this as cheating and is really hurt and pissed about it, especially at the idea that she was a ‘practice girlfriend’ to help Suguru learn how to be vulnerable and Satoru to be honest and open about his feelings, all so they could be good boyfriends to one another. Which they can’t deny happened but telling her that’s true but they also can’t function in a relationship without her…the audacity!

I seriously adore the idea of her moving on, taking the high road of forgiveness and sending out a wedding invite to her ex boyfriend and ex friend.

Pretty sure if that had happened in SEM verse there would have been bloodshed. Or Satoru highjacking the wedding and being a terror about it.

ughhh him reaching out to Ms.moon could almost be innocent. For a moment he feels that nostalgia when they were all just kids, still in school. And then he's remembering the distance between him and you, how much higher he is. And it brings him back. It's honestly a little sad, in a way. His superiority complex will always stop him from forming a connection that isn't Satoru.

the cheating fic is filled with so much audacity believe me, my eye was twitching as I was writing their dialogue lmaooo

ughhhh could you just imagine tho???? you're finally over suguru, you can finally trust again and they just force you back in because they don't feel complete without your touch. It would be infuriatingly pathetic if they weren't so much stronger than you.

prior their meeting when satoru reveals everything...yes, he definitely would....but i think he'd feel super super guilty. Technically, you guys haven't broken up (at least, in his fucked up mind) so isn't this kinda' like cheating? again he's crazy

#yandere jjk #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru

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ladyosiriscreates · 3 months

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Goodness I just read your amazing Soap one shot! So good! Could I ask for Gaz taking care of an unwell female reader (totally not based on my current situation at all)? Thank you 🖤

I kept looking at this so many times in just pure disbelief. HELLO GREATSTORMCAT I love reading your drabbles they're truly a treat to read. Also I love Gaz he is one of my favorites. Rudy Parra is also my beloved. and if you would like something NSFW from him just leave another ask/idea and I will write it because I have FEELINGS AND IDEAS.

I'm in a Sickbed, but at least it's Yours.

Gaz x Fem!Reader for the opulent @greatstormcat (3.2k words)

Tags: Illness, insecurity, fluff, comfort, so much fucking comfort, this man was made to love someone, mutual pining that just boils over,

You had known it was coming. The dregs of winter that brought along pressure drops that threatened to blow your sinuses through the rest of your head. Fever, aches, chills and the incessant fog around your head that clouded everything and led your body to exhaustion… man fuck that.

For the first few days, you thought you might be dying.

But today, you certainly wished it was so. Because surely it would be a greater mercy than whatever fuckery your body was fighting off.

And that was what led you to now, standing in the kitchen of an apartment that wasn’t yours, wearing soft pajamas that certainly didn’t belong to you, and staring at a fridge that looked familiar- but also wasn’t yours.

“...C’mon luv, you’ve been staring at my closed fridge door for the better part of fifteen minutes. And as fucking hilarious as it might be to see you disassociate to the hum of it, I’m half afraid you’ll keel over if you take another step.” Came a kind voice, soft laughter permeating the hazy, unpleasant fog of ick that hung around your brain. Turning your head, you met the warm, impossibly dark eyes of one Kyle Garrick. Your long term friend.

Friend.

Why had he always been just a friend?

You two had revolved around each other from the moment you met, always within each others orbit though barely ever colliding.

For that matter… how had you gotten here? And when?

“Gaz?” You slurred, voice light as you grabbed onto the counter. “Don’t think I’m home right now.” Gentle arms encircled your body, coaxing you into his chest despite your weak protests. “No you can’t, ‘m sick, and if you get sick i’m damn near certain your team’ll hunt me for sport. And I promise that is not how I’d like to be hunted.”

But your protests fell on deaf ears as you were lifted into his arms. Which seemed to be for the better with how the room spun as he did. “S’alright, I’m on leave for the next two weeks anyways. I can afford a little bit of sickness. But I believe you when you say you’re not home.” He teased. “Not a whole lot goin’ on in that pretty little head?”

“Well it fuckin’ hurts.” You retorted with a scoff, arms easing around his shoulders as you nestled into the crook of his neck. The gentle scent of mint and earth churned at your senses, weaving their way through your stuffed sinuses to bring comfort to your humming mind. “You think my head is pretty?”

“That’s what you got out of that?” Kyle chuckled in return, shaking his head as he took you past the threshold of his own bedroom and laying you against his bed, sitting at its edge. But you didn’t let go. Like a lifeline you clung to his neck, keeping him bent over you before pulling your head back to meet his gaze.

Perhaps it was the soft light cascading through the window, pale gold in the setting sun, but he shimmered in your vision- elegance and refined beauty. “...If I were more selfish a woman, I’d tell you what I’m thinking.” you whispered, eyes flitting in a triangle between his own eyes, and the lips that were now pursed.

“If I were more selfish a man, luv, I’d keep you in this bed- my bed, and never let you up from it. But maybe that’s just your fever talking…” He soothed, reaching up to untangle your arms from his shoulders and laying you back down. When you protested, he cupped your cheek, thumb rubbing small circles into the feverish skin. “You don’t know how worried I was when you texted me.”

Your brows furrowed, lips parting slightly as you glanced around. “I… texted you?” Surely not- but actually… where was your phone again?

“I’m not sure what you were trying to say, but the words help, medicine and sick were all in it. And all misspelled. You had me worried, and the state I found you in wasn’t much better. Laying under a heap of blankets and groaning to yourself about how death would be better than this?” He teased, but beneath the lighthearted nature, even now you could see it, that concern. The genuine care he possessed. Selfishly, you wished it was only for you.

“So you came?” you asked, unable to hide your own surprise.

“Of course.” Gaz whispered, huffing out a small laugh. “I always come when you call. Kinda wish you’d call more, sweetheart.”

Finally, you allowed yourself to surrender back into the softness of his bed, suddenly enveloped by an almost overwhelming sense of him. “I have a fever.” You explained quietly.

“Yes, I know this.” he replied.

“I’m hoping it’s high enough I won’t remember this tomorrow, depending on how it goes.” You muttered, lifting a hand to drag across your congested and stuffy nose- what a great way to start things. “...I hate you. No. wait. No, that's definitely not right.” You scoffed, clenching your jaw. “I hate… when you’re not around. I hate being apart from you. I hate the way you make me feel when I know you’re just being kind and genuine. I hate wanting you more than a plant craves the sun-”

Kyle’s eyes grew wider as you spoke, these words the clearest to fall from your tongue since he’d picked you up this morning. And though it seemed you weren’t done speaking, he carefully stole your hand from your face, placing your fingertips to his lips for a moment. “My turn?”

“Your turn.” came your reply, meek beneath the sudden warmth of his voice.

“I hate being apart from you too. I hate feeling like we’re in this dance but always with different partners, and at most I can catch your eye from the other side of a ballroom- but your card is always full and I’m never sure if there’s more room for me.” He hummed, massaging your palm as he held your hand delicately within his own. “I hate that you keep me at arms length because you’re afraid of seeming weak, that the world has made you so afraid to be vulnerable- while you still crave the ability to be so.”

His words floated through your sick-addled brain, finding yourself eager to drown in the sound of his voice. “It’s hard..”

“I know luv. But I want you to let me in. I want to be there for you. I’d drop everything and run if you called my name for even a moment.” He promised, reaching up to push sweat slicked strands of hair from your face.

“I’m a mess.” You argued.

“Then let me help you clean it up. I’m by no means perfect either, as much as you might try to put me on a pedestal. Seeing each other clearly is the best thing we could do, because… I… I want more. Maybe I always have. But falling into step with you is easier than falling into anything else.” he exclaimed, glancing toward his window at the golden light that began to fade, growing warmer as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. “I won’t say I can fix you, because I don’t fucking think you’re broken. The fact you’re still here is proof of that.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, the feeling dulled by the fog of exhaustion that had snuck its way around your body. “Am i dreaming?”

“Do you want to be?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“...I don’t know. I’m scared.”

“Me too, but honestly- I’m more terrified of going through life wondering what this could have been if I hadn’t told you.” Kyle admitted, his weight making the bed dip, your body rolling slightly in towards him.

“Kyle…” you breathed, forcing your eyes open, desperate to meet his. “Tell me again when I wake up in the morning. Promise me it isn’t a dream then… because if you say it again, I’ll believe you. God, I want to believe you.” You exclaimed, voice pitched as your lids fell heavy again. “My walls have always been made of glass when it came to you… and you, fucking… stupid, handsome, pure as sunlight you… carried a hammer with you all along.”

Kyle nearly gawked in return, your words painting a most vivid landscape and technicolor sky. A lilac sunrise when he hadn’t known purple was his favorite color. “Luv, I’ll tell it to you every day until you have no choice but to believe it. So for now, sleep. I’ll bring you back some medicine and warm ginger tea…”

“But… you don’t even like tea?” you mumbled, a bit of surprise coloring your tone.

“Yeah, but I like you. You’d be surprised at the pieces of you I keep with me when I wasn’t able to have the real thing.” He explained, resting a hand atop your head so that he might soothingly stroke at your hair, the repeated notion lulling you into slumber. “...but I’ll admit none of it compares to having you here and now.”

When morning came there was a soft weight on your chest- warm, but not unpleasant. Different than the weight of stuffiness and congestion, of the phlegm and cough that had been plaguing you. As your eyes opened and you shifted up to prop yourself on an elbow, you found Gaz beside you in a chair, his head resting on your hip as he slumbered. It couldn’t have been comfortable, draping himself over the edge of his own bed. But like a flood the memories returned, gentle touches and words spoken beneath a setting sun. Every piece of him draped in gold and idolatry.

You pressed your hand to his cheek, before turning your head into your shoulder and coughing. Not truly the way you would have preferred it, but the end goal was the same as he lifted his head, giving you a dizzying smile as he pushed himself up on his arms.

“Mornin’ sweetheart. Get some better sleep last night?” He hummed, voice a bit warmer and gravelly than usual.

For once you’re happy that you don’t currently possess a hold of all your mental faculties, as otherwise you very well may have jumped him right there. But instead, like a reasonably more dignified moron, you found yourself nodding. “...I’m in your bed.”

“Astute observation skills, you should be a detective with that level of perception.” He taunted, reaching to the bedside table and bringing back a mug of now cooled, half drank tea. “It’ll be bitter as hell, but let’s get a bit of fluid into you before you try to get up, sweetheart.”

“Kyle, I'm in your bed.” You stressed again.

“Yes and it’s about time, really.” He sighed, grin cheeky as he watched you go through phases of surprise and confusion. “Alright, alright, calm down Inspector Gadget. You’re gonna give yourself an aneurysm thinking that hard.”

With a steady hand you stole the mug of tea, that even cold, you could tell was your favorite, made just the way you’d prepare it- how long had he known such fine minutiae of your being. How long had he been memorizing the way you existed so he could mimic it for your comfort. “...am not.” You muttered, giving him a half-hearted withering glare over the mug of tea.

The bed dipped again as he sat upon it, pulling you forward by your shoulder before pressing his lips to your forehead. Time itself seemed to suspend, small bits of dust hanging in the air as you relished in the feeling of soft lips and a gentler hand upon your forehead. “I think your fevers finally broken… which makes sense, you seem a bit more with it this morning. I’m relieved.”

Dumbfounded, you lifted your gaze to his lips as he pulled back, before finding their way ever higher to meet the amused deep brown eyes that could churn you like the earth itself. “I feel a bit better today.” You finally admitted, finding your voice again- as thick as it was. “I can probably head home-”

“No.” He exclaimed, shaking his head. “Shoulda known the first thing you’d try to do is free yourself like you think you’re a burden at my side.” Kyle sighed, clenching his jaw for a moment before standing up. Fear struck you, like a white hot iron at your spine. You didn’t want him to leave.

The fear was only present for a moment before you were lifted by your hips and pushed back against the headboard, Kyle climbing atop the bed to straddle your waist and pin your shoulders. “I need you to pay attention, sweetheart.”

Inhaling sharply, you could do little but nod, meeting his gaze with wide eyes and blown pupils. If you weren’t still sick, the places your mind went would trail ever darker. Even now, you could imagine the feel of his lips attacking every sensitive spot from your throat to inner wrist.

“You told me I had to tell you this again, and I should have known you were serious.” He exclaimed, one hand climbing until he cradled your chin between his thumb, pointer and middle finger. “I’m in love with you- and trust me, falling in love with one of my best friends hadn’t been the plan, but God above it was so easy. You are so easy to love, not just for the positive attributes you put on display for everyone, but for the pieces of yourself you show me when we’re alone. For the way you allow yourself to crumble and break just a little bit when you’re with me. For being my safe space. So yes, I meant it last night when I said I wanted you to stay and be with me. Because I’m in love with your dense ass. Just like you’re in love with me. I hate being apart from you. And I hate that we overthink ourselves into these goddamn ruts and it’s kept us apart for even longer than-”

His words were more than enough, but the mounting desperation in his voice, his gaze was enough to spurn you, hands reaching up and cradling his cheeks. “You’re right.” you interrupted softly. “I’m in love with you. Your diligence, your determination… I love all of it, Kyle. When we’re out with friends all I care about is seeing you, because if you’re enjoying yourself then I feel like I can enjoy things too. You make my soul sing, and when it does it’s just trying to mimic whatever you’re humming.”

Kyle’s face broke into a grin, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he pulled your forehead to his. “We’re idiots.” He admitted. “Took us far too long to get here.”

“What matters is that we got here- and I-” unceremoniously the moment was shattered as you abruptly turned away and coughed, groaning through the interrupted moment. “Fuck.”

“You fuck?”

“I take it back, I hate you.” You groaned, hearing the musical rumble of his laugh as he let up off of you, popping out two pills from the packaging on the bedside table.

“No you don’t.” Kyle teased, taking a sip from your mug and tossing the pills into his mouth before grabbing your chin and inclining your head. There was barely a moment to question it before you were met with the feeling of lukewarm tea and medicine pouring past your lips. It was nearly seamless, only a few droplets slipping from your lips as you swallowed back the tea. But for a moment, you both lingered there, the taste of ginger and orange stinging at your lips before leaning into him, unwilling to part with what you’d finally found.

No, you didn’t hate Kyle Garrick. There was little he could do to truly anger you, so hating him was out of the question. He accepted your surrender by wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his arms as he deepened the kiss. It was warm, making up for lost time. Like two galaxies finally collapsing into each other and spinning into something beautiful and new. You didn’t part until you were breathless, which was unfortunately much sooner than you would have liked.

“You’re gonna get sick.” you whispered.

“If that means I get to stay in bed with you for the rest of my leave, I think it’ll be worth it.” He promised, slowly slumping over onto his side before drawing you into his embrace. He massaged slow, soothing circles into your lower back, his other hand keeping your head tucked against his chest. “I made some soup for you last night, pots on the stove so I can get it simmering again soon.” Kyle murmured. “Stay with me? Ride this out- just stay for the rest of my leave?”

Your laugh, as small as it was, seemed like true music to his ears. A heavenly chorus to a man who hadn’t believed in years. “I’ll stay. Maybe I’ll get the turn to play caretaker once you get sick from kissing me, dumbass.”

“All part of the plan.”

“There’s no plan, Kyle.” You snorted, though your gaze was warm and soft as you both stayed trapped against the sheets.

“Well… just existing with you is good too.” He promised, lips turning up as he brought your foreheads together.

The next two days were spent in a most confusing sort of reverie. Anytime you moved, Kyle shadowed you, his hands covering and guiding yours. Grabbing things before you could think to want them, even carrying you from his bed to his couch as he bundled you up before situating himself beside you. He kept you hydrated, setting timers for your meds and keeping you nearby when your weakened body slept. But as your body grew stronger, the telltale signs of illness began to take their toll on Kyle.

You laughed, as three days later you were nearly normal, and he was standing in the kitchen, head bowed and lips pouty as he looked at you beneath thick lashes.

“I did warn you.” You chastised, moving forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“No regrets.” He grumbled, spinning you in his arms to rest his head atop yours, and keep his hands on your waist. “Think of it as a return on investment.”

“Then I guess we’ll be investing forever, hm?” You teased, chuckling softly as you allowed your weight to lean back into his.

“Rich in love and rich in life… I love you.” Kyle sighed, somehow looking forward to the rest of the week and a half ahead of them, even with the misery of illness looming over him.

“I love you too, forever and always.” You promised.

“Forever and always.”

#cod mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #gaz x reader #gaz x female reader #fluff #comfort

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luvwah · 4 months

Note

hi roxx! i have a request:

can you do a finnick x fem!reader where r heard a friend she had made in the arena in her past games during the jabberjays attack and starts breaking down when finnick helps comfort her w little kisses and tell her everything's gonna be okay? tysm bb LOVE YOU <3

🎧

hii ! ! thank you for the request and i know how much you love finnick so i tried to make it as long as possible !

masterlist

synopsis : : in the hunger games arena, the plot revolves around the protagonist and finnick odair forming a tactical alliance. their journey involves navigating treacherous terrain, sharing moments of humor and camaraderie, and facing the torment of haunting jabberjays that resurface painful memories. as the night unfolds, finnick's demeanor shifts from playful to comforting, and their connection deepens, leading to intimate moments that transcend the harsh reality of the games. the flickering campfire symbolizes their shared resilience amid uncertainty, offering a tale of survival and an unexpected bond.

word count : : 700

warnings : : none ! !

———————————

love in the shadowsִ໋.

the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the dense foliage of the arena. finnick and you moved cautiously through the underbrush, your eyes constantly scanning for signs of danger. your alliance had been forged out of necessity, a tactical move to increase your chances of survival in the hunger games.

the day had been long, filled with treacherous terrain and the constant threat of other tributes. as night fell, you decided to set up camp in a small clearing, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and anticipation. the crackling fire provided both warmth and a modest sense of security, a temporary haven amidst the ever-present danger.

around the flickering flames, finnick and you stole glances, silent acknowledgments of the unlikely partnership you found yourselves in. finnick, ever charismatic, couldn't help but let a mischievous smile play on his lips.

"you know," he began, leaning in closer, "if you were a fish, you'd be fin-tastic."

you raised an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "really, finnick? fish puns in the middle of the hunger games?"

finnick chuckled, undeterred. "why not? we could all use a little humor in this place. besides, it's a good distraction from the madness around us."

the night settled, and the jabberjays, those malevolent harbingers of torment, began their haunting mimicry. you noticed the subtle change in your demeanor as your eyes darkened with the weight of memories.

"hey," finnick whispered, his hand finding yours. "don't let them get to you. we've got each other, remember?"

you nodded, attempting to shake off the memories that threatened to resurface. the firelight flickered, casting shadows that danced on your faces. sensing an opportunity to lighten the mood, finnick flashed a playful grin.

"are you a magician?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye. "because whenever i look at you, everyone else disappears."

a genuine laugh escaped your lips, the tension momentarily forgotten. "you're incorrigible, finnick odair."

he winked, unapologetic. "guilty as charged. but you like it."

as the night wore on, finnick continued his playful banter, weaving pickup lines into the fabric of your conversation. yet, beneath the lighthearted exterior, a silent understanding passed between you—a recognition of the harsh reality you faced.

but when the jabberjays' mimicry intensified, your composure wavered. a familiar voice, echoing from your past games, pierced through the night. finnick, ever perceptive, pulled you into a comforting embrace.

"finnick, it's him. my friend from the arena. he's calling out to me,"

you confessed, vulnerability in your voice. finnick's expression shifted from playful to serious. he held you closer, his touch a grounding force.

"stay with me. focus on my voice. we're not there anymore. we're here, and we're safe."

the memories clung to you like shadows refusing to dissipate. tears welled in your eyes as you relived the horrors etched into your very soul. finnick held you close, his arms a steadfast refuge. the pickup lines, once a source of distraction, were replaced by a somber silence.

"you're safe," he whispered, his voice a soothing melody.

"we're not in the arena anymore. i'm right here with you." as the jabberjays' tormenting mimicry began to fade, finnick continued to offer comfort. he wiped away your tears, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your cheeks. without a word, he leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your temples, and finally to your lips.

each kiss was a promise, a reassurance that you were more than tributes thrust into a deadly game—you were two souls finding solace in the midst of chaos. the pickup lines were forgotten, replaced by the warmth of shared vulnerability and the unspoken bond that grew between you.

your campfire flickered, casting shadows on the ground. finnick held you in his arms, the night wrapping around you like a cocoon. in the heart of the arena, where darkness loomed, the light of your connection burned bright, a beacon of warmth in the cold embrace of uncertainty.

and as you faced the tribulations yet to come, you found solace not just in survival but in the tender moments that echoed through the night—a testament to the resilience of your shared spirit.

———————————

𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗲𝘆 ! @liseytopia

-𝘅𝗼𝘅𝗼 𝗿𝗼𝘅 <𝟯

💌

———————————

ｔｈａｎｋｙｏｕ！！ :3

#୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀 rox's blogs ! !#moots. ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡#💌#₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ finnick odairᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 #𓍯𓂃 the hunger games ೀ⋆｡🌷#finnick odair #fem!reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #the hunger games #hunger games

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smelliewilliams · 29 days

Text

━━ matching tattoo

pairing : platonic ellabs x reader

warnings : tattoo, getting drunk/high (not specific), idk

a/n : if you've seen this bfr, its bcs this is a repost

dividers : @idontgetanysleep

DAILY CLICK

DONT BUY TLOU

WAYS TO HELP PALESTINE

okay but what if roommate!ellabs and reader get a matching tattoo???? like HELLO THAT WOULD BE SO CUTE???NO???

just imagine how the three of you are drunk/high one night and you see ellie's tattoo and blurt out "we should get a matching tattoo, the three of us".

"fuck yeah" ellie said and abby just agreeing with ellie.

and there you are with ellie and abby beside you, walking down the street in the middle of the night trying to look for an open tattoo shop.

luck is on your side because you find it after 20 minutes have passed.

as the three of you walk in, the tattooist asks you what brings you guys here and ellie rambles about it and the tattoo artist can only nod and chuckles upon hearing the story.

after the tattooist has done their job, the three of you now have matching tattoos and from that point, if anybody asks any of you about the tattoo, you could talk about your two favourite people.

the next morning came with sounds of groans and when the three of you notices the tattoo on each other all you guys could say is "what the fuck, when did you get a tattoo".

after the memories from last night slowly come back to your pretty head, the three of you just laugh at the impulsive thoughts win.

the three of you didn't regret it though.

i was thinking that you have an earth shape tattoo, as for abby the sun and ellie the moon.

because both abby and ellie revolve around you, the earth.

and also because abby reminds me of the sun as ellie reminds me of the moon.

REMINDER !!

that neil is a zionist and therefore dont buy his games, doesnt matter remastered or not !!!

before you leave, have you DONATE TO PALESTINE today? ITS FREE TOO !!

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thesoulesscollection · 4 days

Text

Under The Sun (Thsc Fic)

I've been wanting to write something for my dear Oc, Choc but I never got the chance to until now. Here I wanted to expand on him as a character while exploring his relationships. This one-shot revolved his interactions with Mr. Macbeth. Hope everyone enjoys reading this. It came out better than I thought.

Combat boots hit the dirt ground with a thud and the heat waves of a summer day sends him to a slight stumble.

“Careful there, big guy” Soon in his tired haze stricken with a mild case of a heatstroke, he hears a chipper voice lull him out. “You don't want to trip over your two left feet and get a face full of the dirt below, would you?”

Macbeth switches his drowsy attention from straight ahead over to the source. Naturally loud, booming and smooth. Sure knows how to captivate someone in one shameless easy going swoop. Intensely scolding heat rises in his broad chest up to his face with his ears getting the brunt of it, turning a bright scarlet red. He coughs in his hand then uses it after to brush aside the beads of collected sweat from his bare head.

“It'll be very embarrassing for you, won't it?”

It would indeed be quite the harsh fall. As the ground below was a good foot distance from where he stood on the train and it's made out from rough dirt and jagged rocks. All it would take is one single awkward misstep on those steep metal stairs to ensure Macbeth let the earth swallow him up.

Alone he handled it well as he went to dust off the grime, ignoring the blistering pain that surfaced around his likely scratched face and trudge along as if it's nothing. However that wasn't the case here and now. If it happened in front of another soul, anyone else, he likely would be a little flustered, yes on the matter as he aggressively swore them to secrecy.

This he couldn't hide from. Not so easily. The other man at his side was built differently, he is eagle eyed and observant. Ready to pick on the details and tear them apart.

“Need to hold my hand to steady yourself for a sec?” He's reluctant. A hand, bandaged, is held out to him waiting for his response. Eyes flicker between the hand to the ground then back, trailing up the arm. Once the bandages stop at the elbow he notices the bare skin is a distinct charcoal color with the faint veins a light gold color. It wasn't any of his business to begin with but Macbeth had been worried about that fact with his oldest friend. The thin material protected him from serious damage, and he should know however there came the underlying fear it won't be enough. He wasn't the only one in the clan who shared a similar intuition when it came to that fact despite the man generally being a goofy guy nobody can sincerely hate.

Why would they?

“I'm all set here” Respectfully he kept his drooping gaze set firmly to the ground, afraid it may trail further to somewhere he couldn't explain. “Thank you though”

“Ain't going to kill you”

Where the hand pulls away, Macbeth drags a stilted breath. Awkward tension could be cut down by a dull knife. The hand returns again with a vengeance, grabs onto his wrist to the point it begins to hurt. Yet he didn't make an attempt in tugging free.

“Look at me” It orders him, firm, no room for an argument. Although it wasn't like Macbeth would've won anyways. He listens, steadies his slumped posture and looks up. “Good boy. I hope you do know I'm looking out for you as a friend” The unintentional pet name spoken in a whisper doesn't go unnoticed by him. Warmth uncomfortably settled in his gut.

What he sees staring back at him does him no favors. Golden eyes with hints of vibrant orange and reds swirling together are locked onto his dull gray. As if staring at the blazing sun up in the sky up close and personal that left Macbeth in awe, he couldn't look away from. Until it burns a gaping hole into his soul.

“I know, Choc. I know”

A part of him nuzzled deep in his own psyche suddenly feels very inadequate compared to his friend. Where he wasn't anything special to look twice at, really, described to be dull, too rashly hot headed acting before thought and he wasn't necessarily good with either his words or feelings. Classic socially inept, cold shut in.

Then came along Choc, a social butterfly able to light up the mood who back in the day was considered conventionally attractive, had people draping off his every word. Still was in Macbeth's eyes, only in a different way, even when long years amongst fraught sickness clearly wore down his friend. As he can look past the plentiful amount of gruesome scars on the man, across his sun kissed face, past his gold row of sharp teeth, and his unnatural skinny body, it just adds on to ruggish charm. Macbeth then scanned him from head to toe, at one time there were firm muscles laid ever so nicely on the man that had melted away to skin and bones over the years.

“Then you should know better, right?” Choc responds in an even tone and Macbeth feels worse. He isn't intending to worry him. This isn't what he meant to do.

“Don't need you guilting me, I know”

“I'm not. You of all people should know that. As your closest friend. I can worry”

Today was a stressful day as it is, being the train conductor holding both all the Toppats’ most prized possessions and the majority of their members. It was his assigned priority to travel back and forth from one port to another for the clan. So he's built to stay set on a tight schedule that he held high expectations and standards which he's behind on. However he is thankful they got to one small port despite the delay in a reasonable time frame. So he doesn't need this right now.

Really, didn't need it as Choc's hands cupped his tentatively in utmost care and led the way.

“Don't get time in the world for this, y’know that right?” Half-heartedly Macbeth pleads, from his free hand, fingers pinch the bridge of his flat nose, his gruff voice gains an octave then he dryly swallows.

A chuckle bursts out of Choc, shrugging, with a twinkle in his eyes, walking a few feet from the train through a path of bushes, “Dontcha worry. I do think we can squeeze in a couple minutes and relax, yes?” Choc lazily went to suggest though they knew it wasn't a choice, more an order.

“The others won't like it. The chief surely won't”

“They'll survive,” Choc scoffs, a hint of hidden agitation seeps in. “Maybe not the chief in his haughtiness with that gloriously pretentious stick shoved so far up his ass”

“Choc”

Soon the man in question stops in his tracks in front two trees, looking behind his shoulder at Macbeth, an unreadable expression on his face until he softens and discreetly rolls his eyes. “It's true, isn't it? Someone's gonna get real tired of it soon and do something about that”

Nobody should ever be brazen to detest the chief, his diligent reign brought the clan to new heights they haven't seen in a while, at least Macbeth thought so.

“He's under a lot of pressure” Macbeth adds in defense to the chief's name.

“Shouldn't be having the title and power then if he can't handle it. The cracks under the so called pressure is starting to reveal itself”

While Macbeth squirms, swaying on one foot to the other, Choc walks to a tree, presses a hand on the bark, lowering carefully to the ground. Macbeth manages to take a spare glance around, he notices they were alone, together at the train's head, and not a thing or person is there to interfere.

Woods surrounded them, as naturally thickly settled and so the colorfully painted autumn leaves above provide a decent amount of shade for whoever rests below.

“At least in my opinion. Though let's not talk now on it. We're here to relax”

Still holding hands it was until Choc let go Macbeth missed the soothingly comforting contact. What he would do to touch them again, worse is he wanted a better feel, and so the familiar overbearing sensation returns in his gut.

“For a few minutes, okay” Once he finds his voice Macbeth speaks, “And I have to leave. Get back to work”

“Sure. Sure, workaholic you. Beats me for wanting what's best” Leaned up against the tree Choc lightly jokes, scoots off to the side giving his friend room to sit. So with a grunt, he plops on the dirt next to the man, his hat laid off to the sideline.

“Hmm”

Macbeth hums, head back laying on the itchy wood behind him, eyes clamped shut, thin lips pursed with his large, calloused hands folded on his chest, and legs stretched out.

Relaxation never came to him. An unheard-of after thought. Yet this time around somehow it was different. There's a cool breeze nipping his cheeks, so having someone's presence for example, Choc's sets him at ease. Maybe it was the stress doing this, or all the pent up tension building inside kicking the wind out of his lungs.

He didn't know how long it was sitting there until he snapped awake covered in a cold sweat. A tingling itch burns underneath his skin near his heart. Reassured immediately when beside him Choc remained, sat cross legged, hands at his side, and staring up at the sky, and he didn't miss how peaceful his friend looked right now.

Rather he was mesmerized by the sight. The way the sun hits in all the right angles Choc shines a radiant glow. Once again the eyes are what took the cake, so captivating he is immersed and can't look away. At one point he opens his mouth but shuts it.

Then he catches the hand grazing across his own; he may or may not have deliberately put them aside. Long, boney fingers wrapped in tinted gauze barely touch his thick, stubby digits. Even with the bandages on, they were so elegant compared to his that's missing a few.

Temptation struck him.

Slowly inching towards the man's hands he hopes isn't too noticeable. Macbeth wasn't the type to ask for much anyways. A simple man with the most basic needs and the way Choc feels under his touch is addictive. What was a need turned to a strong craving unable to be explained in words. Hand holding won't do, he imagined his curious touch traveling up the man's arm to his chest, and down his waist.

How big his hands would be wrapped around the man, so slender, waist nicely cinched in by the corset vest. Push the sweet jester to the dirt ground, not caring if they got messy in the process as they return to the station.

“Whatcha starin’ at?”

Macbeth is startled out by his daydreams and snaps his attention to the man who returned an odd look at him.

“Caught you staring” Tilting his head in to a certain degree that's not known possible to a man Choc merely laughs, “Handsome, I get it”

A hefty shove amongst his friend's laughter later, Macbeth coldly replies, “Wasn't directed at you so don't get your head aired up, pal”

Can't help to watch the shit eating grin falter while the wrapped up hand inches away.

“Sure. You say that like you believe it's true as fact” Choc's smile returned just as quick, all knowing yet kept silent.

“Watch it before I wipe the smugness off you”

“Oooh I'm so scared”

Shambling back on his feet, Macbeth knew his time was up, hearing faint voices coming in the distance. In the corner of his eyes was Choc, usually teasingly persistent, resigned himself. Macbeth suddenly felt bad as he had to leave, turning around with the words on his tongue, however it died as Choc lazily waves him off.

“Took enough of your time. I'll see you later”

Nodding Macbeth, stiff, shambles on the trail to the train, turning his head slightly watching the figure disappear from his sight.

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