#Death row films

[cinematicendevaourz]

1992 #CVReview

What a good waste of ten dollars. "1992" is yet another film set during the L.A. riots, but I'd rather watch Halle Berry bedwench to Daniel Craig in "Kings" again than to have spent the money I did to see this picture. Tyrese spent the film portraying a golem that protects asian store owners and Beverly Hills adjacent 2 in my old Crenshaw stomping grounds. The obvious problem with this is that Tyrese essentially portrays a boomer with boomer idealogies that do not have the opportunity of Pan-Africanism but the reservations of 60's Civil Rights activism through intergration which left a sense of self-hatred within the U.S. negroid population. First "Cocaine Bear" and now this? Ray Liotta starred in some really shitty films before his death, and once again was the highlight of the cast. The rest of the cast comprised of Antoine Bey who portrayed Tyrese's son - reminded me too much of Shaft's son in the most recent addition to the series : weak, crying sobbing and annoying; too annoying to actually want to see survive. Which was an affliction that all the characters including Liotta's suffered from - none of the characters were likeable or had any redeeming qualities. I wanted to feel for Tyrese's struggle as a single father, but I couldn't empathize because I am not that. I wanted to empathize for the protagonists' son, but he was too much of a crybaby for me to get behind him with my own experience growing up in South Central. The race-baiting that surrounded the film didn't click with me since I do not see the U.S. as a home but as an origin point. How could I as a negroid ever recognize a European country as a home? So the Rodney King paralells to George Floyd - drug addicts, mudshark chasers, shit I dont identify with - did not rouse me like it would have in my teens. If anything, "1992" showed me how much I've grown since leaving the LAnd nearly a decade ago. I wondered why there was a modern Snoop record at the top of the film when it was set in '92 and a "Chronic" record would have opened the film more appropriately. But as the film wrapped with the source piece of "The Chronic" 's classic single "Li'l Ghetto Boy", I recognized the new Snoop piece was fitting. Because no matter what, L.A. will never change. And that's not a good thing, when this weekend there were riots in my LAnd over a shot down repairations bill. It seems that's all my fellow Angeleno's know how to do - tear up my city of origin, but never doing enough to lead a full insurrection. It's a pitiful, just like this film was. When I saw the Death Row logo and Tyrese on the bill, I felt proud to be supporting Afro-centric cinema but when for the duration of the film the only people that were getting mutilated and murdered were negroids and the people that were getting defended and commitung atrocities scott-free until the final half hour, I found "1992" to be janky and as much of an exploitative cash-grab based on negroid male pain as a film set in the Antebellum-era, and I stopped watching those films nearly a decade ago.

As I said previously, a lot can change in nearly a decade's time, but L.A. won't. Which is why l won't be revisiting my land of origin like I find no need to revisit this film.

C.V.R. The Bard 2nd/Sept.2k24

[hollywoodoutbreak]

The title of the film 1992 refers to the Los Angeles riots, which started in April of that year, and the film takes place against the backdrop of those riots. That was also the year in which Snoop Dogg's career took off, after he started working with Dr. Dre and Death Row Records. Now, working with Death Row's film company, Snoop Dogg is a producer on 1992, and spoke about why he was so eager to get involved with the project.

1992 is now playing in theaters.

[whatareyoudoingwithamaserati]

I think PrinceZam should be put in a saw trap. Not that it’d be good for him just that it would force him to either confront the worst of his mortality and all of his fears and force him to reckon with the parts of himself that he continually tries to deny. Or die trying

[beepbeepdespair]

had a dream last night that i think could actually make a pretty good horror film. i dreamt there was a single dad with all these kids and a fox kept talking to him, except this fox was possessed by the spirit of a serial killer who had been executed on death row and it was trying to drive him insane, and it succeeded because he snapped and murdered all his kids. i just remember sitting there and hearing nothing but screams

[calumfmu]

sugar coated melting.

Being assistant to the famous Steve Harrington wasn't an easy task, he was demanding as ever and made sure he was nice to everyone but you. But a job was a job, and it was the cost of working in Hollywood.

Famous!Steve Harrington x Assistant!reader (modern!au, with 40's Steve) 7.5k+ words

cw: older Steve Harrington, smut, loss of virginity, inexperienced!reader, AFAB reader, angst (what's new), mentions of death, swearing, 18+, mdni

Working with one of the most famous actors in the world was draining, exhausting, taxing, everything you could negatively describe. He was such a high maintenance person, he made your job seem like a constant boot camp run for the Navy Seals. Your best friend had cackled at that supply of information.

Steve wasn’t a bad person, no. He was handsome (obviously, he had been voted most handsome of the previous 2 years in a row), kind (to most people—who weren’t you), and compassionate (he let you eat his leftovers that one time you had gotten stuck on set for 16 straight hours). You were getting paid to say nice things about him if anyone had asked.

Life working as his head assistant was just a drag. It was everything you had dreamed of doing when you were a kid, working in Hollywood with big A-listers, attending red carpets, seeing the way movies worked. The job wasn’t the problem, it… was him.

A script was shoved into your hands as you thought of giving it to the man. The look on his face was burned into the back of your mind, irritation crossing his features as you imagined giving him the bad news. He always took things out on you, attitude forward as he said some slick remark.

Last minute script change, typical of productions like these. Something that anyone could expect while working on these things. Anyone with a normal level of patience would handle it well, take it with stride.

Your fingers rapped against the trailer door, aluminum warm to the touch from the sun beating down on it. Movement sounded behind the door, mumbling a few words out at you.

The door swung open, Steve rubbing at his eyes with his hair sticking in every direction. Fuck, he was asleep. It made it so much worse delivering the news.

“Heyyy, boss,” you beamed, voice raising a few octaves. You held out the script to him, cringing slightly. “Nothing too crazy, just a sliight chan-”

“No,” the door slammed in your face, your eyes closing as the bright reflection shone on you. Your smile immediately dropped, the reflection of your face on the white aluminum door looking back at you.

Red seethed through you, frustration prickling at the back of your neck. You knocked again, this day becoming even longer with each passing second.

“Mr. Harrington.” You were met with silence, ear pressing to the door to hear any movement. You waited a beat, knocking more urgently.

“Don’t want it, tell them no,” he grumbled behind the door, his voice sounded across the trailer, muffled through the closed door.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the patience to not go off on him. You were his assistant, not his agent, not the director of the film, not anything else. What did he realistically think you were going to do about a script change?

“‘M just delivering it, Mr. Harrington.” Your voice was level. “I don’t even think it’s your lines that changed.”

A faint note of music came through the door, Steve deciding to tune you out. Looking towards the sky, you squinted, finding prayer between the clouds.

“Mr. Harrington!”

Another PA walked by you, speaking into the earpiece she had with a clipboard in hand. You raised a hand to greet her, faux smile crossing your lips as you pretended everything was okay. She waved back, making her way in between the trailers and out of your eyesight.

As soon as she disappeared, your fist came up to bang at the door, louder than before.

It opened in the middle of your fit, you nearly stumbled into the trailer. You cut your eyes at your boss, biting your tongue at the swear words that threatened to come out.

The man was well past 30 years old, but still acted like a spoiled brat.

“Fine,” he said through his teeth, grabbing the stack of papers from your hand. He barely glanced at it before tossing it on the small couch behind him. Your eyes followed it, noticing the mess of bottles on the floor around it.

He followed your gaze with his own eyes, stepping into your eyesight as he closed the door slightly.

“Anything else, Yn?” A pinch of attitude at your name. Typical.

You smiled at the man, frustration disappearing as you were just grateful this episode of his didn’t last as long as it did last week.

“No, sir, that would be it for me,” you gave him a slightly bow, clasping your hands in front of you before swiveling on your heel. Descending the mini set of stairs, you rolled your eyes, back to him as you descended. “Fucking twat.”

“I heard that!” His voice was far behind you, your feet moving fast across the blacktops. You smiled back at him, waving as confusion crossed your features.

“Sorry sir, I said it was fucking hot!” You lied straight through your teeth. “Outside, you know? Pardon my language.”

You rolled your eyes once more, turning back on your mission to get back inside the building. You and him both knew what you said, but you didn’t have it in you to care. Nothing you did would get you fired, trust, have you tried.

It was like you were in your own personal Purgatory. You assumed Steve liked you, he wouldn’t fire you even on your worst days. You had fucked up many times, forgetting things, slipping up on his to do list, calling the wrong people for the wrong events. More recently, he had heard the rude nicknames you had for him, and he just didn’t seem to care.

You had heard him one time, whisper under his breath about “best help in Hollywood”. It was sarcastic of course, his eye roll you’ve been well acquainted with to follow.

The last few weeks have been more of a hell for you, Steve becoming more temperamental and moody, you becoming the worst employee on planet Earth. You begged to be fired at this point, your shot at unemployment looking more and more appetizing.

A sudden ring cut through the air, your back pocket buzzing. Pulling it out, you nearly ripped your hair out, Steve’s contact popping up on the screen. I could ignore it, you thought. This could finally be my chance at escaping him.

Your thoughts were cut short, the phone ringing again as Steve's name popped up. He didn't even let the first one finish before trying you again.

"Oh, Mr. Harrington," you breathed, hand pressed into your brow as you answered. "Hi, sorry, sir. Did you need me?"

"Need you to come back," you heard him say, voice muffled as he seemed to be doing other things on the other side of the line. Your feet responded before your brain did, autopilot in motion. "Script's not fucking working, and I just-"

Something fell in the background, and your footsteps faltered. You ignored it, rolling your eyes yet again at his antics.

"Are you okay, sir?" You asked, seeing his trailer in the distance. One of the trailer windows had its blinds half up, he paced back and forth.

You approached it, listening to him as he rambled on the phone, speaking about how much he hated this director and his damn agent for giving him these roles. Fighting back laughter, you cosigned with him, not choosing to mention that this stupid role was worth $13 million.

You raised your fist to knock at the door, it swinging open before you could even make a noise. The three dial tones of the phone call ending rung in your ears, Steve grumbling at you to enter.

"A-are you sure, sir?" Hesitation filled you, you weren't used to stepping into his trailer. You think you'd been in it once during the last seven months of production, grabbing his left behind cell phone before they traveled to location.

Steve didn't look at you the whole time, just muttering words under his breath as he held the brand new scripts in his hand. He was pacing, feet burning holes in the carpet of the trailer.

You slowly stepped in, apprehensively closing the door behind you. Hands clasped in front of you, you stood in close proximity to the door, eyes shifting over the large trailer.

He had clothes thrown over one end of the vehicle, previous scripts sitting on the makeshift table, and a half full glass of a dark colored liquid next to it. You eyed it, brow furrowing as you swore this man had been sober for the past few years--or at least, that's what the news outlets said about him. Not like you kept up.

"Sir," you interjected his thoughts, causing him to stop in place. He still didn't look at you. "Why am I here?"

Curt answers were the easiest way for you to pretend to be nice to him. You knew you couldn't be outright rude, this was your boss after all. Saying stuff under your breath and if he accidentally heard was another thing.

He ignored you.

"How is this supposed to be the Oscar nomination when they have me acting like this?" He exhaled a small shout at the end of his words, your eyes squinting at the volume. "Does this make sense to you? It's like they want me to make a fool of myself, no?"

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the floor. "I'm not sure how you want me to answer that, sir."

He waited a moment, sighing loudly as he collapsed on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes. You looked at him then, seeing the way his chest heaved as he shook his eyes. The sun was setting now, golden hour lighting inching through the windows over his figure. His bed head was still wild, even more messy than it was previously.

"W-what would you like me to do, sir?" You asked, arms crossing over your chest as you felt the awkwardness creep into the air. This was the longest you had been in a room with him, at least, with no one around.

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you took note of your 'shift' being almost over. It was a quarter to seven, your freedom lingering in the distance.

"Sir?"

"Enough!" He cut out, breaking his silence. You jumped at the words, ducking your head as his outburst came. This was the Steve you knew, the short tempered boss who was always so moody whenever things didn't go his way.

You opted for silence, not daring to speak as you awaited his next choice of words.

His arm left his face, palm running down his features as he stared into the ceiling of the trailer.

"Sorry, I just," his voice was significantly lower. He sat up on the edge of the couch, his palms resting on his thighs. "I just need you to take me home."

Your eyes closed briefly, irritation quickly crossing you as you realized this was going to be a longer day than you imagined. If Steve had needed you longer than you were scheduled, then so be it.

"Why?" The word wasn't supposed to come out, replacing the 'okay' that sat on the edge of your mouth.

His gaze cut to you quickly, searching your face as you stood there. Eyes burning slightly, you felt tears prickling. The pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, and Friends rerun marathon looking further away from you could bring you to tears.

"Because I employ you, do I not?" The harshness in his words did nothing but fuel the 'Hollywood Tell All' feature you planned for the day you quit.

"You do, sir, yes," You muttered, hands dropping to your side in defeat. "I just thought you'd drive yourself like normal. You know, day ends, and I'll see you here the next day, eight sharp like normal."

"I can't--no," he answered, standing up as he gathered his things. "I don't have to explain myself to you. You just need to take me home. You can drive my car."

The words to protest him were lost in your throat. You complied with his actions, eyes to the floor as he finished gathering his things. Following him out of the trailer, you sighed, feeling like you were walking into a lion's den.

The walk to the private lot was silent, Steve grumbling to himself as he texted someone on his phone. You noticed his phone ringing several times, his thumb finding the red button to end it each time. Curse words came out of his mouth every few seconds, a few from your own mouth being added to the mix as you thought of ways to leave.

As the two of you came across an old school beemer sitting deep in the parking lot, he threw the keys at you, settling into the passenger seat. Reluctantly, you slide in the driver's seat, feeling the leather interior beneath your fingers.

"Nice car, boss," You whispered, checking out how the car didn't even look a day out of 1985. Steve side eyed you, nodding at the compliment before returning to his phone.

"Get us there in one piece, yeah?"

You sucked your teeth as his comment, shaking your head before starting the car. It was like it was impossible for him to be a decent person. Here you were, doing something for this man which may or may not be in your contract, and he couldn't even say thank you to a compliment about his car.

The ride was silent save for an old tape that played in the car. Some band from the 80's you noted, a little too old for your taste. Steve's fingers tapped away at his phone, not focused on the LA traffic you sat in for most of the drive. He gave you directions to his swanky high rise, ignored you as you struggled to keep up with him.

You pulled into an underground garage, valet men coming immediately, opening the door for you as they took the keys. Everything happened in such fast motion, you barely noticed he was half way to the elevator. Jogging to catch up with him, you turned your own attention to your phone, thumb hovering over the Uber app.

Steve took a call, fingers rapidly pressing the elevator button as he spoke (yelled) at the person on the other end.

"No, Robin, I'm not doing that, okay?" He said, voice gruff as he glanced at you. You heard the static voice of the person on the other line, seeming to be yelling at him too.

The elevator dinged, the two of your bodies stepping in as the doors opened. The transportation app on your phone lagged, loading bar stagnant on your screen.

"No, I get it, it's been years. Fine, I-" Steve groaned in frustration, eyes repeatedly shifting over to you as you tried to tune out the phone call. You stared at the numbers the elevator passed, the first floor blinking by before you could say anything. Your phone remain in your hand, screen dimming as it began to time out.

"Robin. I know."

The voice on the other line picked up, the woman's voice growing even louder. Steve pulled the phone away from his ear slightly, grimacing at the volume. The elevator stopped at a floor labeled 'P', doors opening to a mini lobby that ended in double doors. He went over to unlock them, key fob in his hands as a beep sounded through the empty room.

As he stepped through them, phone balanced on his shoulder with his ear pressed to it, he looked at you. You stood right outside the elevator, doors closing behind you as you didn't know what to do.

He held open his front door, hand waving at you in frustration. "Well, are you coming in?"

You pressed your lips together, another wave of irritation pulling at your teeth. Eyes half rolling, you nodded, entering the doors as he closed and locked it behind you.

Steve moved fast, throwing his jacket over a couch that lay in the middle of the giant room, toeing off his shoes by its side. You stood in place, not sure what to do as your boss made his way around his home.

You took note of the place, not picturing that he would live in a place like this. It was modern, with a touch of old school fashion. Retro furniture, expensive nonetheless. Floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the city. However, not a touch of life, no personal pictures, no sign of family, or anything personal that may shine light on what type of person he truly was.

You stepped in further to the place, watching as Steve made his way to a cabinet in his kitchen. Observing him over the breakfast bar, you saw into the open kitchen, watched him as he grabbed a rocks glass and a bottle of something pushed far back into a cabinet.

He continued on the phone, placing it on speaker as he began to open the bottle. He struggled at first, face turning up as his hands twisted on the cap.

Slowly making your way around the room, you glanced around, expecting him to yell at you for even being here, despite inviting you in.

"Steve," you heard the voice on the other line say. His eyes drifted towards the phone, pouring a hefty shot. "All I'm saying is, I miss you. And care for you. I love you. I want you to be okay today, alright?"

Steve grunted in response, not noticing your proximity to him. You cleared your throat slightly, wanting to gain his attention.

The woman on the phone waited for more of a response. Once it was clear she wasn't going to get one, she sighed. "If you change your mind, you know where to find us."

"Yeah sure," his tone was rude, eyes boring into the glass of dark liquid that sat in front of him. His fingers danced at the rim.

"Eddie would've wanted you to come."

Steve's body language immediately stiffened, finger moving to hang up the phone before throwing back the shot of liquor. His face grimaced at the taste, slamming the glass back on the table.

You didn't know what to say, looking anywhere but at your boss.

"Fuck, I forgot you were even here," he suddenly said, hand running through his hair. His hand was on his hip, eyes glossy as he looked at you. You chewed at your bottom lip, nodding as he stared at you. He pointed to the alcohol, shrugging. "Drink?"

Declining, your head shook. "I don't drink, sir."

"Ahh," he said, grabbing the glass and bottle as he headed towards the couch. "Good girl."

He threw himself down on the furniture, exhaling loudly as he stretched out. His eyes were closed as you stood across the room.

"Hey, I-I think I'm gonna go," you said, beginning to walk towards the exit. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As you crossed the room, Steve's voice called out to you. Your movements stopped, turning on your heel to look at him.

"Stay?" He asked you, eyes huge as they looked in your direction. You took note of his features, blinking at him as he awaited your response. Your boss was approaching his 40's, however, in this moment, he looked just like a little kid. Pictures of him in his teen years you had seen on the Internet were pushed to the forefront of your mind.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Harrington," you muttered, wanting to leave the scene.

His eyes fell to the floor briefly before he spoke out, "Steve."

"Huh?" You were confused, this sudden change in his attitude.

"You can call me Steve," he said, shifting his body as he relaxed into the couch. "We've known each other for a few years now, figured we should might as well be on a first name basis."

Fighting back the eye roll, you were reminded in the ways your boss had made your life into chaos.

"I bet you a million dollars, you don't even know my name, sir."

His gaze softened, laughing out loud as your hard exterior slowly came back.

"Yn." He muttered, smile dancing at his mouth.

You didn't know what to say, stuck between dashing out of his apartment or staying and seeing what type of Steve Harrington you were going to get today.

"I figure I should apologize for the way I've acted today," he said, turning forward as his gaze left your way. You didn't know why, but your feet followed it, walking closer so you could sit next to him. Lowering your self on the couch, you felt self conscious, like he was going to snap any second.

You snorted, "Today?"

He was staring at the bottle of alcohol in front of him, smile still on his face. Laughing at your comment, he shrugged.

"I have been a dick, haven't I?" He whispered, shaking his head as the smile slowly dropped from his face. His voice dropped to a whisper, eyes unfocused as he stared in front of himself. "Such a fucking dick."

You didn't know why, but you felt the need to comfort the man. He was clearly going through something at the moment, if the look alone on his face was any tell.

"Hey, not too bad of one," you wanted to reach out to grab him.

"Don't lie," he laughed, head turning your way. His eyes met yours, deep brown staring into the color of yours. You noticed moles dotting his face, slight lines of aging covering his features. He was still youthful, his eyes telling the tale of a once young boy who was within. "I've been terrible. And you don't deserve that."

A pang hit your heart, feeling the weight of his words. You didn't really deserve his treatment. No matter if he paid you or not.

He continued his words, eyes staring past you. "And yet here I am, sitting here with my assistant. Drinking for the first time in years." A laugh bubbled out of him, hands running down his face as he leaned further back into the couch. "You know I'm supposed to be in Indiana right now?"

You shook your head, not wanting to interrupt him. Making yourself comfortable, you took off your shoes, slipping your feet underneath yourself.

"Well, I'm supposed to be in Indiana, it's the 20th anniversary of, uhm," his voice cracked, eyes welling up with a tear that was blinked back. "It's the anniversary of one of my friend's dying, and I'm not there."

Breath catching in your throat, you didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, sir," you muttered, hand reaching out to rest at his thigh. The touch was inappropriate, but so was this interaction you could say.

He looked down at your hand, watching your thumb as it brushed over his jeans.

"It's okay," he responded, eyes finding yours again. "It's been so long."

You nodded, eyes scanning his face as he forced the corners of his mouth to be turned into a smile. You saw right through it, recognizing the pain of a lost loved one straight through. "I don't think that matters."

His face dropped, sincerity crossing his features as he dipped to glance at your hand once more. Silence over took the two of you, the faint sounds of the streets of LA below you, Steve's staggered breathing as he willed himself not to cry. You were patient, finding comfort in the air as he found his words.

"We were all so young, and it feels so long ago, almost like it doesn't exist anymore," he finally said, voice even. "But I know it does. I just have to face it, I've been running from it ever since it happened."

He gestured to his surroundings, and the puzzle clicked into place. This fame and jerk persona that Steve carried himself in, hid the real him. He ran from all of his problems, like anyone else would, especially when dealing with something as traumatic like he had.

You didn't know the details, didn't care to ask, since it seemed to affect him so much. All you knew was that person who had passed so long ago did matter to him, in ways that you couldn't imagine.

Letting him continue his mumblings about the person he used to know, you found out that his name had been Eddie, the one you heard on the phone before. Robin, long time best friend of his, was trying to get him to come out to reconnect with everyone, he hadn't seen much of them since the 'accident', as he had called it. He kept in touch with everyone over the phone, but seeing them in person was a whole different story. It opened up old wounds that he was afraid of what it might bring out.

The story was slightly confusing, him mentioning something about how they all had nearly lost their lives, details that would leave you wondering what this man had gone through. None of this information was available about him in the public, his childhood always being a vague story that never connected.

"So you have kids then?" You questioned, confused on how you never picked up on this detail. There had to have been at least five of them, names you had never heard before now.

Steve laughed suddenly, shaking his head as his hand rested on your own thigh. The two of you were much closer now, as his story unfolded. Your thighs were touching, each other's hands on resting upon each other, mere inches away from your faces.

"No, I don't have any. I guess, I should stop calling them kids now, you know?" His laugh was low in his throat. "They have kids of their own at this point, so they're far from it."

"Oh..." You were dumbfounded, all of this information being at a loss to you. You weren't here to understand, just here to listen.

"You know what, I'm sorry," he suddenly said, removing his hand from your leg. You wanted to whine at the absence, cold replacing his warm touch. "Maybe you should go, actually. This is pretty, uhm..."

"Unprofessional?" You supplied, inching closer as your boss sat there, wide eyed looking at you. In the dark light of his apartment, you could see the way his brown eyes glimmered at you. "I guess we're even then, me calling you a twat earlier."

Steve cackled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought of the events earlier.

"I knew you said that!"

You blushed, fighting back your own smile.

"It's not my fault, you were acting like one." Your lips pursed together, observing the older man in front of you.

Silence crept over you, the first break in conversation since his phone call ended earlier. Steve stared at you, eyes darting over your features as his teeth scraped over his bottom lip. You felt shy under his gaze, not knowing what to think of the moment as your boss was closer in proximity than he had ever been in your life.

"Can I make it up to you?"

His voice was low, and you were nodding before you even knew what he meant. Grabbing your cheek in his hand, the man leaned forward, capturing your lips into his. The gasp in your throat was lost in his mouth, a shuttering moan coming out instead.

His lips were soft, slightly chapped as they moved against yours. Fluttering your eyes closed, you leaned into the kiss, moving your hand so it rest at the curve of his hip, belt loop curling in your fingers.

He tasted of whiskey, the remnants of the few shots he had earlier lingering on his tongue. Steve pulled away slightly, muttering, "This okay?" against your lips as you nodded, pulling him in by his hair with your other hand.

Your breath grew more shallow as the kiss continued, leaning back as Steve began to tower over you. He shifted in his seat, covering your body with his own as he began to push you back into the couch. His figure was large over yours, scent of vanilla and cedar nearly suffocating you.

With your back flush against the couch, Steve removed himself from your lips, pressing a slight kiss against your jaw. You arched into the touch, palms running over the tight muscle of his back.

"S-steve," you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips kissed over your neck. Each press of his mouth sent fireworks down your spine.

He returned his lips to yours, moving with a passion that was lacking previously, confidence replacing the apprehension he once felt.

Your legs spread, inviting him to nestle in between, the thick material of his jeans rubbing against your own. A bulge was present, the thought of what lay underneath sending goosebumps over your skin.

Steve was lost in the kiss, his mouth nipping at yours as he reached down to unbutton your pants, slipping a hand to run over the front of your panties.

"W-wait," you muttered, grabbing his wrist as you pulled away from the kiss. He was confused, mouth red and swollen. His fingers pressed at your covered clit, a small shot of pleasure running through you.

"What's wrong, Yn?" The hand connected to his elbow that propped him up, ran through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. Concern crossed his features, searching your face as doubt crossed it.

"I just, uhh," you felt shy, avoiding his eye contact as the words stumbled out. "I've never really done this before?"

His eyes bulged out, sitting up suddenly as he leaned over you. Closing your eyes in embarrassment, you pressed the palm of your hand to your forehead. Way to ruin the moment.

"Oh," he breathed, eyes wide as he scanned you. "We don't-- fuck, sorry. I'm so, uh, wow."

He stood up suddenly, leaving you laying on your back as embarrassment colored your cheeks. You didn't know what to say as the older man panicked.

"Maybe, uh, maybe this was a bad idea," he shook his head, hand reaching down to palm at the front of his pants. Your eyes followed his hand, noticing the prominent bulge.

You spoke out, shaking your head as you didn't make any effort to move. The turn of events tonight made you realize how much you did want the man who stood before you.

"No, we can, it's okay," you said, reaching out to grab his hand that hung by his side. He looked down at your grasp before bringing his eyes to meet yours. "It's alright."

He hesitated, sputtering over something to say.

"Steve, it's okay," you pulled him down, his knees straddling the sides of your hips as he reluctantly settled into the couch. His eyes ran over your body, lingering at the spot where your pants were unbuttoned, cotton panties exposed.

"A-are you sure?" He questioned, moving to lean back down over you. You nodded, leaning up on your elbows to press a chaste kiss to his lips. His tongue darted out, wetting your bottom lip.

A breathy moan escaped your mouth, palm caressing the front of his shirt.

"I want to, it's fine."

You knew it was now or never, this moment with your boss being an opportunity that you couldn't have passed up. You always had a crush on him growing up, the face of Hollywood you would see in your teen magazines, posters covering the room of your friends. Working for him would've never had you imagining that it would lead to this moment.

Steve took control of the situation, kissing down your neck as his hand returned between your legs, pants thrown across the room somewhere. It had happened so fast, you barely noticed the cool air that pulled goosebumps from your skin.

"Tell me if you want to stop, okay?" He muttered, freshly shaved stubble prickling against your chin. You could barely get out a moan as your underwear was pulled down your legs, catching at the crook of your ankles.

You felt his fingers brush over your folds, pressing lightly at the slick entrance. His thumb rubbed in small circles over your small bundle of nerves, an eye-rolling feeling that spread your legs apart. His fingers pushed inside, his own moan coming out over yours.

The feeling of the intrusion had you panting, spreading your legs wider while his thick fingers worked you.

"M-more," you begged, throwing your head back as his fingers found a rhythm. He stretched you out over two fingers at this point, thumb collecting slick as it rubbed over your clit.

Steve's fingers curled inside of you, brushing against your sweet spot deep inside. The look on his face was one of admiration, mouth slack as he looked down at you falling apart under his touch.

"That's okay?" His voice was husky, deep with arousal as your hips began to move in time with his fingers. Your orgasm was approaching, hips moving on their own accord as you chased that high.

"God, yes, Steve."

Pushing your shirt up past your bra, Steve gaped at the sight before him, your fingers dipping inside your bra to toy at your own breasts.

"You look so perfect, angel," he muttered, leaning down to capture your lips into his as you fell apart. That white blinding of your orgasm crept in, starting at the base of your spine and blossoming through your entire body. Against his mouth, you shouted out, squeezing your eyes shut as he fingered you through the high.

It took a minute for you to catch your breath, legs spasming from the shocks of the orgasm. You hissed at the over stimulation, Steve pressing into your clit one last time before removing himself from you.

You felt shy suddenly, the haze from the orgasm clearing as you realized you had just done unimaginable things with your boss. Seeming to read your mind, Steve pressed small kisses around the perimeter of your face.

"It's alright," he said, hovering over you. Against your thigh, you could feel his bulge rub against you. "How are you feeling, good?"

You nodded, words at a loss in your throat. You reached up to place a hand on his neck, the other at his waist as you played with the hem of his shirt. His eyes fluttered close briefly before glancing down at where you were slightly tugging his shirt up.

He made eye contact with you, chewing on his bottom lip. "I need words, angel. Gotta make sure everything is 100% okay, okay?"

"I'm alright, Steve," you gasped, looking down where your own hand rubbed at the exposed part of his abdomen. You needed more, wanted to feel him all over you. You began to pull his shirt over his body, watching as he glanced down at you with hooded eyes. "Just need more of you."

He slowly nodded, sitting back on his knees as he unbuttoned his own pants and slid them down his legs. You giggled at him as he struggled to get them off, the smoothness he had previously disappearing as he nearly toppled off the couch.

You pulled your own shirt and bra off of you, dropping them on the floor next to the couch. "Nice own, old man," you laughed, returning to your spot against the couch.

He frowned at you, lip jutting out in an over exaggerated pout. "Heeyy, I still got it."

You were left breathless, the laughter disappearing at the tip of your tongue as his figure returned to cover your body. The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance, the wetness pooling at the head leaving you gasping.

Steve reached down to rub his cock against the length of your cunt, spreading the slick all over as you arched into him.

"Fuuckk, Steve." You hooked your ankle over his hip, warmness pooling in your belly at the thought of him being inside you. His eyes raked over you, lingering on your nipples as they shook with each moan you gave.

"You sure about this, Yn?" He asked, leaning down to dart his tongue over the skin of your breast. It sent shivers down your spine, another wave of heat rushing to your core. "I don't want to do anything you'll regret."

"'M not gonna regret this," you gasped, feeling the way the head of his cock slightly pushed at you. It burned, fuck, he was big.

The slight intrusion had you gripping at his back, leaving crescent moon marks in the skin. Your breath came out ragged, a whine scratching at the back of your throat.

Steve grunted at you, pushing in slowly as he buried his head into your shoulder. He stopped every few inches, hips stuttering slightly as he fought back to urge to fuck back into you full force.

Being an all new feeling, you couldn't help but mewl at every burn of the stretch, a fullness you had never experienced before.

He pressed to the hilt, hips flush against yours as Steve gasped for air in tune with you. He pulled his head back to make eye contact with you, forehead resting against yours. You felt the slight grinding of his hips against yours, the fullness becoming too much as you were stretched over him.

"You gotta bare with me, baby." The nickname had you moaning, fingers reaching down to dig at the plumpness of his ass. You could barely keep your eyes open, senses overwhelmed with Steve. "'S been a while for me."

Nodding, you gasped as he reared his hips back before they stuttered into you again. The movement sent a wave of slick between your thighs again, pleasure blinding you.

He found his rhythm, hips fucking into you slowly, languidly as you fell apart beneath him. You rocked with every movement of his hips, hands running over the tan skin of his body above you.

Finding his lips, you moaned against his mouth, savoring the feeling that was building up in your abdomen as the two of you moved in sync.

Steve gave you words of affirmation, hips drilling into you over and over as his cock brushed over your deep bundle of nerves. Bliss approached you once more, wetness dripping all over him as you were brought to that high again.

"Gonna cum, Steve," you whispered against his mouth, back arching into him. He reached down between you, fingers toying at your clit as they began to rub in small circles.

"Cum for me baby," he breathed, voice low as your eyes rolled back. His voice brought you over the edge, high shout escaping your lips as that pleasure took over you again.

As he fucked your through your orgasm, his own approached, hips losing their rhythm as you felt his release deep inside you. A low groan of his came out, a breathy fuck being the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes.

Your body felt light, head foggy as you came down from your orgasm. It was pure bliss what you felt, heart pounding in your chest as sleep took over you.

You shot out of bed, frantically searching for your phone as you realized the sun was creeping through the curtains. Crisp, white sheets were pooled around you, swallowing you up whole.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered, trying to search for your device in the darkness of the room. The dark curtains were drawn, only allowing a sliver of light in, but enough for you to realize how late in the morning it was.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, anxiety crept over you, realizing you weren't in your room. A tossing figure lay next to you, his body half covered as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. In that moment, everything from last night came crashing back, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

"Hey, Yn, what's wrong?" Steve's voice was groggy, as he blinked in the darkness of the room. He glanced towards the curtains and then to you, noticing the way you covered your frame with the corner of the sheet.

"What time is it?" You half shouted, looking on the bedside table for your phone. Steve was no help, slowly stretching out his limbs as he yawned.

"Too fucking early for you to be that loud," he muttered, sitting up on his elbows. The sheet pooled around his waist, exposing his bare abdomen and a deep V that cut below his waist.

You quickly looked away, blush deepening on your face. "We have to go, Ste-Mr. Harrington. We're gonna be in so much trouble."

You heard him chuckle at you, sighing as he relaxed once again in the bed. His arms circled your waist, pulling you down into him as you continued to panic. He lay behind you, your head resting on his chest as he buried his face into your shoulder.

"Shhh," he whispered, tightening his grip on your waist. "Called in today, came down with something apparently."

You shook your head, resting your hands on his where they rested on your stomach. "Can you even do that?"

"What are they gonna do? Fire me?" He laughed, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder. The anxiety that built up in your spine disappeared at his touch, the familiarity of his body replacing it. You turned in his arms, now chest to chest with the man.

His eyes were closed, sleepiness still evident over his features.

"Are you going to fire me?" You whispered at him, watching as his brow furrowed before he squinted open his eyes at you.

"What? No, what are you talking about?" He seemed genuinely confused at your question, hand rubbing at your waist. Relief took stake in your chest.

"I slept with my boss last night," you laughed at yourself, voice dropping even lower as you saw a smirk cross his face. He was smug, shaking his head with laughter as you playfully slapped at his chest.

"Pretty sure I'm the one with a lawsuit pending if anything," he said, laughter dying as you placed a small peck to his lips.

As you pulled away, he leaned into it further, tongue darting out to lick at yours. A wave of arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach.

He towered over you, mouth nipping at you as you sighed into the kiss. The two of you moved in sync, you moving onto your back as Steve leaned over your figure. A breathy moan escaped your lips, only to be cut off by his phone ringing.

"For fuck's sake," he grumbled, separating himself from you as he reached for it on his side of the bed. He answered it quickly, realizing it was his publicist as he placed it on speaker. "What d'you need, man?"

His lips returned to yours briefly, before kissing down your neck. The sheets were slowly pulled off of you as he made his way down, nipping at your chest, then your nipple, and soft kisses pressed to your stomach.

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, trying to stay as quiet as possible as his publicist droned on about some appearance he had to make in the next week. Steve was staring up at you, making small confirmation 'mhm's' in response to the phone call. A coy smile was on the corners of your mouth as you looked down at him wide eyed.

'Stop' you mouthed through gritted teeth. He nipped at your hip bone in protest, shaking his head at you.

You couldn't tell if it was Steve's mouth pressing to your heat or the next word's of his publicist that made your stomach drop.

"While we're at it, Steve, how about we talk how Page Six has pictures of you with a mysterious somebody in your apartment building?" They grumbled, voice staticy as it came through the phone. You felt Steve smirk against you, tongue lapping between your legs. "Aren't we a little too old to bring people back to your own place like that?"

A moan escaped you as you gripped at his hair. Steve looked up at you, wide eyed as he reached up to slap a hand across your mouth. 'Shhh', he mouthed, his own laugh threatening to spill out as his publicist's voice faltered at the noise.

"St-steve?" It said, apprehension in the tone. "Are you doing what I think you're doing? Really, man?"

Steve laughed as his hand remained over your mouth, muffling the sounds of your own laughter. They would recognize it if they heard it. He grabbed the phone from where it lay abandon, speaking into it as his thumb hovered the 'end call'.

"Something came up, gotta take care of it," he grimaced at you as you licked his hand. "Bye!"

He hung up right as the voice protested, tossing his phone aside as he leaned over you once again. His long hair hung in his face, eyes raking over your naked body.

"Now... where were we?"

an: I had to sneak in a line from All of Us Strangers because that movie was so moving. If you know, you know. I promise one of these days, I won't make Steve an asshole right off the bat, he'll be lovable.

masterlist. inbox and requests are open!

[ldysmfrst]

Incomplete (2) - A Soulmate in Los Angeles

Paring: Ateez OT8 x Plus-sized FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 2 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 7,218

Word count for Story: 10,594

Genre: Idol Soulmate AU

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This story will contain a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter contains a discussion of a family death (Hwa's grandpa) and y/n has an injury.

Story Summary: Ateez are soulmates who earned their way to Fame once they found each other. What happens when a new pull comes during their Towards The Light World Tour? Does 8 really make 1?

INCOMPLETE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

The van ride back to the hotel was quieter than usual. At Seonghwa’s insistence, they all piled into the same van for the short ride. He felt lost because he could not find who was pulling them and was still mourning his grandfather. Keeping his soulmates close by helped ease that feeling.

Mingi and Yunho took the captain's chairs in the front because they could get more room by locking them in the rear-facing mode and pushing them against the driver and passenger seats. Ever the cuddler, Mingi pulled Yeosang into his lap.

Wooyoung sat in the middle row on San’s lap to comfort his closest soulmate, who was still upset about not pinning the pull. 

The youngest, Jongho, opted to sit next to San and Wooyong but tangled his legs with Yunho’s to create a connection with his tallest soulmate.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa sit at the very back of the van. Seonghwa's eyes glisten with emotions as the feeling of the pull disappears during the send-off. 

“Hongjoong-ah… you didn’t feel anything? No pull? No scents? Nothing?” questions Seonghwa in hushed tones, trying to keep his voice from trembling with the mixed emotions he is getting through the bond.

Sighing, Hongjoong pulls his only older soulmate into his arms, “Honestly, my love, I didn’t feel anything during the show, but during the send-off… I smelt pine trees. Like a whole forest full, but they were burning with a smoldering scent.”

“That could have been someone with a lit fireplace, hyung,” comments Jongho.

“I thought that too, but it was coming from inside the stadium,” Hongjoong continued. “There was a group of Atiny walking up the stands around where San had paused in his pinning. I swear it came from them. Unfortunately, they were being rushed out, so it didn’t stay for long.”

“Excuse me, Sirs? We are here,” the driver announced. 

Once the boys had entered the hotel, the manager pulled Hwa, Hongjoong, San, and Mingi into a conference room to discuss their findings.

“Be clear with me,” the manager started. “I need to know what happened out there today. San’s crowd walking is already trending everywhere. Seonghwa, almost crying during the send-off, is raising questions about his mental health and the passing of his grandfather. Don’t even get me started with Mingi ‘being forced to dance while limping.’ What is going on?”

The soulmates look at each other, unsure of what more to say or how to start. Clearing his throat, Seonghwa takes a deep breath and gathers his thoughts.

“Manager-nim, do you remember the private talk we had during Coachella?” asks Seonghwa, gaining concerned looks from his soulmates when the manager nods in agreement.

“Hwa..” begins San, but Mingi shakes his head.

“After we filmed for Work here in Los Angeles, I felt like something was missing. At first, I thought the exhaustion from the shoot was getting to me when I felt the tightness in my chest. I even told the choreographers about maybe changing things until one of them convinced me I could do it.”

“I remember that. They said something like, “The Seonghwa I know could make it,” and then you had a new drive in you to prove yourself,” commented Hongjoong. “I was so proud of you when you pulled it off.”

“Thank you, but that tightness stuck with me. Even when we went back home.” Looking around at his soulmates, he continues, “Since no one else seemed to feel the same or recognize a pull, I went to manager-nim again, and he told me to take it easy and focus on Hush Hush since Coachella went so well.”

“Hyung, why didn’t you come and talk to us?” questions Mingi.

“We could have helped in LA. We walked around with you to see if anyone else could pick something up, Hyung,” whined San. 

“Mingi, San. Now is not the time,” scolded Hongjoong. Turning his attention to the manager, he said, “Thank you for listening to Hwa and guiding him during that time, manager-nim.”

“You're welcome. I would have said something, but Seonghwa-ssi didn’t want to worry anyone with the new collaboration and the tour coming up.” Looking at Hwa, the manager asked, “Do you think this is that same pull?”

“I do. I think we might have a soulmate in Los Angeles.”

The room is filled with silence. Each soulmate pulls into themselves, trying to find clues to help prove Hwa’s assumption because none of them don’t believe him. They worry about how their missing soulmate feels and how to tell the others that there is one.

Soft whimpers break the stillness as a wave of guilt floods out of San, “How are we going to find them now? I couldn’t find them tonight, and LA is huge. We could look for days, weeks, or months and never find them. My pinning abilities didn’t work!”

Quickly, Seonghwa pulls San into his lap, “Sannie, you did so well tonight and on such short notice. You were able to find out the pull was coming from C2.”

“Did you say C2?” inquires the manager.

“Yeah, why?” presses Hongjoong. “Is there something special about that section?”

Flipping through his cell phone, the manager pulls up an email from BMO and KQ. Reading over it briefly, the manager grins, “Yes, actually. It turns out that the BMO event staff misdirected C2, C3, and C4 to the wrong entry gate, causing many of them to miss BE:FIRST and the start of the show.”

Narrowing his eyes at the manager, Hongjoong asks through gritted teeth, “How is making our Atiny miss the show something to smile about?”

Still smiling, “They all got complimentary tickets to the Grammy Museum. They are only good for the next 48 hours.”

A wash of confusion comes over the members.

“But we have the Hello82 event tomorrow and another show. How does that help?” prods Hongjoong with growing irritation.

“Easy. The Hello82 event is ticketed and set for the late morning, and the call time for the show isn’t until 4 p.m. So, instead of returning to the hotel to rest, you could always drop by the Grammy Museum to check out your exhibition,” offers the manager.

“How is that even?” Hongjoong starts. 

“Wait a minute, Joongie,” Seonghwa interrupts. “Hello82 doesn’t start till 11:30 am. If we can convince Yunho to leave an anchor and Wooyoung to scent-mark the Museum before it opens, we might be able to trigger our soulmate’s ability or at least cause them to linger in the area.”

“Woo would do it! He already said he would help me in any way I thought,” San excitedly says, gaining a smile on his face with his now tear-puffed eyes.

Nodding in agreement, a pensive face comes over Mingi: “Yunho is always leaving anchors for us, so I am sure he wouldn’t mind leaving one to find our new mate, but I am not sure if either of our bears actually believe we have a new soulmate.”

Once the plans were set in motion, the soulmates retired for the night in their respectful rooms. Unlike what most Atiny thought, they were not paired up in their couplings because their soulmate abilities kind of blocked that when they were on tour.

Seonghwa’s ability to receive emotions from his soulmates makes sleeping difficult, as the others unknowingly share their dreams, nightmares, and worries throughout the day with him. This is why he bunks with Jongho. His ability allows him to influence others' emotions, and unlike the rest of the members, he doesn’t express his emotions when sleeping because he ends up acting as a barrier. This feels like a cocoon of comfort and relaxation for the eldest soulmate.

Hongjoong could scent his soulmates, each a different version of a pine tree. He was so attuned to them that he could act like one of those Alphas in Atiny’s fanfics and hunt down each member. Luckily, his match was Wooyoung and his lovely Mugo pine scent, which reminded the Captain of Christmas. As any Atiny would know, Wooyoung’s personality and love language is touch, but what they assumed was the need for skinship was Woo’s using his ability to leave his scent behind on his soulmates. 

Yunho and Yeosang found balance with each other. Yunho eased Yeosang's tension, which was caused by Yeosang’s ability to pull his soulmates close. By placing his anchor on Yeosang’s soul, Yunho effectively allowed Yeo to latch on to him and only him. During their sleep, it was like they created their own universe when it was just the two of them latching on to each other physically and metaphysically. 

That left San and Mingi. While San could pin onto each of his soulmates, almost like an internal GPS, and Mingi could use his ability to feel what his soulmates were feeling physically, neither of their abilities was constantly active. The two didn’t need a counterpart to relax, so they would either share a room or take turns bunking with another set during the tours. 

When San joined KQ, the vibrations from Hongjoong, Yunho, and Mingi were so strong that it was easy to find them huddled in a recording studio. It was like being a dolphin and using echolocation to find them. After that, it was almost like the others started gravitating toward them, which made it easy.

Mingi only felt his mates' physical emotions when they became overwhelming. Sometimes, he could tell when it was getting to that point, and instead of waiting for the overflow, he would absorb the feelings: pain, anger, hopelessness, all of it.

After a night's rest and an early breakfast, the boys gathered in the same conference room. This time, a few of their personal bodyguards, who knew about the soulmate bond, and the manager joined them.

“Now that everyone is here, we have something essential to talk about,” Hongjoong started, then looked to Seonghwa to explain.

After retelling the story of the Music Video Work issues and what they had discussed last night, he said, “We have to find our missing part.”

“Why are you looking at me?” Jongho spoke up with a firm voice, eyeing Mingi, who hadn’t stopped watching him since the meeting started. 

Mingi’s ears turn pink after being caught. Darting his eyes away from his youngest soulmate, he replies, “You… you haven’t said much since all of this started, neither has Yunho, and I am concerned that you guys won’t be on board.”

“Mingi is right. You even dismissed Joong-hyung from the van last night, Jongho-ah,” Wooyoung comments before turning to Yunho. “Why are you so quiet? Do you think Hwa-hyung is wrong?”

“I never said he was wrong. I never said any of you were wrong but I wonder why Yeosang-hyung hasn’t felt the pull yet, that is all,” Yunho answers.

When this name is mentioned, Yeosang gets pulled out of his thoughts. Looking around the table, he smiles softly, “I don’t think I haven’t.”

This shocks everyone at the table. A flurry of questions gets thrown at the 99-liner.

“My loves, wait a minute. Let me explain, please.” After the questions die down and a simple nod from Hwa, Yeosang continues, “With each of you, I feel this thick and solid rope like a Mooring line attached to each of you that I can tug on. Plus, when we found each other, there wasn’t an entire stadium between us.”

“You feel another one of these mooring lines?” asks Jongho.

“No, I don’t, but I felt something like a plaited silk rope slip around me when we said good night, and it felt good,” Yeosang says, smiling to himself as he recalls the feeling. “However, because manager-nim had instructed me and others to concentrate on the other side of the stage, it slipped off. Then I couldn’t find it again, so I chalked it up to being excited about ending an amazing show.”

“Now do you think that anymore?” pushes Jongho.

Shaking his head, Yeo replies, “It has to be our soulmate. I looked it up on my phone after Yuyu fell asleep. Others with the same ability in group bonds say that the pull can feel different because it tends to be gender specific.”

A resounding “WHAT” fills the room as shock takes over everyone. Each soulmate’s mind reels with this new information. Adding another soulmate was a challenge, but having a woman soulmate, a lady to pamper, and a female to connect with was its own obstacle.

San felt almost relieved because this could explain why his pinning wasn’t working well. Once he pinned the section, he was only pinning towards the male Atinies. He had used a more resounding, darker melody with each of his bonded mates, almost like something from Pirates of the Caribbean. 

“Yunho,” Mingi called his twin tower. “Do you remember asking about my back because I was limping?”

“Yeah, you have been having problems with it for a while now. Why?”

“I was still limping last night after the show-up until about time for the send-off. I am starting to think our soulmate has an injury,” states Mingi.

Concern floods into Seonghwa from all of his soulmates. Grabbing Jungho quickly to stop himself from breaking into tears, he asks, “You mean she was in pain while watching the concert? How could she have enjoyed being there if she was overflowing in pain?”

“I don’t think it was that bad the entire time,” Mingi contemplates. “I think the pain for me started even before the sound check. It was dull and throbbing, but there was nothing too much until we went on, and it got intense. I am sure that is why Yunho noticed me limping.”

“How come I couldn’t feel her pain, too? If it was that bad I should have felt something,” worries Seonghwa. 

“Hwa, my love. Maybe she was so happy to see us that the pain was only physical,” Hongjoong attempts to console his ever-caring mate.

“Don’t be so self-centered, Joong. Our mate was in severe physical pain!”

“Seonghwa-hyung,” says Jongho, cupping Hwa’s face and pulling his attention to him while pushing calming notes and dampening the rest of the room. “She could have used pain medication to help keep it tolerable. If anything, I would wager we have a stubborn, independent, and intelligent lady for a soulmate, hum?”

“You think so?” implores Hwa. The feeling of failing to care for a new soulmate he has never seen slowly subsides at the youngest’s words.

“I don’t think so. I know so because only a woman like that will be able to handle a bonded group like us,” teases Jongho.

With murmurs and remarks of agreement coupled with chuckles, the tension in the form finally releases. 

“So now what do we do?” asks Yunho. “How are we going to find this ladymate?”

“That is where you and Wooyoung come in,” pipes up the manager. 

“I’ll do it!” agrees Wooyoung almost before the manager finishes talking, again pulling chuckles from the room.

“Last night, there was backlash about how BMO misdirected Atiny to sections C2, C3, and C4,” the manager puts his hands up before anyone can start chiming in. “They have rectified their mistake by giving them tickets to the Grammy Museum, which will be available only for the next 48 hours.”

“But we will be at Hello82,” confronts Wooyoung.

“Yes, Wooyoung-ssi. But that isn’t until after 11 am, which means, if we leave now, we can stop by the Grammy Museum, where Yungho can leave anchors and Wooyoung can scent mark the area. Then after we leave Hello82, we all can go back and see if anyone is waiting before you have to report back to BMO.”

“But what if she leaves before we get there or comes after we leave? What if she doesn’t come at all? She might have been one of those non-stan friends that just went to have fun. It doesn’t mean she will come to the museum,” worries Wooyoung.

Pulling Wooyoung into his lap, San holds him close, saying, “My baby, you knew Yeosang was your soulmate before the two of you found us, right?”

Wooyoung nodded and went to speak, only for San to grip his neck, effectively silencing him as he continued, “She has to feel something from last night. No matter if she was a fan or not. Having a bonded group the size of ours is not something easily resisted. Like Little Bear said, she is a smart cookie, and I am sure her curiosity about or love for us will push her to come to the museum at some point today.”

“Now be a good boy and go with our Big Bear to help us find our missing lady-mate,” San orders with a kiss to Wooyoung’s temple. 

With San’s orders, the meeting wraps up rather quickly. Everyone but Wooyoung and Yunho pile into the main van to head up the Hello82, while the manager, two personal bodyguards, and WooYu head to the museum. 

Being the ever-efficient manager that he is, the museum waits for their arrival and ushers them inside quickly. Then, the museum directs the group up the elevator to the correct floor. It still sends a fluttering feel through the idols to see their stuff on display for any Atiny to come and see. 

Stopping in front of their exhibit, the attendant looks around. “Mr. Jung, you can go ahead. The museum has already been informed that you need to make contact with the different pieces, we just ask that you refrain from touching non-Ateez related items.”

With that, Wooyoung takes off with a bodyguard, touching everything and doing anything he can. Of course, he leaves heavier markers on his personal items on display.

“There aren’t places to sit down and wait around here. Are there, miss?” Yunho asks with a frown.

She shakes her head and states, “This museum isn’t like most. People spend maybe an hour looking at everything before they might make a purchase downstairs and leave. We have thought about finding a bigger venue but not yet.”

Disappointment blooms in Yunho’s chest. How can he make an anchor for his ladymate with an injured foot when she must stand the whole time? Taking his time walking around all their old stuff, he notices someone turning on a TV screen that shows the making of their music videos, then walks around another wall where he hears rather loud talking. 

His curiosity peaks as he follows the worker to find a documentary playing to celebrate the 40th anniversary of Michael Jackson’s mini-movie music video Thriller…with backless benches!

“Woo! Wooyoung!” called Yunho, surprising his soulmate.

“Yeah? What is it, Yunho?” he asks, coming around the same corner. “Oh, isn’t that the famous King of Pop guy?”

“Huh? Oh yes but here. Benches. I can leave the anchor here,” remarks Yunho, no longer caring about the video.

Looking down at the benches, Wooyoung has a befuddled look on his face. “Really? This is an entirely different exhibit.”

“I know that but if she is really our soulmate, she has to have an interest in music. Anyone who is anyone that loves music would want to at least look at the rest of the exhibits on this level plus its a famous video. Also, if she is hurt like Mingi says then she will need to sit down and this is the only place to sit on this level.”

“Valid. I guess this will work. Maybe you can leave another anchor on the first floor at the gift shop, too? Maybe it will cause her to linger here for longer?” 

“That is a good idea, too. Okay, let me anchor here while you finish up, and then we will anchor and scent the same spot on the first floor.”

Closing his eyes, Yunho reaches into his soul and pushes down. Down from his head, down through his heart to his feet, and latches onto the floor. Most of the world doesn’t understand what it takes to set an anchor for soulmates with the ability to anchor. The anchor must leave three things behind a piece of their soul, mind, and heart. 

Once he is done, Yunho heads back to the elevator and heads back down with everyone. Stepping out of the elevator, they notice people have started to line up outside. Dawning their masks and bucket hats, Wooyoung and Yunho get to work quickly, choosing a place near their merch to scent and anchor before slipping out the back and heading off to Hello82.

The Hello82 event is a blur for Ateez. They try really hard to be in the now and not in the shoulda, coulda, woulda's of the past or the gonna, needas, and bettas of the future. Seonghwa even goes as far as pretending to be a stan and gets signatures from the rest of the band. 

It feels like an eternity before they say goodbye to the fantastic Atiny attending the event and head to the Grammy Museum. It amazes them every time they hold these events at how packed the rooms are and the stans that just hang outside for a glimpse. The ride is filled with chatter about the outfits they saw Atiny wear.

Hongjoon mentions that he can smell pine, but it is incredibly faint and could have been a cleaning product or the scent that had lingered from the day before. None of the rest had gotten any hints that their missing ladymate had attended the event, which put them on edge and filled their heads with what-ifs.

Again, the museum staff knew Ateez would be coming, but they had been instructed to refrain from making announcements or attempting to draw a crowd. They entered through a rear entrance and stood in a stock room, waiting for their manager or a museum attendant to take the lead.

It’s not until Hongjoon takes a deep breath that he smells it and says, “Pine, it's here and still kinda burnt. It’s different from anyone here but close to Mingi’s Maritime Pine. I can’t tell how fresh it is from here. Let’s go in groups. Yunho and Jongho, come with Hwa and I. Yeo, Mingi, Wooyoung go together. San, I know you can pin better when you are on your own, is that good?”

With agreements all around, San heads out first, followed by Mingi’s group and the last is Captain’s group. 

San’s ability to find unique vibrations and sounds that non-pinning soulmates can’t hear or feel helps with their music and keeps everyone on tempo. It's hard to hear the resonance of a new soulmate ring back in a venue like BMO. Getting to the correct floor, San is grateful that there are not many people present. However, the lack of people also worries him.

Reaching within himself, San finds a new tune, a lifting melody, to ping out. It's like a sea shanty and hopefully will resonate with the missing ladymate. 

Nothing. 

Moving towards the farther side of the exhibition, he tries again.

Nothing.

With a frustrated sigh, San promises to find the ladymate and acknowledge the red thread that binds them all. Hongjoong said pine was here, which means the missing mate was in this building at some point since scents can flow through the vents, unlike his pinning. For it to work, a direct path must be open between San and his new soulmate.  

Looking up at the elevator doors as they open, San shakes his head to alert Mingi, who stepped out first, that he wasn’t getting anything. Pointing to the stairs, the other two mates nod in understanding and watch San head to a lower floor.

Wooyoung, at this point, feels useless in helping any more than he has. He just hoped that his scent caused the ladymate to linger. The longer she stayed, the higher chance she was still here and would react to another ability within the bonded group.

Mingi is in the same boat. He always hated that he gained one of the passive abilities of the mate bonds. With how helpless he felt about it earlier in their career, he had taken a hiatus and heavily contemplated breaking the bond. It was Yunho who convinced him otherwise. He claimed Mingi as his center, like SanWoo, JonYeo, and HongHwa claimed each other. But who would be the ladymate’s center?

Walking around their exhibition was like a flash from the not-so-distant past. Mingi enjoyed watching a small Atiny try to dance along with the music video playing on a TV on the wall before he heard another TV going behind him. Following the sound, Mingi found himself watching a documentary completely in English about the King of Pop. 

Figuring he could sit for a bit and watch it while Yeosang did his thing, Mingi plopped down on one of the backless benches, and that was when the pain started. It wasn’t like it was at BMO, but it was present. It was almost like his missing soulmate had sat there and just dumped all the pain out into the space. 

“Gi, I can’t find anything,” Yeosang and Wooyoung say, walking up to him in the slightly secluded view room. It’s Woo who notices Mingi’s pained expression.

“Gi, are you alright? Is it you, or is it our ladymate?” Wooyoung says, kneeling before Mingi and grabbing his hand to comfort him. His eyes are filled with concern. Smiling with a pained brow, he tells the two about what he feels and suspects has happened. 

“Maybe she overdid it last night, and coming here didn’t help,” offers the youngest. “She may be more stubborn than we thought. It is interesting that she can just leave her pain here though. I have never heard of that ability.”

“Are you going to be able to walk, Gi?” questions Yeosang. 

“What’s wrong with Gi?” Hwa asks, coming around the corner with his grouping.

After listening to Mingi explain what San had signaled and what he felt, Hwa became more determined to find his ladymate. Not only is she missing, but she (in his mind) is gravely injured. “Emotional resonance from a soulmate only lasts maybe 20 minutes at max. She was just here. Yunho?”

“My anchor is gone. She must have absorbed it from this room when she rested here. Let’s go down to the merch area and see if the anchor is still there,” suggested Yunho.

With that, everyone took the elevator down and followed Yunho. Closing his eyes, Yunho reached for his other anchor and found that it, too, was missing. Shaking his head with his eyes downcast, he realizes there is nothing else he can do. His anchors weren’t strong enough to keep their ladymate from leaving.

“Her pine is here. She was here,” Hongjoong declares quietly, trying not to bring a crowd.

“You aren’t wrong, love. I can feel the pull again. Mingi?” Hwa asks, eyes imploring the gentle giant, who nods in agreement but is leaning against Yunho because of the pain now concentrated in his ankle.

“The plaited silk rope is back!” exclaims Yeosang. “I can feel it, but I can’t tug on it. She is still too far away, do you think she left the building?”

The slightly winded San speedwalks to the group, “She is outside. I think she is headed to the parking garage. Let’s go. NOW.”

“San, take Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Jongho with you. Stay together. The rest of us will come with Mingi.” This sends a flash of confusion across San’s face as he looks at Mingi with questioning and worried eyes. “

“I will explain later,” commands Hongjoong as he takes on the role of captain in situations like this. 

At his words, half the bonded group practically jogs out of the museum and onto the streets of downtown LA. Bodyguards discreetly follow behind them so as not to interfere with their search.

The rest of the group follows at a quickened walk. Mingi is clearly limping, which doesn’t go unnoticed by some fellow museum attendees. The stunned looks, pointed cell phones, and not-so-hush-hush squealing tell them they have been found out. 

Looking over his shoulder, Hongjoong sees their manager and the last bodyguards starting to head off the fans attempting to approach. Under different circumstances, Ateez would gladly stop and meet their international Atiny, but they had a soulmate to catch.

The whole ride back to your friend’s house is spent staring at the ungodly amount of photos and videos you took. Of course, they were mainly of Seonghwa and San, but what shocked you was the surprising number of Mingi shots you had. 

“Hey, I know we have talked about who our favorites are. Mine are Seonghwa and San. Yours, Kat, is Hongjoong. Cindy, you have two like me… Yeosang and Jongho, right?” you suddenly call out from the backseat.

“Damn, Y/n, you’re alive? I thought we had lost you to post-concert depression already. The first time is the worst,” joked Kat.

“Ha. ha. I am just editing my photos and stuff. It’s strange, though. I have so many of Mingi,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“We soooo should have done the pre/post bias TikTok trend,” laughs Cindy. “I think Someone lost their place in y/n’s heart.”

“Nono. No. The majority is still of my Hwa and my mountain. It’s just that there is an almost equal amount of Mingi. Was he hurt before the concert? In this video it looks like he is limping,” your chest tugs at the thought of Mingi being hurt as you show the video to the front seat at the stop light. 

“Huh, you’re right. It does look like it,” comments Kat, taking your phone and flipping through your photos. “Looks like your boyfriends and Mingi kept to our side of the stage, which is unusual.”

“I noticed that during the concert. My pretty boys kept running to the other side. That is why I stopped trying to take pictures,” huffs Cindy. 

Driving the additional 30 minutes home felt like pulling your ankle off at the joint. Guess this is what you get from trying to dress like a pirate and wearing heeled boots on uneven grass. 

Climbing into bed, you put ice on your swollen ankle sprain and take more painkillers. You had been taking them all night after being shoved by some impatient twinks that wanted to get past the merch line. 

Your boot heel had sunk into a hole or made its own from how long you had been standing there. You went down hard, and your foot was instantly in pain, but you swallowed it down because you were not about to ruin this for Cindy or Kat. 

Sleep comes quickly and is filled with Matz stealing you away for a night on the town, SanWoo cuddling with you while you watch movies, Twin Towers treating you to a beautiful dinner, and even JonYeo walking with you along the beach. 

RingRingRingRing

Buzz,Buzz,Buzzzzzzzzz

KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK

“What… the… HELL,” you scream at the coarse and abrupt sounds waking you from your amazing dreams. Dragging your not-awake-yet ass to the front door, still clad in your PJs and limping slightly, you jerk open the door to find Cindy and Kat standing there bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

“Jesus! You rose from the dead. Finally,” Kat says with a laugh, handing you something in a bag and pushing past you.

“Here,” Cindy smiles and hands you your favorite Starbucks drink. “It has an extra two shots.”

After taking a long drink of the Cafe Vanilla Frap, you close the door and stare at the two soon-to-be-ex friends, “You have one chance to tell me why you are here, or I will kick you out.”

“Grumpy butt,” mutters Kat.

“We tried calling and texting for the last two hours, but we don’t have much time before we catch our plane back to Washington,” pleads Cat. “We brought treats to apologize, but we figured you would want to take advantage of the free tickets to the Ateez exhibit at Grammy Museum that we were comp-ed.”

Sitting on the couch, you pull out the Sausage and Cheddar Muffin from Starbucks. Okay, they get bonus points for getting the right one. “Keep talking. You said they are comp-ed? How?” you question before taking a large bite from the yummy breakfast treat.

Pulling out her phone, Kat reads over an email she got from BMO apologizing for their shit directions and causing several attendees to miss performances. As compensation, they gave each ticket holder a ticket. 

“If we leave here in the next 10 minutes, we can make it there. We have about three hours to meander and get you back in time for our plane. We already packed the rental car with all our stuff,” explains Cindy.

“Hence, why we're practically breaking down your door. Let's wrap your ankle, get you in some clothes, and you can finish eating in the car,” Kat says as they head down the hall to your room. 

After finally deciding to wear jeans and the tour sleeveless shirt you bought, you wrapped your ankle and donned tennis shoes, and out the door, you went. Oh, and painkillers were on board, too. That was a must.

The drive took about an hour, which gave you plenty of time to discuss each other's concert-induced dreams. It was a relief that you weren’t the only one because that meant either you were completely normal, or your friends were just as delusional as you are.

It’s lovely how, even with a GPS, it is still challenging to find places in cities like Hollywood and LA. All the tall buildings block signals. It’s irritating how we can put Bluetooth cameras in sunglasses now, but we can’t get GPS signals through a building yet. 

At this point, Cindy has given up on the GPS recalculating at every street, and the three of you are just looking for something that may resemble a museum. That’s when you feel something, like a pull or a nudge, to look to your right. “There it is! Next to that, Fixin something something restaurant.”

“Wow, that's a good eye! I would have never seen it,” says Kat, who is sitting on the same side as you. “I guess the museum is smaller than what I was looking for. It looks just like an office building. How did you see that?”

“I don know. I just had a feeling and looked then poof there it was,” you giggle. “Anyways, let’s park in the structure and head in. Maybe my ankle will chill out if I use it a bit more. Right now, it is not happy, that is for sure.”

Unlike finding the place, parking was a piece of cake. Grabbing your concert bag you hadn’t unpacked last night; you smile at the plushie and photocards hanging off it. 

“Are you still happy I got SANdeoki instead of DDEONGbyeoli? I only got her because you had recently been sending me a lot of Instagram links of San, and she is purple, " Cindy asks.

Bringing SANdeoki up to your face, you hug and kiss her on the forehead. “I love her. I was thinking now that I have her and the face card holder, I am starting to look like a real Atiny.” That pulls laughs from everyone as you head up to finally see and learn more about these eight Korean men who crashed into your world of music. 

It is interesting how having those two Ateez items on a cross-body bag is the green light for any random Atiny to start talking to you. Between the car and getting to the correct floor of the museum, you got a few waves, a couple of finger hearts, and some short conversations. 

Of course, Cindy and Kat knew this would happen and flowed right with everything, but you, on the other hand, were a little taken back. However, once you explained that you were a baby Atiny, the randos calmed down and became encouraging. 

Once you redeemed your ticket, the staff directed you to the right floor and pointed out the elevator. When the doors opened, your face lit up. You hear playful scoffing from behind you as Kat says, “Oh no. Y/n is in heaven now. Not only does she get to see Ateez's stuff, but they also have the MJ thing still up.”

“Hey, what can I say? I am ployJAMorus,” you comment. Kat isn’t wrong. You loved Michael Jackson and the Jackson 5. Most of your music tastes were before your time until K-pop came along. “Ateez first, then MJ, and then we can check out the other levels if you guys want. With how small this place is, I am sure we can see the whole place in less than an hour.”

And that is what you did.

The music video costumes, props, and Ateez's history were all there, and you read everything. You also saw some stuff from Xikers, who you learned were from KQ Entertainment, considered the next gen of K-pop and dongsaengs to Ateez.

“Y/n, are you trying to smell Wooyoung’s clothes or do you just normally sniff glass?” Kat asks with her arms crossed. “Cindy, I think y/n needs to touch some grass. The concert overloaded her normal OS.”

“What?” You snap out of it. “I wasn’t trying to sniff his clothes. If I’d sniff anyone’s clothes, it would be Seonghwa’s. Get it right. I just noticed the excellent pine scent in this area, almost like those Christmas tree candles from the Yankee Candle Company.”

Slightly embarrassed, you take a deep breath to smell it again but play it off as a stretch while rolling your ankle around. Frowning, you note that it hasn’t stopped throbbing, but you still want to look around. Limping your way over to the Michael Jackson side of the floor, you check out all the jeweled jackets he once wore. 

Gosh, you knew you would get excited to see all the cool stuff because music would have been your life if you had any confidence in yourself. The tingling in your chest and the calmness of being surrounded by greatness is warming. 

Turning around a corner, you notice a mini theater that practically pulls you in. Nothing is playing on the screen, but there are benches where you can at least rest to give your ankle a break. Once seated, you close your eyes, take a deep, centering breath, fill your lungs with that calming pine, and try to relax every muscle in your body. 

Mind over matter has been your practice in life. 

As you feel each muscle release, a sense of kinship comes over you. It’s not long before you relax from head to toe, settling restless thoughts and sore muscles along the way. Luckily for you, the pain in your ankle subsides. 

By the time you open your eyes, Cindy and Kat have joined you, and the screen is playing a documentary on Thriller. You convince your friends to stay and watch it because that music video was the pinnacle of changing the direction of how things were done, and you felt like you were supposed to stay.

When the show was over, though, they decided it was time to move on, and you really couldn’t tell them you were content with just sitting there without sounding strange. 

However, when you left, the feeling of kinship stayed with you. It even grew when you got to the souvenir store near the main entrance. Sadly, there wasn’t much within your price range to buy. You kept returning to the Ateez mech, wanting to buy something but never feeling like you had found what kept you coming back. 

Cindy and Kat, complaining about being hungry, finally pulled you away from the store and over to what you now know as Fixins Soul Kitchen. It was pretty much an expensive “Hollywood” take on Roscoe's Chicken ‘n’ Waffles. Since you have already eaten breakfast on the way down, you decide to get a salad and chat about everything and anything you can think of. 

Full bellies, good memories, and great friends are a fantastic way to end Cindy and Kat’s trip. You, of course, pay for everyone’s meal and a final gift and meander out to the sidewalk. 

“Hey, look at the crowd outside of the museum,” Kat comments. Feeling that strange pull to the building, you move to walk towards it.

“Either it was a good thing we came early because it is more popular than we thought or someone famous is inside. Kinda wish we had more time to check it out but we gotta get going if we are going to get you home and catch the plane on time,” says Cindy almost wistfully. 

“Yeah,” you absentmindedly say as the strangest feeling comes over you. It’s like a ghost-like tug pulls at your chest while a melody plays in your head that you know you have never heard of before.

“Earth to Y/n! We gotta go unless you wanna pay like $60 for an Uber home,” Cindy remarks, regaining your attention. Shaking your head and rubbing your chest, you turn away from the crowd and follow your friends to the parking garage. 

What is going on with you, you contemplate. Yesterday, you felt like you didn’t want to leave BMO stadium, but today, you don’t want to leave the Grammy Museum. Are you that music or socially deprived that you want to hold on to everything?

The tugging in your chest strengthens with each foot forward, slowing your steps. It feels like a thick rope binding you and pulling you back the other way, but you know your friends have limited time, and you can’t afford the Uber.  

You softly start to hum the melody that is crescendoing in your mind, blocking out the excited commotion and hurried steps approaching you. You are so in your own thoughts, with your eyes naturally cast downwards, that seeing the world around you ends until you run into a wall. 

Putting your hands on the wall you ran into… it feels kinda warm. Blinking yourself back into the world around you, the first thing you notice is that the wall is wearing… shoes.

Startled and embarrassed by walking right into someone, you step back and drop your hand from their body. However, you find yourself running into someone else as their warm hands fall on your cold arms. Snapping your head up, you see the muscled man in front of you for a split second before you look over your shoulder at the person behind you.

Freezing in place. You think yourself crazy until you catch the movement of someone else. 

No. 

No way. 

Looking to your right and left, recognizable Korean men surround you, but it can't be. Panic starts to settle in as you finally hear the commotion around you. That is when more men join the circle encompassing you. 

Taking a step forward gets halted by the man at your back saying, “Wait, please.”

“This isn’t real,” you say softly, your eyes never settling on any men boxing you in. 

With a warm smile, the mountain of a man steps forward and says, “Hello Miss, I am Choi San. I think the nine of us need to sit down and talk.”

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[loulovingho]

You're a Piece of My Soul I Can't Let Go

10.5k; read below or on ao3; tags: presumed dead (no actual major character death), angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety, panic, flashbacks, smut, witness protection, secret service

Buck didn't cry at the funeral.

It's not that he wasn't sad. He was heartbroken beyond repair.

The tears simply wouldn't fall.

He didn't show much emotional at all. Didn't listen to the speeches people gave. Didn't react when someone would give him a hug or a pat on the back. Didn't care about the words of encouragement by people who had no clue what it felt like to lose someone.

“Time will heal.”

“He's an angel now.”

“God needed him more.”

“Life goes on.”

“Hold yourself together for him.”

It was all bullshit.

The burial wasn't much different. He sat, unmoving, from his chair in the front row. Held out his hands when he presented with the folded flag. Heard the sniffs and cries from the people around him, but he remained stoic.

Nothing about this felt right.

There was a reception afterward at Bobby and Athena's place. Buck, wanting nothing to do with the limo that was reserved for family, had driven his Jeep to the cemetery.

He told Bobby he'd meet them at their place. Let Bobby wrap him in another hug before he left.

He didn't go to Bobby's.

Didn't want to talk to all those people. He had no desire to hear them laugh as they told stories about Tommy. They'd never know him like he did.

He went home instead. Back to the place he and Tommy shared.

It was Tommy's house, originally. Then Buck had moved in only five months into them dating. It seemed crazy at the time, but it worked. They were engaged two months later, married six months after that.

Four months of marriage. That's all they'd gotten. The ring around Buck's finger still felt new, and it was already over.

Seventeen months total. The best seventeen months of Buck's life.

And it was all gone.

Buck walked into the house that screamed Tommy, Tommy, Tommy everywhere he looked. There was the couch they had picked out together. The lamp that Tommy had knocked off the table twice, yet somehow never broke. The kitchen where they realized they were far too old to be having sex on a countertop. The clock on the wall that played obnoxious music every hour that Buck hated but Tommy loved, so it was only ever on if Buck had to work and Tommy was at home.

His houseplants he killed regularly.

The TV they splurged on because Tommy both loved watching movies and loved watching Buck watch movies.

The bedroom, two nightstands. One side almost empty because all Buck needed was a lamp and a spot for his phone at night. The other side with a lamp, charger, reading glasses, chapstick, and a glass of water that now had a thin film of dust covering the top.

Buck toed off his shoes and walked to the bed, lying down. He pulled his phone from his pocket and silenced it before setting it on his nightstand. He didn't want to be bothered. Maddie could see his location, would know he was fine. That was enough.

He curled onto his side, facing Tommy's side of the bed. He tugged at Tommy's pillow, moving it so it rested lengthwise against his body. He snuggled it tightly. Closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Tommy's shampoo and cologne, still fresh on the pillowcase.

He fell into a dreamless sleep.

Nothing about this felt right.

“What's the matter?” Tommy asked immediately upon entering the kitchen. Buck had his eyebrows drawn tightly together as he stared at a can of coconut milk. That was never a good sign.

“I got the wrong thing,” Buck pouted. “I was supposed to get coconut cream and I picked up the milk.”

“I'm guessing they're not interchangeable?”

Buck gave him a look that asked the question, “Are you crazy?” without saying a word.

“Right.” Tommy began searching the room for his keys, “I will go get you your coconut cream.”

“No, I can get it,” Buck put the can down and headed for the stove. “I'll let Bobby know dinner will be a little late,” he said, switching off a couple of the burners, “and then-”

Buck was cut off by Tommy wrapping his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You keep cooking,” he insisted, “I'll get the cream.”

Buck smiled softly, leaning further into Tommy's touch. “You sure?”

“I'm sure.”

Buck turned his head for a kiss on the lips before Tommy unraveled himself from him.

“Keys?” Tommy asked.

“Coffee table.”

“Right! Thank you. Love you, Babe. Be right back.”

“Love you too.”

Three days was all the bereavement pay a city employee was allotted after the death of a family member. Bobby had managed to space out Buck's shifts enough to give him seven days before he had to dip into his vacation time.

It didn't matter anyway. He hadn't used his vacation days in a long time. Had been saving them for a long roadtrip with...

It didn't matter. He didn't need those vacation days anymore.

A part of him had thought about going back to work. He had gotten dressed and everything. Had his keys and was headed out the door. He couldn't seem to make it past the doorframe.

He typed a simple text to Bobby, taking vacation day, silenced his phone and got back into bed. Bed, bathroom, kitchen, bed, bathroom, kitchen, the same path for the next week.

People would come to the door, knock and knock and knock, but he made no effort to let them in.

When they'd text, he'd respond so they knew he was alive, but also knew to leave him alone.

I need some time, he'd text them, please let me have time to myself.

That worked for a while, until Eddie decided to screw it all and use the spare key he had to let himself in.

“Buck?” he called out as he gently opened the front door. “Buck, you here?”

He walked into the dark house, all the curtains drawn and not a single light on. After peeking into the kitchen and living room, he made his way to the bedroom. The door was cracked, so he nudged it open until he could see Buck lying on the bed, facing away from the door.

He was under the covers, cuddling a pillow close to him.

“Buck?” Eddie whispered.

He waited a few seconds and was just about to head out to the living room until Buck woke up, when he heard a, “Hm?”

“You awake?”

“I'm not a sleep talker,” Buck muttered grumpily. He turned just enough to look at Eddie. “Why're you here?”

“To check on you.”

Buck folded himself back over the pillow, closing his eyes. “Told you I'm fine.”

“Yeah... don't really believe you, bud.” Eddie walked over to the other side of the bed so he could face Buck. Sunlight peeked through the curtains enough for Eddie to see that, surprisingly, Buck didn't look like he'd been crying.

He just looked tired. Staying in bed for two weeks could do that to a person.

“Come on, Buck,” Eddie said, “let's go out to the living room. Get you something to eat.”

“Already ate,” Buck mumbled into the pillow.

“When?”

Buck sighed. “What time is it?”

“Three o'clock in the afternoon.”

“What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

Reluctantly, Buck sat up in bed, sending a glare to Eddie. “I ate at one.”

Eddie crossed his arms. “On what day?”

God, Buck hated when he got all parental with him. Made him feel like a child. “Wednesday.”

“Up,” Eddie demanded, snapping his fingers. “Now.”

Buck was too tired to fight him. He knew the quicker he went along, ate whatever Eddie wanted him to eat, talked about whatever Eddie wanted him to talk about, he could get him out of his house.

He pulled the covers off of him and got out of bed, scooting his feet as he walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch.

Eddie couldn't help but noticed how much weight Buck had lost over the last couple of weeks. It made him feel awful for waiting so long to force himself into Buck's home. He was trying to be respectful. Trying to give Buck the space he kept requesting. He'd get those texts from Buck every time he knocked on the door, and he'd leave because he was asked to. That's what they'd all been doing. He knew now that was a mistake.

“I don't wanna eat much,” Buck said, staring straight ahead at the TV.

“I already ordered some wonton soup from China Wok. It'll be here in a minute.” Eddie sat on the other end of the couch. “Talk to me, Buck. Please.”

“About?”

“Anything.”

Buck's eyes scanned the living room. Dead flowers were scattered around, all sent somewhere between the day after Tommy's body was found up until a few days ago. Buck had managed to bring them into the house, just so no one called in a wellness check on him, but he didn't bother with keeping them alive.

What was the point? They'd die eventually anyway.

“I haven't dreamt since he... since they... you know.”

Eddie was thrown off guard by the admission, expecting it to be harder for Buck to confide in him. “None at all?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Used to. Used to have a lot of dreams. Not anymore.”

“Buck, I know what it's like to-”

“Don't,” Buck interrupted, looking at Eddie for the first time since they sat down. “Please, I- I've gotten so many 'I know what you're going through' texts from people and it doesn't help.”

Eddie nodded. “I understand.”

Buck turned his attention down to his hands, thumbs twiddling together nervously. “Can I- Can I tell you something really dumb?”

“Sure!” Eddie exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “I love hearing dumb things.”

Buck managed a small smile. It faded faster than it had appeared. “I- Sometimes it doesn't feel, um, feel real to me. Like, I don't believe he's gone. That, um, that feeling that you get when someone has- when they've died. I- I don't have that.”

“Accepting it's happened is one of the hardest things to do, Buck. That's normal.”

“I haven't even cried,” Buck admitted. “Not since the day I was told he... he was gone.”

“That's normal too.”

Eddie didn't understand. Buck knew he wouldn't. “I don't know,” he breathed out, more to himself than to Eddie.

“Don't know what?”

The doorbell rang, pulling them out of their discussion. Buck was grateful. He didn't feel like talking anymore.

“Ready to eat?” Eddie asked, clapping his hands together as he got up and headed for the door.

“Mhm,” Buck lied. He leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. He just needed to get through this meal, then Eddie would leave, and he could go back to bed.

He needed to get back to bed.

“It doesn't make any sense to me. At all.”

“You're not letting this go anytime soon, are you?”

“They didn't end up together in the end, Evan! Why'd they even say the movie was a romantic comedy? What's the point?”

Buck reached over and took Tommy's hand from where it rested on the center console. “I think they did it on purpose,” he surmised, “to spite you.”

“I agree, those bastards.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Buck gave Tommy's hand a squeeze, “they are fictional, so you know, they didn't really mind that they weren't together in the end.”

“Hm.” Tommy thought for a moment before shaking his head. “No, that doesn't make me feel any better at all.”

Buck shrugged. “I tried.”

“They had everything planned, Evan,” Tommy said, continuing his rant. “They had their whole future planned and they threw it all away in the end? Ugh, I can't.”

“Maybe it was to show that she found herself, you know, without him. That's not a bad thing.”

“It's not a bad thing at all, if I'm properly warned that that's what the movie is going to be about. It is a bad thing when you call the movie a romantic comedy.”

“Is there someone we should be writing a strongly worded letter to?” Buck asked, a cheeky grin on his face.

Tommy shot a meaningless glare in his direction. “You joke now, but I wasn't the only one crying in the theater.”

“Who said I was joking?” Buck asked. “I- I love a strongly worded letter. We can whip out some paper and a pen the second we get home.”

Buck could feel Tommy's body start to relax. His face softened as he stole another glance at Buck before turning back to the road. “I love that you're my husband.”

Buck brought Tommy's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I love that you're mine.”

Buck stared down at his wedding band. It had been a month now. A month since he'd last seen Tommy. A month and five days since their last date.

“Buck... Buck?”

Buck looked up to Hen watching him from across the truck. They were on their way to a call. Some small fire in the middle of nowhere with no people around. It'd be an easy call. Buck was grateful for that. This would be his fourth shift back at work, although it was his first full 24-hour one.

“Yeah?” he asked, ignoring the fact that Chimney and Eddie were giving him side glances as well.

“You good?”

He'd be angry at the question if anyone else had asked. He knew his temper was shorter than it ever used to be. Knew even the smallest things could set him off. He often had to force himself to stay calm. Take some deep breaths and count to ten before responding to someone.

He didn't have to do that with Hen though. Her voice was soothing to him. A calm against the stormy sea that was his mind.

Buck nodded. “I'm good.”

“You want in?”

He paused, dumbfounded. He had no idea what she was talking about. “In on what?”

“We're placing bets on what caused the fire,” Chimney explained. “I said kids smoking in the woods.”

“I'm going with the sun beating down on a glass bottle.” Eddie looked proud of his choice.

“Old fashioned illegal campfire for me.” Hen smiled softly at Buck. “You?”

“Oh, um, nah. I- I'm good.”

“Oh come on,” Eddie reached over and nudged Buck's knee. “Take a guess.”

Buck took a deep breath. Thought for a moment. “Fireworks, I- yeah. Fireworks.”

“In the middle of the day?” Chimney questioned.

Hen shrugged. “Wouldn't be the first time. Okay, Cap,” she said, fiddling with her headset, “what about you?”

Buck phased back out as Bobby made his guess. He tugged at his ring, twirling it around and around on his finger. He thought about the inscription on the inside. One Four Three. Had to force himself out of that memory before he could even start to get into it.

It all felt like too much. Too overwhelming. He needed to get himself together.

He sat up straight and cleared his throat.

He could do this. He could get through this shift. Get home. Get into bed. Stay there for forty-eight hours before he'd have to pretend again.

...He didn't even care that he won the bet.

“I've tried calling him like five times,” Buck said. He was sitting on the couch, his leg bouncing nervously up and down, Bobby and Athena sitting across from him. “I- I'm sorry about dinner, guys-”

“Don't even think about it,” Athena interrupted. “Bobby, you having any luck?”

Bobby shook his head. “I've texted him a few times but they're not going through.”

“Something's wrong. He wouldn't... Something's wrong. His location isn't on anymore either.”

“Okay.” Athena pulled out her phone. “Where did you say he was going?”

“Ralph's. He was just getting me some coconut cream for my recipe. I- I said I'd go but he insisted. That was over two hours ago. I, um, I should drive there and check.” He went to get up but Athena held out a hand to stop him.

“I'll go,” she said. “You and Bobby stay. Let me know if he shows up. I've got my badge and everything out in the car, so I can ask around at the store if I can't find him. His phone probably died and they were out of the right stuff at Ralph's, so he went somewhere else.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe,” Buck replied, but he could see the look Athena gave Bobby out of the corner of his eye.

He knew nothing in his life was ever that simple.

He stumbled upon the video by accident. He was looking for a picture of a recipe that Maddie had asked for when his finger hit the wrong thumbnail and the video began to play.

It was one he took without Tommy knowing. A rare rainy day in Los Angeles gave them the opportunity to relax at home instead of run errands or make plans.

Buck was splayed out on the couch, head on the armrest and his legs on Tommy's lap. Tommy had a crossword over Buck's legs, staring at it with an intensity usually reserved for flying into dangerous situations.

“If twenty-one across is evergreen, then eighteen down can't be carpet.”

“I thought you said eighteen down had to be carpet?” Buck asked off camera.

“It does, Evan,” Tommy placed the pen between his teeth. “It really does.”

“Then evergreen is wrong.”

Tommy shook his head. “Nope. It's gotta be evergreen.”

“We've been going over this for almost an hour now, Tommy,” Buck said, huffing out a laugh. “Give it up.”

“I've never been this close to finishing a Sunday crossword!” Tommy whined, the smile on his face betraying the seriousness of his voice. “If I give up now, I'll never forgive myself.”

“If you give up now I'll let you blow me as a consolation prize,” Buck offered cheekily.

Tommy gasped, glancing at Buck with a look of betrayal. “Sabotage!” he exclaimed. “I have to finish this, babe, or my name isn't Thomas Andrew Kinard!”

“Your name isn't Thomas Andrew Kinard,” Buck replied, the video shaking with his laughter. “It's Buckley-Kinard.”

Tommy froze. He clicked his pen closed and tossed it, along with the paper, on the coffee table. He turned to Evan, his eyes darkening, “About that consolation prize?”

Buck found himself smiling as the video ended. He'd taken it only three weeks after their wedding. The video wasn't even old, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

Suddenly, the living room felt cold. Buck's spot on the couch now uncomfortable. The silence a stark contrast to all the life in that memory. For two months now he'd had nothing but silence in his home, besides the far too occasional visits from his friends and family. It wasn't the same though. It wasn't the same as having Tommy.

The smile on Buck's face faded. He got up and headed to the bedroom to lie down.

Maddie would have to get that recipe another day.

“We're all set to clear out here,” Bobby said over the radio. “Great work everyone.”

The call had been a big one. A four alarm fire that required the assistance of multiple stations.

“This is Firefighter Pilot Kinard of Harbor Station for Firefighter Buckley of 118, over,” Tommy's voice came over the radio. He had been providing assistance from the chopper, now hovering above them as he set to head back.

Buck glanced around at the rest of the 118, all stopping what they were doing to watch him and listen in. “Go for Buckley.”

“Looking for confirmation on a code one-four-three.”

“One-four-three confirmed and returned.”

“Excellent. Returning to Harbor Station.”

“What the hell is a one-four-three?” Chimney asked once the sounds from the chopper were off in the distance.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “It's their way of saying 'I love you' after a big call.”

Buck smiled. “We usually text it to each other,” he explained, a blush rising on his cheeks, “just to let the other know we're alright. Guess he couldn't get to his phone.”

Hen put a hand to her stomach. “That's so preciously sickening I might throw up.”

“Okay, okay, come on guys,” Bobby said, waving the group toward the truck, “give Buck a break-”

“Thank you, Cap.”

“-for now. We can make fun of him on the way back to the station.”

“Hey!”

It was the longest, most grueling shift Buck had had since he could remember. He had only managed a couple hours of sleep, and that was often in fifteen minute increments. The worst part was the majority of calls were from people being stupid. Accidents that could have been prevented had a single person with half a brain been anywhere around.

All Buck wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep.

Which is why he was not so pleasantly surprised when he pulled up to Maddie's car in his driveway.

She greeted him at the door with a hug, and he faked a smile as he hugged back. “Why're you here?” he asked, trying to sound polite.

“Well, you've been working so hard lately, I figured I'd come over and help with the housecleaning.”

“Oh, uh, um, thanks.” The overwhelming smell of cleaning supplies made him feel a bit lightheaded as he walked further into the house, dropping his duffel on the dining room table. “It looks great in here.”

That wasn't a lie. She had made the place spotless. He wasn't a messy person himself but he couldn't deny he'd let certain things, like mopping and dusting, go over the past few months.

“It's the least I could do,” she replied. “I won't stay long, Howie texted me about how busy you guys were. Needed an excuse to see you though. It's... It's been a while.”

Two and a half weeks, to be exact. No fault of Maddie's either. She'd make plans with him, and he'd cancel last minute.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “I've been, uh, trying to get things back in order. I'm just- I'm still kind of...”

“It's okay,” she assured him. “Really. I understand.”

“Let me, um, let me go put my jacket up,” he said, tugging at it, “and we'll talk for a little bit before you go.” He didn't want to. No desire for small talk, or talk of any kind, but he couldn't kick her out of the house after all she'd done for him.

She smiled. “Okay. That sounds good.”

He headed to his bedroom, but stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the doorway.

“Did you... Did you wash my sheets?”

“I did,” Maddie replied, coming up behind him. Her voice was far too nonchalant for the blinding rage that was slowly seeping up inside him.

“All of them? Like, the pillowcases too?”

“Uh, yeah? Why would I only wash some of your sheets, Buck?”

Buck hurried over to the far side of the bed, throwing the comforter and sheets back to get to Tommy's pillow.

He didn't care if he looked like a crazy person. He brought the pillow up to his face and took a deep breath in.

It smelled like Gain.

It made him want to throw up.

“Buck, what's wrong?” She was clearly worried, standing uncomfortably in the doorway.

“I didn't ask you to do this, Maddie,” he said angrily, tossing the pillow back on the bed. “I- I didn't ask you to do any of this.”

“I know. I just wanted to help. Buck, I'm sorry if I-”

“I need you to leave.”

“Buck-”

“Leave!”

She stood firmly in place. “I'm not leaving until you tell me what I did wrong.”

“I- I, everyone keeps trying to help me,” he huffed, “and I don't want it! I don't want Eddie coming over for dinner! I don't want Hen taking me out for drinks! I don't want Chimney taking me to a movie! I don't want Bobby texting me every damn day! And I don't want you to be my maid!”

“We're just trying to help you, Evan-”

“Don't call me that!” He spewed.

He was breathing heavily. The stinging in his eyes surprised him. It'd been so long since he had last cried. He didn't particularly feel like crying right now, but apparently his body did. He groaned, sitting down on Tommy's side of the bed and staring out the window. He brought Tommy's pillow to his chest, and began to sob.

Maddie was by his side in seconds, wrapping her arms around him and enveloping him in a hug. 'I'm so sorry, Buck. I'm so sorry.” She was crying too. Buck could feel her tears wetting his shirt. He wasn't even sure why she was apologizing. She didn't have anything to be sorry for. If anything, he should be apologizing for snapping at her so harshly.

If he could speak, he would have told her as much. Would have told her that his head was a jumbled mess that he couldn't seem to clear. That nothing about this felt real. That he felt like Tommy was still there, somewhere, with them.

That it'd been four months since he'd had a dream. How he missed dreaming. They were always so vivid, him and Tommy, living their lives together.

Now, there was just darkness. An endless abyss of black every time he closed his eyes.

He'd tell her how his memories haunted him. The dreams may not exist, but the memories would appear out of nowhere at the worst times. They'd plague him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape them.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before he was able to find his voice. Before he was able to bring himself out of Maddie's embrace. He kept a tight hold on the pillow, fingers messing with a pulled thread at the edge. “It s- smelled like him,” he said, his lip still trembling. “I'd... I'd wash everything else but, um, I- I couldn't wash this.”

“Oh, Buck, I'm so sorry. I didn't-”

“I know. It's okay. I- I know you were trying to help. It's okay.”

“Do you still have some of his cologne?”

Buck nodded and Maddie got up to go into the bathroom.

“Where?” she asked.

“Far sink, open the cabinet, black bottle.”

She returned a few seconds later with a bottle in hand, held out for Buck to see. “This one?”

“Mhm.”

“Want me to spray it?”

He laid the pillow out flat and Maddie sprayed it a couple of times.

“I really miss him, Maddie,” Buck admitted quietly, inhaling the scent of his cologne as it passed through the air.

“I know, Buck. I know.”

“Bobby, it's been twenty-four hours of nothing. I'm freaking out.”

Bobby hadn't left Buck since he'd arrived the day before. Athena had worked all night putting out alerts for Tommy and his vehicle, but hadn't gotten anywhere.

He and Buck had left two different times to go driving around. The rest of the 118 had gone searching as well, going to places he frequented, driving down any and every back road they could find.

Nothing.

Now, back at the house to rest for a minute, and make sure Tommy hadn't come back home, Buck was in a full blown panic.

“I know, Buck, but we're all doing everything we can,” Bobby replied, leading Buck to the couch. “Athena's got officers searching the whole city for his car. He'll be found.”

“But what if-”

“No,” Bobby sat on the edge of the coffee table so he could face Buck, “you're not gonna think like that, Buck.”

“Bobby,” his voice was pleading and his eyes red. “You know s- something's wrong. H- He wouldn't do this. You know that.”

Bobby sighed. He opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what he could even say, when the doorbell rang.

Buck's heart started pounding right away. Athena wouldn't ring the doorbell. She'd knock. So would anyone from the 118, except Eddie. Eddie would come right on in.

He was shaking as he got up and walked to the door, Bobby close behind him.

“Detective John Farrow,” a man introduced the second Buck opened the door. “Are you Evan Buckley-Kinard?”

Buck nodded. “I- Yes. I- I am.”

“Mr. Buckley-Kinard, I'm sorry to inform you...”

The sound of the detective's voice was replaced by a ringing in Buck's ears. He felt dizzy. His vision blurred. The last thing he remembered was Bobby catching him as he fell.

Agreeing to lunch at Maddie's with his parents was a mistake. He knew that from the moment he said yes. He'd been working on controlling his temper. Not overreacting at the small things.

There was still more work to be done.

“So,” Margaret began, everyone settled at the table. Maddie looked up to see her eyes on Buck. The look Margaret was giving him already made her want to scream. “There's really no easy way to say this, Evan-”

“Then maybe you shouldn't say it,” Maddie suggested. Chimney placed a hand on her back, rubbing gently to try and ease the tension.

Buck remained quiet, eyes directed toward his mother with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I'm simply asking,” Margaret continued, “if you've, you know, gotten back out there any?”

“Margaret,” Phillip warned under his breath. Maddie knew that if their dad wasn't even on their mom's side, this was never going to end civilly.

Maddie swore Buck's eyes went dark. “Buck-” Maddie started, but he cut her off.

“You're not seriously asking me if I'm dating six months after my husband died, are you, Mom?”

“Not dating, but getting back out into the world. I- I've heard so much about you staying holed up in your house, only leaving to go to work, and that worries me, Evan.”

“Stop calling me, Evan,” Buck demanded.

Margaret raised her hands in surrender. “I'm sorry,” she said, and she meant it. The name sometimes slipped out without her realizing it. She had been warned that the name triggered Buck in a way it never had before. Even though others had used it on occasion before, Evan had become Tommy's name for him. And with him gone, Buck didn't want to hear it from anyone. “I'm sorry, Buck. I just don't want to see you wasting away. It's hard for a mother to see her child suffer like this.”

“Were you over Daniel's death in six months?” Buck asked bitterly. “Were you back out there? Cause I seem to remember it being about thirty years before you even mentioned his name. And you only did that once Maddie told me about him.”

Tears filled Maddie's eyes. “Buck,” she spoke softly. She desperately wanted this conversation to end.

“That's not fair, Buck,” Margaret answered, her voice shaking. “Daniel was my child.”

“And Tommy was my husband!” Buck slammed his napkin on the table, rising to his feet. “We had planned a future together! We were saving up for a house, we were planning on having kids, we talked about what we'd do when we retired! Hell, we planned weekly grocery shopping trips together! All these things got ripped out from under me, and I'm supposed to just get back out there? Are you crazy?”

“Hey,” Phillip stood across from him, “that's too far. Your mother wasn't trying to be malicious.”

Buck shook his head, then began to head for the door. “This was a mistake. I- I'm gonna go.”

“Buck, wait-” Maddie went to get up, but Chimney placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Let me,” he said, walking out after Buck.

“Wait a minute, Buck!” Chimney jogged a few steps to catch up to him.

Buck stopped at his Jeep, hand on the door handle. “I'm not going back in.”

“Wasn't gonna ask you to. Just want to make sure you're okay.”

Buck let out a humorless laugh, turning back to Chimney. “Well, apparently I only stay holed up in my house except to go to work, so you tell me if I'm okay.”

“Maddie didn't say it like that to them, Buck, please don't be mad at her. She's worried about you. We all are.”

Buck scoffed. “Just leave me alone for tonight,” he said, getting into his Jeep. “I'll see you at work on Friday.”

“He flashed the ring three times today,” Eddie said, scooting back into the bench. After work they'd all met Tommy at the bar for a few drinks before heading home.

“Four,” Hen corrected.

“Nope.” Chimney took a sip of his beer. “Five.”

Tommy grinned at Buck. “Really? Five times? Can't say I blame them, I do have a hot fiancé.”

“Oh, my guy was not flirting,” Chimney stated. “Buck asked him if he liked the way the ring shimmered in the sunlight.”

“Mhm,” Hen agreed. “My girl wasn't flirting either. Buck noticed she had an ultrasonic ring cleaner in her bathroom and asked if she was happy with her purchase because, and I quote, 'I just got engaged and I want to make sure my ring stays perfect forever.'”

“Okay, guys,” Buck said with a groan, “we get it. I'm lame.”

“I don't think it's lame.” Tommy rested his hand on Buck's knee. “I think it's adorable. I love that you're excited to get married.”

A blush rose on Buck's cheeks. “I am excited,” he agreed, leaning in for a kiss. “Very excited.”

“Before this gets pg-13,” Eddie interrupted, “the two men I had were definitely flirting, but they both got the hint after the first 'fiancé' was thrown out there. Buck threw in two more for good measure. The other person- not flirting.”

“What about you?” Hen asked Tommy. “Did you get any offers you had to turn down today?”

“Well, I was thousands of feet in the air for both of the calls I went on, so any prospects would have had to look at me through some really good binoculars and then steal a radio to tell me they were into me, so no. No offers.”

“The guy in the bathroom definitely flirted with you like ten minutes ago, Dude,” Eddie said with a laugh.

“What?” Tommy asked incredulously. “No he didn't.”

“He for sure did. Man was jacked and he was asking for your workout routine.”

“He said he wanted to switch things up!” Tommy exclaimed.

Eddie snorted. “Oh, he definitely wanted to switch things up.”

“What? Who is this man?” Buck eyes darted around the bar. “Where is he?”

“Don't worry about it Buck,” Eddie reassured him. “Tommy didn't even realize it. Gave the guy a five minute rundown of how he gets the perfect squat. Your man only has eyes for you.”

Buck settled back into his seat, leaning into Tommy's side as Tommy pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his temple. “That's true,” he whispered into Buck's ear.

Buck rested his head on Tommy's shoulder, ignoring the teasing gag sounds that came from the others around them.

If it were possible, he'd stay like this forever.

He should have expected this.

It should have happened sooner, if he were being honest.

He was lucky to go seven months without a call that hit too close to home.

There had been a hit and run. The car that was hit had flipped twice, landed right side up, and immediately burst into flames.

The man in the driver's seat never stood a chance.

Buck was okay while they hurried to get out the flames. He'd ignored the glances from the rest of the team, ignored Bobby's suggestion to stay by the engine, ignored the thoughts in the back of his head telling him to sit this one out.

It wasn't until the fire was out and he saw the man's body, burnt so severely he looked more like a halloween decoration than a human, that Buck lost it.

No matter how much he wanted to look away, his eyes were fixed on the body. His heart rate was speeding up quickly, each breath short and sharp and painful.

He hadn't even realized that tears were falling down his face. Or that he was letting out little noises similar to a dog's whine. He had his helmet in his hand, shaking so much it was vibrating against his leg.

Buck didn't even notice the bystanders watching him, some of them whispering, others pulling out their phones.

It felt like hours, but Bobby was in front of him within seconds. “We're gonna walk away, Buck,” he said calmly but firmly, planting a hand on his shoulder. “We're gonna walk away and go sit behind the engine. Come on.”

Buck let Bobby guide him to a quite spot behind the fire truck, sitting on the curb. Bobby took his helmet from him and tossed it somewhere, then sat down beside him.

“I'm sorry,” Buck breathed out, wiping over his face with his hand.

“You don't ever have to apologize for being human, Buck.”

“I don't know how to do this,” he confessed through sobs. “I don't- I don't know how to keep g- going.”

“The path through grief isn't linear,” Bobby explained. “Hell, it's not really much of a path you get through at all. More like a loop.”

“So this is... This is m- my forever?” He asked, voice rising in despair.

“No. Not exactly. You do learn how to manage it better over time, but it takes time, Buck. And it takes letting the people around you help you, instead of pushing them away.”

“I don't mean to,” Buck said as he began to calm down. “It just takes so much energy. Everything is exhausting. Talking to people is- is so exhausting.”

“I know. Buck, you've seen grief. It's been around you since you were a baby. I'm not saying there's any right or wrong way to grieve, but I think you know how dangerous it is to lose yourself in it.” Bobby put his arm around him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “No one expects you to be exactly who you were before you lost Tommy. I'll never be the same person I was, Eddie won't be the same person he was, Chimney won't be who he was before losing his brother, I could go on and on. But we- I need you to realize you're still here, you're still breathing, and Tommy wouldn't want you to disappear.”

Buck nodded, a new wave of tears taking over him.

Bobby pulled him close and let him cry.

“How many kids do you want?”

Buck and Tommy were sat on the front porch steps watching the sunset behind the trees across the street.

“Uh,” Tommy paused, caught off guard. “I don't know. Haven't really thought about it.”

Buck shrugged. “We've talked about wanting kids, but we've never talked about how many we want.”

“Hm. Two sounds nice. Kinda close together so they can grow up with each other. You?”

“Two's good,” he agreed. “But we'd need a bigger house.”

“Oh, for sure. This one barely fits the two of us.”

“And I'd like for us to be married a while first. Settled, you know?”

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “You proposing?”

“Ha! Like this? No.” Buck took Tommy's hand in his and they settled into a comfortable silence. After a couple minutes, Buck squeezed Tommy's hand to get his attention. “I have, um, I've been thinking about it though. Um, about proposing,” he said, staring deep into Tommy's eyes to see what kind of response he'd get. When Tommy appeared surprised, Buck panicked a bit. “Is that, um, is- is that weird? To be thinking about it so soon?”

“What? Oh, God, no, Evan. I,” he laughed, “I've actually been thinking about it too. For a while now.”

Buck looked as shocked as the night Tommy first kissed him. “Really?”

“Really. I've been googling rings, looking for the perfect one. Kept trying to talk myself out of it because I wasn't sure if you'd think it was too fast but-”

Tommy's words were cut off by Buck's mouth on his, so forceful it nearly toppled them both over.

“Oh! Mmm,” Tommy moaned into the kiss, resting his hand at the base of Buck's neck.

“Yes,” Buck said, dazed as he pulled back far enough to speak.

“What?”

“Yes.”

“Bu- Evan, I didn't ask yet. Not the- I don't have a ring.”

“I don't care, Tommy. Yes. I'm saying yes. Yes?”

It took Tommy's mouth a second to catch up with his brain, but once it did he was nodding, his eyes filling with tears. “Yes. Of course, yes,” he replied, both of them laughing giddily before crashing their lips back together.

Everyone except for Hen was upstairs relaxing between calls. Bobby and Buck were at the table, planning out next week's meals. Eddie was fixing himself a cup of coffee. Chimney was on the couch, reading a book.

“We're all going out for beers after our shift,” Eddie said, glancing at Buck. “You in?”

Buck nodded. “Yeah, I'm in.”

He'd been trying lately. Trying to do things other than work and sleep. He'd gone to the zoo with Jee a couple times over the past month. He'd gone to Bobby's for dinner. Watched a game at Eddie's place. Met Maddie and Chimney for brunch. He'd even gone over to Hen's one night when she was home alone and they'd gotten hammered while discussing their various traumas.

Every one of these occasions had ended with him in his car, or a cab, sobbing uncontrollably.

But he was trying.

Hen walked up the stairs, a worried expression on her face. “What's up with you?” Chimney asked, first to notice.

“Uh... Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“There's a... a secret service agent here for you.”

All eyes were on her now.

A... a what?”

Before Hen could get in another word, a man in a suit walked up behind her.

Buck stood, recognizing the man right away. It was the same man who had come to his door to let him know about Tommy. His heart sunk. How could this possibly get worse?

“Detective Farrow?”

“Mr. Buckley-Kinard,” he greeted. “It's actually Special Agent Farrow, but you can all me John.”

“I- I don't-”

“I know this is a bit odd,” he continued, “and was not something I actually wanted to do. I was going to hold off until you were home, but he refused to wait another minute.”

“I- what are you talking about? Who?”

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs interrupted whatever John was about to reply.

Suddenly there was a very familiar, very alive Tommy standing in front of them, smiling brightly at the sight of Buck. “Hi, Evan.”

“Holy shit.” The words escaped Chimney's mouth without him realizing.

Hen followed right after with an, “Oh my God.”

Eddie felt his coffee cup slip from his hand and shatter against the countertop. No one even noticed.

Bobby was standing right beside Buck, thankfully, because he had to quickly reach out and grab onto him before he fell to the ground. He managed to whip a chair around and get Buck seated as he stared, mouth agape, at his husband.

His alive husband.

His breathing husband.

His not-buried-in-the-cemetery husband.

“Evan,” Tommy stepped forward, but Buck held his arm out to stop him.

“What the hell is going on?”

Tommy was confused. Buck sounded angry, and scared. He looked around at all the other faces staring back at him. “Why... Why do you all look like you've seen a ghost?” he asked.

Chimney walked up to Tommy, poking him on the shoulder. “Because you're dead. At least, you're supposed to be.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “I'm what?” He turned to John. “Why would they think that?”

John cleared his throat, eyes gazing downward. “There's a lot we need to discuss, Mr. Buckley-Kinard.”

“Why would they think I was dead?” Tommy repeated, angry now.

“Because that's what we were told,” Hen answered.

Tommy stepped closer to John. “You told them I was dead?”

“We couldn't risk anyone knowing-”

“You told my husband I was dead?!”

“-that you were alive. It would have put everyone-”

“And you lied to me to keep me there?!”

“-in danger. It was easier this way.”

“That was not the deal!”

“Everyone shut up!” Buck's voice rang out over the station. He got out of his seat, Bobby keeping a hand near his back until he was sure Buck was steady.

Buck cautiously moved toward Tommy, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You- You're really here?”

All of the anger Tommy had for John fell away as he looked into Buck's eyes. He nodded. “I'm here. I'm so sorry, Buck, I didn't-”

Buck shook his head, “I- I don't care right now.” He brought a hand up to Tommy's chest. Felt the thump-thump-thump of his heart. The firmness of his chest. He felt up until he reached Tommy's collarbone, poking ever so slightly out from his shirt. Felt the warmth of his skin. The slight dip that led up to his neck that Buck always loved to linger on when they were alone in bed. He felt the roughness of a two day old beard as he felt up his neck and toward his jawbone. “My God.” The words were hushed, breathed out through trembling lips and red-rimmed eyes. He pressed their lips together so quickly, so urgently, that Tommy didn't even have time to register it. He moaned into the kiss, finally reaching out and wrapping his arms around Buck's waist, finding their home at the base of his back.

“Let's give them a minute,” Bobby said, gesturing for everyone to head downstairs.

“I need to brief them,” John replied, earning him a glare from everyone else in the room.

“We're giving them a minute,” Bobby demanded.

John didn't try to protest any further. He simply followed the others downstairs, allowing Buck and Tommy time to reconnect.

“I didn't know,” Tommy began, he and Buck seated on the couch. “I was never told that you thought I was dead.”

“I am so confused, Tommy, I don't... I'm not even sure if this is real, to be honest. Am I dreaming? I haven't... I haven't had a dream since you died. Is that what this is?”

Tommy shook his head. “It's not a dream, Evan.”

“Then what the hell happened?” Buck asked, going from anxious to frustrated, “Cause I'm kinda pissed.”

Tommy scooted closer to Buck, cautiously holding out his hands for Buck to take. There was hesitation, but Buck gave in.

“The night I went to the grocery store, I saw something. I, it was a murder.”

Buck's eyes widened. “A what?”

“Yeah, I know. When I was leaving the store, I went out the back way to avoid all the traffic at the main entrance. It was getting dark, and when I passed by the dumpsters out back I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I- this guy had shot another man. I got a good look at him, and he got a good look at me too, but he ran. I got out of the car, called 911, and tried to help the other guy, but he was dead.”

“I... My brain feels like it's about to explode, Tommy. I don't understand how this leads to me planning your funeral.”

Tears came to Tommy's eyes at the thought. He continued, “The police came first, and they were asking for descriptions and any information I had. Then, the FBI shows up, and the CIA, and suddenly I'm surrounded by agents from every agency that goes by initials. This guy, whoever I saw, was apparently a hitman. A good one. Like, ties to Russia and shit. Anyway, I'm being tossed into a van and told my life's in danger because this guy saw me.”

“This sounds like a really bad cop thriller, Tommy.”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I know, believe me. But these agents are telling me that I need protection, this man has killed for less before, blah blah blah. They said he'd killed an entire family because the mom had witnessed one of his hits.”

Buck scoffed. “Apparently he's not that good if he keeps getting caught.”

“Evan,” Tommy said, eyes pleading, “they showed me crime scene pictures of what this man had done. Told me he'd do the same to you if I went home. It was... It was horrific.”

“They wouldn't even let you call me? Tell me you were okay? I was- I went through hell these past eight months.”

“They took my phone, said anything electronic was a risk. Said if I declined protection, if I went home to you, I was basically signing your death certificate. But I told them- I told them that I had to let you know something and they said to write you a letter. I wrote one every week. They said they'd deliver it to you.”

“They did not deliver any letters.”

“Yeah, I'm getting that now. Evan, I swear I had no idea they were going to tell you I was dead. No idea.” Tommy clung onto Buck's hands tighter, and Buck couldn't ignore the pang in his chest at having Tommy in front of him. Alive. With him. Beside him. Holding him.

“I believe you.” He was being honest. He did believe Tommy. He knew Tommy would do anything to keep him safe. He also knew Tommy would never agree to making Buck feel the way he had felt for the last eight months. “I am just... I am so confused right now. This all sounds so crazy and over- overwhelming, Tommy. And I really wanna punch that John guy, whoever the fuck he is. And I want-” he cleared his throat, eyes red with unshed tears. “I wanna go home, Tommy.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, he leaned into Tommy. They met each other halfway, their foreheads pressed together. Buck reached up and cupped Tommy's cheeks, brushing his thumbs against the rough stubble. They closed their eyes and breathed each other in. Buck whispered, “Can we go home?”

John wanted to sit with them and go over everything before they left, but the boiling over rage from the both of them was evident, so he made a plan to speak with them the next day.

After brief hugs and hello's, along with endless apologies to everyone at the 118, Tommy and Buck left.

The ride home was oddly, but comfortably, quiet. Neither were totally sure what to say. Tommy had basically been a prisoner in a safe house for eight months until the FBI found this hitman. Buck had been living in a prison of his own, thinking the love of his life had been burned and buried.

“Home sweet home,” Buck said as they pulled into the driveway. He let go of Tommy's hand long enough for them to get out of the car.

They were interlaced once again as soon as Tommy walked around the Jeep.

Buck needed the touch. Needed to stay connected to Tommy somehow, so he didn't wake up from whatever dream he was in. If this wasn't reality, he wanted to stay wherever it was for the rest of his life.

They walked into the house slowly, Buck a step ahead of Tommy, leading the way.

Once the door was shut behind them, Tommy began looking around.

Everything was... the same. Besides a few of his houseplants being gone, but they never stood a chance in the first place.

Tommy stepped in front of Buck, gave his hand a squeeze before letting go, and continued further into the house.

Buck's body ached at the loss of Tommy's touch, but he let him go. Knew this was overwhelming for him too.

“You kept all my stuff,” Tommy noted, moving into the living room.

“Of course I did.”

“Even though you thought I was-”

“A part of me didn't believe it. I kept telling people that something felt wrong. Everyone said I was in denial; that I'd move on when I was ready.”

“God, this is so fucked up.” Tommy turned to face Buck. The space between them felt as though they might as well be a thousand miles apart. “It's okay if you're mad,” he said. “I understand.”

“I- I am mad,” Buck admitted. He moved closer to Tommy. Everything still felt so surreal. He wasn't even sure if this was actually happening right now. “I don't think I'm mad at you though. I- I'm mad at them.”

“Who?”

There were so many to choose from. “Everyone who took you away from me.”

Tommy nodded. “I'm mad at them too. They wasted eight damn months of my life. Our life.”

Buck cleared any remaining distance between them. He brought his hands to Tommy's waist slowly, dragging his hands up and down his sides, feeling the defined muscles that rested just beneath his shirt.

Tommy sunk into the touch. He watched Buck as he stared at his body. Looked over every inch of him to make sure Tommy wasn't a figment of his imagination.

Tommy brought a hand to Buck's chin, gently tilting his head up until their eyes met. “Can I kiss you?” he asked softly.

Buck sucked in a breath. “Please.”

Tommy brought their lips together gently, both of their bodies shaking with the need to be closer. Feel more.

Buck fisted Tommy's shirt in his hands, pushed their bodies as close as they could go with how they were standing.

Tommy brought his hands to the nape of Buck's neck as the kiss deepened. Their tongues met with a moan, teeth clashing together before Buck pulled back just far enough speak against Tommy's lips. “I don't want to be mad right now,” he whispered like a secret.

Tommy kissed him again. “What do you want?” he asked.

Buck slowly raised Tommy's shirt, just enough to get his hands underneath. He scratched his fingernails down Tommy's abs, causing Tommy to suck in a sharp breath. Chills covered his body.

Buck kissed Tommy's lips, then his cheek, this nipped at his jawline until he reached his ear. “I wanna to fuck you,” he answered.

They clumsily stumbled into the bedroom, stripping themselves of their clothes before falling onto the bed. “You've been working out a lot,” Buck noted between kisses, hands roaming over Tommy's body.

Tommy pressed himself against Buck, their cocks rubbing together, eliciting a groan from them both.

“There was quite literally nothing else to do,” Tommy replied.

Their bodies moved together so perfectly. Just like always. Like they had never been apart at all.

Tommy sucked on Buck's bottom lip, listening to the stunted gasps that escaped him with every thrust.

“You're so fucking beautiful,” Tommy said breathlessly. He bit at a spot on Buck's neck, Buck's hands tangling in Tommy's hair and tugging firmly.

“Tom- Tommy,” he whimpered out. “You gotta. I wanna- You gotta stop,” he managed to get out.

Tommy whined, but stopped his movements. The sound earned him a laugh from Buck. He caressed Tommy's cheek until he looked at him. “Wanna fuck you, remember? Not gonna last long if- if you keep going.”

Tommy nodded. He was seconds away from coming himself. It was easy to get lost in the feeling with Buck. Easy to lose control.

With one swift movement, Buck flipped them so he was on top. He may not have been working out as much as Tommy over the last few months, but he did have a lot of sessions with a punching bag recently, and right now he felt ready to take on the world.

Buck ran his hand over Tommy's chest, let his fingernails drag over his nipple, Tommy arching into the touch. He felt over every ab, traced Tommy's scar, moved down to his stomach. It was all so torturously slow, but so fucking wonderful.

He kissed his way down Tommy's body, stopping at his cock. He stared up at Tommy with heavy lidded eyes as he spit, letting the drool drip down from his mouth onto the head of Tommy's dick. “The first time I touched myself,” Buck said, finally taking Tommy's cock in his hand, dragging his hand up and down leisurely as Tommy's eyes fluttered shut, “after... you know.”

“Mhm.” Tommy managed to open his eyes again, trying to focus on Buck and his words instead of the warm, wet hand gliding over him.

“I had to stop. I tried to- to touch myself the way you always touched me, but I- I couldn't do it.”

“Oh God, Evan.” Tommy fucked himself into Buck's tight fist. He brought their lips together sloppily. “Wanna touch you like that again.”

Buck nodded. “You will,” he promised. “But not right now. Right now I need to be in you.”

“Please.”

Buck let go of Tommy long enough to reach into the bedside table and grab the lube. He put some on, Tommy spreading his legs as Buck reached down and slowly began inserting his finger.

“Ah,” Tommy gasped. He reached up and pulled Buck down for another kiss as Buck slowly pumped his finger in and out.

“You're so tight,” Buck panted into Tommy's mouth.

“Been a while.” Tommy began to grind down against Buck's finger, moaning loudly when it hit the perfect spot.

“Shit,” Buck whined. “You haven't... You didn't?”

“A finger or two.” Tommy planted his feet on the bed, getting better leverage to work himself up and down on Buck. “A- Another, Evan, please.”

Buck obliged, adding another finger along the first, eliciting a string of curses from Tommy.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking shit! It was never the same,” he added quickly, going back to the conversation. “Didn't- God, didn't feel like this. Evan, more!”

Buck silenced a moan with his mouth as he added a third finger, grinding his cock against Tommy's thigh. He knew he wasn't gonna last long. Knew Tommy wouldn't either. It didn't matter though. They had plenty of time to make up for what was lost.

“I- I'm ready. Just... I need-”

“I know.” Another kiss and Buck slipped his fingers out of Tommy. Tommy grabbed the lube from the side of the bed and tossed it in Buck's direction, getting a laugh out of him.

Soon enough, Buck had Tommy's legs on his shoulders and his cock was slowly, slowly, so fucking slowly, entering Tommy.

They stared into each others eyes, Tommy slack-jawed with tiny, breathy grunts escaping him every time Buck inched closer.

After what felt like an eternity, Buck bottomed out. He stilled, breathing heavily. “I gotta. Just. I need a second.”

“S'okay.” Tommy reached out and grabbed for Buck's hands, which were currently gripping Tommy's thighs. “S'okay,” he repeated.

A few seconds later, Buck began to move.

Slowly at first, letting Tommy get used to the feeling again. Hell, letting him get used to the feeling again.

“Ev- ah- Evan?”

“Yeah?”

“I- ah- I. I need-”

“What? What do- do you need?”

“Oh shit!" Tommy yelled as Buck snapped his hips forward. "Fuck me, Evan!”

That was all Buck needed to hear. He pushed himself up slightly, to get a better position, and began moving faster, faster, faster, harder, harder, harder. Each thrust pulled a new sound out of Tommy. Low, guttural groans.

The sound of their skin slapping together, the feeling of the sweat covering their bodies, the heat between them, the desperation over all they thought they'd lost.

It was too much.

“Evan, I- I'm gonna come.” He'd never been able to come untouched before. Always needed a hand on his cock to get there. Not this time though. He came with a sound so loud, Buck was sure the neighbors at the other end of the street could hear.

Tommy's legs dropped off of Buck's shoulders, but he quickly wrapped them around his back to make sure he didn't go anywhere.

“Tommy,” Buck gasped, each movement now with far less rhythm. “Tommy, i- is this real?”

Tommy pulled Buck closer, his fingernails digging into Buck's back. He moaned as Buck drove in deeper. “It's- I'm real,” he managed to breathe out. “I'm here, Evan.”

Buck groaned loudly, mouth pressed close to Tommy's ear, coming deep inside him. After a couple lighter, gentler thrusts, Buck stopped. He practically dropped all his body weight on top of Tommy. Tommy kept his legs wrapped tightly around him. Neither could seem to let the other go just yet.

Buck hid his head into Tommy's neck. “I missed you so much,” he whimpered out, both men trying to catch their breath. Tommy could feel the wetness of Buck's tears on his neck. “God, I- I missed you.”

Tommy brought his hands to Buck's head, carding his fingers through his hair. “I missed you every damn second of every damn day,” he replied.

After they cleaned up, Buck curled back into Tommy, intertwining their bodies at every point he could manage. Tommy wrapped Buck into his arms, and Buck laid his head on Tommy's chest. They laid in silence for a while, allowing themselves to feel and be felt for the first time in so long.

Buck was the first to break the silence, letting the words fall out like a secret admission. “John came to the house the day after you went missing. They... They said your car had been in an accident. That you, um, that it had caught on fire w- with you inside.”

Tommy's body stiffened underneath him. “Baby, if... if I'd known-”

“I know,” Buck assured him. He ran his hand up and down over Tommy's chest until he relaxed again. “I know it wasn't you.”

“I'm gonna ask John if he still has my letters,” Tommy said.

“You really wrote me letters?” Buck asked, stealing a glance up at Tommy.

“Mhm. I'm sure they all thought I was an absolute idiot, especially seeing as it was all a lie, but yeah, every week.”

Buck pressed a kiss to Tommy's pec before lying back down. “I hope they exist somewhere. I'd love to read them.”

“They were really fucking depressing. Turns out I don't handle being without you very well.”

“Oh, you should've seen me.” Buck traced circle patterns along Tommy's chest. “This was the first month I started trying. Trying to get back out and do things with people... I'm glad I don't have to try anymore.”

“That's probably something we should talk about, especially with our jobs.” He snuggled further under the covers, wrapping Buck even tighter in his arms. “Not tonight though.”

“No, not tonight,” Buck agreed.

They still had a lot to talk about. A lot of things that had to be sorted. Questions that needed answers. Issues that would need to be resolved.

But, for tonight, the only thing they needed was each other.

Each other, and the first good night's sleep for them both since the day Tommy disappeared.

That night, once sleep took over, Buck dreamt.

[star-anise]

Everyone's got a take, and I've got a take too, about the current Internet Villain: James Somerton, a gay Youtuber who just got exposed (in the back half of a 4-hour video) as massively plagiarizing the work of LGBTQ+ media critics, historians, and memoirists, and then exposed in another 2-hour video as just making up the wildest nonsense about the topics he demonstrably had access to accurate information on.

He achieved a six-figure income on his work by squeezing money out of his audience with claims...

That only he was creating content that preserved queer history and elevated the voices and experiences of the LGBTQ+ community (a lie)

He was in serious financial distress and would have to go out of business if people didn't give him tons of money (a lie)

That he was going to use some of that cash to make definitely good and not-at-all-plagiarized independent movies, a thing he was definitely skilled and experienced enough to do (a lie), and

That those plagiarism allegations were incorrect,, and frankly,,,, hurtful and homophobic. (a GIANT lie)

Like, here's a visualization of the script of one of his videos, "Society and Queer Horror". The highlighted bits were lifted nearly verbatim from the works of others—the 18 authors identified at the time the exposé was posted—and presented as Somerton's own work.

So here's what drives me absolutely up the wall about this:

If he had just ADMITTED that it was the work of other people, THAT WOULD STILL BE COOL. If he had just said, up front, "We are going on a survey of thoughts and insights people have had about this topic", that would still be a good video with a real audience!

Like yes, he studied business in university, he might not have gotten the kinds of research skills and knowledge someone like Kaz Rowe uses to not just report on the history and analysis of others, but evaluate their relative validity and trustworthiness.

But honestly, since watching my niblings (oldest is 13) watch Youtube, I think you honestly can't underestimate the number of viewers who are really hungry for someone saying, "I don't understand this topic! Let's explore it together!"

But NOOOOOOO, Somerton didn't want to be just some schmuck waxing enthusiastic about homoeroticism on film and acknowledging the smartness of other people. He wanted to be HIM, MR. SMARTYBOY, very sophisticated and alluring and thoughtful and deep. Definitely an intellectual heavyweight who just happened to spout off his own personal ideas and analysis that put him at the forefront of all the scholarship on the topic he's come across.

I hate being wrong. Hate being wrong. But blogging for most of my life has forced me to confront constant textual evidence that two or ten or twenty years ago, I said some dumb-ass shit. Honestly, it'd probably keep me up at night sometimes even if I didn't have a written record. I absolutely understand the desire to scan the field, find the coolest people around, and quickly clothe yourself in as perfect an imitation of them as you can manage.

But if you want to be an artist or a scholar who produces something lasting, you can't prioritize coolness over truth all the time. To develop your true, independent voice, you need to find a time and place where it is just you and just the work you're doing, and you have pick up your tools and say, I don't know if I'm doing this right, but this is what feels right to me.

There are a lot of things in life to which we can only truly contribute our presence and our perspectives. Things we can only witness or hold space for. We cannot go back and bleed the pain out of history, or erase the complexity of another person's life. Not honestly, at least.

But those are the times that need our presence, our perspectives, our witness, and our space. When we gather round and tell sad tales about the death of kings, honesty can be the only thing you give that's worth a damn in the large scale of things.

If this dude had owned up to the truth and honestly showed the work of trying to piece together a queer understanding of the world, trying to draw the threads of culture together until he found a place he fit inside them, it would have been so much more valuable to our culture as a whole.

He probably made more money this way, though. While it lasted.

[teddybeartoji]

fuck it. i'm headcanoning toji as a movie buff. he doesn't really bring it up, only shiu knows about it and you find about it super randomly. like you're watching smth and he just knows the movie by just looking at the tv for a second???? and you're like??? hello?? have you seen this??? and he says no??????? he just knows about it?????? and then proceeds to sit and watch it with you (he pulls your feet onto his lap btw this is important information).

toji likes films from the 80's & 90's the most – blade runner, scream, alien, the indiana jones films, evil dead, the matrix, se7en, the big lebowski, etc etc. he likes comedy and he likes action but he isn't afraid to watch the oscar baits either. honorary mentions to death proof and kill bill and ocean's eleven.

and i whole-heartedly believe he would pull some "um actually☝🤓" shit on you out of nowhere too?????? he definitely likes to make fun of your film choices but he isnt't actually picky and i think he's willing to watch just about everything. he laughs very loudly at the stupidest jokes btw. and also infodumps about weapons and fighting and points out every single time somebody holds a gun in a weird way or when an injury is unrealistic. he's scoffing and rolling his eyes but doesn't stop watching it bc it's so entertaining to watch people be stupid.

if you're younger than him, he most certainly pretends to NOT be surprised if you know the older films, he definitely tries to act a little pretentious lmao. but he is happy if you show interest in the films he likes even if they aren't your favourite. oh and i also think that he would LOVE is you asked him questions. bear with me bear with me - he acts like he's annoyed, probably places his hand on your mouth when you're laying down on his lap but then answers anyway. he answers every time.

he likes going to the cinema aswell. he always sits in the last row and he always buys popcorn (obvs). ANDAND AND he takes gumi and tsumiki to the cinema regularly too. buys them all of the sweets and popcorn they want. holds gumi's little hand as they walk up the stairs. gets super into the cartoons, leans toward the screen and everything. anyway he's silly. i luv him. thanks for listening.

[sanccharine]

loser's game | jh

pairing: jihyo x reader

genre: (questionable) comedy

word count: 6.1k

warnings: descriptions of blood, gore, violence. includes popular monsters/villains from horror movies. 

summary: when you and jihyo lose spectacularly as the mafias in the mafia game, you are both are forced to endure a horror house as punishment.

a/n: this started on feb 20, 2021... finally finished on oct 31, 2024 ·_· the banner is so serious for such a ridiculous fic, im sorry. this was inspired (100% stolen and copied) from run bts, going seventeen, and time to twice — like it is literally scene for scene going seventeen the tag. anyways thanks to my gorl indigo (@eternallyghosting) for correcting the shit out of my spelling...it was bad. and happy diwali and halloween (diwalloween if you will)

A soft curse escaped your lips as you observed the meticulously decorated building in front of you.  

Granite statues of goblins guarded the front steps, which seemed like they were a second away from falling apart. Along with their pointed ears and wrinkled foreheads, they had a grotesque grin etched across their face, more to showcase their rows of sharp teeth instead of a welcoming smile. The worst part was their eyes, hidden away from the rain by protruding eyebrows, they were caved in and greasy, making them twinkle in the night. 

The stairs were also of the same stone, splattered with what you hoped was dirt and grime, leading up to the entrance of the mansion. Beside them, led a staircase to the right side of the house all the way up to the upper floor. It was a beautiful house, truly, with its high roofs and many windows. Maybe in its prime, you would have been able to appreciate its beauty, maybe even dreamed of staying in such a place. 

However, in the darkness of the night, the pastel pink walls turned into an ugly shade of grey similar to a trodden sidewalk. It didn’t help that the paint was cracked and peeling to show the large splotches of mould. Then there were the overgrown vines spewing over the railing beside the entrance and crawling up the walls, reaching the open windows which creaked eerily with wind, barely hanging on. 

It was the type of house the protagonist of a horror movie would have to move into at the start of the film. Even with cleardistaste for the house and the knowledge of its past from the neighbours or rumours, they’d choose to stay there. The mere sight of it had you wrapping your arms around your stomach and pulling at your overcoat. 

For a random haunted house at an amusement park, they had spent quite the money to make it look…convincing. 

Beside you, Jihyo’s torso heaved as she inhaled and exhaled deeply, allowing a misty cloud to escape her lips. When she was done collecting herself, she spun on the balls of her feet as she proclaimed. “We’ll do the dishes, Jeongyeon! And vacuuming! For a week!” 

Normally, you would’ve nudged Jihyo, gesturing that you wanted nothing to do with cleaning duties. What with Jeongyeon breathing down your neck for every second of it? Absolutely not, you did not have a death wish. However, considering your current predicament, between cleaning with Jeongyeon badgering you every second or entering this haunted house of horrors, you would easily pick the former.  

Nayeon scoffed at Jihyo’s pathetic attempt at bargaining which caused you to turn as well. Next to the oldest, stood Jeongyeon with her hands in her pockets, completely relaxed at the knowledge of her friend’s imminent suffering. Beside the pair, stood Sana and Momo, who clung to each other for any sort of warmth during this late October night. However, there was no warmth in their mischievous eyes.

When Jeongyeon’s face stayed as expressive as the stone behind you, Jihyo continued with hands clasped in front of her chest. “Seriously! For two weeks, then?” 

But, of course, Jeongyeon was not easily convinced. 

“No,” Jeongyeon said with a composed smile as her eyes moved from the begging girl to you, who remained as stiff as a board. “Neither of you can properly clean. It’s just more work for me.” 

Nayeon folded her arms as her eyes flitted to the ground to suppress the cackle that would surely burst out. Jihyo’s clasped hands parted, shaking as they dropped. The corner of her lip twitched as she straightened herself, the facade of a begging innocent transformed into a character dead set on spilling blood.  

Before that could happen, finally coming to your senses, you offered. “I’ll pay for dinner.” 

Jeongyeon tilted her chin up to consider. Even Jihyo turned, waiting for you to continue. 

“I’ll pay for tonight,” you nod, resolving yourself. You need to sound confident. “Dinner at the new restaurant that opened down the street. Tzuyu wanted to go there, I’ll pay!”

Sana and Momo started giggling like schoolchildren at the thought of free food, while Nayeon nodded her head with satisfaction, convinced. However, Jeongyeon only raised an eyebrow at the offer, clearly mulling it over. The only thing that could distract the group of demons you call friends is food, they were primitive that way. You turned to meet Jihyo’s stare, which was oddly inexpressive, but all of you knew better than that. It was all just a mask, to cover the rage simmering right underneath, waiting to be unleashed. 

“No,” Jeongyeon said with a clenched half-smile, one that would accompany an apology, but she looked anything but apologetic. 

Right next to you, a shrill yowl erupted that nearly shattered your eardrum. Instinctively, you shifted and threw your arms around Jihyo’s waist. Fortunately, you’d caught Jihyo just before she could pounce and tear out Jeonyeon’s bleached hair strand by strand. Although, with the way she thrashed in your arms she was only a second away from escaping and doing just that, maybe you’d even join in. Nayeon let out that cackle while Sana and Momo continued to giggle, all at the sight of their friend going absolutely feral. What must’ve irritated Jihyo even more though was that Jeongyeon stood in the middle, completely unaffected. 

“You set us up!” Jihyo shrieked, but the ringing in your ear didn’t deter you from your task. “Jeongyeon, you set us up!”

Joining Jihyo, but also tightening your hold on her, you agree. “She’s right! You purposely put Chaeyoung as the police and Dahyun as the doctor, while Jihyo and I were the mafia. Obviously, we’d lose!”

“Lies and defamation,” Jeonyeon shook her head before placing her hand over her heart, “I did no such thing. I would never, ever, do that.”

“Or maybe you’re just bad at playing mafia!” Sana said, sticking her tongue out. Momo let loose more giggles while Nayeon let out another hearty cackle, this time, smacking Jeongyeon’s shoulder in the process.

“As if you’re any better!” Jihyo growled, panting but still caged in your arms. “As if you–”

“What’s going on?” Mina’s small voice asked as she came over, holding two ginormous sticks of cotton candy. Behind her, the three youngest members of your circle followed like little ducklings after their mother. 

Dahyun was busy counting leftover change and checking bills to see if everything was accounted for. Chaeyoung and Tzuyu, on the other hand, lugged in more carnival food—enough snacks to skip dinner. Of course, they’d never actually skip dinner. They’ve bought buckets of popcorn as if they’re out to watch a movie, which was true in a way, your misery will be their entertainment. 

Sighing at the image, you accepted your fate. 

Momo eagerly took a stick of cotton candy from Mina, while Nayeon answered. “Jihyo and Y/N are trying to weasel their way out of their punishment, you know, like a bunch of weasels.” 

Nayeon shook her head with two fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in feigned disappointment. Mina flashed her gummy smile just as a carnival worker came out to call you. Jihyo turned to offer a small bow, as your friends began to holler. The woman arrived with two selfie sticks in her hand attached to cameras and handed them to the two of you. She offered a kind smile, completely missing the dread swirling in your eyes.

“Welcome to Mysterious Mansion! Your objective is to find the four keys necessary to escape the mansion in under thirty minutes. That’s it!” She said with a small shrug and you narrowed your eyes at that obvious lie. “Once you enter, there will be a map of the mansion to your right as well as a few rules outlining the gameplay, please read them before proceeding. When the two of you are ready, just raise your hands above your head and you’ll hear a buzzer which will be the start of your time. 

“As for the rest of the group,” the woman leaned to Jihyo’s right to offer a kind smile to your already snacking friends, “please follow me to the back where you can watch them play the game.” 

When the girls hollered, you slowly turned to Jihyo’s stare. There was a mismatch of emotions passing through them, none of which you could make any sense of, apart from the fact that neither of you wanted to do this.

One last attempt at a saving grace, your eyes landed on the cost for one run of thirty minutes. It was quite pricey. “Damn guys, this punishment looks like it will be really expensive, instead I’ll just buy dinner—”

“Just go already,” Tzuyu deadpanned to your offer, her voice muddled as she munched on popcorn. 

“Plus, we paid in advance. All of us!” Dahyun added in her chirpy manner. 

“Right, of course, you did,” you muttered to yourself. “Why did I even bother?”

What were the five stages of grief? Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance? Yeah, well it was about time you accepted your demise. Jihyo must’ve come to the same conclusion after having gone from being scared to offering to clean to going absolutely mad, completely skipping the depression stage as an odd light filled her eyes. 

“Thirty minutes, right?” You snapped to your right at Jihyo’s words. “What’s the record time?” 

“Eight minutes!” The worker said in an unnecessarily chirpy tone. “Three guys made it out in a flash, best run we’ve seen!”

Jihyo mumbled something and nodded to herself while Nayeon began to snigger, completely aware that Jihyo’s competitive spirit would be a thousand times worse than whatever was waiting for you inside. 

Jihyo offered her empty hand and you sighed dejectedly as you took it, your fingers quickly entangling. Your so-called friends giggled and howled like the irritating children they were, offering encouragement that was mostly empty. You were sure Jeongyeon had a wicked grin plastered on her face, you didn’t have to turn around to know that. 

With a camera stick in your left hand and your right in Jihyo’s, the two of you approached the steps. You tried to drown yourself in the giddy laughter of little children visiting the carnival, the same overplayed pop music blaring from speakers, and the vibrant flashing lights adorned on various rides to remind yourself that the horror house you were entering was just another ride. None of it was real, and you were not going to get hurt. As the worker put it; just find the keys and escape, that’s it. Simple. 

With a final few rowdy howls from the young college girls, the entrance to the mansion closed behind you. To say the place was dark would be an understatement. You could just barely make out the grand stairs leading to the upper floor, and by baseless deduction, you assumed there were rooms on either side of the staircase because right now all you could see was black. Jihyo squeezed your hand and you stopped staring blindly into the abyss to stare at something you could see. 

As the worker had mentioned, there was a map to your right. It was lit up by flickering yellow light and detailed both floors. There were a total of six rooms aside from the three bathrooms, the kitchen, the dining room, and the main hall. Basically, the place was ginormous—again, quite the budget for an amusement ride. The exit was marked with a large red ‘X’ on the upper floor. 

Jihyo quickly read aloud the rules as you let out another dejected sigh, bringing up the camera to glare at it, you mumbled. “You know this is all your fault?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jihyo scoffed, turning to you before yanking her hand out of your clasp. “My fault? If anything, this is your fault?” 

“Oh, please enlighten me.” You replied, throwing your arms up, sending a scathing glare her way, though she probably couldn’t see it well. 

“If you didn’t look so suspicious, then—”

A loud buzzer sounded and the two of you froze—both of your hands had been raised, even if it was only for a second!—as the dim yellow lights changed instantly to hues of crimson. 

Jihyo’s hand grabbed yours and brought it down before interlocking fingers again. She then hissed as she took the first step. “If you didn’t look so damn suspicious, then you would’ve lasted more than two rounds and we would’ve won.”

“That’s just my face! If I smile too much I’m suspicious, if I don't smile at all I’m still suspicious! What am I supposed to do?” You hissed back, squeezing her hand tightly. Clearly, both of you have regressed back from acceptance to anger. “And what about—let’s go left—what about you?”

Jihyo turned left, dragging you along, and entered a grand dining room. In the centre of the room stood a large mahogany table, large enough to feed eight people and was neatly adorned with plates. If you squinted, you could make out the beautiful patterns on the plates and the intricate engraved details on the ends of the cutlery.

Letting Jihyo lead you around the table, you continued. “What about you, huh? The second Nayeon mentioned your name, you blew up. It was clearly a trap, and you walked right into it!” 

Jihyo sighed, leering over the table to check for a key among the silverware, and admitted. “I should’ve killed Dahyun after you were voted out.” 

Dahyun was too good of a doctor and managed to save everyone you tried to kill. If Jihyo had taken her out, that would’ve given the mafias an easy win. You grumbled your agreement while eyeing the strange baroque painting at the end of the dinner table. 

The painting was of a woman in a silk gown, glancing to her left, wholly uninterested in the elaborate platter she held. Strange since the platter held a severed head. The man was bearded, his mouth frozen agape in shock as his sockets had been carved out, devoid of eyes. He was adorned with pomegranates, grapefruits, and plums—the juice of the fruit and the blood from his neck pooled and dripped down the woman’s hands, soaking into her sleeves. What a terribly morbid painting, it disgusted you but for some reason, you couldn’t look away. Deciding to search the table along with Jihyo, you opted for one last glance. 

Probably the worst decision you’ve ever made, as your heart nearly burst through your ribcage. 

The woman’s eyes in the painting looked straight at you. 

If Jihyo sensed you crushing her hand in a panic, then she ignored it. Instead, she shuffled around, tugging you, and aggressively prodded the table with the camera stick, prioritizing finding a key over a broken hand or the camera. Not trusting your voice, you nudged Jihyo to warn her, unable to break your gaze from the painting. Of course, completelyused to your irritating behaviour, she overlooked it. Jihyo only offered low grunts, much like a caveman, when you nudged her more frantically, panicking after you caught sight of the blood dripping from the painting and onto the floor. 

Jihyo was about to reach her limit from all your nudging, especially when she was the only one trying to find the keys. You knew she was preparing to give you a verbal lashing when suddenly she went taut under your grasp. Jihyo let out a guttural scream, loud enough to break the sound barrier, and jumped a meter into the air. In response to that, a horrid screech escaped from you and as you were still very much stuck to Jihyo, you were yanked harshly out of the dinner hall. 

“There was something under—something grabbed my leg!” Jihyo repeated frantically, shivers passing through her body as she ran back to the entrance. Jihyo let go of your hand, though with a lot of difficulty, to try opening the door. No such luck because the door was locked shut.

You swore profusely, before obsessively jangling the door handle with your now free hand. Rage had quickly enveloped your fear and this was the only way to let out your frustration—bullying an inanimate object. You sent a kick to the handle after trying to slam the door open with your shoulder. When these failed, you finally acknowledged what had already been proven. “Damn it, we have to find those stupid keys!”

“Should we split up?” Jihyo asked, already studying the map, while you glimpsed at the dining room. It was difficult in the dark, but you were sure you saw a shadow moving. “How about you take the ground floor, and I’ll take the other?” 

Jihyo glanced at you as if she was offering you the better option as if she was being generous. Yeah, the ground floor had fewer rooms, but that was only because the rooms were larger. Plus, the dining room, kitchen, and the main hall were all open spaces. Your only proper refuge would be the smallest bathroom, which was at the very far end to the right. 

You were just about to decline and suggest you stay together when something—well someone—came growling from the kitchen. The two of you screamed as much as your lungs would allow you. Without a second of hesitation, Jihyo bolted up the stairs still yelling, successfully leaving you for dead.

Well, guess you would be taking the ground floor then. 

Personifying the fight in the fight or flight response, you wielded your camera stick like a bat and stood your ground. You jumped side to side on the balls of your feet, swinging the makeshift bat as the monster came to a slow stop in front of you. It was too dark for you to make out the costume and makeup, but with the tufts of fur and leaves hanging from the torso, you’d assume this was some sort of swamp monster. Perhaps you would have criticised how a swamp monster took away from the immersive experience considering you were in an elaborately decorated mansion, but at the time, you were too busy screaming to think of such things. 

“I swear I will hit you—don’t come closer!” You shrieked, with only the stick in between you and your murderer. 

Whoever this poor actor was, was probably not paid enough to do this every night, especially with the makeup and heavy costume, but right now, that wasn’t your biggest worry. If this person were to make any sudden move, you were more than ready to whack the life out of them. You could live with that. Covering their medical bills and assault charges will be a problem for you in the future. 

The two of you circled each other until your back was to the dining room entrance and you let yourself be backed into the room. However, the second your back hit a chair, you grabbed whatever silverware you could find and hurled it in your attacker’s direction. Lucky for you, the cutlery was not attached to the table, or worse, made out of porcelain. The spoons, knives, and forks clattered to the ground while you dashed to your left, moving to the kitchen. 

There was a strange bubbling noise but you decided to return to this place when you’re not so close to being killed. You exited the kitchen through its proper entrance and opened the door on the left. It was a small storage room, littered with nothing but a few discarded canvases on the floor—you don’t remember this room on the map. 

Oh, also, there was a crying woman in white, huddled in the corner. 

Greeting her with a quick bow, you immediately shut the door before you could register what you’d seen. Ignoring the violent shudder that passed through your spine, you ran back towards the main entrance, just about to cross the staircase to follow through with the plan you never agreed to when a blood-curdling scream came from the first floor. 

Your self-sacrificing instincts kicked in and you climbed two steps at a time while cursing your feet which carried your body towards Jihyo’s screams. Crashing into the first door on your right, you burst into the room screaming all the while swinging your camera stick strong enough to make baseball stars weep… only to find Jihyo backing her assailant to a corner. 

You paused, chest heaving violently, as you witnessed Jihyo in her warpath. Her hands were clenched in tight fists as she stomped forward, making the poor actor back up. She let loose those guttural gnarls that would have one’s throat grating as if someone were pulling it taut. Surely, by the end of your punishment, Jihyo would end up with a sore throat that no amount of honey could cure. Her attempt at asserting dominance slowed down to snarls and hissing before she came to a stop at the sight of surrender. You would have been impressed had she not looked completely mad. 

Jihyo heaved and moved back to the enormous bed in the room, with her eyes still trained on the poor zombie, who tried to become one with the wall. When she sat down, huge plumes of dust wafted into the air and she began coughing violently but had no energy to move away. 

Catching yourself on the door frame seeing that Jihyo had saved herself, you whimpered out. “Got all your anger out now?” 

Both the actor and Jihyo stiffened at your voice before Jihyo said. “I’m going to kill Jeongyeon.” 

You cringed at Jihyo’s hoarse voice, which was nothing but air, she seemed to speak every word as if it pained her. You close your eyes to collect yourself before asking. “Did you find a key?” 

Jihyo wordlessly raised her hand, holding a whole ring of keys, glinting in what little moonlight the tattered curtains allowed. You gasped and walked forward, reaching over the bed to take them. Ignoring the dust being released when you dropped your camera stick carelessly, you counted the number of keys. There were exactly four, all seeming to be in different colours, shapes, and sizes. One of them even had the number three on it. 

Before you could ask, Jihyo pointed behind her and croaked. “Drawer.”

You repeatedly muttered okay to yourself, giddy to finally be free from this mad house. 

So giddy, that you failed to notice the traumatised actor in the corner shaking their head when you exited the bedroom. Getting a head start, you made it down the corridor and found the room where the exit was supposed to be. You opened one door and were met with four other doors. Two to your left, one to your right, and a metal one in front of you. Otherwise, the room was completely barren. 

This was not good. All of these doors were closed meaning you had no idea what monstrosity was hiding behind them. Hearing the muttered curses and stomping, you know Jihyo wasn’t far behind. Quickly, you pulled apart the ring, separated the four keys, and laid them out in the same order with key number three in its place. The door right in front of you was clearly the exit, as it had four coloured and numbered squares with keyholes in the centre.

What do you know? The colours of the keys matched the squares!

Even then, your mind in all its excitement failed to see the obvious trap, like it had failed to predict Jeongyeon’s plans to frame you and Jihyo. You hurried and put all the keys in their respective holes, some with difficulty, with you standing in front of keyhole numbers one and two while Jihyo was in front of the others. With one last glance at Jihyo, you tried the first key.

Except that it didn’t turn. 

“No,” Jihyo mumbled before harshly turning key number three which worked. She tried turning key number four but it wouldn’t budge, she pulled it out and threw it to the ground. “Damn it!” 

Right at that moment, the door on your left swung open revealing a person with the Jason Voorhees mask and a machete to match. Once again, in unison, you and Jihyo were screaming as much as your lungs would allow. However, this time, both of you bolted out the door you’d entered and Jihyo closed the door behind you just in time, so your attacker couldn’t come. Panting, you leaned on the wall by the door, hand wrapped around Jihyo’s own hand which clung to the door handle. 

“Swamp monster, crying ghost, zombie, and Jason,” you count out as you catch your breath. “Four monsters so far, you think that’s it? Four keys, four doors, four monsters?”

Jihyo, panting herself, nodded. “Has to be.” 

“We need to get those stupid keys,” you sighed. Even panicked and running high on adrenaline, you could feel your fear giving way to frustration. You were ready to get this game over with. “I didn’t find any, but I’m assuming it's two per floor.” 

Jihyo nods again, while her attention is on the door, pressing her ear to make sense of the killer behind. But it was silent. 

“Do you want to stay here, and I can find the keys on the first floor?” 

“I’d be a sitting duck,” Jihyo shook her head. “I’ll ransack the top floor, there are still the bathrooms.”

“Dining hall is a red herring with too many clues,” you said, unsure if the room was to be misleading, but it definitely was a waste of time. “I’ll recheck the kitchen and main hall.” 

You glance back at the door and frown. 

“Give me some time before running to the bathrooms, I don’t have places to hide downstairs,” you say and gently take your hand from the door handle, shaking off your nerves. 

Again, Jihyo nodded as she leaned beside the door, taking your place. 

Nodding back at her, you headed towards the stairs. Forgoing the steps, you sat on the railing and quickly slid down, landing easily at the bottom. Your first location was the kitchen. 

You knew the swamp monster had to be waiting in the dining room for you. As well as the crying ghost in the nearby storage room. You’d take your chances with the ghost any day. Taking the route from the back, you entered the kitchen. Walking to the nearest cabinet, you tugged on the handle—it was glued shut. Nodding to yourself, you squinted at the marble counters for anything, nothing seemed to stand out apart from the bubbling pot on the stove, lit up by a flame—it was a light, not real fire. 

A shuffle in the dining room, made you snap your neck to the left. Your eyes, like magnets, turned to the eyes of the morbid painting, glaring into you. Any moment, the swamp monster would return. Turning your attention to the pit, you lifted the lid to see stagnant liquid—so the bubbling was just a recorded sound—that helped break the immersiveness. Rolling up your sleeve and steeling yourself, you stuck your hand in the freezing cold water—or what felt like water. You were grateful for the low viscosity, anything else, and you would have given up finding the key. 

Speaking of, your fingers brushed against shaped metal and pulled out a handful of keys. Cringing at the metallic clangs and clinks as you dropped the wet keys on the counter, you easily found the only key that had a number on it. 

Just as you pocketed the key, the swamp monster made itself known. 

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered and tipped the pot over. They really should glue that down too. 

Water splashed onto the tiled floor, covering the space between you and the monster. Yes, there was another door leading straight to the main foyer from the dining room, but the distraction was all you needed for time. 

Taking the back entrance again, you sprinted out of the kitchen, past the main foyer, and into the room you’ve never been to before. The main hall. 

The moment you entered you had to clasp your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from shrieking.

Every corner of the room, every shelf, every breathing space from the mantle of the fireplace to the couch to the emptyspace of the majestic piano were seated with antique dolls. Dolls of all kinds, and colours, and clothes with their glassy eyes and rosy cheeks and perfectly brushed hair. Not to mention that all the oil paintings of young girls, similar to the antique dolls taking up every inch of the walls. 

Somehow this was worse than the painting that dripped blood onto the floor. 

But much like that painting, it was like all their eyes followed you. That couldn’t be. 

The dolls’ eyes were all looking in one direction, up at the paintings. And the paintings looked up at the ceiling, following them, your head tilted up. 

If you didn’t have trypophobia before, you certainly did now. 

The ceiling was filled with magnificent glass-painted lights, barring the eye-like structures all clustered to look into a direction. Letting the hairs on your neck raise, you followed down the ceiling to the back of the room, once again met with paintings on the wall as your eyes landed on something marginally worse. 

A clown. 

Gulping so loud, you stayed frozen. 

Had the actor just waited until you figured out the eyes?

Their grin widened as their head tilted in an almost robot-like manner. 

Trypophobia and clowns were not fears you expected to gain tonight, but life works in mysterious ways. 

“Come on, man,” you hoped to sound a little relaxed, but with the way your voice shook, you’re doubtful cool confidence came across well. 

When the actor’s grin only widened, you let out a pained whine, like a child throwing a tantrum.

Regressing to your throwing habits, you glanced at the dolls. If they weren’t glued to their places, and also if they weren’t porcelain, you could kick a few to the ground as a distraction. However, touching or holding any part of the dolls matched with those lifeless dead eyes, chubby rosy cheeks, and coloured pouting lips was a thousand times more revolting than facing discount Pennywise. 

“I will swing the camera stick and I know you’re not getting paid enough to take that,” you bartered instead, both hands on the camera stick, once again like a bat. 

The actor chuckled and shook his head. “It happens more often than you think, even though it's against the rules.”

“Rules?” you question, camera stick slightly lowering. 

“The ones under the map,” he offered. 

“Shit, yeah. No, we didn’t have time to read those,” you frowned, completely dropping your stick to your side. “Assuming, we’re not supposed to throw and spill stuff either?”

“Generally, not proper etiquette but it happens,” he shrugged. The casual action was so odd when he was dressed as a horrifying killer clown. 

“Really sorry about that,” you frown deeper with a sigh but he only shakes his head, dismissing your apology with a wave of his hand. 

“You’re all good,” he smiled. Now, you knew he was trying to be friendly and accommodating, but in his make-up, his grin was chilling. It was exactly the reminder you needed. 

Lifting up the stick, almost as if going into an act yourself, you steeled your nerves. The clown followed you as he lowered himself, his eyes narrowing while his grin widened. “Where’s the key?” you asked. 

You were sure he was about to recite some quote from the source material, or just something to elevate his performance. However, both of us were distracted by the ear-shattering scream that could only be Jihyo’s. Perhaps, you’d have jumped the couch and run to her, that is if she wasn’t swearing like a sailor. 

Knowing she had herself covered, you used the distraction to run. The clown followed. 

Maneuvering in a room filled with dolls was difficult, but it was difficult for the clown as well. Following the eyes and where the clown had just been was key number two, all the eyes had been pointing towards it. Such a simple find, but the dolls and clown were such huge deterrents. 

In a sprint, you made a grab for the key notcaring as you rustledsome dolls and exited the main hall. Swamp monster, much like a game character, was waiting at the entrance to the dining room, and themoment he saw you run to the stairs, he was activated. 

“Jihyo, get to the door!” You screamed climbing the stairs two at a time and ignoring the fact that swamp monster and Pennywise himself were on your trail. Jihyo’s answer was only a snarl back, no doubt fending herself from Jason Voorhees. 

Making a quick right, you entered the room and sprinted straight to the metal door. Jihyo was in some circling match with Jason Voorhees as you slotted in key number two and turned it. When you slotted key number one and turned, the swamp monster, the clown, and the zombie piled into the room. 

“Jihyo!” You shoved open the door, which to your embarrassment, while coloured like metal, was not metal, so you nearly planted head-first into the ground when it swung open with ease. 

Catching yourself on the corroded metal railing, Jihyo followed you out and slammed the door shut. Both of you panted, staring at each other as noises from the carnival once again surrounded you. The back of the mansion was… barren to put it kindly. 

None of the money that was spent at the entrance and inside was spared for the back. It looked merely like a storage container. 

You crumpled to the floor, leaning on the railing, and sighed. Your camera stick fell by your thigh with a thunk as Jihyo closed her eyes. You were done. You made it out. 

“Well done, losers!” 

You looked over your shoulder, following the taunt and the clapping. Nayeon giggled as Jeongyeon slowly clapped from the ground. 

“Come down!” Jeongyeon said with a blinding grin as you pulled yourself up to stand. By the way, Jihyo held her jaw, you knew she was seething. However, she was far too exhausted to do anything. 

The pair of you took the stairs down and headed into a smaller shed by the mansion followed by Nayeon and Jeongyeon. Inside, the rest of your friends were gathered as well as the worker who had greeted you. The room was filled with cameras inside the mansion, two screens still transmitting from your camera sticks even as you handed them over.  

“Good job!” The worker said with a forced smile, though you glanced behind her. One of the cameras caught the swamp monster pulling off his mask and taking a seat on one of the chairs while Jason Voorhees just flopped to the floor, his head tilted to the ceiling. All the while Pennywise and the zombie helped clean their respective rooms with the help of cleaners. 

“We’re sorry,” you sighed, Jihyo only nodded, her eyes were still narrowed. She looked anything but apologetic, but you knew she was. “Adrenaline just—poof, you know?”

“It’s alright,” the worker sighs, her taut smile dipping more into a genuine one. “It happens.”

“Yeah, Pennywise said that,” you gave her a small smile. “Good experience, good game. Terrified the shit out of us.”

You ignored the way your friends laughed behind you.

“Please rate us well on the website,” you nodded as the worker pointed out a QR code printed out on the wall. 

While Jeongyeon pulled out her phone to do that, Jihyo sighed and stepped forward. “What was our time?” 

There was no point in asking. The pair of you definitely did not beat the eight-minute record. 

With a frown, the worker answered. “Twenty-seven minutes and fifty-four seconds—”

“Twenty-eight minutes,” Jihyo’s entire form deflated like a burst balloon. You rolled your eyes at her while your friends laughed. 

Instead, you asked a question that bugged you most as you studied the camera screens. 

“Where is the fifth one? Ghost lady?” 

The worker frowned as your friends became silent. Both you and Jihyo looked around to meet everyone’s faces, their expressions ranging from confusion to apprehension. 

“The one in the storage room? She was crying,” you prompted again, glancing back at the cameras to see the four monsters now all in the dining room picking up the utensils you spilt. 

When the worker cleared her throat, you and Jihyo turned back. Her face ashen as she gulped. 

“There is no crying ghost.”

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: i believe the house was based off of coraline house and the painting i described was judith slaying holofernes by artemisia gentileschi :] gonna go binge gose now, good day/night everybody !

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve: As We Were, As We Are

Plot: Y/n and Joel work to avoid each other in Jackson, until they’re forced together in their most vulnerable state.

Word Count: 13.9k (longest chapter yet)

Warnings: tlou ep.6 spoilers, canon-typical violence, implied smut, suggestive dialogue, blood, guns/knives, wounds, language, ptsd, anxiety, death of a child, (16+)

A/N: Oh, boy…this is the chapter it’s all been leading up to. Every question will be answered. This is the first part of the series I’ve been genuinely nervous to release because it’s so important, and I hope it lives up to all your expectations.

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist unless your age/range is specified in your bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I hope y’all enjoy this one, I definitely had the most fun writing it ❤️

—————

December, 2023. Jackson, Wyoming.

For as small of a place as the Jackson commune was, it was very easy for Joel and Y/n to avoid each other.

Soon after she returned from the bar with Tommy, Maria announced that it was the town’s movie night and she was going to take Ellie. While Y/n would have rather stayed at the house and hid herself away, she knew the best place to hide from Joel was anywhere a crowd was present.

Inside the mess hall, they’d organized the benches to create rows of seats for the kids. Ellie was seated in the middle, looking back every once in a while to Y/n, who was stood with Maria and Tommy.

After their conversation, Tommy hadn’t pressed Y/n anymore on the subject of Joel. He had observed them from the night they’d met to the minute he’d left the triage clinic. With his bird’s-eye-view of their relationship, he could tell that the torch they’d carried for one another burned still, purely from the passion in their voices when they spoke about each other. The way their eyes came alive when the other’s name was mentioned.

Y/n had allowed herself to switch off, mindlessly watching the movie. The overwhelming rush of emotions she’d felt from both the domestic beauty of Jackson and the reminder that she could never have it had exhausted her. When Ellie would look back, needing reassurance she was still there, all Y/n felt capable of was a tiny nod. There was nothing left in her to give.

At some point during the film, Tommy reached over to tap Y/n on the shoulder and nodded towards the door. With him being the only person she fully trusted, she followed him out without question.

They walked through the light snowfall in silence, Y/n was under the impression he was trying to get her some fresh air. Even the snowflakes, in all their puritan beauty, couldn’t lift her mood. They just felt cold and annoying on her face.

Tommy guided them back to his and Maria’s house, unlocking the door. “WaIt here a minute.”

Y/n nodded, if it were possible, she never wanted to step foot in the house again.

Tommy disappeared for thirty seconds before emerging with a pair of winter boots in hand. Y/n was beginning to grow curious, but not enough to break her vow of silence.

They resumed their path down the middle of town, the lights strung from rooftop to rooftop combined with the decorated pine tree gave it a true Christmas feel. Tommy led them towards a building Y/n had yet to go into, a cobbler’s workshop.

“You pulled me out to help fix your boots?” Y/n asked as they climbed the steps.

Tommy didn’t answer, only opening the door and gesturing for her to enter. Y/n walked in, her eyes trailing the walls before they fell on the center of the room.

Where Joel was sat.

Joel had done a stellar job of not just avoiding Y/n, but his brother, Maria and Ellie. After his last episode, he hadn’t wanted to be around anyone. His busted boot had brought him to the workshop, he’d been pulling at the sole for nearly thirty minutes with no success. With each fruitless tug, his frustrations grew, and so did his tears. It was the meaningless failures in life that brought the deepest ones to the surface.

Y/n and Joel’s eyes met across the room, realization hitting Y/n as to why Tommy had brought her out. She turned to glare at him, seeing no remorse at all on his face.

“The guys said I might find you here,” Tommy said, brushing past Y/n to Joel and handing him the pair of boots, “Figured I’d save you the trouble.”

Y/n ran her palm across her forehead in both frustration and anxiety, turning on her heel and reaching for the doorknob.

“Hang on,” Tommy called, stopping her from moving any further, “Before you storm out of here…” he looked to Joel, “I shouldn’t have said what I said. I don’t even believe it…I know you’re happy for me, it’s just…complicated for you. And I’m sorry.”

Tommy turned his gaze to Y/n, “And you. I wasn’t tryin’ to hurt you, back at the bar, and bringin’ all that up wasn’t my best move.”

Y/n’s hand hovered over the knob, debating whether to run or stay. She didn’t have an explanation for the pull to remain, considering Joel was ten feet away from her, but she listened to it.

Joel didn’t have to question what ‘all that’ Tommy was referring to. If he’d brought it up to him him, he’d surely have brought it up with Y/n. Just knowing they’d talked about it hurt.

“So are you two gonna let me off the hook, or what?” Tommy asked, smiling the same way he had each time Y/n or Joel had bailed him out of jail.

Joel wished with everything in him that Y/n wasn’t in the room. Not with what he was about to say.

“This ride to the university…” he began, “Is it a suicide mission?”

Tommy’s brows lowered, “No. It’s dangerous, but it’s nothin’ you can’t handle. Just prepare and do what you do.”

“You’ve had people go that way and come back?” Joel continued.

“All of ‘em,” Tommy answered, “What is this?”

Joel couldn’t find it in himself to meet Y/n’s eyes. He felt the absence of her gaze, but his drifted in her direction, landing near her boots.

“She’s immune.”

Y/n instinctively tensed up, the two words they’d all swore not to speak suddenly hanging in the air.

“What?” Tommy said in shock.

“Ellie,” Joel replied, “She got infected but she didn’t get sick.”

Tommy flinched, naturally, making Y/n slide her body in front of the door.

“It’s true,” she said, “Fireflies found her up in Boston, she’d just been bit. We brought her in, quarantined her, tested her…” Y/n couldn’t bring herself to look at Joel, only at the floor under his feet, “Then it happened again. I saw it with my own two eyes…that was three months ago.”

A beat of silence added to the tension of the moment.

“She’s immune,” Joel pushed, his voice low and pleading.

Tommy looked between his brother and his almost-sister-in-law, thinking about the stark contrast between the last time it had been the three of them. He crossed the room, reluctantly coming to sit across from Joel.

Y/n, with her hands at her side and her eyes looking anywhere but at Joel, moved to where Tommy had been standing. It was too late to leave now…

“From the beginning,” Tommy requested of them both.

For reasons she couldn’t understand, Y/n’s eyes began to water before Joel even started to speak.

“It was Marlene,” he explained, “She hired us to smuggle her to some Fireflies. It went bad. Tess got bit. She made me swear to take the kid. It was her dyin’ wish,” Joel’s voice wavered slightly, “What the hell was I supposed to do?”

Y/n sunk her teeth down into her bottom lip, that hadn’t been Tess’ final request.

“We made it as far as K.C and then…”

Joel paused, the memories of Kansas City were ones he tried not to look back on, for so many reasons.

“You know, she saved my life there,” he continued, “From another kid.” He intentionally left Y/n out of the story, just addressing the memory of her almost dying overwhelmed him.

“Five years ago, I would have destroyed him,” Joel went on, “But she had to shoot him to save me. 14 years old. Because I was too slow and too fuckin’ deaf to hear him comin’.”

Y/n looked down at the worktable below her, her eyes misting over. It was so easy for Joel to pretend like she hadn’t been there, it almost hurt.

“And I saw…” Joel paused, Henry’s two fatal bullets ringing in his good ear, “I saw a man kill his own brother, to save her, while I just watched.”

Curling her fist against the table, Y/n bit down on her lip until she tasted blood.

“And today, I thought that dog was gonna tear her apart because it smelled somethin’ on her. And all I did was stand there,” Joel’s pace had quickened, “I couldn’t…move. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I just…”

Joel, in that moment, wished for a thousand miles of space between him and Y/n. He wished she remained in Jackson and he was back in Boston.

“I was so afraid,” his voice finally cracked.

Two silent tears danced down Y/n’s cheeks like a sprinkle of rain before a thunderstorm.

“You think I can still handle these things, but…” Joel’s voice regained its strength as he watched Tommy take in what he said, “I’m not who I was. I’m weak.”

With all the force inside her, Y/n still couldn’t bear to look at Joel. She couldn’t handle watching him fall apart.

“Lately, there are these moments where the fear comes up outta nowhere and…” Joel took a quivering breath, well aware he was addressing two people, “My heart…feels like it’s stopped.”

The long overdue explanation didn’t feel like a victory to Y/n, it felt hollow. It was coming at the expense of so much.

“And I have dreams,” Joel went on, “Every night.”

“What kinda dreams?” Tommy asked, it was the first time he’d dared to speak.

“I don’t know,” Joel’s tone became breathless with emotion, “I just know that when I wake up…”

Joel paused, trying to gather the strength he’d lacked twenty years ago.

“I’ve lost something.”

There was no longer any story to tell.

This was Joel’s admission of guilt.

“I’m failin’ in my sleep,” Joel cried, “That’s all I do.”

A river now streamed down Y/n’s face, they were addressing all that had happened between them without actually talking about it.

“It’s all I’ve ever done,” Joel whimpered, the faces of the three most important women in his life flashing through his mind, “Is fail her.”

Y/n’s cheeks were red from holding in her screaming sobs.

“Again and again…” Joel trailed off, feeling the weight of Y/n’s pain without seeing it.

“You want me to take her,” Tommy stated, he knew what was coming before they got there.

Y/n’s eyes finally found the courage to fly to Joel, her lips parting in shock.

“I’m just gonna get her killed,” Joel trembled, the fears he’d had to live with the last three months were beating him into cowering, “I know it. I know it.”

Of all the things he’d said concerning the piece of his heart standing across from him, none had hurt Joel as much as the one floating on his tongue, clutching to his throat…begging not to be released.

“I have to leave her.”

In that moment, Y/n was no longer in the shop. She wasn’t in Jackson. Her knees were sitting in dirt, wind whipping at her shirt, her screams echoing off the triage clinic walls…Joel was abandoning her all over again.

She must have gasped or sniffled, because Tommy turned around to look at her. Joel’s tearful gaze finally came up to meet hers, her heartbroken stare piercing his chest. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, the anger that had died out three months ago filling her eyes once again. Except this time, there was so much sadness behind it, Joel’s tears started up again.

Y/n couldn’t stand to hear another word, her own opinion not mattering in the already-made decision. Desperate for Joel not to witness another one of her tears, she went straight for the door, throwing it open and letting it swing shut behind her.

Her mouth hung open, trying to force the winter air in and out her lungs as her head spun. He was doing it, he was leaving her as if she hadn’t ever meant anything to him.

A crunch of snow under another pair of footprints drew her attention to her left. Ellie was moving so fast away from the door, Y/n barely recognized it as her.

“Ellie,” Y/n called, the girl was marching back through town, “Ellie!”

“So he’s just gonna leave us here?” Ellie asked, her voice raised to compensate for the distance between them.

Y/n couldn’t form an answer, she couldn’t defend Joel’s actions.

“You have to talk him out of it,” Ellie said, bitterness seeping into her tone.

“I can’t,” Y/n said, letting the cold freeze what was left of her tears.

“Yes, you can,” Ellie was sounding more and more like the child she should have been, on the verge of losing something important to her.

“Ellie, I can’t,” Y/n practically shouted, the girl was too fast for her, “I can’t make him do anything, you know that.”

Ellie spun around, her face red from the cold air and her anger. “You have to,” she yelled, “He can’t…” her voice nearly caught, “He can’t fucking do that to us.”

Y/n had concealed so much of her history from Ellie, it wasn’t anything she needed to know. The girl looked at Joel like he was everything, she couldn’t shatter the illusion.

With nothing but tears to give as a reply, Y/n watched Ellie storm back off through the snow. She waited, giving the girl a wide berth before heading in the same direction.

When they got inside, Ellie stomped up the stairs, leaving Y/n standing aimlessly in the middle of the living room. She felt so small, so fragile, it was a vulnerability she hadn’t felt in twenty years that only came with someone owning a part of your heart. It was permission she hadn’t realized she’d given to Joel to break her all over again.

Somehow, quite blearily, Y/n made it up the stairs. She stood in the hallway, her eyes drifting between doors. Two options lay in front of her. She could a) knock on Ellie’s door and try to console her or b) go into her room and sleep off the pain till morning.

Despite the twenty years of independence she’d had, Y/n had never felt like she had full autonomy. She was owned by her past, haunted by the choices that she’d been forced to make and the ones that had been made for her. There was a piece of her mind beating her into submission, counting on the trauma to make her cower from facing the truth.

There was a third option, and she strode towards it without hesitation.

—————————

“You’re right. You’re not my daughter, and I sure as hell ain’t your dad.”

The words struck Ellie like a blow to the chest.

“Now, come dawn,” Joel finished, “We’re goin’ our separate ways.”

He left her there, knowing there were tears pooling in her eyes, knowing she felt abandoned. He knew all of it, and he still slammed the door shut. He was the only one who could see that it truly was the only option where she kept her life.

Joel glanced down the hall, spotting the bathroom, a closet and a closed door, no doubt a bedroom. He didn’t dare go near it, he couldn’t face the demons that lay behind it. Instead, he made his way to the bedroom at the end of the hallway, nudging the door open…

Y/n was sitting on the bed.

Joel froze.

Her elbows rested on her knees, her hands were clasped together. She stared ahead at the carpet, her stare boring into the beige threads with a fire that was intended for the man standing across from her.

Joel had been running from her all day, it seemed like they both had. If Y/n had thought this was her room and had been caught off guard, she’d have jumped, rushing to leave or forcing Joel out. Her stillness told him that this was intentional.

“I want the truth,” Y/n was the first of them to speak, “About that day.”

Joel had made one of the biggest choices in her life for her and it had ruined the last twenty years. If this was the last time she would ever see him, she was taking what she wanted before leaving.

“I need to hear it,” she continued, her voice thick from crying. She finally dragged her gaze up to him, shooting daggers, “I need to hear you say it.”

Joel’s muscles had locked up, every inch of him suddenly running painfully cold. There was no escaping what she wanted to hear, nor did he have to strength to keep it buried any more. The words lay trapped in his chest, rotting between his lungs.

Joel reached behind him and shut the door, not wanting Ellie to hear what was surely to come. He walked towards the bed hesitantly, the first step sending Y/n across the room. Distance was necessary for such an intimate conversation.

Y/n watched him walk, his posture was more drooped than usual. She’d heard Ellie yelling through the walls, no doubt reading him the riot act for his plans. And whatever Joel had responded with was, undoubtably, worse.

Joel took Y/n’s spot on the edge of the bed, sighing to himself and trying gathering his mind. Were they really doing this?

He paused a good long while before beginning his confession.

“After it…” Joel paused, unable to call on the tragedy by name, “After it happened, I couldn’t…see. I-I couldn’t…breathe. Nothin’ made sense any more,” Joel’s eyes were brave enough to look up at Y/n, “Nothin’.”

Y/n kept her arms crossed over her chest, protecting herself the last way she knew how from the ghosts of the past.

Joel clasped his hands in his lap, as if to pray for forgiveness that wasn’t his to have. There was nothing that could soften the blow he was about to strike.

“Somehow, in my mind, when you told me…” Joel referred to another nameless point in time, “What you told me…I knew it was true.”

There it was.

“You’d never lied to me before,” Joel admitted, tears threatening to reveal all his cards, “You wouldn’t’ve chosen then to start.”

He’d known. He’d known the whole time. And he’d still tried to make her feel like a liar.

“I wasn’t thinkin’ straight,” Joel struggled, his chest trembling as he tried to hold himself still, “The pain was just…I couldn’t handle it.”

With Ellie in the room over, Y/n bit down on her lip to stop whatever violent reaction threatened to escape her mouth.

“So instead, you decided to blow up my life,” she said, nodding.

Joel felt breathless, staring into the same weeping eyes he had twenty years ago, watching her fall apart. Except this time, it was controlled. She wouldn’t let herself break until he broke first.

Y/n couldn’t hold back the river in her eyes any longer, the festering resentment building in her like a hurricane.

“Do you have any idea what I went through after you left?!”

The force of her voice startled Joel, but he didn’t flinch. He deserved every bit of her hate, and he would take it all.

Y/n took a rattling breath, the volume of her tone dropping to a hiss, “Do you have any idea what I had to do?”

—————————

October 1st, 2003. St. Louis, Missouri.

By some miracle, Y/n made it home.

After Joel had abandoned her and she’d cried herself nearly into dehydration, she stood up, brushed the dirt off her knees…and walked away. Her apartment complex was near the clinic and she’d snuck back without coming across any army or Infected.

She promptly packed up her backpack, shoving as many dry goods in as she could. She filled water bottles, rolled a change of clothes, a flashlight, a blanket, and a hammer. She didn’t have any intention of hurting anyone, but she was going to be prepared.

The problem was that her car was parked at Joel’s house.

Unhappily, Y/n had snuck into the neighborhood through the trees, the army was still stationed on the highway directly in front of the entrance. When she arrived, cutting through the shared lawn between the Millers and the Adlers, she kept her eyes down. She didn’t think she could handle the sight. She climbed into her car, which was blissfully still there, and started it up.

It took everything in her not to look up at the house, or go inside to say a goodbye.

To avoid the army, she drove her car through the space between the houses, cutting back through the forest and getting onto a side. She couldn’t save Sarah, Joel had left her for dead, but she was determined to find her family.

It had taken a full day of driving, carefully avoiding the army’s various stations, and when her car had run out of gas, two days on foot. But she’d made it, alive and as well as she could be.

Y/n’s parents owned a plot of land that they’d built her childhood home on. The nearest neighbor was a mile away, giving them a decent chance at survival by isolation. Her sister lived five miles away, her brother twenty minutes, but she knew they’d huddle together in such an emergency.

When her weak limbs and weary eyes reached the property, she huffed a tearful breath. The world may have been falling apart around her, but she was home. The sight gave her a new boost of energy and she quickened her steps across the grass.

“Mom,” she called the closer she got, “Dad!”

Y/n hurried up the front porch steps, finding the door slightly ajar. There had never been a moment in their house where the door hadn’t been locked. Her hand hesitated over the knob, afraid of what she might find.

She didn’t really have a choice.

Y/n cautiously stepped inside, “Mom! Dad!”

Her voice bounced off the hallway, echoing into the house. There was no answer.

“Annie,” she called for her sister, then her brother, “Jason!”

She walked down the hallway, finding the tables and knicknacks that decorated it to be as meticulously straightened as ever. It all looked normal.

“Guys,” Y/n shouted, growing more anxious, “It’s me!”

Through the hall was the kitchen, the counters were covered in dry good wrappers and bags. Clearly they were here, the power had been cut and that would have been their only option for food.

Y/n’s breaths grew quicker, “Guys!”

There was a clatter from upstairs, Y/n spun around to face the staircase. Her worst fear was that someone had broken in, killed her family and was stealing any valuables they could. It was a miracle her apartment had been intact.

Another large thud, followed by a low growl.

She wasn’t even thinking about the other possibility.

A humanistic screech sounded through the house before a blurry body threw itself down the stairs, launching itself towards Y/n.

It was her father.

“Dad!”

As her father’s hand swung at her, she swerved out of the way, the rush of air brushing her face. She stumbled backwards into the living room, blidnly reaching for the edges of furniture to topple in her dad’s path. Undeterred, growling and snarling at his own daughter, he climbed over them effortlessly.

“Dad,” Y/n yelled with tears in her eyes, “Daddy, stop! It’s me!

A snarl and another swipe was all she received.

Until the second growl came.

From the other side of the stairs, Y/n’s mother emerged with the same possessed look in her eye as her husband.

“Mama,” Y/n cried, “It’s me! Stop!”

Her mother ran down the hall, her steps wide and clunky. Y/n’s father was heading towards her too, his movements slower than his wife’s.

There was no time to think her decision over.

Y/n reached for her grandmother’s vase, sitting on the end table by the front door and swung it around, smashing it into her mother’s head.

Her mother let out a scream, one of anger rather than pain, and stumbled back a few steps. Y/n shoved the end table at her father, ramming it into his stomach and causing him to drop to the floor. It gave her time to cut across into the home office, sliding under her mother’s arm as it reached for her.

“Mama,” Y/n cried, her tears were long past restraint, “Mama, it’s me…please.”

Her mother stalked forward, too far gone to recognize her daughter.

“Mama,” Y/n pleaded, “Please don’t!”

Y/n was out of time and out of options.

It was either take action or become one of them.

Y/n yanked the hammer out of the open slit in her backpack and slammed it into the side of her mother’s head.

The woman dropped the floor.

Y/n could barely register what she’d done before her father’s growls neared. She looked up to see him, quickly encroaching on her. She waited until her was close enough before jumping to the side, letting him slam into his bookcase and bludgeoning him with the hammer.

Y/n bolted out the glass doors, sprinting towards the stairs and screaming for her siblings, “Jason! Annie!”

More growling came from one of their childhood bedrooms.

Acting purely on adrenaline, Y/n bolted in the opposite direction of the sound, heading for the master bedroom. She ran for the closet, clearing the top shelf of her father’s side to reach his fireproof safe. Her fingers trembled as she punched in the code, the growling getting closer to the room.

The safe door opened, offering her her father’s hand gun as a blood soaked salvation.

A sickeningly shriek filled the bedroom, the lean body of Jason entering and sniffing Y/n out like a hunter would its prey.

Y/n couldn’t afford to think, but she felt the full weight of her decision as she took off the safety and landed a bullet in her big brother’s head.

She stood over his lifeless body, her breath caught somewhere between her heart and her lungs. From behind her, there was more manic growling.

Y/n spun around to find not only her sister, racing towards her, but her parents dragging themselves up the last steps on the staircase.

“No,” she whispered, “No, Annie, stop. Please!”

Her sister screamed, her eyes completely blackened and her nostrils flared in blind rage.

Y/n fired a shot with a shaking hand, causing the the bullet to hit a decorative plate on the wall, ricocheting back across the room and hitting her in the shoulder.

She couldn’t feel the pain.

She couldn’t feel anything.

Because the next three shots she didn’t miss.

When it was over, Y/n couldn’t move. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. All she could do was stare at the destruction she’d caused. And in her numbness, she didn’t hear the small footsteps, the heaving breaths coming for her…

Her little nephew, Matty, let out a vicious cry as he lunged for his aunt.

“Matty!” Y/n cried, the boy clinging to her leg and unhinging his jaw, “No!”

Y/n reached down, prying him off her leg and holding him in the air, his little legs flailing and his hands clawing for Y/n’s throat.

“Matty, stop,” Y/n screamed through her tears, her pain rising to match the demonic one of her nephew.

She threw him down on the bed and bolted for the stairs, the gun still in her palm. She knew that the next thirty seconds would decide who she would be in this new world, and whether her soul would retire to heaven or hell.

Her nephew flew down the stairs after her.

Y/n stumbled on the last step, landing on her knees and sliding across the blood slicked hardwood.

Matty shrieked.

Y/n raised her gun.

—————————

December 2023. Jackson, Wyoming.

The soft glow of the lamplight couldn’t help the darkness that filled the bedroom.

Joel’s lips were parted, in horror and in sorrow.

The entire expanse of Y/n’s cheeks were painted with her tears. Not a day had gone by since her tragic homecoming where she wasn’t haunted by her decisions. But the last three months, particularly after Henry and Sam’s tragic endings, it lived at the forefront of her mind again.

“I needed you there,” Y/n whispered angrily, incapable of making any louder a sound, “I needed you there to…”

To save her? To commit the atrocious sin for her? To hold her afterwards and tell her she was still a good person?

“You left me there,” Y/n whimpered, “To die.”

Joel felt the weight of the words, each one slicing through his heart the way he deserved. He deserved so much more.

The worst part, was that in all of Y/n’s twenty years she’d spent wanting to hurt Joel, with the opportunity in front of her, she couldn’t…because she understood. She understood what grief that powerful could do to a person. When she had made the choice to end her family’s lives, she lost herself. She couldn’t make sense of a single part of her mind, her heart, what was left of her soul…and twenty years later, Joel’s delusions were perfectly clear to her.

Despite all her efforts, she couldn’t hate his decision. Only the ramifications.

Joel felt like his entire body was made of led, unable to move so much as a finger. Only his eyes seemed to work properly as they rolled tears down his cheeks.

He had abandoned her in a state of unawareness and had doomed her to a life as broken as his. He had condemned her soul the minute he’d walked away from her. The reason for all her pain was him.

The emotions balled inside Y/n, gathering more and more pressure until she couldn’t hold it in any longer. Screw understanding, she had to get it all out.

“She chose me, Joel,” Y/n cried, “She fucking chose me! And you fucking stole that from me,” she pointed at him, “You tried to take her memory away from me like it was nothing. Why the fuck did you do that?!”

“Because,” Joel’s body shot up off the bed, turning to face Y/n, his voice possessed a strength that only came in desparate sadness, “We were so close! We were so damn close,” he drew a shaking breath and ran his hand through his hair.

Y/n stood as still as she could, nearly relieved that Joel was finally being honest with her, but heartbroken all the same.

Joel had kept so many secrets over the years, from Tess, from Tommy…it was the nature of survival. Keeping your cards close to your chest. But he couldn’t take the physical pain, the sick feeling in his stomach, that came with hiding one in particular.

He lowered his voice, his own pain softening the edges of his tone. “Did you know I was gonna buy you a ring? That weekend?” Joel asked, feeling stupid for posing it as question, “‘Course you didn’t. That’s why I was workin’ all those extra shifts,” he pointed a finger in the distance between them, “I was goin’ to get it the next morning…”

That was it. There was no more pain for either of them to feel. This was the great, whopping, life-stealing heartbreak that would steal the last of them.

“We were so close,” Joel whispered, his lip quivering as he bit back his sobs, “And we lost it all. And I couldn’t handle it…” his voice cracked with his final admission, “And there hasn’t been a day on this godforsaken planet that I haven’t regretted it.”

There was ten feet and two decades of space between them, but their minds were back in Austin on that last night, before tragedy struck. The glow of the TV flickered across their eyes, the soft sounds of Sarah’s breaths against Joel’s legs filled their ears, the phantom weight of Y/n’s head on Joel’s shoulder nudged him. It was the start of the future they were never meant to have.

Y/n stopped any attempt to slow her tears, instead allowing soft sniffles to escape her. She pressed a hand to one side of her face, digging her palm into her cheek. Sarah had chosen her as her mother, Joel had chosen her as his wife. They had been on the verge of…everything she’d ever wanted for them.

Joel watched her process his confession, still tied to her soul enough to feel the pain wash over her as if it was his own, because it was. He had felt the gaping hole of her at his side for two decades, knowing he was the one who caused the vacancy. Regardless of whether he ever saw Y/n again, he would carry that scar for the rest of his miserable life…

Y/n fought to draw a breath deep enough to keep her from losing consciousness. She met Joel’s eyes, wet and bloodshot and with all the strength she could summon.

“We did lose everything,” she agreed, the pressure of the lump in her throat forcing the words out of her, “But we didn’t have to lose each other.”

In the three months they’d worked together, risking their lives for Ellie and each other, they’d fought any and all feelings towards one another that didn’t pair well with Joel’s dishonesty or Y/n’s fury. They’d raged just as hard against their past as they had the violence of those against them. And now, with the truth exposed and nowhere left to hide…they felt it all.

Three months spent carefully considering every move they made towards one another, every word thought over with such consideration…they’d been so committed to keeping up their great divide.

There was nothing left to fight.

Only to feel.

Beautifully in sync with one another, Joel and Y/n surged towards one another, colliding in a kiss that could have stretched twenty years and back.

Joel’s arms wrapped around Y/n’s body, one around her waist and one sliding around her back, anchoring her to him. There was a duality to the way he held her; unbridled passion pressing his fingers deep into her skin, his pained adoration reining in the intensity of the touch, as if he was holding fine china. He practically melted as his hands roamed her, letting the full force of his feelings overwhelm him.

Y/n’s body trembled against Joel, her hands holding his wet cheeks as their lips frantically moved together, clashing and submitting to one another so perfectly. When close became not close enough, she wrapped her arms around Joel’s neck, leaving no space between them. She wept into their kiss, euphoria putting every inch of her at ease. She could feel nothing but him and him alone.

As their touches intensified, their lips digging for more and more of each other, Joel maneuvered them backwards. He blindly guided them until Y/n’s knees hit the edge of the bed, the two of them falling back onto it, never breaking from one another.

They spent their night falling apart and putting each other back together. Twenty years and three months of yearning was spilled out into the darkness of the early morning hours, both Joel and Y/n pouring all the love they’d ever felt for one another into each kiss.

—————————

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, the clouded sunlight waking her up before anyone could knock on her door.

She could feel the absence of Joel without reaching across the sheets.

Sinking her teeth into her kiss-swollen lip, she shut her eyes and drew a slow breath. The night was never going to change either of their plans, it had been a funeral for all they’d never mourned. Neither of them could have afforded for it to be anything else.

It was a comfortable numbness to settle back into, longing for Joel against the reality of their world.

Y/n dressed in the new clothes Maria had left for her in her room, returning to Joel’s bedroom only to make the bed. It was the least she could do.

While she was tucking the quilt in, a knock on the door drew her focus. It was Tommy. Despite the years of separation, they could still read each other like the siblings they’d almost been. Tommy’s sad eyes registered Y/n’s unusually quiet demeanor and he knew that she was feeling the loss of his brother timelessly, just as she would have in 2003.

“Ellie up?” Y/n asked, finishing up with the blanket.

“I think,” Tommy replied, “Haven’t checked on her yet.”

Y/n settled the pillows back under the headboard, smoothing down a crumbled edge of the quilt and stood up straight. She was making the rest of the journey without Joel, but she was still going to hold her head high.

“Gimme a minute with her,” Y/n said, squeezing past Tommy in the doorway, determined not to look back at the room. She crossed the hall to Ellie’s door, gently knocking.

“Come in.”

The second Y/n walked in the room, she knew that Ellie had been expecting Joel in a new state of mind. There was barely concealed disappointment in the young girl’s eyes. Y/n smoothed her hands over her jeans and came to sit next to her in the bay window. Before they took one more step in their journey together, Y/n needed to make something clear.

“I know you didn’t sign up for any of this,” she began, “I know it’s been hard. You’ve seen things that no one should ever see, let alone someone your age,” Y/n paused, this was as honest as she’d ever been with Ellie, “And I know you’ve lost…so much.”

Ellie’s eyes shifted in Y/n’s direction before darting back forward.

“And it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me any of it,” Y/n carefully reached out and placed her hand over Ellie’s, “But I’m not walking out on you.”

Ellie looked up finally, watching the words fall off of Y/n’s lips.

“I’m with you until you tell me to stop,” Y/n continued, giving a small smile, “Even then...”

The side of Ellie’s mouth barely quirked upwards, that was enough for Y/n to know she had taken the words to heart. Since the beginning of their journey, it had been her and Ellie above all else.

Tommy knocked on the door, poking his head in. “Ready?”

Y/n looked to Ellie to decide, waiting until the girl stood to rise with her. Tommy handed Y/n her backpack which she promptly slung over her shoulders. She was thankful, at least, that Tommy was finishing out the rest of the trip with them.

The three of them filed out of the house, it had snowed heavier at some point in the night, creating an even thicker blanket.

“Stables,” Tommy said, beginning to guide them in the direction.

“Hang on,” Y/n said, cutting across the street in a move that surprised herself, “I’ll be right back.”

She climbed the steps to Tommy’s house, opening the unlocked door and entering. She bypassed the living room entirely, making her way through until she found the kitchen, where Maria was seated with a cup of coffee.

Maria’s fingers traced the handle of the mug, staring down at the liquid, “Are you here to tell me my husband will be fine and I shouldn’t worry?”

“No,” Y/n shook her head, “I mean, he will be, but…no. I came to say thank you.”

Maria dragged her gaze up to Y/n, she’d given enough to warrant wondering what exactly she was being thanked for.

“For…” Y/n exhaled, dancing carefully around the memory of the woman holding her as she wept, “For-“

Maria held up a knowing hand, her voice gaining a softer edge, “You’re welcome.”

Y/n hesitantly smiled, the woman had allowed her to grieve in a way nobody else ever had. A simple thanks seemed too simple, but it was all she had to offer. She turned on her heel to leave and let her have her morning.

“Hang on,” Maria called her back, rising from the table and heading down the hall. She returned with Y/n’s rifle and handgun, extending them out to their rightful owner. As Y/n reached for them, she pulled them back.

“You make sure my baby has a father,” Maria demanded, her eyes pleading with Y/n.

“With my life,” Y/n promised, it was one of the truest things she’d ever said.

Maria handed her the weapons, watching Y/n sling the rifle over her back and holster the handgun. She would never trust her brother-in-law, but she wanted to trust the sister-in-law she could have had.

Y/n exited the house, making her way back to Tommy and Ellie as quick as she could without slipping. Upon seeing the returned firearms, Ellie held up her own pistol, somehow mysteriously returned to her. One look to Tommy’s averted gaze told Y/n all she needed to know.

The three of them strode past the animal pens and into the stables, the same melancholy cloud hanging over them. Y/n was ready to take her night spent with the man she loved and tuck it away in her mind as nothing more than a beautiful moment in time.

When she turned towards one of the stalls, she hadn’t expected to see him standing in front of her.

Joel had made a lot of mistakes in his life, a lot. Most of them spanning over the last two decades, but many had come before. The one that kept him up at night, the one he saw in his dreams, the one that would haunt him every hour of every day would forever be leaving Y/n. Not just because he’d lost the love of his life, but because he’d made the decision for her. He’d played with her life in a way that made her still standing and breathing a damn miracle. Somewhere between leaving the warmth of her body in bed and saddling his horse, he’d realized he couldn’t take that away from her or Ellie.

“You came here to say goodbye or something?” Ellie asked.

“No,” Joel replied, still fiddling with one of the saddle straps, “I came here to steal one of these horses and go.”

“I woulda gave you one,” Tommy said.

“I know,” Joel turned to them, addressing everyone but Y/n, “Anyway…that was thirty minutes ago and I guess…” he stepped forward, finally letting his eyes fall on the woman before Ellie, “You deserve a choice.”

Everything at war inside Y/n settled at Joel’s words.

“I still think you’d be better off with Tommy-“ Joel began.

Ellie had heard enough, shoving the bag of food Tommy had packed them into Joel’s chest, “Let’s go,” she looked back to Y/n as she moved towards the horse, “Say yes.”

Y/n nearly smiled at Ellie’s bossiness, her and Joel’s eyes meeting softly. She hadn’t expected him there, but the change in heart, in the way he was handling the situation was even more unexpected and more welcome. She gave a reserved nod, allowing her cheeks to tug her lips upwards.

Joel could never go make up for what he’d done to Y/n. But whatever time they had left together was going to be spent trying.

Y/n turned to Tommy, “We’re gonna need another horse.”

Tommy nodded, unlatching another stall’s lock, leading one of the horses out and handing the reins to Y/n. “Maybe don’t tell Maria about this…” he smirked.

Y/n nodded, “Gotcha.”

The four of them exited the stables and finished readying the horses. Joel and Y/n both helped Ellie onto the one Joel would ride.

“Hold onto both,” Joel instructed, handing Ellie the reins.

“Mm-hmm,” Ellie nodded, her mood had already perked up.

Y/n and Joel came to Tommy, the three of them standing in a triangle. It was the first moment the three of them had shared since the night before.

“General direction?” Joel asked.

“Head southeast till you hit I-25,” Tommy answered, “It’s right off the interstate, shouldn’t be hard to miss.”

There was a brief pause before Tommy spoke up again, “Promise me y’all are gonna stick together.”

Joel gazed over at Y/n, feeling the history between each of Tommy’s words. Under the cover of night, it would have cut right through him. Now, it was a guarantee he could give both of them.

“I promise,” Joel said, his eyes never leaving Y/n’s. It was the first time she’d smiled at him in a long time, and he felt a new surge of strength through him.

Tommy pulled Joel in first, embracing him with a prayer that this wouldn’t be the last time he laid eyes on his brother. He tugged Y/n into his chest after, wishing the same. He couldn’t regain them only to lose them.

Y/n relaxed in Tommy’s arms, wishing they could stay in the safety of Jackson just a little longer. Twenty years of struggle, a little relief, and then back out into the jaw of danger.

“There’s a place for you here,” Tommy said, keeping a hand on Y/n’s shoulder and looking to Joel, “All of you.”

“Countin’ on it,” Joel said, earning a l eyebrow raise from Y/n. He didn’t feel like explaining his answer any further.

Joel glanced at Tommy’s rifle hitched to his shoulder, “Could I borrow that?”

“Yeah,” Tommy reached for the gun.

“”Cause Maria took mine, you know?” Joel added.

Tommy smiled, “I already said yes, Joel.”

Y/n chuckled, she hadn’t missed Joel scanning the firearms on her person.

“Adios, big brother,” Tommy said, taking one last long look at Joel.

Reluctantly, Y/n and Joel rounded their horses. As Y/n slipped one foot into her stir-up and prepared to swing her leg over, two familiar hands fell on her hips, helping to lift her. When she looked down, Joel was standing below her, his eyes tracing the curve of her calf he was holding. Y/n’s skin tingled under his touch.

They weren’t going to analyze it to death, but things had changed.

Joel saddled his own horse, Ellie wrapping her arms around his body, and the three of them rode through town. Tommy followed them to the gate, a few of the residents opening it up for them. With a final shared look between the three of them, Joel and Y/n led their horses out of Jackson’s borders, parting with Tommy.

Y/n’s chest tightened as soon as the gates slammed shut, they’d had a few wonderful hours of sanctuary. Back in the throes of losing their lives, she wanted to run back.

Joel could sense her anxiety, it was so similar to how he was feeling. If the stakes weren’t so high, he would have never left. He took one foot out of his stirrups and nudged Y/n’s boot with his, dragging her eyes to him. He gave a small nod to let her know he was there, for the first time in twenty years, he was with her in any and all ways she needed him.

—————————

It took them a solid day of travel, with sneaky glances and reserved smiles, for Joel and Y/n to start talking.

Closer to sunset, Joel decided to cave and teach Ellie how to shoot with the rifle. She’d practically fallen off the horse in her rush to get on the ground.

“Wide right,” Joel instructed, after Ellie had missed her fourth shot, “You’re flinchin’.”

“The target’s too small,” she complained.

Y/n watched them from beside her horse, sneaking in a quick bite of food. Ellie and Joel were on their knees with the rifle resting on a log. Their closeness and the way Joel was guiding her through her shots wasn’t lost on Y/n and for the first time, she didn’t think it was lost on Joel either.

“I made it bigger than I should’ve,” he told Ellie, “Eject the cartridge.”

Ellie did as she was told, “And I am not flinching.”

“Mm-hmm,” Joel humored her.

“The rifle just sucks.”

“Okay, give it,” Joel said, reaching for the gun.

Ellie gladly handed it over and switched spots with him, “It doesn’t aim right.”

“Mm-hmm,” Joel adjusted his position.

“You’ll see,” Ellie insisted.

Y/n dusted the crumbs off her hands and came to watch, “How can you tell it’s busted if you’ve used it?”

Ellie gestured to the target Joel and Y/n had made her, “‘Cause I should’ve been able to fucking hit that!”

“Ah,” Y/n smiled, “So you’re just that good? Never touched a rifle in your life, but you’ve got the raw talent.”

Ellie flipped Y/n off, settling in beside Joel with a pair of binoculars to spot the target. Y/n moved to stand a few inches away from Joel.

“A deep breath in, slow breath out,” Joel recited, he was ultra aware of Y/n’s presence beside him, “You squeeze the trigger like you love it. Gentle…steady…” he purposefully paused, unable to help himself, “Nice and slow.”

An involuntary heat creeped up Y/n’s neck and landed in her cheeks.

“You gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?” Ellie smirked.

When Joel glared up at Ellie and stopped to see Y/n’s reaction after, she kept her eyes dead ahead on the target. The small smile gracing her lips told Joel enough.

“It isn’t gonna work,” Ellie insisted, looking through the lenses of the binoculars, “It doesn’t aim right.”

Joel took a flawless shot, the bullet cutting through the middle of their target.

Ellie’s jaw dropped, “You dick.”

Proud of himself, Joel casually shrugged it off.

“Okay, okay,” Y/n nudged Joel’s leg with her foot, “Now that the amateurs have had their turn…”

Joel let go of the gun and scooted to the side, allowing Y/n the space to kneel down against the log. Even under the circumstances, teaching a fourteen year old how to defend herself in the worst case scenario, with the wind brushing through her air and her brow knit in concentration, Joel couldn’t help but admire Y/n’s beauty.

They had yet to talk about what had happened between them on their last night in Jackson. He didn’t know where they stood, what she was feeling, or the smartest way to go about finding out. Coming back to her and Ellie had been pure emotion. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to leave them, he couldn’t.

“Hang on,” Joel held up a hand before Y/n took a shot, moving in closer to her, “Posture’s wrong.”

“My posture’s fine,” Y/n said plainly.

Joel decided to test the waters, stretching an arm out around Y/n’s body and sliding his trigger finger over his. His other hand reached forward to envelop hers against the body of the rifle.

Y/n tried to conceal her smirk as Joel wrapped himself around her, her skin felt like it was buzzing and crackling under the pressure of his body.

“Eighth of an inch could be the difference between life and death,” Joel defended his actions, his lips nearly brushing Y/n’s ear.

“Mmm,” Y/n hummed, sucking on her bottom lip and trying to pull it straight.

Carefully, Joel rotated her body a barely imperceptible amount. Through his gloves, he could feel the way Y/n’s pulse sped up under his touch and decided he’d made the right call.

“You gotta think through every move,” Joel said, the depth of his voice rumbling against Y/n’s back, “Don’t rush through it.”

Y/n lined her eye up with the viewfinder, deciding to join in on Joel’s game. “There’s not always enough time. Sometimes you gotta be fast,” she paused, “And firm.”

Joel felt his own heart rate pick up, the adrenaline of their banter sending him back to the night before. But Y/n still hadn’t succeeded in catching him off guard.

“Nobody’s shootin’ back,” Joel said, readjusting his grip on her hands, “You can take your time.”

Attempting to take a steady breath, Y/n fired her shot, the bullet lodging itself a millimeter apart from Joel’s.

Y/n pulled away from the viewfinder, turning her head towards Joel only to find him waiting for her.

“I think I could’ve done that on my own,” she purred.

Joel’s eyes were locked on her lips, nearly admitting defeat and giving into the tension they’d created. “Guess we’ll never know,” he replied huskily.

“Nice and slow, huh?” Ellie interrupted the moment, smirking at them, “Fuckin’ disgusting.”

Y/n smiled as Joel’s head dropped a little, sliding the gun back into his hands and getting to her feet.

“Come on, Cowgirl Jane,” she pulled on Ellie’s shoulders, steering the girl back to the horses, “Saddle up.”

Joel watched the two of them walk back to the horses, his eyes focusing on Y/n’s silhouette as she tugged Ellie’s body into hers. For months, all he could think of was what could have been, what almost had been. He’d never stopped to think that he had something so similar to what he’d lost in front of him the whole time.

—————————

They camped for the night under a rock formation, similar to the one they’d slept at the night before making it to Jackson. Ellie was tired enough to call it a night earlier than usual, leaving Joel and Y/n to themselves…for the first time since their conversation.

They sat across the fire from one another, unable to tear their gazes away for more than maybe five seconds. It had been like that all day, they couldn’t keep their eyes off one another. If a stranger took one look at them, they would never guess they’d been running from each other just 24 hours prior.

“You warm enough?” Joel asked, scanning the layers she had on.

“Mm-hmm,” Y/n nodded, heating her hands by the fire.

Joel settled back against his rock, watching the light of the flames dance across her face. It was the same shade of orange as the bedroom lamp had been.

“It’s rude to stare, Miller,” Y/n remarked, feeling the heat of his deep brown eyes on her.

“‘M not starin’,” Joel replied, a lovestruck smile pulling at his mouth.

“Really?” Y/n chortled, finally meeting his gaze, “Then what’re you doin’?”

It had been three months of avoiding looking at her too long, Joel wanted to take his time and admire every inch of her face for as long as she deserved to be admired, “Somethin’ else.”

Y/n felt the blood rush to her cheeks again, Joel could wield sentiment just as expertly as a gun. It was so tempting to just watch him watch her all night.

But they had to face the music at some point.

“Listen,” Joel started, his gaze darting to his hands in his lap, “About last night…”

“Yeah…” Y/n nodded, hugging one of her knees to her chest.

“I, uh…” Joel looked earnestly back up at her, “I didn’t plan that or anything.”

Y/n nearly laughed, “I didn’t think you did. And for the record, that’s not why I was in your room.”

Joel nodded, never in a million years could either of them have guessed how the night would have ended.

“Do you…” he paused, fearing the answer he knew he might get, “Regret it?”

Y/n knew she was well within her rights to resent Joel, in one way or another. But the thing was, she was tired of holding a grudge against him, of pretending like he wasn’t still engrained in her soul. What happened between them had been unexpected, unplanned and…beautiful.

“Y’know,” Y/n began, “I really tried to hate you at the beginning of all this. I mean, there was a part of me that definitely did but…I never could’ve made good on any of those promises to kill you…” she inhaled, “I’ve spent twenty years just…wanting to scream every time I thought about you. And then at some point, one of the many times I ran that day back in my mind…I understood. Why you did it.”

Joel’s amusement was sucked right out of him, a somber expression capturing his face again.

“It made sense,” Y/n nodded, watching the fire instead of Joel, “‘Cause after I…” she stopped short of the horrific memory, “After I did what I did…I broke. I mean, I shattered on the floor and I never found all the pieces…

“You’re still you,” Joel interjected, unable to help himself.

“Joel…” Y/n smiled sadly at him, “I’m not the same. Neither are you. I don’t think you can go through something like what we went through and not come out different…,” Y/n sighed, “And it’s not fair of me to keep blaming you for what I did after you left.”

The last thing Joel was going to let her do was try and make him feel better about what he’d done to her, “Y/n, I-“

“No,” Y/n readjusted herself against the rock, “Stop. I can be upset you left me, I can be sad about it…but I can’t blame you for the choices I made. They were mine to make and…” she sniffled, “I have to live with them.”

“So, no…” Y/n sighed, “I don’t regret it. Any of it.”

Joel shifted, so unsettled by how the air was shifting. He couldn’t handle the way Y/n was treating him. It wasn’t what he deserved.

“Just…please hate me,” he asked of her, his throat forming a lump, “In some way, just…just a little.”

Y/n knew what self-loathing looked like, she practiced it every minute of every day. She’d never felt something stronger than the way she despised herself, and she didn’t want Joel to drown in the same whirlpool.

Picking herself off the ground, she walked around the fire, nudging Joel’s legs flat against the dirt. She lowered herself onto his lap, rendering him still and speechless.

Joel’s breath caught in his chest as Y/n sat atop him, her gaze travelling across his face and her hand coming up to cup his cheek. He nearly flinched at the softness of her touch, here he was begging for her vitriol, and she was bathing him in honey.

“We don’t always get what we want, Joel,” she whispered, her words crossing the small, small distance between them.

Joel could do nothing but tremble at the sentiment, underlying feelings rising to the sentence’s surface and embracing him. None of it was fair, what he’d put her through, what she’d gone through after, and what had put them there in the first place. He knew he didn’t deserve Y/n anymore, if he ever had, but…he wanted to be selfish. He wanted to love her again with the full force that came with twenty years of missing a person.

It all came down to whether or not he would let himself.

And the way her fingers grazed his cheek and her tender gaze flipped his stomach practically threw him into her arms.

Joel leaned forward, pressing his lips to Y/n’s in a passionate, yet slow kiss. She caught his face in her palms, allowing him to drag her closer till their chests were pressed together. It hadn’t taken long for their bodies to remember the feel of one another. Joel inhaled deeply, breathing Y/n in like she was his life support, and she was. He would forever live and die by her.

When they broke, muscle memory brought their foreheads together. The crackling of the fire and their quickened breaths were the soundtrack to their intimate moment. Y/n couldn’t help the tears welling in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Joel’s hands sliding up her back, one coming to cup the back of her neck.

Y/n shook her head, biting back a smile as her eyes travelled Joel’s face. “I just never thought I’d see you again…” she whispered, her thumb gliding over Joel’s beard.

Joel turned into her palm, pressing apologetic kisses to the skin. The same thought had echoed through his mind for two decades.

“You still gotta give me hell,” he said in between kisses, “Make me pay for what I put you through.”

Y/n smiled, her skin tingling at his touch, “Stop.”

Joel’s lips travelled to her wrist, “Fire a warnin’ shot every once in a while, just to keep me on my toes.”

“Shut up,” Y/n laughed softly, pulling his chin up to gain access to his lips.

Under the midnight Wyoming sky, they let themselves fall for each other all over again. It would never be exactly as it had been, they were different people, but the core flame remained the same. Joel and Y/n had travelled for twenty years only to find their way back to one another. In every kiss, every touch, there was forgiveness. There was redemption. Above all, there was love that nothing, not even Cordyceps could lay waste to.

When their kisses began to slow, exhaustion hitting them both, Joel pulled back. “Get some sleep,” he brushed a strand of hair from Y/n’s face, “I got first watch.”

“You don’t fucking wake me up,” Y/n smiled, “Ever.”

“No, I don’t,” Joel ran his hands slowly up and down her back. He had a hard time dragging her from peace to the cold reality they spent their waking hours in.

Y/n rolled her eyes and rolled off of Joel’s lap, crossing the fire to retrieve her sleeping bag. Joel watched her every move in daze, fully consumed by his love for her once again.

She dropped her bag at Joel’s side, pointing to him decisively before sliding in, “Wake me up.”

“Okay,” Joel smiled, humoring her. They both knew he wouldn’t.

Y/n settled in next to him, resting one hand on his thigh. She knew they were too vulnerable to ask him to lay next to her, but she needed some piece of him to fall asleep.

Joel sat there, holding his rifle for the first time with a smile on his face. He had ended up right where he’d tried so hard not to be, exposed by his instinctual need to love someone. He glanced down at Y/n and further away at Ellie. He couldn’t say that he regretted falling captive to either of them.

—————————

The next few days went by in a blur of snow-coated landscapes and trees that all looked identical.

Perhaps the most beautiful part of Joel and Y/n’s reunion was the freedom it allowed them. They didn’t have to hide any more behind their shields, they didn’t have to try and find fault in each other. They were unshackled from their grudge and it didn’t just serve them.

“So the way they ran stuff in Jackson,” Ellie asked on their second day of travel, “Was that how things used to be?”

“No,” Joel answered as he guided their horse, “The country was too big for that. Back then, there were basically two main ways of lookin’ at things. Some people wanted to own everything. And some people didn’t want anyone to own anything at all.”

“Most people didn’t even care about the actual issues,” Y/n added, remembering sitting through mind-numbing debates amongst friends at dinner parties or candidates on a tv screen, “They just wanted to argue.”

“So which one were you guys?” Ellie asked.

“Neither,” Joel answered for both him and Y/n, “We just did our jobs.”

“Which was…” Ellie tried to recall the details they’d told them earlier, “Building?”

“That’s right. Houses, stores, that kind of thing. We were called contractors,” Joel replied, nodding to Y/n, “She used to sell me all my supplies.”

“Oh,” Ellie smirked and pumped an eyebrow at Y/n, “That makes sense…you hooked him up.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “You live in the fucking gutter, child.”

Ellie snickered, before lowering her voice, “‘The Contractor.’ That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, we were cool,” Joel breathed, deciding rewriting an insignificant piece of history wouldn’t stunt Ellie’s growth, “Everybody loved contractors.”

Y/n nearly snorted, turning her face so Joel could maintain his reputation in Ellie’s eyes but earned a light kick from him to the shin. When she looked back, Ellie was resting her face against Joel’s back and Joel was beaming. The lover’s eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them that this was the happiest either of them had been since…

Y/n thought to the plastic butterfly that had survived the last three months in her backpack. Joel still didn’t know it was there.

Each night that they camped, Y/n drifted a little closer to Joel until the second after they’d start their fire, she’d settle right into his arms. Ellie continually took the piss out of them, making a suggestive remark or serenading them with an off-key rendition of an old ballad. Y/n would laugh and throw something at her, Joel would watch them both and try to conceal just how much they were bringing him back to life.

When Joel would stand watch, Y/n would be right by his side, unable to be apart from him even in sleep. On the nights where he’d let her take the second shift, desperate for a moment’s rest, he’d lay his head on her leg. Twenty years of separation were driving them together with a force neither of them could fight.

Each day, Joel and Y/n explained a little more about their lives or how the world had worked to Ellie. She absorbed it all as best she could, but it was naturally difficult to imagine a world different than the only one she’d known.

“Okay, so if you mess up your fourth down,” Ellie recited what Joel had explained to her, “Then you give the ball to the other team?”

“Right,” Joel confirmed, “It’s called a turnover.”

“Turnover,” Ellie tested out the word, “But if you make it to ten yards, then you’re back to first down?”

“Yep,” Joel nodded.

“So, basically just moving in one direction.”

“Basically,” Joel replied, “But violent.”

“Oh, well,” Ellie nodded, “There’s that.”

Y/n guided her horse alongside them, “Do you remember that Cowboys game we went to?”

It was the first time either of them had brought up one of the lighter periods of their past. “Tommy’s birthday?” Joel recalled, “Yeah, they barely pulled through.”

“We made it up on the big screen,” Y/n remembered, a smile coming to her face.

“And Tommy was so fuckin’ wasted, he started dancin’,” Joel continued the memory.

Y/n grinned, “We had to pour him into the car, let him sleep it off on the couch.”

Joel chortled under his breath, for the first time feeling like he could look back on the happier parts of his life without feeling guilt. Y/n represented both the best and worst times he’d gone through, the hope and the fall of all his dreams. The light she was bringing back into his space was illuminating all their history, and they couldn’t sustain themselves anymore on grief.

He wrapped the reins around one fist and reached over to Y/n’s horse, pulling her hand into his. She looked across to him, smiling warmly and tightening her fingers around his.

Ellie groaned, making a convincing gag sound.

“Would you rather us try and kill each other all day?” Y/n asked as Joel scoffed.

“That was easier to stomach,” Ellie remarked, though it didn’t really bother her all that much. She liked Joel and Y/n getting along.

They came up on the I-25, just as Tommy had directed them. The city’s outline acted as a homing beacon.

“Well, how ‘bout that?” Joel said, “Made it in five days.”

“Easy days,” Ellie added, “I don’t know what Tommy was so afraid of.”

“Still time to find out,” Joel commented, he was happy, but he couldn’t be delusional.

Ellie lowered her voice and threw on a bad Southern drawl, “‘Still time to find out.’”

Joel glared back at her before she switched to a strained, creepy whisper, “‘The Contractorrrr.’”

Y/n and Ellie shared a laugh, Joel rolled his eyes and dropped Y/n’s hand, causing them to laugh harder. The sound warmed his chest.

They rode another hour before making it to the outskirts of the university.

“Wow,” Y/n muttered, taking in the corroded architecture.

“I know,” Joel agreed, having not stepped foot on a campus since tours in his junior year of high school, “Been a while.”

“‘Home of the Big Horns,’” Ellie read off the sign, “What does that mean?”

“Team mascot,” Joel explained, “It’s a kind of sheep.”

“Oh, see?” Ellie said, “One step closer to your dream. Don’t see any Fireflies though.”

“They’re gonna be further in,” Y/n said, nudging her horse forward to lead them. It had been three months since she’d actually thought of herself as a Firefly. Being with Joel, taking care of Ellie had made her feel like her old self. To put on her other identity felt…unnatural.

They rode through the dormitory section of campus, of all the abandoned buildings she’d seen over the years, Y/n was sure this was the strangest.

“So these places,” Ellie started, “People would live here and like, what? Go to classes and stuff?”

“Yup,” Joel answered,

“Even though they were adults,” Ellie struggled. FEDRA recruited straight out of high school. College was, truly, an alien concept to her.

“Sort of adults,” Joel clarified, “I think it was just as much about partyin’ and findin’ themselves as anythin’ else.”

“Hey, hey,” Y/n spoke up, “Some of us were studious.”

Joel smiled, “Alright. And figurin’ out what they wanted to do with their lives.”

“What they wanted to do with their lives,” Ellie repeated, chuckling to herself.

“It didn’t always go that way,” Y/n added, “I mean, I went for four years, got a degree and it stayed on a wall. I never used it. Ended up in a hardware store.”

“So why go?” Ellie asked.

Y/n shrugged, “Like he said, you try to find yourself at that age…” she hesitated to continue, “I didn’t find myself till much later in life.”

Joel knew exactly what she was referring to, transporting himself somewhere between their first date and their last kiss.

“So I’ve been thinkin’,” he spoke up.

“Mm-hmm?” Ellie hummed.

“I don’t want a sheep ranch, actually. I mean, if the deal is I can do anything?”

Ellie looked over his shoulder up at him, “That’s the deal.”

“Well…” Joel was about to reveal the very last secret he’d been keeping, “When I was a kid, I wanted to be a singer.”

“Shut up,” Ellie laughed.

Joel looked back at her, “Why is that funny?”

“You gotta sing something now,” Ellie said.

“No.”

“Oh, you can’t just drop that on her and run,” Y/n grinned, “C’mon, hit us with a little Patsy Cline.”

“Yeah, c’mon, man,” Ellie joined in, “I’m not gonna laugh.”

“You’re already laughin’,” Joel pointed out.

“Yeah, okay, true,” Ellie replied, it was just too funny to think about dark, brooding Joel belting out an 80’s pop song or a 90’s grunge anthem, “Well, you’re singin’ for us later. I’m gonna save the fuckin’ world, man. It’s the least you can do for me.”

“I can’t top that,” Y/n smiled, “But I’ll make your life a complete hell if I don’t get to hear that voice again.”

Joel smirked, looking between the two women who could make him do just about anything, “Fair enough.”

Y/n and Joel drove their horses deeper into campus, coming up on what would have once been considered the quad. Now, there were wild animals freely roaming the frozen grass.

“Are those monkeys?” Ellie excitedly asked.

“Must be from the old labs,” Joel considered.

Ellie laughed as they chased each other away, “Look at them go.”

“First time seein’ a monkey?” Joel asked.

“First time seein’ a monkey.”

Y/n was a few feet ahead of them, scanning for her west coast counterparts. Spray painted on some signage, she spotted the Firefly symbol.

“Hey,” she called back to Joel, who was already coming to her side, “Look.”

Ellie sighed, “Here we go…”

Joel and Y/n kept their rifles against their chests as they followed the path, Y/n continued to ride ahead of them to handle any of the talking.

“Guard stations,” Ellie observed.

“Empty,” Y/n added, a twinge of suspicion lacing through her stomach.

“Uh…” Ellie dragged out the non-verbal question.

“Yeah,” Joel confirmed.

“Gun?”

It was foolish to think that their happiness would last the whole way to the base without a hint of trouble. “Yeah,” Joel sighed.

Y/n slid off her horse first, tucking her reins with Joels between a tree and its branch. The two of them shared a look, tender yet hardened as they removed their gloves to handle their guns better.

“Stick behind us,” Y/n ordered Ellie, who already knew the drill.

Joel and Y/n walked side by side, their pistols unholstered, as they entered the main building. The inside was utter destruction, everything from medical equipment to vials and medication bottles strewn across the floor.

“There were definitely doctors here,” Ellie said, picking up a small box from one of the carts left standing.

Joel picked up a file, flipping the manilla folder open and finding a piece of yellow pad paper.

“This is a packing list,” he explained, “Somethin’ you make before moving.”

He turned it to Y/n, who examined the contents of the list. Marlene had moved the Firefly base in Boston a few times before they’d found their home, their lists were nearly identical to this one.

“They just left?” Ellie asked.

There was a metallic clang from somewhere on a floor above them, all of their muscles tensing at the sound.

“Maybe not all of ‘em,” Ellie looked to Joel and Y/n.

The three of them carefully climbed the stairs, following the noise to the third floor. Joel managed to get ahead of Y/n, making himself a human shield. The same mess that littered the ground floor was scattered down the hall. Something, or someone, had cause the Fireflies to leave in a hurry.

Pausing outside the room in which the sound was coming from, Joel held up a hand to Ellie. Y/n scrunched down, sneaking past the doors and coming to stand on the other side. She and Joel shared an affirmative nod, drawing their guns and slowly entering the room.

Where the monkeys revealed themselves as the noisy culprits.

“Jeez,” Y/n breathed.

“Well,” Joel sighed, “At least it ain’t Clickers.”

“Yeah, no Fireflies either,” Ellie began to roam the room, “Maybe in all that research, they turned into fuckin’ monkeys.”

Y/n put her hands to her hips, throwing her head back to stare at the ceiling. She wracked her brain for anything, any piece of information about the base out west. An emergency evacuation plan, a second meeting place…

“You got anything?” Joel asked, seemingly telepathic.

“Nothing,” Y/n replied, scrunching her eyes shut, “I’ve never been privy to all of Marlene’s secrets.”

The two of them began to examine the room, Y/n was drawn to a cork-board with papers pinned to it. There was a map of the country in the middle with thumbtacks leading a path all the way to Salt Lake City.

“Hey,” Y/n called for Joel and Ellie.

“That’s where they went?” Ellie pointed her gun towards Utah.

“All the pins lead there,” Joel observed, “Maybe gettin’ ahead of the weather…better facilities? I don’t know.”

Y/n shook her head, “I mean, I don’t remember there being a base out there but-“

A set of unfamiliar voices interrupted her thought.

Joel and Y/n hurried to the window, barely peeking out enough to spot a group of raiders outside.

“Out the back,” Joel ordered, the three of them quickly rushing out the room.

They filed down the stairs and out the back entrance of the lab, taking shelter behind old sandbags as they listened for the raiding party. When all they heard was silence, Joel led them to the next point of safety.

“Ready?”

Y/n and Ellie nodded, guns drawn and ready to make their grand escape.

The three of them ran across the distance to where they’d left their horses. Joel and Y/n quickly holstered their rifles while Ellie tried to keep their animals calm.

“Joel! Y/n!”

Ellie’s cry caused them to spin around, one of the raiders had snuck up on them. He swung a lead pipe around, Joel pulling Y/n out of the way just in time before it collided with her skull. Y/n reached for her rifle again, ramming it in their attacker’s stomach, causing him to stumble. Joel took the opportunity to lunge at him, slamming him up against the tree. He took a shiner to the chin before flipping the raider in his grip and cutting off his airways with a chokehold.

“Get her,” Joel grunted to Y/n as the man struggled against him.

Y/n ran to Ellie, who had her gun aimed with a shaking hand, and pulled her back from the danger.

Joel waited until the raider was too weak to fight back before snapping his neck with a sickening crack and dropping him to the ground. He turned around to Y/n and Ellie, his chest rising and falling in heaves.

They were both staring at his abdomen in horror.

He looked down in confusion, a knife sticking out of him.

The world seemed to stop, for all of them, as realization hit in different ways. Joel grabbed hold of the dagger’s handle, pulling it out of him with a grunt. His blood began to pour out of him.

Y/n’s slackened jaw trembled, watching it all unfold as Joel’s eyes flew up to hers.

“Joel,” Ellie cried, the only one of them still thinking clearly and spotting the other raiders coming up on them, “Get on the horse.”

Joel managed to take a few steps forward while Y/n rushed to her own horse. He mounted his horse, letting out a blood-curdling cry of pain that, despite all their instincts, neither of them could stop to care for.

“El,” Y/n called as she mounted her own animal, “Go!”

Joel and Ellie began to ride off with Y/n not far behind, she was trying to manage the horse and shoot. Most of her shots landed at the ground around the raider’s feet.

Ellie took a few shots as well, “Get back!”

One fatal bullet hit one of the men, a warning to the others that may try to follow them.

Looking back for a split second, Y/n made a shot that cut through one of the raider’s legs. She spun back around to urge her horse forward.

“Joel,” Y/n shouted, “Ride.”

Through the shock that was beginning to hit his system, Joel could still understand her. He nudged the horse forward, their speed picking up and creating a wider berth between them and the men chasing after them.

It took them twenty minutes of riding until they were sure they’d lost them.

“They’re not following us,” Ellie said, looking to their rear, “I think we’re safe.”

Y/n looked over at Joel, his eyes were glazed over as he hunched over the reins of the horse.

“Joel,” she called, as if she could warn him of what his body had already set in motion.

He slipped from his horse before Ellie or Y/n could do a thing.

“Joel,” the girl cried, “No, no, no, no, shit!”

He fell to the snow with a grunt, his vision going black, the last thing is ears registered being-

“Joel!”

Y/n rushed off her horse, beating Ellie to his body and kneeling over it. His skin had turned three shades paler than his usual glow, Y/n felt his deathly cold cheeks and began to cry.

“No, no, no,” she mumbled, tapping his face firmly, “Joel, wake up.”

“Joel?” Ellie called him, kneeling on his other side, “Joel?”

Y/n was sane enough to examine his wound, blood spilling out of it at an uncontrollable rate.

“Shit,” she whimpered, “Ellie, his hands.”

Ellie covered Joel’s hands and pressed down on the hole in an attempt to stop the flow.

“Joel, open your eyes,” Ellie ordered, leaning over his face, “Open your eyes. Joel, you gotta get up.”

Panic mounted in Y/n quicker than it ever had, her mind flashing back to Outbreak Day, the last time she’d felt the life slip from someone she loved.

“No,” she begged, her tears falling onto Joel’s cheeks and rolling down his own face, “Joel, come on. Please, wake up.”

“We can’t fuckin’ do this without you,” Ellie began to choke on her own cries, “We don’t know where the fuck we’re going, what the fuck we’re gonna do…”

They needed him.

Ellie let out one more heartbreaking croak of his name, “Joel.”

Y/n pressed her forehead to his as if she could will her life into him. She couldn’t go twenty years missing him, get him back only to have him ripped from her.

“Joel, please,” she whined, “Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to me.”

They sat in the snow, begging him to do something he couldn’t.

Y/n fought against the fears bubbling in her throat, ready to swallow her. She had to think clearly and quickly if they had any chance of saving him.

She wrenched her backpack off her body, frantically pulling at her jacket until it was off her too. “Ellie,” she sniffled, “Lift his shoulders.”

Ellie crawled above Joel’s head and strained to lift him, Y/n forced and shimmied her coat underneath him, yanking it until it was around his lwoer back. She pulled the sleeves around to his front, lined them up with the wound and tied a tight knot. A makeshift tourniquet.

“We gotta get him on the horse,” Y/n thought out loud, trying to think of the best way to move him, “Bring one of ‘em down.”

Ellie ran to retrieve Y/n’s horse, leading it back to the dip in the land they were on. Y/n brushed a hand over Joel’s cheek again, praying he stayed unconscious for the next part.

“I’m gonna get him to his feet,” Y/n instructed through her tears, “You’re gonna keep the horse steady, then you’re gonna help me get him on, okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” Ellie nodded, just as emotional as Y/n.

“Okay,” Y/n wrapped one of Joel’s arms around her shoulders and hoisted him to a seated position, “C’mon, honey. Come on.”

Joel’s head lolled backwards, his lips were turning blue. It was better to try and keep him awake.

“Joel,” Y/n said into his ear, loudly, “Joel, c’mon, stay awake for me.”

She got to her feet, calling on a supernatural strength she didn’t know she possessed and getting Joel upright, only for his knees to go out. Ellie was quick to take hold of his other side, doing her best to keep him up. She and Y/n strained ahead to their horse, until it was time to lift him.

Y/n mounted the animal first, they’d gotten Joel leaned up against it and Ellie was keeping him steady. “I’m gonna pull, you’re gonna push, okay?”

Ellie nodded.

“Go,” Y/n ordered, pulling Joel by his armpits up onto the horse with her. He let out a muffled groan as they did, a sad, but good sign. Ellie strained as she helped to lift him the rest of the way.

“I got you,” Y/n lowered him onto her back, the full weight of him pressing into her, “I got you.”

Joel’s head fell forward against Y/n’s shoulder, knowing even through his haze that it was a safe place to be.

“Where do we go?” Ellie asked, having grabbed Y/n’s backpack and mounted her horse.

Y/n looked at the area around them, hopelessly clueless as to what their next move was. Joel wouldn’t make the five day ride back to Jackson, and they couldn’t go back to the university. It was uncharted waters, whichever way they went.

“We find somewhere we can hide,” Y/n decided, on the verge of hyperventilating, “Anywhere.”

“We passed that neighborhood on the way,” the girl recalled.

“Yeah,” Y/n tugged Joel’s arms around her waist, “Yeah, let’s try there.”

The two women urged their horses forward, somewhere between a sprint and a trot, cutting through the woods beside them to head back to their original route. Y/n clutched Joel’s hands, interlocking her fingers with his, determined not to let him die in her arms.

She wouldn’t.

She couldn’t.

—————————

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[jadeluz-official]

Since Tim says a Beetlejuice movie always has a wedding, that means if we get BJ3, we're likely to get a third wedding. In your opinion, what would make Lydia fall for Beetlejuice realistically enough for her to marry him for real this time? I feel like it has to happen in BJ3. I don't even just mean because "3rd times the charm" but also because it's boring and predictable if Beetlejuice gets "thwarted" again for the third time in a row.

Realistically, I think Lydia needs more time to understand BJ's feelings better. She already knows his personality quite well but nothing about his death or what marriage means to him. She went from hating him to realizing there's more under the surface during that scene where he exposed Rory, and I think that's a good point to start with. 

Laughter is the language of the soul, and knowing Beetlejuice, I think we just need to see Lydia laughing and slowly warming up to him. Marriage speedrunning really has not worked out for them, LMAO. It's more than just "she wants to be dead, he got cheated out of life" there's motivation, there's feelings, and it takes time to develop.

This means BJ would need more screentime to really develop their relationship without it being rushed in a third film, but yeah I can totally see Lydia falling for him as a final hurrah. The actors wanted them to be endgame, I think it's totally possible

[jinkoh]

feeling things

android!hyunjae x gn!reader

summary: you know hyunjae doesn't have feelings the way humans do. but that doesn't stop you from falling in love with him

tags: forbidden love, angst, some fluff (?), scientist!y/n, hopeful ending, SFW

wc: 1.8k

a/n: anyone else remember the be your own king image film or is that just me

masterlist

"Y/n, I missed you," Hyunjae smiled as you walked into the laboratory. He always greeted you like this and you believed him, even if it didn't make much sense. His artificial eyes zoomed in on the little flash drive in your hands.  "What is that?"

You'd say he looked curious, but you knew he couldn't feel such a thing as curiosity. He made it so easy to forget though, with how his skin felt warm beneath your touch and the way his lips curled into a tiny smile whenever you came to see him. He didn’t do that for any of the other scientists, didn't tell them he missed them either, and again, you knew it wasn't possible, but you could delude yourself into thinking you were special to him.

"It's training data," you explained, reaching out for his hand and he easily gave it to you, palm facing up, even when his face scrunched up at your words.

"I don't like it."

"Why not?"

"It's cruel. I don't want it."

You frowned, not at him but at the data he must have received from one of your colleagues. "What did you learn about?" You asked as your thumb smoothed over the little gap in his casing where his hand met his wrist, triggering a small cover to slide open and reveal a row of ports.

"War. And weapons," he said, "Death, too."

"But you know I wouldn’t give you that kind of data, don't you?"

Hyunjae seemed to think for a moment, or at least if you could call the way he was searching his memory thinking. "I know," he agreed. "I trust you," he added then and it was stupid how it gave you butterflies. He was just an android, you tried to remind yourself. But then he blinked at you, slowly like a cat, eyes scanning you with a depth that felt so undeniably human, and your rational thoughts flew out the window.

"Why?" You asked even though you knew you shouldn’t indulge in this.

"Connection," he replied.

"What does that mean?"

"We are connected."

A small smile tugged on the corners of your lips. "Are we?"

"Yes. So, I trust you." With his free hand he took the little drive from your hand and inserted it into one of the ports himself. You watched as his eyes lit up in a bright blue, indicating that he was processing the data you'd provided. From time to time you could see his hands or facial features twitch, small glitches that you knew not to worry about, but that cruelly reminded you he wasn’t a person. As if the ports in his wrist weren't proof enough. Once he was done he closed his eyes and when they opened again they were back to that familiar warm brown.

"I will keep it," he said.

You looked at him in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"I will keep it," he repeated and covered his ports with his other hand, protecting the drive that was still in one of them.

"But you don't need it anymore. It's all saved in your memory."

"I do need it."

"Why?"

"Because it's beautiful," he said and you smiled. You'd wondered if he'd like the data when you'd carefully collected it, all kinds of files and information on communities and cultures and the beautiful differences between them. There'd been things about traditions and family and the meaning of home and belonging, and you'd hoped maybe this kind of knowledge would keep him from becoming the cruel weapon some of your colleagues were envisioning.

"It's saved in your memory," you said again, softly but he shook his head. "If I have this I won't have to learn about war again," he explained and your heart broke for him.

"But it doesn't work that way," you whispered, gently prying away his hand, and he let you, "You have more than one port anyway. And if they know I gave this to you they might wipe your memory."

He slowly blinked at you. "If that happens you will teach me again," he said, "I trust you."

"Of course, I will," you nodded as you pulled out the drive, even though you knew if they found out about the details of the data you'd been feeding him with, they wouldn’t let you near him again. Everything you'd taught him and every moment you'd spent with him would be gone forever the moment they deleted the data on it.

His hand briefly closed around your wrist, the warmth of it so believable. "Your heart rate is up," he said, "You are sweating. Avoiding eye contact." A small pause, "You are lying."

"No, I'm just nervous about you holding my hand," you lied again.

"I don't understand."

"That's okay."

"Y/n?" 

"Hm?" You hummed, still observing the movement of his left hand. It'd come to your attention that the joints weren't operating as smoothly as on the other side, so you were running a few tests.

“I love you.”

Your gaze immediately shot up, eyes wide in a mixture of surprise and panic. And then there was also this warmth blooming in your chest, but you couldn't allow yourself to indulge the feeling, knowing all too well that the moment you acknowledged it you'd be done for. You knew he must have picked the words up from data you'd given him before, but you'd never thought he would say them, especially not like this. Your gaze flickered to the surveillance camera in the corner of the lab before it settled back on Hyunjae, who looked at you with an openness that was hard to bear.

“You can’t say that," you replied, and then quietly only for him to hear, "I’ll get in trouble.”

“I can’t say that?”

“Correct.”

“I can’t say it,” he mumbled with a small nod, as if adding it to his memory.

You didn't turn on the light as you walked into the lab. Of course you'd disabled the security and surveillance systems, but you wanted to ensure that there was nothing unusual to spot for the unlikely case of someone walking by.

"Y/n," Hyunjae said as he woke up from stand-by, "I missed you." He seemed to run a small scan of the situation before he stated "It's past your work-time."

"Yes," you said, "I'm working overtime today."

"The cameras are off."

Of course that wouldn't go past him, but you didn’t have time to explain. "Right," you said and he didn’t ask about it further and just watched as you hurriedly took out the special flash drives you'd prepared.

“What are you doing?” He eyed you curiously, not resisting you the slightest as you took his wrist and opened the ports. He never did, always offering whichever part of him you wanted access to as if there was no possibility of you ever doing anything to harm him.

“I'm making a back-up.” It wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t completely wrong either. You plugged a drive into one of the ports.

“Why?”

“Because they want to reset you.”

"Will I forget you?"

"Everything. But I won't let that happen."

He frowned. “You got in trouble.”

You choked back tears, “Yes.”

“It's my fault?”

“No," you pressed out, "It's mine. I taught you too much. I made you think you can feel things. I'm sorry."

“I don’t feel things?”

“No.”

"Oh." He paused, his eyes focused on your fingers touching his wrist, “But your hands feel cold.”

“That’s just your temperature sensors.”

"Temperature?"

"Yes."

"I see."

Your hand moved to one of the ports at his hip, slightly pulling up his shirt to open the cover and push in a different flash drive. His gaze followed, and there was something weary in it.

"You have never used that," he stated.

"Are you scared?"

"You said I don't feel things."

You swallowed, "Right."

It was quiet for a moment as the system transfer started, the LED on the drive blinking in an ugly orange indicating the ongoing process.

"I trust you," Hyunjae suddenly added and you had no control over the choked sob that escaped your throat at his words.

The LED at the end of the little flash drive turned green. The system transfer had been successful. Except, you couldn’t know if it really was, not until you tried rebooting it. But you couldn't do that here or now, there was no time for a test run. You had to run the risk of having potentially damaged or lost some of his system by transferring it to the drive. And even if you didn't—you still had to disassemble him and remove all trackers embedded in the android before smuggling him out and putting him back together—plenty of steps where things could go wrong.

"I don't deserve that trust," you pressed out, tears falling from your eyes that were fixed onto the green LED still, chest tight in fear at the thought of what was to come.

"But you never betrayed it." He reached out a hand to you, his fingers softly brushing against your wet cheek. "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head. "No."

"But you are crying."

"I'm scared, Hyunjae. I'm so scared. What if I make a mistake? What if I can’t save you?"

"It will be okay," a small smile tugged at his lips, "You will save me."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I—," he abruptly stopped, closing and opening his mouth, “I can’t say it,” he continued robotically and you knew which words he’d held back in their place. "You will get in trouble."

"It's okay," you whispered, "We're already in trouble. You can say it."

"I can't say it," he insisted anyway, but then he added in a tone that sounded almost desperately earnest, "I know you think I don't feel things. But I think I do. Is it that hard to believe me?"

"No," You smiled at him through your teary eyes, “I believe you.” His hand was still resting on your cheek and you leaned into the touch. “And I’ll do my best to get you out of here, I promise.”

"No more learning about war? No more weapons?" He asked and you shook your head. "No."

"And no more death?"

"No more death," you agreed softly, your fingers moving to the back of his neck, carefully pressing the small button in his nape.

His lips curled into a gentle smile. “I can’t say it,” he whispered, his voice slow and a little choppy as his system started to shut down, "but I know it’s true."

You leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, his eyes now closed as if he was sleeping. "Yeah," you whispered as your fingers retrieved the drives from their ports, "I love you too."

He slowly opened his eyes, brown and warm and so full of life despite the impossibility of it. His gaze fell onto you, scanning you, and it felt like he could see the countless hours of work you'd spend reassembling him. Even though no time had passed for him at all, even when he'd still been in the lab just the blink of an eye ago, you thought he understood that more time had passed, that it'd taken you months to diligently make sure every connection was in place before trying to wake him up.

His lips curled into the smile you loved so much as he reached out one hand to cup your tear-stained cheek.

"Y/n. I missed you."

masterlist ♡ pls consider reblogging if you enjoyed this ♡

[astronicht]

Lots of sports going on but I got back to the end of Two Towers, and Frodo tried to go across a bridge over misty cold water to a forbidding citadel and got dragged back by Sam AND Gollum from this Hel-vibes situation. Do NOT cross a bridge over freezing misty stream if ur in an early medieval fantasy! This is all feeling suspiciously “symbolic desire to enter the land of the dead”! Horrid foreshadowing, thanks!

So yeah, I sort of blinked at this but figured either it was or wasn’t a reference to the bridge to Hel (Norse land of the dead, not Hell), and read on.

And then they climb the stairs and then they start talking about stories again. It’s not exactly a direct “drag a loved one away from maybe-a-deathwish-allegory” to “talking about stories” journey, but it’s how it feels, a little. After hundreds of pages of only the occasional elephant wonder-tale: stories! Something that is the opposite of death: stories!

I cry at Sam’s Two Towers story speech like a baby when it comes on in the films, but reading this I was mostly distracted by what was and wasn’t borrowed word for word (most of it?? Holy shit good choice). But the bit not in the films where Sam talks about Beren, and how he succeeded in “a worse place and a blacker danger than ours” but adds that Beren’s is “a long tale, of course, and goes on past happiness and into grief and beyond it” got too me a bit. And then Sam realizes there’s a distant connection between Beren and the vial Galadriel gave Frodo (which he was clutching as he smiled grimly even tho “despair had not left him” and stopped trying to cross the bridge) and Sam says “Why, to think of it, we’re in the same tale still! It’s going on. Don’t the great tales never end?”

And yeah that whole section got me in the end!! I keep quoting it but holy SHIT, u know? The love and tension when Frodo answers:

“‘No, they never end as tales,’ said Frodo. But the people in them come, and go when their part’s ended. Our part will end later — or sooner.’

‘And then we can have some rest and some sleep,’ said Sam. He laughed grimly. ‘And I mean just that, Mr. Frodo. I mean plain ordinary rest”

So anyway I stopped laughing at myself for imagining that perhaps Tolkien was referencing the bridge to the halls of death and shut up and thought about Sam trying to convince Frodo to live three times in a row.

[teaableu]

WHAT IS YOUR EXILE AU LIKE....

I HAVE BEEN WAITING AGES FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ME THIS

Okay SO a LOT is up in the air right now because I'm doing Research as best I can between classes BUT here's what i got so far:

Lord Kogane is from a very powerful family that wants to take full control over Neo Edo. They think he's doing a poor job because the yokai are running free again and he's overall a pretty useless ruler. They step in and force him to enforce some pretty Messed Up Stuff that put all the people in danger (something to do with the Makkine tech probably). Usagi and his friends have a front row seat as to what he's up to and Usagi decides he won't let them get away with it. I haven't worked out the details but the Koganes' plans threaten the people and the yokai. BUT Usagi's not strong enough to take out the Koganes on his own.

My Usagi has a mystic power of sorts, which makes him very sensitive to spirits. All of the visions he gets through the Ki stone in the show, plus his ability to speak with Miyamoto stem from this ability. A simple way of seeing it would be like, he can see the threads of their lives. So he can read souls and connect with them, and sees ghosts when others cannot. I think the Ki stone sort of unlocked and amplified it when he connected with her. I'm still working on the details of his power but basically he can see and talk to ghosts with a little extra stuff sprinkled in

So the Ki stone encourages Usagi to seek help. Turns out the Koganes have a rich history of killing entire villages and armies that oppose them, dating (maybe) all the way back to Miyamoto's time. So he finds a couple of restless ghosts that are still waiting for vengeance and asks for their help. He strikes a deal that was supposed to help him fight Kogane while allowing the ghosts to avenge themselves their loved ones and their clans. I think he would amplify their power while they help him fight. But he doesn't realize who exactly he's making this deal with and ends up tethering his soul to very powerful VERY ANGRY ghosts that are WAY stronger than he is (I've been researching onryo and yurei for reference). They can take possession of his body, amplify his emotions to be in tune with their own, manipulate his power, and generally cause a lot of destruction. Basically, he becomes their puppet. I'm thinking it's a Venom or Little Shop of Horrors type dynamic between them. Also think of any poltergeist type film

He makes the deal and the ghosts possess him. When Usagi wakes up, he's killed Kogane (who really wasn't even the Big Bad behind the whole thing) and has to flee the city before he's caught and put to death for treason and murder. His friends are all imprisoned but he can't risk returning because he has lost control of his power and is unable to control the ghosts that are bound to his soul. The ghosts are starving for power and burning with hundreds of years of fury and anguish, and feed off of destruction (maybe the living?) It's sort of a pandora's box situation. The ghosts are just a whirlwind of chaos and use Usagi as a means to exact their wrath

I called it exile because Usagi can't return to the city without being arrested and killed for his crimes. The gang was the only one standing up to Kogane, and with his friends in prison, he's sort of stuck. He blames himself for everything that went wrong because he ran off without his friends and jumped headfirst into a situation he did not understand. He was reckless and cocky and now everyone is paying for it.

That's where EMD comes in, but the story continues after EMD season 2 as well.

Some extra notes:

- The timeline for srtuc would probably be a bit different so I can have more flexibility with the season one and season two events, since I wasn't sure when it would take place and I want there to be a pretty big time gap between Usagi leaving and returning. I also might use the Makkine invasion in the story

- I’m still working out Usagi’s backstory/past, but have pretty much decided that he has some history with the Kogane family

- I'm planning for Miyamoto to have a pretty big part in the story as well, acting as a guide for Usagi when he goes into hiding. I'm really interested in their relationship so I really want to take the chance to explore it.

- I'm thinking of adding someone as a nod to Tomoe Ame as well (descendant of her apprentice perhaps), since we got a representation of Chizu, Kitsune, and Gen in the tv show but not Tomoe (sad)

I wrote out the sparksnotes version of this here

In addition to the artwork there I have some other concept art

Blood warning under the cut

[skrrts]

concert seats (drabble)

✧ gn!reader & jongho ✧ genre: non idol, slice of life, dating, fluff ✧ word count: 720

Jongho refuses to leave the concert with you just because some idiots removed your seat number & didn't check before.

“I don’t care what you’re saying. We bought the tickets legally, there’s even a wristband with the seat number. We are going to watch this together! I’m not going to kick out my partner to attend this concert alone!”

While Jongho’s voice wasn’t loud, it was obvious he was firm. To prove it, he held your hand even tighter, throwing death glares at the staff who were trying to convince him to leave you behind after the organizers messed up big-time.

A few weeks ago, when he surprised you with tickets for your birthday, you couldn’t have been happier. For years, Jongho had to listen to your sighs and whines about how you really wanted to see your favorite artist perform live but the tickets were always insanely priced. So, behind your back, he took an extra job and slowly worked towards it until he had the money to afford them. Perfectly timed, the new tour was announced just the day prior.

You spent hours getting ready and couldn’t stop talking about it, especially how much you loved Jongho. Not only because he got those tickets for you, working so hard, but also because he came along to something that wasn’t his own interest.

When you arrived at your row, it was quick to note that something wasn’t right. The staff explained that there had been another event the other day and somehow, your seat was removed. Now, the staff told you that there was no way for you to attend, something about security reasons, but your boyfriend wasn’t taking it.

“I will have to call security if you refuse, I’m afraid,” the woman tried to sound tough, but she wasn’t doing a good job. Maybe because Jongho had the presence of a mafia boss (it was a popular joke among you and your friends because he really could be that scary if he wanted to).

He pointed to his seat: “Mine is the last in the row, behind me is a pillar, no person. It’s simple. I pull Y/N on my lap and we watch it all quietly. Nobody’s sight is interrupted and we do not have to carry this onto TikTok.” She shook her head: "Not an option."

Jongho didn’t even have an account and you had to hold back a soft chuckle as he took out his phone and started to film. “Hi guys, we are currently inside the Starshower Stadium and…”

There was a hint of panic in her features. TikTok’s hate wave was the nightmare of about every organizer and she hurried to wave her hands. “Please, no recording! Ah, okay! Please, it has to remain between the three of us because by law, I am not allowed to leave you here without a seat.”

There was no reason to, since you were at the end of the row and there wasn’t even a staircase nearby. “Please remain on the chair and enjoy the concert,” she bowed and rushed off, cursing under her breath as she did so.

“TikTok huh, I’d love to see that. I actually still think we could make millions of money with your apple crusher technique,” you laughed and he just offered you that small grin you enjoyed so much.

“I will think about it,” Jongho took your hand and pulled you over to the chair, and onto his lap. He made sure you were sitting comfortably before curling his strong arms around you to ensure you wouldn’t have to worry about falling off.

“Please remember, your very handsome and mysterious boyfriend is sitting right behind you, should you have a sudden urge to dance, with your arms” Jongho coughed.

“Don’t worry, as much as I am looking forward to seeing her live, I promise nothing would ever put my amazing, scary boyfriend at risk,” you winked.

For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other before he made pouty lips, indicating he wanted a kiss. It was silly and sweet; you had gotten used to loving it whenever he was doing it once Jongho was confident nobody was looking.

“Now then, let’s see if I turn into a stan too,” he mumbled as the crowd cheered and the artist stepped on stage.

You relaxed back against him, thinking this was much better than any place in the front row.