#Why do you think Ice’s eyes are covered as a grown up but not as a teen?

[torchflies]

“Tears over a tin box, Oh, Jesus Christ, he wasn't to know… Like a chicken with a fox, He couldn't win the war with ego. Give the kid the pick of pips… And give him all your stripes and ribbons. Now he's sitting in his hole, He might as well have buttons and bows.”

— Kate Bush, Army Dreamers

[puckinghischier]

Falling

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader gets hurt and nico is worried about her

notes: y’all i ain’t gonna lie, i went through a bit of a rollercoaster while writing this. i loved it at first, then halfway through started hating it, then somehow started loving it again towards the end. so if it seems a little all over place i’m sorry. also i know very little about how a dislocated shoulder works, so just pretended i didn’t if i got anything wrong. i hope y’all enjoy it!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “A hears that B got hurt and rushes over in a panic to see if they are okay” where reader maybe gets in an accident or gets hurt in their sport (nothing major). Bonus points if you add “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.”

[4.5k]

part 2

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Nothing’s broken, just a nasty dislocation,” you attempt to calm your mother’s nerves, trying to unlock your apartment door with your good arm while balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. “They reset it for me and told me to follow up with my primary care on Monday. Gave me some pain meds and sent me on my way.”

“Well, what about until then? What if you need help? What about work? How will you drive?” she rapid fires questions at you.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Since it was a work-related injury, I’ll still get paid. And they’re paying all of the medical bills, so that’s all taken care of,” you make your way into your apartment, shutting the door with your foot behind you. “Everything else I’ll handle as it comes.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, tsking into her phone, making you picture her trademark displeased headshake.

“What about Nico? Why don’t you stay with him until you’re back to 100%? I’m sure he’d be willing to help out,” she suggests, her tone switching from worried to suggestive.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.

“Mom, how many times do I have to tell you, Nico and I are just friends. We work together. Just because you think you saw him look at me a certain way when you were visiting doesn’t mean I have to call him every time something goes wrong,” you tell her, placing your bag on your kitchen table.

Ever since your mom came in a few months ago to visit, she’s been on your case about making a move on Nico, it all starting when she witnessed Nico helping you across the ice during a pre-game practice while trying to get some action shots.

You work as a photographer for the Devils, not realizing that being able to ice skate would have been a nice addition to your resume.

Your college advisor arranged the interview for you right before graduation. You had no previous knowledge of hockey, having come from a football family. You told your advisor this, but she insisted you didn’t have to know anything about a sport to be able to take good pictures of it.

During the interview, you made sure to inform your now boss that you didn’t know how to skate, hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. He assured you that you could take pictures from the stands or the players bench, the chance of you having to step onto the ice slim.

For the first few months of your job, it was smooth sailing. You were mostly taking pictures from the camera holes in the glass or being told to cover locker room and arrival pictures. You worked with one other photographer, a seasoned sports photography veteran named Phil. Phil was a New Jersey native, having grown up skating, so he took over the duties of any major action shots the director wanted from on the ice.

Unfortunately for you, Phil’s wife had convinced him to retire early, losing his help right before the league’s short Christmas break.

Seeing as they had just hired you, and it was the middle of the season, the hunt for a replacement for Phil was put on the backburner, more important team matters taking precedence.

You were forced to take over Phil’s duties, meaning you were now responsible for any on the ice shots. You had found a way to slowly scoot across the perimeter of the rink, staying out of the way while also getting the shots you needed.

Your system was working well until the morning of a gameday, having gotten permission from your boss to bring your mother along to this particular practice, wanting to show her all aspects of your job.

For this particular game, the players were especially focused on practicing their skills and running drills during morning skate. You were doing your typical shuffle while clutching the edge of the waist-high wall when someone came zooming past you, causing your feet to start sliding uncontrollably, not being able to find your footing on the slick ice.

You felt the moment you were about to fall, waiting for the impact of your butt on the cold ice, but it never came. You felt yourself fall into a body covered by plastic pads, gloved hands shooting out to grab your upper arms.

You looked up, seeing Nico smiling down at you in amusement.

“It’s a bit slippery out here, huh?” he jokes, making sure you’re standing steady on your feet before letting go of you.

“Well, we are standing on ice, so….” You trail off, grabbing onto the wooden ledge again, preventing another near fall.

Nico laughs, looking down and shuffling his skates back and forth.

“Well would you look at that? We are on ice ” He flashes a smile, looking back up at you.

You stick your tongue out at him, earning another chuckle from the team’s Captain.

“You know, most people use these great things called ice skates when they try to walk on ice,” he tells you, lifting one skate up for emphasis.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff out a “Oh wow, why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Just some food for thought,” Nico shrugged as he placed his foot back down on the ice, skating in a little circle, as if to say “See, told you so.”

You let go of the ledge to cross your arms, forgetting that you needed the stability. When you try to shift your weight from one leg to the other, you lose your footing again, this time falling forward into Nico. You let the camera in your hands fall, grabbing onto his biceps to stay upright, thankful for the camera strap around your neck.

His hands shoot out to grab your forearms.

“You know the sad thing is, even with the skates, I’d still be as clumsy, considering I have absolutely no idea how to use them,” you tell him, the two of you still holding on to one another.

Nico shakes his head at you, placing one of your hands on his forearm, moving you from in front of him to beside of him.

He starts slowly skating towards the bench while you shuffle your feet along, putting all of your focus on keeping yourself upright until you reach your destination.

When you finally reach the bench, you step off of the ice and let out a breath of relief.

“Thanks, Cap. Would’ve hated to make a fool of myself out there while my mom’s watching,” you thank him, looking over to where your mom sits, a smile on her face.

Nico follows your gaze and waves to your mom, matching her smile.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? What if she found out her daughter was a skating fraud?” he teases, leaning in to whisper the last two words.

“It’s her fault for never taking me to the rink my town would throw up once a year at Christmas. Who knows, maybe I would’ve been a skating prodigy if given the chance,” you shrug.

A mischievous smile makes its way onto his face. “I think we should put that theory to the test,” he tells you, causing your eyes to latch onto his.

“Come again?” You raise your eyebrows and tilt your chin down.

“I mean, I can’t have some photographer out on my ice during practices that can’t even stand up,” he keeps his tone light, making sure you know he’s just teasing, “So, I’m going to teach you how to skate, and see if you really would have been a skating prodigy.”

He skates off, winking before resuming his practice.

You don’t have a chance to speak to him again until after the game, when you get at text from an unknown number reading “Rink, tomorrow, 2pm. I’ll bring skates, just bring your prodigy skills.”

After that, you meet with Nico twice a week for skating lessons.

The two of you quickly form a friendship, Nico bringing you coffee on gamedays and you slipping him snacks on the bench during games. You even started inviting him over for dinner after your lessons, insisting the least you can do is feed him to repay him for preventing you from making a fool of yourself on the ice.

Today, however, you did make a fool of yourself on the ice.

You were standing behind the net, telling the players to skate towards you so you could get some shots for the team’s Instagram account by request of the social media manager.

Once you were pleased with the amount of shots you had gotten, you left your spot from behind the net, skating slowly towards the benches, still a little wobbly on your skates.

You were looking down at your camera, thinking of how you’ll have to get Nico out here after the game to get some shots, knowing he’s currently doing pre-game interviews in the locker room.

You weren’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the pucks littering the ice in front of you, skating right into one and losing your balance, holding your camera up with one arm while trying to catch yourself with the other.

You felt the way your shoulder shifted, crying out in pain as players turned and started rushing towards you on the ice.

The team doctor came out and told you he was pretty sure your shoulder was simply dislocated, but sent you to the hospital to make sure nothing’s broken.

The ER doctor confirmed your diagnosis, putting your shoulder back into place before pumping you full of pain meds and placing your arm into a sling.

Which leads you to where you are now, back at your apartment, explaining to your mother why Nico can’t be at your beck and call.

“Honey, when are you going to realize that boy is in love with you? I’m telling you, the way I saw him look at you that day I came to visit, the skating lessons and dinners,” she starts, giving you her typical speech when you tell her Nico is just a friend.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter what you think you saw, we’re seriously just friends. And he’s busy, his schedule is too hectic to spend his time babysitting me,” you interrupt her, not wanting to hear her Nico speech for the thousandth time, regretting ever telling her about the skating lessons.

She sighs into the phone.

“I’m just trying to help you, you know…” you hear your mother start, but you tune the rest of her words out, focusing on the three loud knocks on your front door.

Your head turns to your door, the unexpected noise causing you to jump, the sudden motion tipping your bag over, the contents spilling all of your kitchen floor.

“Honey, are you alright? What was that?” your mom halts her one-sided conversation, worry in her tone.

“Shit!” you exclaim, watching the container of memory cards fly open, the small squares sliding across the linoleum floor.

You forget about the sling on your arm, crouching down and trying to reach for the cards with your bad arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder at the movement.

Letting out a loud yelp, you bring your arm back to its resting positing in the sling.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Did you hurt yourself?” you barely hear your mother’s voice through the phone speaker, not being able to think about anything other than the throbbing pain in your shoulder.

You hear three more pounds on your front door, this time a voice following the knocks.

“Y/N! Open up!”

You groan, trying to stand up, too many people trying to get your attention at the moment.

“Honey, talk to me. Is someone in there with you? I heard another voice,” your mother asks you as you stand, making your way over towards your front door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door,” you grit through your teeth, trying to think about anything but the pain in your shoulder. “I dropped my bag and tried to pick something up with my bad arm. I’m fine. Just hurts,” you tell her, opening your door to see a frantic Nico standing there.

His wide eyes scan your body, stopping once they see the sling on your arm.

You notice his wet hair and lack of socks on his tennis shoe covered feet.

“Are you okay? They told me you had to be taken to the hospital before the game started, but no one knew what really happened,” he rushed out, looking up at your face.

“Hey, Mom, gotta go, Nico’s at my door,” you tell her, a little stunned that the object of your conversation just appeared, hanging up the phone before she could make any comments about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you ask him, pointing towards his feet, an amused smile on your face. The shock of seeing him at your door making you completely forget about the pain in your shoulder.

Nico looks down at his own feet, looking back up at you with red cheeks.

“Oh, uh, I couldn’t find my socks after the game and i couldn’t get you to answer your phone, so I rushed over to the hospital to see if you were still there, and they told me you left about an hour ago, so I hopped in my car and came over here to make sure you were okay,” he tells you, not meeting your eye.

You’re shocked at his confession, not expecting him to be so concerned about your impromptu trip to the hospital.

“Well, I’m here and still standing,” you awkwardly stand in your doorway, not knowing what else to say, thinking about how if you weren’t arguing with your mom over Nico on the phone, you might have gotten his calls.

“Yeah, I see that now,” he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

The two of you stand there, not really knowing what to say to one another.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask him, moving out of the doorway to let him step into your apartment.

Nico shakes his head yes and walks past you, looking towards the mess on the floor in your kitchen.

“What happened here? Is this the crash I heard?” he asks you.

“Yeah, the bag fell and spilled everything. When I went to pick it up, I forgot and used my bad shoulder,” you gesture to your slinged arm.

Nico shakes his head at you, crouching down to pick up the camera disks all over the floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

“Well you’re sure as hell not trying to pick them up again,” Nico interrupts you, standing and placing the now full box of disks on your table.

You roll your eyes at him, walking over towards your fridge.

“So, what exactly happened? Jack told me you hurt your shoulder?” he follows you over to your fridge, watching you scan its contents, or lack thereof.

“Well, I was looking at my camera and skated right into a bunch of pucks on the floor, then was too focused on saving the equipment instead of remembering how to fall properly,” you told him, remembering his words during your first skate lesson, telling you not to catch yourself if you fall on the ice.

“See, I told you to just let yourself fall. Never try to catch yourself,” he echoes his words in your thoughts.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier said than done,” you deadpan, shutting your fridge door and looking at Nico.

Your stomach growls at that exact moment, making you groan at your lack of food in your fridge, not having eaten since before your accident.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Nico asks you, looking down at your growling stomach.

“Uhhh, breakfast?” you recall.

Nico’s eyes widen. “It’s almost midnight. Did they really not feed you at the hospital?” he asks you.

“Considering they were busy doing x-rays and scans to make sure nothing was broken or torn, no,” you walk over to your cabinets, finding them also bare.

“Alright, go sit down and I’ll order us something to eat,” Nico shoos you out of the kitchen, walking over and opening the drawer where you keep all of your takeout menus.

You wonder how he knows where your menus are, forgetting for a moment that he’s over at your apartment at least twice a week after your skating lessons. Sometimes more, the occasional movie night making its way into your weekly routine.

“What do you want? Sushi? Chinese? Burgers?” he questions, flipping through your menus.

For some reason, your brain chooses this moment to register how much you enjoy the sight of Nico in your kitchen, looking through your takeout menus and offering to order you dinner.

You think back to all the times he’s helped you make dinner, laughter filling every moment of your time together. You think about how he always wear his pjs when he comes over for a movie night, bringing a different chocolate candy to put in the popcorn each time. You think about how he somehow learned your coffee order without you ever telling him, bringing you a coffee every morning, even at away games.

You think about your mother’s words, and how you didn’t even have to ask Nico to come over tonight, or to give you skating lessons. You think about how you never have to ask Nico to do anything he does for you – which is a lot, you’re realizing – he just does it. He does it because he wants to, because he’s kind and caring and wants to spend time with you.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N, what do you want for dinner?” Nico snaps you out of your sudden revelation.

“Sorry, spaced out for a second. Must be the pain meds,” you tell him, knowing that your mind isn’t the least bit impaired right now.

“Okay, go sit down, we need to get some food in you then,” he fishes his phone out of his pocket, mumbling out “Can’t believe they pumped you full of meds on an empty stomach.”

You make your way to your couch, sitting down and taking your shoes off, making yourself as comfortable as you can.

You remove a stray piece of hair that fell onto your face, knowing how awful it must look.

When you fell on the ice, the claw clip that was holding your hair in its up-do broke, causing it to fan out over the cold, wet ice. Once you got to the hospital, you were put in and out of so many different machines, you can only imagine the tangled, matted mess it is.

You get up and go to your bathroom, finding your brush and trying to comb it out. The task proving to be difficult with only one hand. The tangles keep pulling your head back and hurting your tender scalp, but you keep trying, whimpering each time the brush gets stuck on a particularly bad tangle.

You don’t even hear Nico approach your bathroom, just a sigh and “I told you to sit down,” before the brush is taken from your hand and you see Nico’s reflection behind you in the mirror.

Without another word, he proceeds to brush your hair for you, ensuring every tangle is gone before setting the brush on your sink.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, neither one wanting to break the silence during the surprisingly intimate moment.

You clear your throat, looking down after the silence got too intense, causing Nico to avert his eyes as well.

“I really wish i could wash my hair, but i know that’s a no go tonight,” you chuckle, wishing your bathroom was a little bit bigger in this moment.

“I can braid your hair for you,” Nico starts, staring at you in the mirror, watching your eyes snap up to meet his. “I mean, only if you want,” he stutters out.

“Really?” you ask him, a little stunned.

“Yeah. I used to help Nina with hers all the time when I was younger,” Nico mentions his older sister, grabbing your hair lightly and starting to section it off. “Anytime she would have a sleep over I would always weasel my way into the party. So one day, she made me sit in a braiding chain and learn how to braid her hair.”

You let out a giggle, picturing a smaller version of Nico sitting at the end of a line of girls, braiding their long hair.

“Then, Nina claimed I got so good at it she always wanted me to braid her hair before her volleyball matches, then her friends all started wanting me to do theirs, too,” he continues talking, nearly lulling you to sleep with the soft movements of his hands as you listen to him speak.

“I think that’s adorable,” you quietly speak, closing your eyes.

“What can I say? When a pretty girl needs her hair braided, who am I to keep my skills to myself?” he jokes, making you wonder if he meant you or his sister’s friends.

“I’m sure it’s any little boy’s dream to have an entire volleyball team at his mercy, all those pretty volleyball players begging him to play with their hair,” you tease him, handing him the hair tie that you always keep on your wrist.

“I don’t know, I think playing with a pretty photographer’s hair is better, if you ask me,” he ties the hair tie around the bottom of the braid, reaching up to pull the braid loose, making sure it’s not too tight.

You keep your eyes closed, knowing he can likely see the redness on your cheeks at his words.

“Alright, eyes open. Need to make sure you like my work,” he places his hands on your biceps, making sure to keep his touch feather light on your bad arm.

He turns you around so you’re facing him, holding a handheld mirror that was laying on your sink in front of your face, allowing you to see the reflection of the braid.

You’re shocked to see the flawless Dutch braid that cascades down your back.

“Nico, you’re like…really good at this,” you reach your good hand to the back of your head, running it down the braid.

“Told you, I had a lot of practice,” he shrugs, setting the mirror down.

You yawn, the relaxing nature of having your hair braided allowing you to realize how tired you are from the day’s events.

“Nuh-uh, gotta keep you awake until we get some food in you,” he tuts, taking his hands and patting your cheeks.

You groan, leaning into his palms that stay resting on your face.

“C’mon, let’s get you changed and on the couch,” he motions for you to leave the bathroom.

You walk to your room, Nico helping you carefully remove your sling before leaving and giving you some privacy.

You change into your pajamas, somehow managing to get your arm into an oversized Devils shirt you found at the bottom of your drawer.

Nico is standing outside of your door when you open it, helping you back into your sling.

He stands in front of you, staring at you with a look that you can’t decipher.

“Is…everything okay?” you question him, noticing his stare after adjusting your sling.

His eyes snap up to you, seemingly unaware that he was even staring at you in the first place.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I just- is that my shirt?” he asks you, pointing to your pj shirt.

You look down at the oversized shirt, trying to think of where you got it.

It had just showed up in your laundry basket one day, assuming it was one they gave you when you got your job, but Nico’s question makes you think harder.

You realize, suddenly, you do remember where you got it.

During one of your post lesson dinners, Nico had spilled his drink all over his shirt. You offered to wash it for him after he changed to a shirt in his duffel.

You meant to take it back to him after you washed it, but forgot about it entirely, packing it away in your pajama drawer.

“Oh, crap, it is. Do you want it back, I can go change?” you ask him, worried he’s upset that you forgot to give it back.

“No…no it’s fine. Keep it. I have plenty,” he shakes his head, glancing down at it once more.

The two of you make your way to your couch, finding something to watch on tv when there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of your food.

You start to stand to go get it, but Nico sternly tells you to stay put.

Rolling your eyes you sit back down, grabbing the remote and continuing to channel surf.

Nico’s gone for longer than you expect, causing you to sit up and turn back towards your kitchen, wondering what’s taking him so long.

You see him walking over to you, a tray full of food in his hands.

He had ordered from your favorite sushi place, figuring it would be the easiest for you to eat one handed.

As he sat down the tray on the coffee table in front of you, you realized what took him so long.

Nico had put a toothpick in each piece of your sushi, knowing using chopsticks with your non dominant hand would have been hard for you. He poured soy sauce into a small container, allowing you to simply pick up each toothpick and dip it in the sauce before popping it in your mouth.

He had also ordered you a bottle of cherry coke, which he knew was your favorite, and placed it on the tray with the lid unscrewed and a straw peeking out of the bottle next to a glass of ice, just incase you wanted it that way instead.

You looked up at him, feeling that funny feeling in your chest like you did earlier in your kitchen, blown away at how he always seems to think of everything he can to help you out, even when you’re not injured.

You must’ve been looking for longer than you realized, because he cocks his head at you, confusion present on his face.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what’s wrong. “Did you not want sushi? I thought you said it was always the one thing that could cheer you up?”

You shake your head at him. “No, sushi is perfect,” you tell him, a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

He smiles back for a few moments, then started scooting the coffee table towards you so you don’t have to reach to grab your food. He moves around the table to sit beside of you, the size of the small table causing him to sit so close to you that you can feel the warmness of his large thigh against yours.

You once again think about all of the things he’s done for you without you even having to ask. Now including coming over after a game—no doubt exhausted and sore—and taking care of you without even thinking twice. Braiding your hair and calling you pretty. Staring at you unintentionally wearing his t-shirt. Modifying your food so it’s easier for you to eat with one hand.

You sit there, staring at the man you fear you’re falling in love with, already planning out the apology text you’re going to have to send your mom.

[sweet1delusi0ns]

Naruto boys random headcanons──☆*:・ﾟ

Sfw

Characters: Naruto🦊,sasuke🗡️,Itachi🥀, kakashi🍃, kiba🐺, shikamaru🀄️,shino🪲,neji🎋,Lee🥋,choji🍥,gaara⏳,kankuro🪆

Naruto🦊-*

Hes lazy at home. Not because he’s tired he just wants you to take care of him, but when you call him a baby for all these requests he gets mad “I AM NOT A BABY! I AM A GROWN MAN! NOW SPOON FEED ME!”

He tries to prank you but fails, your too smart to fall for it. He always tries to trip you in public while walking and every time he is the one on the floor and your the one laughing some how-

He likes the idea of drawing and being an artist he just can’t draw. He can only draw stick people with different hair, one time he tried to draw you, gave up and instead gave you a picture of a stick person with your hair. It’s now on the fridge LOL

He tries to act cool around his friend with you but just makes a fool of himself. “Yeah this my bae so what?” “Yeah I’m his bae and he’s my baby, my big, soft, smiley baby!” His soul is now crushed and his friends all laughing

He sleeps like a ANIMAL. he full on can’t sleep normally, You both go to bed the same time, one of you is always gunna wake up on the floor, mostly you. Then he wakes up like “why you on the floor?”

Sasuke🗡️-*

He may seem cool but he gets very flustered. He doesn’t cover his face though he just closes his eyes so he doesn’t get more flustered and so he can ignore the fact that he is red

He CANT Dance, don’t EVER take him dancing. It’s not because he’s bad at dancing he just never learn. If there is music he will bop his head to the beat though, if you try to get him to dance he will freak out and freeze. He just doesn’t like it ok!

His waist is weirdly sensitive, you could barely touch his waist and he will start giggling. He isn’t ticklish anywhere else but if you take a feather to his waist he will start LAUGHING

He will kick your feet when he wants attention. If you guys are out to dinner with friends he will kick you under the table to get your attention, he thinks it’s funny until you fight back and stomp on his foot. He made you kiss his pain away at home, atleast he got attention LOL

He forgets the silliest things one time he forgot how to tie a knot so anything he needs to tie like his clothes or shoes you had to do for him. You don’t know if he actually forgot or if he just wanted to be babied-

Itachi🥀-*

He can’t handle heatwaves. If it’s over 90 degrees he’s gone for. One time you woke up on a heat wave morning waiting for him to wake up and walk out but he never did, you went to find him and he was in bed, sprawled out, shirt and covers off soaked in sweat. You had to rub ice on him to get him conscious -

Unlike naruto, he likes drawing and can ACTUALLY DRAW, although he can only draw plants but he doesn’t mind he likes plants! He will draw you flowers instead of buying you some which is like equally as cute~

He has very sensitive eyes. Like how he can’t handle heat he cant handle the sun either. If it isn’t cloudy he will have to squint to keep his eyes from hurting. When you told him to wear sun glasses he said “I still want to see you clearly though love…”

He’s not a big fan of skin care but he likes those face roller things. He bought one just so you could use it on him, he likes that it’s cold but also massaging!

He sneezes like a girl- he has the cutest, most petite sneeze you’ve ever heard out of a man which is cute and very funny. He doesn’t even realize it either “a-choo!” “That was crazy out of character” “huh?”

Kakashi🍃-*

He’s allergic to cats, he likes cats sure but he never hangs around them because he’s allergic. You didn’t know that and one day you brought a stray inside and he instantly turned puffy (poor thing)

Once he gets home and discards the mask he puts lip tint on. He has pink lips for that reason. When he first puts it on he will find you and kiss you just to leave a mark before waiting 10 minutes then whipping it off

He needs reading glasses but never uses them, then complains to you when he gets a headache as if you didn’t tell him to put them on

He takes a lot of baths. If he showers it bound to end up a bath. And he doesn’t care if your using the bathroom if he wants a bath he’s gunna make a god Danm bath. One time You were just washing your face and he busted in the door and ran to the bathtub, You washed your face as fast as you could-

He is EXTREMELY tired when he first wakes up, he doesn’t move for like 20 minutes so if he needs to get up and do stuff your gunna have to make him, like actually you’ll have the carry him out of bed.

Kiba🐺-*

He bites his nails from stress so you have made it a habit to smack his hand away when he does. It worked since all you have to do is tap him softly and he will stop. He’s so glad you help him get over bad habits

He decorated akamarus ears when he’s bored, one time you walk in on him giggling like a little girl and akamarus ears were pulled together in a little ponytail! You joined in on the fun🤞

He comes back from a casual walk along a complete mess, you have no idea how but one day he came back with half a bush stuck on his leg. He always cleans up though!

He sometimes transforms akamaru into himself to prank his friends or you, mostly you. One time akamaru came up to you as Kiba and started licking your face “EW OH MY GOD?!” “AUUFF AUF!” “KIBA YOUR NOT FUNNY”

He always has tan cheeks and nose. Compared to the rest of his face, his cheeks are cute and golden!

Shikamaru🀄️-*

He lets you win at intelligents based games to make you feel better. Except one time he actually tried and lost. He’s convinced you cheated

His hair is straight but gets very frizzy if not cared for. (You care for it since he’s lazyy)

He draws on himself when bored, mostly just trippy designs like swirls and stuff. Will also let you draw on him, only if your good tho he doesn’t want “bad drawing” on him😔

He has a box FULL of hair ties and will notice if you take one. “This one you literally stole from me?” “Don’t care put it back!!!”

He gets Freezingly cold at night, like really really cold. When he snuggles up to you to warm up you could feel how cold he really is and you don’t understand how since you are both under covers-

Shino🪲-*

He keeps bugs in the house so they can watch over anything, they are basically his security cameras-

His hair is so cute and wavy! Also gets very frizzy because of the texture like Shika. He also makes you take care of it, he just really likes you touching his hair

He gives you bugs as gifts, not like freaky beetles but cute little bugs like lady bugs or fuzzy green caterpillars. You find it cute that he gives you things that mean so much to him

He shockingly has a sensitive neck, only to you though. Bugs can crawl all over it and he doesn’t move but if you try to kiss it he gets chills. Also shockingly he has really soft skin idk maybe he sheds skin (IM JOKING)

When he gets home and can finally undress he lets you take his glasses off since you love his eyes and he loves that you love them. He gets insecure about it sometimes!

Neji🎋-*

He speak really highly and intelligently but he’s honestly a little dumb sometimes, or maybe he’s just dumb with you to be silly we don’t know

The only jewelry he really wears is an ankle bracelet you got him

He loves hair charms, he likes decorating his hair! He likes putting clips and braids in it, sometimes even put color streaks in it if he wants to be festive

He really likes pottery and making things out of clay, he’s very creative and he finds clay the perfect outlet. He even makes pots for you!

He has a flower garden that NO ONE is allowed in. He treats them like they’re his baby’s, because they are! He’s favorite plant he has is his cactuses.

Lee🥋-*

He’s extremely energetic and powerful yet he has asthma, he denies it. But if it’s really hot outside he runs out of breath REALLY fast which makes you worry

He’s scared of spiders you kill the spiders for him or he runs! If you trap a spider and chase him with it he will almost start crying (he will start crying) he’s ashamed to admit spiders are his weakness

He wears mascara, he gotta make them lashes voluminous yk. He stole his mascara from tenten too. You made him give it back to her and bought him his own

It’s pretty obvious but he is FLEXIBLE! Backbend, splits anything he can do. You thought he broke his spine onces-

He’s not much of a plant guy but he has the TINIEST succulent in your room that he cares for, every other plant he has had died but not that one~

Choji🍥-*

He loves finger painting and is actually really good at it, you’d think it was made by a professional and an actual paint brush but no it was Choji and his finger paint😭

His hair is so thick most hair ties he uses break. He has to use hair needles instead because it’s the only thing that holds if he wants his hair up for a while

He thinks pillow fights are actually entertaining he could have a pillow fight with you all day and never get bored. He goes crazy if he’s over at someone’s house and they suggest pillow fights!

He loves bath bombs!!! He basically died when you run him a bath and put bath bombs in it, his favorite scent it lavender. Even if you didn’t add a bath bomb he loves when you make him baths he thinks its adorable

He paints your cheeks like his in your sleep, that’s his idea of a prank even though it’s basically him just being a cutie “look now your like me y/n!!”

Gaara⏳-*

He turns the black rings around his eyes to cat eyes sometimes. He looks ADORABLE with cat eyes. He sometimes even uses eye shadow too, if he can’t change it he thought might as well make it look cutee

He’s scared of mosquitos, he just doesn’t like bugs that can fly and go after human blood it freaks him out

He wears one of those scent bracelets and puts your signature scent in it so he always smells like you~

He gifts you plants all the time

He collect the silliest things, there are these cute little cat charms at a near by store and he’s working on collecting them all!

Kankuro🪆-*

Shockingly he really likes reading. He likes fiction books the most, he asks you for suggestions

He asks you what new make up design he should try, sometimes he just gives you the brush and lets you go wild. But you always make him look cute~

He fidgets with the ears on his hat when he’s bored. It rubbed off on you so now if he’s around you with his hat on you start messing with them-

He steals your clothes and hides them so you have no choice but to ask to use his for the day. After the day is over he comes up to you smiling and hands you your missing clothes “found em!” “By found em do you mean took them out of the hiding spot?” “Yeah-”

He paints his nails either black, pink or purple. He also lets you paint them, it honestly just ends up a mess. He would totally whip nail polishes on your nose~

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Bared Fangs.

Commissioned by the very lovely @ohsotearful.

Pairing: Yandere!Childe x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Modern/Serial Killer AU, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Blood/Gore, Reader Gets Hurt, Obsessive Behavior, Gun Violence, and Unhealthy Relationships. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as Childe asked you if you wanted to go outside.

Honestly, you should’ve known something was wrong as soon as he found you reading in front of his fireplace, as soon as that crooked, schoolboy grin found its way to his lips and he forewent his usual routine of draping himself on top of you like some muscled, zealously homicidal weighted blanket in favor of ruffling your hair and toying with the collar of the flannel you were wearing (his flannel, technically, but you tried not to let yourself acknowledge how accustomed you’d grown to wearing your captor’s clothes or, more troublingly, how long it’d been since the last time you’d felt disgusted by it). “Snow should be done for a couple hours,” he started, nodding towards the frost-coated windows. It might’ve been a more charming sight if not for the scratches carved into the surface of the glass – souvenirs from there the first time you got your hands on one of his axes. “I’m thinking of stepping out, doing a little hunting before the storm kicks up again. Wanna come with me?”

You narrowed your eyes at your book, trying to hide the way your heart beat a little faster at the suggestion of being able to leave his claustrophobic cabin. But, with Childe, you were usually better off staying safely tucked behind the bars of your rustic cage. “Is this going to be a normal hunting trip or a you hunting trip?”

He only hummed. “’fraid I don’t know what you mean by that, princess.”

“Are we going to be hunting animals, or…” You trailed off, swallowing down the bitter taste that came with remembering why you were here. “… or, you know. People, or whatever.”

“This time of year?” He let out an airy laugh, like you’d asked to go skiing in the middle of summer. “There’s nobody on the mountain ’cept me and you.”

Still, you dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to try and think beyond your near-overwhelming desire to be anywhere but here. Childe was a murderer, a sadist, a kidnapper, but he wasn’t the type to play mind games. He tended to divide his reality between the world outside – where people could be hunted like quarry, their bodies left to rot in tents and rivers with only the occasional token taken as a keepsake – and the world inside the walls of his cabin – where he sat you down in front of a low-burning fire and told you stories about ice-fishing with his siblings and pouted when you admit his (admittedly, not entirely inedible) cooking could use a little more seasoning. After that first night – the worst night of your fucking life – he seemed to want to keep you resigned to the latter, at least until he came home covered in blood and desperate for something warm and familiar to fuck until he passed out.

Eventually, you sighed, closing your book and sitting up. “Fine. When do we leave?”

His grin widened, head lulling forward as he pressed a kiss into the top of your head. “The front door’s already unlocked. I’ll give you a head start, a full five minutes. Actually, make it ten – just to make it a little more fun for you.”

 There was a beat of silence, then another. “Childe, you’re making it sound like you’re—”

“Like I said, there’s nobody on the mountain but me and you.” He pulled away, turning on his heel. “I’ll be nice, too – won’t use anything with more than a twenty-foot range.”

“But, you— you can’t just—”

“Tick-tock.” He clicked his tongue, winking at you over his shoulder. “Unless you’d rather cut straight to the good part.”

You should’ve known something was wrong, and now, running through the frozen wilderness desperately lost and barely dressed, your ten minutes spent and a killer undoubtedly chasing you down, you were paying the price for it.

You didn’t have time to be tactical. The snow was fresh enough to make every interruption unbearable obvious, meaning that – even if you were willing to stop and spare the seconds it’d take to hide your tracks, it wouldn’t have done you much good. Your only option was to run, but even that was easier said than done. Childe preferred to keep you in a state of hand-crafted domestic bliss, meaning what few clothes you did have were either picked out by or borrowed from him. Currently, all that separated you from the cold was his flannel, an oversized shirt, and a pair of his boots that you’d snagged on your way out. The chill snapped at your cold legs like the teeth of some unseen predator, the frigid air burning holes in your lungs, but the thought of what Childe would do when he caught you was enough to keep your feet moving, to keep you sprinting blindly through the forest. He wouldn’t kill you. You had to believe that he wouldn’t kill you, but—

A high-pitched holler, the sound of branches snapping underfoot and foliage being pushed aside somewhere behind you. You hadn’t stopped running after your first trembling steps away from the cabin, and yet, he couldn’t have been more than a few hundred feet behind you – half a mile, at your most generous guess. You started to curse under your breath, then thought better of it, biting down on your bottom lip with enough force to draw blood and pivoting to the left, where the forest seemed to be just a little thicker. If you couldn’t get away from him, you could at least try to hide before he got to you.

It was a haphazard, half-baked plan that was cruelly and immediately cut short as your foot caught on a root hidden by the snow, tearing away your right boot and leaving you sprawled over the frozen ground. Dampness sunk into your thin clothes, and you shut your eyes, trying to listen for Childe’s footsteps, but there was a reason none of his victims ever seemed to hear him coming. The forest’s minimal white noise was enough to swallow him entirely, the sound of birdsong and distant car engines disguising his presence despite your best attempts to—

Your realization was delayed, but intense.

Cars.

Cars meant roads. Cars meant civilization. Cars meant people, people who could take you away from here, away from Childe. You clambered to your feet, but failed to take so much as a step before a sudden, stabbing pain bit into your calf, your leg immediately buckling underneath you. You would’ve fallen entirely if it hadn’t been for the adrenaline running through your system, numbing the agony and choking the ragged scream that threatened to rise from the pit of your chest into a cracked whimper. It was one of Childe’s arrows – you would’ve been able to recognize that black steel from a mile away – but you didn’t let yourself linger on the implications. With grit teeth and balled fists, you limped forward, leaving a thin trail of crimson in your wake. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been looking, but it was there – a thin, wobbling, unpaved dirt road, only marked by two thin rows of tire tracks that sliced harshly through the otherwise unmarred blanket of snow. God, you never thought you’d be so happy to see dirt.

There wasn’t time to think. You stumbled out of the woods and into the road, the arrow’s head sinking that much deeper with every stuttering movement. The car you’d heard was still there, too; a by-the-numbers sedan, only a few hundred feet down the road. You threw up your arms up, then thought better of it; cupping your shaking hands around your mouth. You moved to call out, but whatever you might’ve said was stolen away from you as something dark flashed across your peripheral and another arrow planted itself in your right shoulder. This time, you crumbled like a dead leaf – broken into pieces by a morning gale.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Childe emerge from the tree line, his crossbow still in-hand. As he came to stand in front of you, your gaze shifted back to the car. You watched, your mind buzzing with pain, as it disappeared around a sharp bend, never so much as slowing down.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you heard Childe coo, wiping away the tears flowing down your cheeks before they could freeze against your skin. “Sorry, princess,” he muttered, his voice low with a painful edge. “I guess I cheated, huh? Couldn’t help it – just knew you’d look so cute all bruised up and bleeding.”

Dropping his crossbow carelessly, he fell to your height. He was dressed for one of his usual hunts; a cut-off shotgun slung over his back, a hunting knife sheathed at his hip. The leather casing of the latter pressed into your side as he dipped lower, burying his face in the crook of your neck and pressing a long, open-mouthed kiss into the base of your throat. You felt his knee settle between your thighs, and weakly, your hands found their way to his chest. “Not here,” you mumbled, more afraid of the chill quickly seeping under your skin than being seen. “It hurts, Childe. I—I think you hit something imp—”

“I’ll be fast.” Another kiss, this one to the exposed skin of your collarbone. His calloused hands skirted over your sides, then your waist, hiking the thin fabric of your oversized shirt up to your midriff. You were already past the point of total numbness, and yet, the rough gravel beneath the snow cut harshly into your exposed skin. Rather than distracting you from the pain in your calf, your shoulder, it only seemed to draw more attention to your bleeding wounds, only seemed to make it harder to ignore the dull heat of Childe’s mouth against your chest. “Gotta take you out more often. You’re always beautiful, but I didn’t know you’d look this pretty.”

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. His arrow burnt into the tattered skin of your calf as his hands fell to your legs, groping at the plush of your thighs playfully before shifting his attention to the fly of his jeans. You knew what he wanted, he’d always been transparent, but the sound of shifting fabric, the sight of his rosy-tipped, stiff cock pressing flush against his stomach – that was enough for the loose coil of dread writhing in the pit of your chest to tighten into a tight, jagged knot of pure terror. You tried to sit up, to make your refusal that much more apparent, but Childe only caught you by your uninjured shoulder, shoving you into the ground with enough force to earn a pained scowl, a fractured whimper. His only response was a wordless, vaguely sympathetic noise, a softened lull to his wide smile. “No skipping out on this, babydoll. I can’t guarantee you’ll end up in one piece if I have to wait ‘till we get home.”

It was a fair warning, but anything he could have said would’ve been lost on you. Your heart was beating in your ears, blocking out any other sound. Pools of red blood and piles of limp bodies flashed across your vision and desperately, futilely, you clawed at the hand on your shoulder, kicked at his chest, thrashed underneath him like an animal unaware that resistance would only make the predator want to drive its teeth that much deeper. It was more Childe’s divided attention than your strength, but your heel found his side and, just for a moment, he slipped, letting out a soft grunt as the hand pinning you down fell away. You were scrambling onto your knees in a second, attempting to get your feet underneath you in another, but your little stunt was cut short as Childe lashed out, wrapping his arm around your neck and forcing your stomach against the ground. There was no whimpering, anymore – just a ragged, ear-piercing scream as his free hand found the arrow in your shoulder, tearing it out of you in one clean, unfaltering motion. His only response came in the form of a throaty moan; deep and terrible and followed immediately by the feeling of his cock against your dry cunt. You would’ve begged him to stop, offered to let him do anything he wanted to you if he just didn’t do this, but he didn’t give you time to bargain. Without hesitation, he thrust into you, bottoming out in the same motion.

Trembling sobs tore at your throat and past your lips, tears now flowing unabashedly down your cheeks. Childe kept his full weight against your back as he fucked into you with short, sharp thrusts – never happy unless he was burying himself in the deepest pocket of your poor, freezing pussy. Rather than desensitizing you, letting you fall back into some distant state of nonexistence, the snow seemed to burn where it was pressed into your cheek, your chest. You wished he would’ve taken off the rest of your clothes. You wished he would’ve just shot his stupid arrows into your skull and put you out of your misery.

It shouldn’t have felt good, you didn’t want it to feel good, but your body didn’t know that. Your cunt clenched and drooled around him, trying in vain to turn his assault into something you could enjoy, but the way he grunted into your ear snuffed out any pleasure you might’ve been able to feel. “Tryin’ to pull me back in,” he muttered, his voice already airy, already strung out. You couldn’t help but wonder if, had you only been able to run from him for another minute, he would’ve found something else to shove his dick into and left you out here to freeze to death. “Is that your goal? Wanna – Fuck, wanna help me warm you up?”

His hands fell to your hips, pulling your ass flush against his hips and letting him fuck into you that much deeper, that much more brutally. Your injured leg grated against the dirt of the road and you cried out, your voice ragged and barely coherent. “St— Hurts, stop, stop, please, stop—”

“That’s it, always making such pretty sounds for me.” He buried his face in the dip of your shoulder. “Sometimes, it feels like all I wanna do it cut you open and crawl—”

He was interrupted by the dull roar of an approaching engine and something brightened inside of you, your eyes shifting towards the road, towards the well-beaten pick-up truck speeding in your direction. The breaks screeched as you and Childe came into the driver’s view, and for a second, you let yourself go slack underneath him, relief overwhelming your better judgement.

Childe wasn’t so sentimental.

His shotgun was in his hand before you could so much as process that he’d moved. Wordlessly, he fired off two shots; the first to the windshield on the driver’s side and the second to one of the front tires. You watched on helplessly as your last hope for salvation bucked, swerved, then veered off of the road entirely, catching on a snowbank and turning over once before crashing into the trunk of an oak that failed to so much as shake under the force of the collision. It was quieter than you’d expected it to be, the only sounds that of shattering glass and crunching metal. If there were survivors, no one screamed, or called for help, or came stumbling out of the wreckage. Childe’s breath hitched in his throat, his pace growing that much more erratic as he buckled into you – his pointed canines finding the tender junction at the base of your throat and burying themselves in your skin. It was less a love-bite and more an effort to eat you alive. What little blood he didn’t lap up washed over your chest, melting the frost and mixing into the snow beneath you. “Look—” He groaned, tried and failed to pull away from you. His voice reverberated against the curve of your neck as he went on. “Look what you turn me into, princess. Got me making all kinds of messes for you.”

Blood. Bodies. The taste of his cum on your tongue as your friends bled out under the same roof. You would’ve choked the air in your lungs if you’d been able to breathe, but there was no point lingering on pleasant hypotheticals. There were no distractions from the feeling of Childe’s hips grating against yours, the way his cock twitched as settled against you. A guttural moan tore past his lips as something thick and searing flooded into you, and you refused to let yourself acknowledge that this was the warmest you’d felt in days.

You stayed there, limp and frozen and miserable, as Childe pulled away from you, pulled out of you. Your eyes fell shut as he stumbled to his feet, your skin too numb to feel anything aside from the pressure of his arms around your motionless body. He pulled you against his chest, then let out a low whistle. “Might’ve gone a little overboard there. Sorry ‘bout that, princess.” A low chuckle, a gentle squeeze. “I just can’t help it, not when it comes to you. You’ll forgive me after a warm bath, right?”

You didn’t answer. The arrow in your calf must’ve fallen out, or maybe not – you couldn’t feel anything below your knees. Your hands felt like dead weight too, utterly disconnected from anything you might’ve used to control them, but every drop of panic, every ounce of horror – that all paled in comparison to the never-ending pit of pitch-black loathing that formed in your chest as you stared up at Childe. You hated him, wanted to see him torn apart with his own stockpile of weapons, but you really couldn’t blame him. Not for this, at least.

You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as the monster bared its fangs.

[lerokpaw]

🐉Dragon grass 🐉

You lit incense, but you didn't even think what it would lead to

!!!nsfw !!! !!! 18+ !!!

! All characters 18+!

Female reader

Sorry english don't my first language. But I hope you enjoy it 🐉

Status : Couple Y/N - Perfect (The head of a dilapidated dormitory)

A small heat source in the form of a green firefly lit the way for one of the most mysterious people in Twisted Wonderland or for you Tsunagotaro/Mal Mal/Malleus. His task at the moment was to see your face, or rather a smile on it. But first of all, to invite you on a little evening date. You and the future king of the Valley of Thorns have been dating for about six months and one of his favorite pleasures was to see you in a good mood, and if his favorite combo in the form of you, gargoyles, your love and beautiful art, which he saw in all of the above, were collected in one place and at one time, then Malleus was literally melting with love. And in the sky you could see how the stars were shining brighter. Wandering in his thoughts, the Dragon discovered that he nuzzled your door, while accidentally touching the bell with his horn, and he notified the resident of the Dilapidated dormitory of his majesty's presence. Hearing rapid footsteps on the stairs, the so-called Tsunagotaro moved away from the door and waited for your face to appear in its crack.

-Hello, Mal Mal! -"Greetings, my dear," horned smiled with his trademark gentle smile.

-Oh, listen - She slightly covered the already small gap as if to show that he does not have to see what is behind it. But now Malleus' interest has only grown.

-Yes, honey?

-I understand that you probably came for me on a date, but I'm a little unprepared… And could we sit here in the dorm today?

-I dare not refuse my dear couple this request, - he bowed familiarly You laughed a little

-Then come on in, I'm sorry, I'm a little at home.. I'm going to run to the kitchen for ice cream and return it, go to my room for now.

-Ice cream? Won't you need any help? - he already imagined how his favorite dish would be on his tongue.

-It's not worth it! Come into the room! - I was already shouting from the kitchen. The old wooden floorboards and stairs creaked under your boyfriend's feet. He was slowly moving deeper into the dorm when he felt a pleasant and sweet smell in his nose. Approaching your room, he realized that this fragrance was coming from there. When he entered, he saw Grim, who also exchanged a glance, but no longer friendly

-"Henchman, you brought that Tsunagotaro again without my knowledge! Malleus just narrowed his eyes and smiled at the furry creature.

-Don't go make-up, please, if something doesn't suit you, then go downstairs - she shouted through the whole dorm

-I'll actually go to the Adeuce duo then! At that moment, the monster ran out the door and pointedly slammed it -Sorry, Small, for this performance - she said calmly as she approached the room

-It's okay, I understand, my dear

-Your ice cream

-Thank you very much

Sit on the bed Have you started noticing how your boyfriend's pale face is starting to turn purple?

-Honey, are you hot?

-what? Oh, I'm sorry, I don't quite understand what's going on.. Am I just not used to it?

-Hmm, do you have an allergy to herbs?

-As far as I know, no, why? - now he was interested in what was happening to his body.

-Well, I just lit incense.. And I thought maybe they made you feel bad.

he approached you slowly and carefully, trying not to scare you off

- Can I smell you? -N-an unexpected offer- you blushed slightly - but I don't mind - you pushed the hair that was lying on your neck to the side, as if trying to tie it into a bunch

-Thank you - Mal said almost in a whisper and approached your neck inhaling the armat and now his previous sensations have doubled. As if waking up, he jumped back.

-I just don't know… It seems to me… - after these words, he attacked you with a sensual kiss. You've kissed before, but this… It was something that foreshadowed something more. After you stopped getting enough air.

-As if I want all of you - finally the thought was complete.

-What!? I'm sorry!? He abruptly leaned back from you

-Oh, I'm sorry.. I just.. I don't know what came over me Malleus rubbed the back of his head confused

-No! It's not that I'm against ours.. Continuations.. You started gesturing actively

-It's just me.. I didn't expect you to. Similar actions

-Hmm really? Malleus said, approaching you with a slightly mischievous smile and half-open eyes.

-Y-Yes! I am.. Sorry. I'm a little nervous.

-Maybe then you're not ready? I'll understand.. I won't insist - he gently took your hand and kissed it gently

-I didn't say that! It's just… this.. Nervous

-Are you afraid of me? -No! I love you very much! And as you can see, when you're so close to me, I don't push you away. Because I'm not afraid..

-Then I'll try to be gentle... Malleus smiled at you tenderly and ran his hand over your cheek You're blushing

- You always know how to embarrass me. Tsunagotaro gently ran his hand down your neck and ran his fingers a little over the top of your pajamas. He pressed his nose against your shoulder and inhaled the fragrance, his pupils sharply narrowed

-Darling? - He said in a slightly trembling voice

-What is it?

-Are you sure you agree to what happens next? I won't be able to restrain myself..

-Yes.. Just be gentle to start with You felt his smile appearing on your skin. It was important for him to hear the permission from your mouth. Now small spikes and a tail began to show on his back. Although it wasn't visible through his clothes yet

-Good...- he slowly began to take off your shirt. After he took it off, he said

-Darling.. I didn't think your kind had such cute gadgets..

He pointed to his chest and gently kneaded it with his hands

-Tell me if it hurts you. even in his lust-intoxicated state, he tried to take care of you. -M?!

She turned her head away, blushing

-Except yours.. Is there no view of them?

-There is, but I never paid attention to it…

He leaned against the chest area with a languid look and began to kiss her slowly and sensually.

-Mm.. The taste is as incredible as the smell ~

After his words, you whimpered softly while he kissed you and smiled, and his hands slowly made their way to the area below your stomach. Now Malleus was slowly sliding towards your stomach and was already kissing you there.

-Mm~ My rose.. Will you let me go on?

-Yes.. Oh sure The horned fairy grinned and his hands pulled the elastic of your night pants a little, gently pulling them off you. After that, your underwear became his barrier to your wonderful taste, he puffed up a little from this fact. But he continued to slowly spend his hands removing this obstacle, while feeling like you were already wet. Pushing your legs apart a little, the scent of your arousal hit him right in the nose and the smell of incense gave him even more strength to continue.

-It really looks like rose petals.. - he said, spreading your vulva

-Mm!? Where.. How? Where did you find this comparison? - She said, looking at him with one raised eyebrow

-Well.. He massaged it a little with his fingers and looked down intently.

-It's a little awkward..

-What could be more embarrassing than my position in front of you?

-Hehe, you're a darling.. Once.. When I was younger, I became interested in the topic.. Mating. And I asked Lilia what it was like.. Well, he told me that "everything is so beautiful for women that I look like rose petals" Frankly, I did not believe him, and I did not quite understand what he was talking about. But now that I see it all in person.. His words make sense

-Well, that's an interesting comparison..

-Do you think so?~ - he said in a seductive tone when his face was between your legs, where he slowly ran his tongue between the folds -Mh!? - you jumped a little out of surprise, thereby hitting him a little in the nose with your hips

-Honey, calm down.. Otherwise, I'll go crazy before I give us pleasure~ I'm already holding on with all my strength so as not to eat you.. That smell.. Intoxicating~ - Malleus tightened his grip on your legs, scratching them a little with his claws, starting to run his tongue up and down.

-Mmm~

-That's what I wanted to hear, my rose ~ -

He mimicked the movements of his tongue in your petals. Quickly finding the middle, he rushed there. Each time, his movements became more violent, as he quickly began to lose his composure. Listening to your moans, he couldn't hold back his own mooing, thereby sending you impulses that didn't help you not melt in his grip.

-Ah! - From his accidental sharp thrust, you moaned and mechanically moved your hands to his horns. With these actions, you finally pulled the trigger from the dragon, who was now furiously beating his tongue at you and your petals

Driving in like that for a couple more minutes, you felt a wave of pleasure begin to catch up with you. Malleus felt your back begin to arch and your legs to shake.

-Mm~ Have you already?

-Don't talk.. Ah! Go on..

-Hehe - you felt his smile tremble in you

-Mmm~Ah! - when he hit you with his tongue the last time, you sprayed him in the face, squeezing between his legs. The dragon rose slowly, carefully releasing your legs. His eyes were sparkling with a green light, and his whole face was in your netar. He licked his face and approached your already breathless face.

-Malleus.. phew..

-Yes, my rose ~ before you say it, I want to say that you are magnificent both in taste and aroma, as befits a flower ~

-You.. The dragon is too greedy..

-Naturally ~ - he gently tucked your hair behind your ear.

-Phew..

-Are you ready to continue? ~ - Malleus is clearly pissed off after your taste

-WHAT!? We just did..

-Hehe, this is just the beginning, I want to feel your nectar not only on my lips ~

-You.. You're vulgar! - you got up and hit him with a pillow

Ahaha, darling, but you like it ~ He stopped you by grabbing your hand - And since you're already so active, I can continue~

The incense finally burned out.. But the smell of "Dragon Grass" has long filled the whole room..

[tragedybunny]

A Little More Than a Nibble - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion wakes you up at camp looking for a late night snack. You both end up with something a little more. (Fluff, Angst)

Yes I'm on the Astarion train. How can you not love him?

This short is set before Astarion's act 2 confession

Something called to you from the dark, stirring you out of sleep. Fragments of the waking world brushed against your consciousness; a dying fire, a far off owl calling, a presence hovering over you. The cold influx of terror lasts only a moment as you realize the presence is not only familiar but expected at this point. “Are you awake darling?” Astarion’s voice exudes the beguiling charm that’s become so familiar to you, familiar enough you’ve started to catch the hint of artifice that lays behind it.

Sleep-heavy eyes drift open to find him kneeling down next to you, red eyes fixed on you. The deep slumber is hard to shake off and your answer is no more than a drowsy whisper. “I am now.”

“Oh apologies my sweet but I was just wondering if…” He lets the words hang for a moment, waiting for your mind to catch up, to finish the implication. Really though it could only be about one of two things since you’re the one in camp that’s been both fucking and feeding him. And with the ungodly hour, you can easily conclude which it is.

“No luck hunting?” He deserves at least a little teasing for waking you like this.

“Actually I was thinking about you and couldn’t get the taste of you off my tongue. Would you mind terribly if I had just a little taste, just a slight nibble?” Perhaps you’ve been too indulgent with him and he’s grown used to getting his way with you, a habit you really should put to an end. If only the mere suggestion of those teeth at your neck didn’t make you quiver with excitement.

Still, it won’t do to placidly let him have his way every time. “You say slight nibble, and I wake up woozy the next morning. I fail to see what I get out of this little arrangement.”

For a moment, you think you see the slightest hint of hurt at your refusal, before he swiftly resumes his flirtatious persona. “Why, you get my gratitude and affection. Both of which are undying, I might remind you.”

It’s not the honeyed words that convince you, it’s the ghost of an emotion, the possibility of vulnerability, that there’s something beneath the mask he shows everyone, even you. Not that you would really refuse, you’re too far gone for that. Life as the daughter of a noble house of Baldur’s Gate primed you for this, to fall for a man so wrong, and dangerous, and not at all anything you should want. Rebellion after years of complicity, years of forced perfection and crafted smiles, of doing everything expected of you. The Illithid ship had given you a terrible burden, but it had also been more freedom than you’d ever known in your life. Freedom that didn’t necessarily come with inbuilt wisdom. Silently, you throw back the covers, beckoning him into the bed roll beside you. With a satisfied smile, he gracefully slides in, body pressed against yours.

The first time you’d let him do this it had been awkward, sloppy almost, a fact explained by the later revelation you were his first. Now familiarity has led to comfort, intimacy of its own sort. Different than just sex, but no less thrilling. An arm around your waist, he buries his head into the crook of your neck, lips brushing up against it in a gentle kiss first that makes you shiver before the bite.

The sharp ice of those teeth piece your skin and drive into the blood flowing in your veins. Then you feel it, the echo of your blood flowing into his veins. It had frightened you the first time but now it sends a wave of bliss through you. An involuntary sigh escapes you and you know if his mouth wasn’t full, he’d be tormenting you for how much you enjoy it. Arms loop around his shoulders, pulling him tighter against you, as though you are begging for more. You are though aren’t you? You can’t get enough of this, of him.

Drifting away, you lose yourself in him, a sweet surrender to an inexorable pull. As promised though, he’s only taken a taste when he lets up, pulling away, and licking any drops from your skin. The control he’s starting to show is impressive, even if it leaves you yearning for the strange connection of his feeding. Knowing that he never lingers after any encounter between the two of you, you unwrap your arms which feel so much heavier now, letting him go. Unexpectedly, he remains, head now resting on your chest, forehead pressed to your cheek. “Not going to eat and run?”

“In such a hurry to be rid of me?” He murmurs, his face hidden so you don’t even have a chance of reading his expression.

You’re not naive, despite what the others might believe. There’s nothing more you expect beyond what already passes between the two of you. Even if you believe you could care for him, he’s not open to you that way. Still, even if the tone is nonchalant, you feel there’s a loneliness behind it he's not quite hiding all the way. “I didn’t say that.” He doesn’t ask directly to stay and you know he won’t, so you pull the covers over the two of you and put your arms back around him and without saying another word.

With a subtle shift, you feel him get near your throat once again before stopping himself. “Perhaps I should go.”

“You don’t have to, I trust you.” Tentatively, you reach a hand up and softly stroke it through his silver hair. First he tenses, and you wait for a reproach for being too tender with him, but none comes. A moment later and you feel the tension release and he relaxes again. Your eyes are heavy, your body desperately craving sleep, but you're afraid there will never be another moment like this, with him so close, and not pushing you away. So you fight to stay conscious, and keep your fingers moving gently as long as he allows it. Sleep comes to claim you again though, and just as the world fades around you, lips brush your collarbone and the arm around your waist holds a little tighter.

The dawn comes, and the camp stirs. When you find the empty space in your bed roll, you tell yourself your heart doesn’t break a little and get ready to get on with your day.

[ilythena]

Request: Jack and Luke go to an animal shelter to adopt a pet (cat or dog, which ever is your favorite) and Jack falls for the adoption counselor that helps them pick out the perfect pet

𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 | 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

★SUM after Luke begs Jack to get a dog, he ends up lucky in more ways then one.

Fem!reader, straight fluff, no warnings! Kinda short tho, tbh I got too interested in Luke begging Jack for a dog 😭 req are open so don’t be shy to send in some, almost done w a lot of them just gotta find time to post em <3

♪ DIAMOND BOY - SZA

“Can you just hear me out-“ “no.” “Please! Just one!”

Sitting on the bed in Jacks room of their shared apartment, Jack throws his head back with an irritated groan. “Luke, I’m not going to keep arguing with you about this shit. We can’t have a dog. Who’s going to watch it? And clean up after it? We’re both professional hockey players and have zero time for an animal.”

With a pout, Luke hesitates before speaking again. “I’ll clean up after them! And I’ll spend all the time with them!” “Luke no. We have a game tomorrow. Go to bed.”

“Why am I even asking! I’m a grown man. I’ll just get one and bring it home.” “I wish you fucking would.”

Luke storms out of Jacks room and heads to his own. Immediately getting on his phone and ranting to Quinn about his problems, Jack turns his body and sighs.

“…what’s going on with the Hughes’?” “Apparently Jack said no to a dog. Luke’s not taking the rejection well.”

The two brothers glare at each other from across the locker room, Luke tightening his laces and Jack grabbing his stick. He mouths an ‘I’m not changing my mind. No dog.’ And Luke huffs before walking out.

“…..well, he’ll get over it soon.” Nico says, patting Jack on the back and he just frowns. “Why is he so insistent on a pet all of a sudden? I mean, you understand why I’m saying no right?”

“Yes, I understand. But I can also see his side. You two will come to a compromise eventually. Let’s not worry about this stuff and just focus on trying to win the game tonight, okay?” Nico says and with a nod, both boys walk out of the room and onto the ice.

Everything was going well at first, Jack had even scored a goal! But it’s like this week just wasn’t on his side. The opposing team began crushing them after the first quarter, swiftly taking out their team with a score of 3-1.

On top of the crushing loss, it was pouring rain outside. And his umbrella broke, which meant he had to walk in the rain, with his brother who’s mad at him, after he loses a game. Great.

Both boys get to the car cold and covered in water—not a word spoken between the two. Luke closes his door shortly after Jack does and it’s pure silence between the two. Jack starts the car and turns the heat up to the max before driving off and making his way home.

“Hey luke?” “…yeah?” “I’m sorry. I’ve been really stressed out and honestly I don’t think it’s good for us to be arguing over something so stupid. Maybe we should get something to eat-��� bark! Jack’s eyes snap over to Luke and suddenly it feels like the car is at 100 degrees.

“What was that.” “What was what…?” Bark! Comes from Luke’s side of the car once again, this time Jack can faintly see something moving inside of his jacket.

“Luke.” “….listen! Do you see how hard and cold it it outside? Poor thing would have freezed to death out there!” “I told you no dogs!” “Look at her!”

Luke pulls the small puppy out from his jacket and you can see her shaking. Wet, cold, and obviously very lost.

“…what do we do now?” Jack whispers and Luke doesn’t answer, pulling the animal closer to his chest. After a moment of discussing what to do, the boys decide to just go home and sleep for the night.

“Hi, welcome in… how can I help you?” “We wanna adopt this dog-“ “no we don’t.”

Jack pushes Luke behind him and gently snatches the puppy from his hands, a sharp gasp cutting through the air when Luke feels the shove.

“Oh! Where did you find them?” “On the street, my brother couldn’t help but pick them up.” You gently take the animal out of Jack’s hands and inspect them for a second before looking him in the eyes. “I’ll have to do a cleaning and a check up for them, since they’re very dirty and I want to make sure the dog is healthy before I give them to you.”

Jack glances at you and when you two make eye contact all the anger he had directed towards Luke died down immediately in his throat. He quietly nodded and in less than a second, you were gone and in the back.

Another one of your coworkers came and got their information, and Jack had sat next to Luke in the small waiting area.

“…can we please keep the dog-“ “maybe.”

After what seemed like hours, you walk out with the dog put in a small kennel, handing it to your coworker. “Good news, puppy is very healthy! Bad news, you can’t keep her because she’s microchipped, which means she does have an owner.” Luke groans in disappointment, but his eyes flicker over to another dog playing through the window in a designated play area.

Jack notices this, and after standing there for a while, he speaks. “….are any of the dogs over there up for adoption?” “Yes sir! All the animals on the right side of the building are up for adoption. Are you interested in adopting today?”

“Um, yes.” Luke’s head snaps over into Jack’s direction. “That’s great! I’ll let you two look at the animals, and let me know if you decide to adopt.”

As you walk away, Jack looks at Luke and glares. “Don’t get too happy. I’m picking the dog.”

“Hello Mr. Hughes, how may I help you today?” “Hey. I know this is really sudden, but I think he’s sick! He’s been throwing up a lot.”

Jack drags in a golden retriever, who his brother named ‘Jett’ and he doesn’t look to well. Slouching and obviously very tired.

“Oh no! Here, follow me. I’ll get him onto the inspection table and I’ll check what’s wrong with him.” He follows you down the hallway with the puppy in his arms and sets him down gently onto the cold metal table.

Watching you take a stethoscope and check up his heartbeat and trying to listen into his stomach, his heart briefly stops when you call in your coworker to do an x-ray on the animal.

After getting sent to the waiting room and waiting an hour, his worried face shifts to confusion when Jett quickly runs out the door and in between Jack’s legs.

“So, I thought he had an infection in his stomach from some sort of food, but as soon as I officially set up the x-ray and tried to put him under it, he refused and went from looking sick to looking completely fine. My diagnosis is that he was trying to get your attention by being dramatic.”

Jack scoffs in disbelief and looks down at the golden ball of fur in between his feet, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“Wow. So I brought him here for nothing?” “Pretty much.” You try to hold back a laugh but fail miserably, smiling at the animal and preparing the register for his bill.

“Well, at least he’s okay! That’s all that matters.” You say and Jack lets out a brief chuckle before looking down at the machine.

“150 dollars?!” “Unfortunately, He did waste the supplies used to prep the x-ray machine…”

“Back again, Mr. Hughes?” “He was eating grass, I’m concerned he’s sick.” “You said that the last time you came in.”

It’s been about 4 months since Jack officially adopted Jett, and coincidentally his owners been coming into your clinic non stop for those past 4 months.

“I’m just looking out for him, what kind of owner would I be if I just let everything slide under the rug?” He grins and you scoff with a smile before leading him and his dog into a private room so you can “investigate” the problem with Jett.

The happy dog jumps up onto the table and rolls over, making a happy sort of huffing noise when you rub his stomach. After doing regular check up procedures, you can determine that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Jett.

“As usual, there’s nothing wrong with your dog. Why do you keep coming in here when you know he’s fine?” Jett jumps on you and you can’t hold back a laugh when he jumps down onto the floor and stands in a playing position. You open the door to the dog play area and let him out to go socialize with the other dogs that stay in the clinic.

“Maybe I just wanna see the cute girl who works here.” “Well maybe there’s an easier way for you to do that instead of dragging him along with you and wasting your money.” Jack bites his lip into a smile and slowly walks closer to you with his hands into his pocket.

“Does that mean that maybe I can take you out on a date this weekend?” “Maybe it does.” You lean against the counter that holds all the paperwork and files in the clinic and take out a small slip of paper, writing something down on it before shoving it into his hands and walking back into a ‘staff only’ facility.

“ xxx-xxx-xxxx. I’ll see you this weekend, Hughes. ;)”

————————————————————————

I would have added my pink banner BUT I ran out of picture space….. sorry this ended so suddenly, I was struggling w how to end it!

© copyright of ilythena. Do not repost or translate onto any other websites.

[sigma-alpha-writer-chad]

Grow Up, Would You? [Josh Washington]

“I don’t know if you’ve changed any since middle school but I really hope you’ve learned the difference between pranking somebody and just being a fucking bully.”

You can also find this story on Ao3!

Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five

[CHAPTER FOUR]

I step off the bus shivering, holding myself for some kind of warmth. "Hooooly shit..." I huff, my breath swirling in front of me before dissipating into the air. Behind me is Samantha Giddings, stepping off the bus in a much warmer state.

"I have an extra jacket, Jordan," she offers.

"H-How far is the lodge?" I chatter. Sam laughs and places her back pack on the ground as the bus drives off.

"Far enough," she says, pulling out a dark grey zip up. It was thin, but it was better than nothing. "I can't believe you forgot your coat."

"Somebody at the station stole it when I went to the bathroom," I mumble, letting go of my own bag. "I think I have a hoodie, though, too." I unzip my own back for my thick, light pink hoodie. I pull it on over my head before sliding the jacket on over it.

"Feel better?" Sam smiles. Her hands are on her hips as she waits for me. She looks like an impatient mother.

"Much. Thank you," I sigh. We officially begin our long climb to the lodge.

"Chris didn't take you with him?"

"No, Josh wanted him to come early to help get things set up, so I just rode the bus."

"I see." A silence falls between Sam and I. I really like Sam for what I know about her, but neither of us considered the other a friend, so there was an air of awkwardness as we walked. "So, you and Chris," Sam starts. "You're cousins, right?"

"Yes ma'am," I nod.

"So, you know each other really well, or what?" I shoot Sam a look of confusion.

"Uhm, yeah, he's my best friend. Why?" A smile creeps onto my face. "Should I hook you up, or...?"

"No! No, haha, Jordan," Sam's complexion was already rosy from the biting cold, but I swear I could nearly see the steam from the snow rising from her face. "I'm just trying to make conversation. Shit, you remind me of my mother. She's been trying to get us together for... whatever reason." I laugh and nearly fall over a lifted branch. The mountain was feeling steeper as we continued on.

"Chris is a really good guy. He used to be kind of douchey when we were younger, but he's really grown into himself. He definitely pulls his annoying pranks, still, but it's highly preferable to the old things he and Josh used to get up to." Sam nods. She's much more athletic than I am so she's a bit further ahead of me now.

"Speaking of Josh, what's your guys' deal?" She stops to let me catch up.

"Our deal? What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't tell if you hate each other or have never wanted to be with another person so much in your life." This time, I do fall over, slipping on some ice and falling face first into a hill of soft snow. It's deep enough that I sink in, the white powder covering my ears enough for Sam's laughter to be muffled. She helps me up, snorting once, which makes me laugh a little, too.

"Uhm, well," I start, my mouth suddenly dry. "He was my bully, growing up." Sam tilts her head before beginning to brush the snow off me. "Made me cry a lot. The hating each other is much closer than... the other thing you said." She hums in response.

"I don't know, there's always been this way he looks at you," she says, just above a whisper. We continue to walk, the cable car building now in view. It doesn't take long before she's starting to pull ahead of me again. "I can't put a finger on it, myself, but it's just... different." I can't help but notice Sam's expression, one of confusion and... frustration? I narrow my eyes at the back of her head.

"Probably just your average disdain, or whatever."

"Nothing average about that guy," she retorts. "I don't know."

"He made my grade and middle school life a living hell. Would've been high school, too, if I didn't choose to go to a different one just to avoid him." Sam turns to look at me, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Oh, so he bullied you," she says, biting her lip. "Like, really?"

"His first prank on me was putting rats in my locker," I laugh. It's not funny, being scared by fat rats in your locker - but in hindsight, I can't help but laugh.

"Where'd he get the rats from?" Sam asks, smiling as if she wasn't sure if she was allowed to find amusement in my story.

"Biology class," I answer. "Though I'm not sure how he actually snuck them out of there under the teacher's nose."

"Impressive, honestly." Sam sighs. We finally make it through a gate and to the cable cars, where Chris waited with the key. 

"Hello, ladies," He greets, bowing dramatically. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" I bow back, but Sam does not.

"The cable cars, Chris," she says. She's smiling yet she seems unamused. He sighs, continuing the dramatics, and puts the back of his hand on his forehead. 

"Ah, another wench, ignoring me, yet pleased to exploit my services... This world is dark as ever." He turns, swinging his arms, and goes to the door to open it for Sam and I. Sam rolls her eyes and follows Chris.

"Why did Josh have you come back down here just to let us in?" I ask, taking my seat in the car next to Chris. I was thankful we didn't have to wait for its arrival. 

"The Washingtons keep everything locked up to avoid squatters," Chris explains. "You guys are the last up, so, I'm riding back with you." 

"Oh, man, we're last?"

"By an hour or so, yeah." The rest of the ride is silent, the three of us looking out the window at the view. After a while, we eventually make it to the top of the mountain.

"Goddamn it I'm so cold," I huff out as the doors to the car open. "Let's hurry up and get inside, PLEASE!" Chris and Sam laugh at my urgency, trailing behind me as I start into a jog, passing an old picnic table. The lodge slowly comes into view as I continue down the trail, and I smile. I see somebody, and I move a bit faster to catch up. 

I can't help but frown when I see who it is.

"Hi, Josh." I greet. Josh turns around, a smile on his expression. When he notices it's me, though, it disappears.

"Hi, Jordan, glad you could make it," he says through gritted teeth. I hear Chris sigh when he spots Josh and I interracting.

"You guys are so confusing," he says, slapping Josh on the back before draping his arm over his shoulders. He turns to Sam. "One minute, this guy sits next to her INSTEAD OF ME at a pizza place and is being nice, and the next-" Josh tries to shrug him off.

"Chris, would you get-"

"And the next," Chris talks louder to negate Joshua's protests. "He's talking to her like she ran over his dog. Look at the rage in his eyes, man!" I wrap my arms around my shivering figure.

"Can we please go inside?" Josh rolls his eyes, finally stepping out from under Chris's arms and motioning me to follow him in. Sam and Chris exchange a look I can't catch the meaning of.

"Jordan!" Beth squeals. Josh flinches at the noise, but a smile begins to take it's rightful place on his lips. Beth wraps her arms around me in a tight hug, nearly knocking me down.

"Hi, Beth," I laugh, catching my balance and returning the greeting. "Do you greet everyone like this?"

"Yes!" Hannah answers for her sister as she joins in the embrace. Her head snaps to Josh. "Did you say hello, Joshua?" He rolls his eyes.

"Yes, I said hello."

"Did you hug her?" My eyes widen at Hannah. Both her and Beth have not let me go. Before they force Josh to hug me, I butt in.

"There's no need for-" it's too late. Hannah grabs Josh by his shirt and pulls him into the group hug. He groans, but complies, knowing it's futile to battle his younger sisters. He's careful not to touch me.

When they finally let me go, I sigh in relief and smile at them. "It's good to see you."

"We're so glad you could make it," Beth smiles. She adjusts her beanie as she leads me to the couch in the huge living room. "Are you cold?"

"Oh hell yeah," I laugh. "And of course, thank you for inviting me. It actually means a lot." Beth 'aw's at me as she sits down. There's a fireplace going, so instead I move to sit at the edge. It burned, but not too much. "Where's everybody else?" I ask, looking around me. 

"I think they're just settling into their rooms," Beth answers. "Josh and Hannah are probably in the kitchen. Do you want to see where you're sleeping?"

"Later," I say, smiling at her. "I'd like to warm up first." She smiles back at me.

"Sure thing. Do you mind if I take your bag to your room?" 

"You don't have to do that."

"We're your hosts! I want to." I laugh softly and nod. Beth happily stands from her spot on the couch to take my bag upstairs to wherever they had me sleeping. As she disappears from view, Emily and Mike pass her on the stairs, followed by Ashley and Matt. 

"Oh, she's here! Didn't think you'd make an appearance," Emily says, looking me up and down in annoyance. 

"I said I'd be here," I respond softly. My eyes turn to the others behind her. None of them make eye contact with me, staring instead at the stairs they walked down. 

"One can still hope you changed your mind!" Emily sighs in a mocking tone, a sarcastic smile on her face. Jess appears, walking quickly down the stairs past Emily and moving to you.

"Hi, Jordan!" Jessica greets me warmly, giving me a quick hug. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't completely shocked at this. Jess was never outright mean to me, but a kind, excited welcome was the last thing I'd expected from her. I'm not one that's familiar with perfumes, but whatever Jess was wearing smelled immaculate.

"Uhm, hey, Jess," I respond. "You smell really good." Mentally, I'm slapping myself. Was that weird to say? She pulls away from the hug. Her smile is wider, now.

"Oh, thank you! It's actually brand new, I bought it this morning before I -"

"Excuse me!" Emily huffs, attempting to shoulder check me as she goes to the couch. I'm able to dodge it, being checked enough to know when it's about to happen. I sigh heavily. She went completely out of her way to do that, I'm nowhere near the couch. I'm so close to asking what her deal is when Jess continues.

"Emily is my girl, she's actually really great she's just, like, really tired or something. I don't know. Try to not take her too seriously, okay?" she takes both of my hands into hers and looks me in the eyes.

"...yeah, okay," I agree. She thanks me before turning to go sit on the couch with the others, her twin pony-tails bouncing. I awkwardly wave at them all. Ashley smiles meekly and nods while Matt offers me a small wave back. Mike glances at me and nods so slightly I can barely see it, which I can only assume is at my own mercy.

"Okay party people," Josh starts, walking back into the living room. "Now that we have everybody here..." Chris, Sam, and the twins follow behind him. "Thank you all for coming. Drinks are in the kitchen... Now let's get fucking wasted!" Josh throws his hands into the air and mock cheers while the others whoop. I step back until my back is to the wall, trying to stay out of the way as everyone heads to the kitchen.

I'm not sure why I'm trying to hide. It's not like I wasn't invited. It's not like I'm not welcome - though, I can't help but feel that I'm not. Other than the twins and Chris, nobody seemed to actually enjoy my presence. I decide that, for now, I'll stay near the fire.

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

"Jordan!" Chris calls, walking to me with a drink in his hand. "Are you cooked yet?" I look up from my phone to see him. He was walking just fine, but it was just crooked enough for me to know he was tipsy. It had been two hours since Josh had announced drinks were available, and no one appeared to have wasted a second.

"Cooked?" I smile, confused. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" he sits down next to me, his drink nearly spilling. It was filled to the brim. "You've been around this fire all night! Are you going to come hang out, or, what?" I cross my arms and shrug.

"I think you'll be okay without me."

"But I want you around," Chris says, softly. "You're my family, I love you. And I love having you around, and I love having my friends around." He drapes an arm over my shoulder, and I lean into him. "Having my favorite cousin and all of my friends in the same place is honestly just amazing for me." I sigh again, my walls crumbling.

"Fine, I'll hang out." Chris springs up in excitement. This time, he does spill his drink. I'm not familiar enough with alcohol to know what it was, but the smell tells me it's strong.

And half of it is on my jeans.

"Oh, shit, Jordan, I'm sorry," Chris apologizes. I laugh and tell him not to worry as Hannah comes over to me.

"I'll show you where your room is, if you want to change!" she offers. I nod, and she begins leading the way. Once we're up the stairs, she stops and turns to me.

"What do you think of Mike?" she asks, her tone hushed but excited. My eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Mike? Emily's boyfriend?" I ask. I look around as if Emily could be hearing us. "I don't know, I feel like speaking his name will curse me to eternal damnation." Hannah laughs and pushes my shoulder. As quickly as we stopped, we continued down the hall. When we get to the last wooden door, she opens it for me. I thank her as I walk in, and she follows to sit on my bed while I kneel at my bag.

"C'mon, tell me what you think! He's handsome, right?" She's a bit louder now that there's no way we can be heard.

"Yeah, I guess so," I admit. It was common knowledge.

"Oh, my God, you guess so? Jordan, he's so dreamy." Hannah flops back onto my bed and sighs, as if lovestruck. As I find a pair of pants, I stand and side-eye her. "His hair, his eyes, his muscles? I just CAN'T!" She smacks a pillow onto her face and squeals in excitement.

"I guess he's also taken," I say. Hannah removes the pillow and rolls her eyes. "But, he seems nice. I don't know. Not really my type." At that, she sits up like Michael Myers. I feel instant regret as I knew what she was going to ask me. I start to pull my pants down, covering myself as much as possible.

"So, what is your type?" I sigh for what feels like the millionth time that day.

"I don't know, Hannah, I never really paid attention to that sort of stuff."

"There has to be something, Jordan," Hannah insists, standing up as I pull on a pair of grey sweatpants. "Eye color? Hair? Bald? Do you like muscles? C'mon Jordan, give me something!" I look in the mirror and take off Sam's jacket and my oversized hoodie, ignoring Hannah for a moment as I thought about what my 'type' was. My t-shirt is form fitting, but not skin tight.

"I like green eyes," I offer quietly. It's the first thing I can think of, and I hope that will satisfy her. I look at her in the reflection of the mirror and there's something in her expression that worries me.

Mischief.

"I'll accept that for now," she sighs, failing to hide her scheming grin. "C'mon, Jordan, no more hiding. Everybody is already tipsy so they'll totally be way nicer."

"If you say so."

"I do." Hannah smiles at me and takes my hand.

"You Washingtons," I laugh. "What's up with your family and taking people by the hand when you take them somewhere?" Hannah bursts out laughing. When we get to the kitchen with everyone else, her smile is wide.

"What's so funny?" Emily asks, tilting her head. I suddenly felt as though I was in trouble.

"Jordan just pointed out upstairs that the Washington family has a thing with holding hands when we take someone somewhere," Hannah giggles.

"Oh, shit, she's right!" Josh gasps. "Duuuude." Chris bumps his shoulder against Josh's.

"Duuuude!" They suddenly start shoving each other back and forth, everyone else in the kitchen giving way immediately as if this were a common occurrence. I lean over to Ashley, who noticeably leans away as if in disgust. I ignore this.

"Does this happen often?" I murmur. She laughs and seems to relax some.

"Yes." The boys were on the floor now, wrestling and laughing. Hannah is whispering something to Beth, and both of them are glancing at me. If they were trying to hide the topic of their conversation, they had failed miserably.

"...I like your hat." I compliment softly. Ashley seems surprised by this, but her smile doesn't falter.

"Thanks, Jordan."

"AND I AM THE MIGHTY WINNER!!" Josh exclaims, making me jump. He stands up quickly, stumbling some as he does. Once he catches his balance, he places a foot atop Chris's chest. He was playing dead, eyes closed and sticking his tongue out. Josh is breathing heavily and laughing. Everyone in the kitchen applauds, laughing and cheering - Emily, even, though not without a major roll of the eyes. My own smile is wide enough that it feels strenuous.

Josh's face was red from the exercise and his thick, dark hair was messy and disheveled. Though it was usually brushed back, it was tousled to the point where it was stuck to his forehead in sweat. Josh's hair was never in his face, so it was odd to see. He's breathing heavily, his winning smile never leaving his face even as Chris starts to get up.

I don't realize I'm staring until Josh looks up at me, locking eyes with mine. My smile drops. His own falters, but he doesn't look away. I gulp and I can feel my face growing hot with embarrassment. He looks as if he's scanning my facial features, trying to figure me out. For a moment I swear he glances at my body. It's not until Jess suddenly bumps my shoulder and hands me a drink that I'm able to snap out of it. She gives me a wide-eyed 'what was that??' look as she turns back away from me to talk to Mike and Emily. I look over at Josh again, and he's no longer looking my way.

Why was he looking at me like that? I furrow my eyebrows and look into whatever Jess handed me in a red solo cup. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I look up at Hannah. She smiles sweetly at me, raising her eyebrows in excitement. I wonder what she's doing, but when she looks down at my drink I understand she's trying to be encouraging in her own drunken way.

"Jordan, you don't gotta, uhm, drink that, if you don't wanna," Josh says, bumping hips with his sister hard enough to have her stumbling a few feet. "If you don't feel safe, y'know?" He stands up straight and reaches for my drink. "You gotta feel safe when you're under my care." My heart skips a beat and I pull the cup away from his hand. He gives me a surprised yet concerned look. I take a deep breath and put the cup to my lips.

This isn't my first time drinking. It won't be my first time drunk. Around people, however? Yes, this was a first. The only person I've been drunk around was Chris during a couple of our cousin sleep overs in high school. I not only sip my drink, I gulp it down quickly. It burns. It's not good. I knew, right as I took my final gulp, that I was fucked. Everybody had migrated out of the kitchen by now and into different parts of the lodge, leaving Josh, Chris and I in the kitchen. I can already feel the heat from the alcohol begin to buzz around my cheeks.

"Duuuude." says Chris.

"Broooo..." says Josh.

"Guuuuys...." says I. Chris and Josh laugh at me.

I laugh, too, and I feel good.

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

Hey y'all, thanks for reading! I'm really glad to be posting another chapter so soon after the last - and there will likely be another very soon! I'm in the writing zone right now, I suppose.

Taglist: @sc4rrc @mattymxmo @cellyx33 @jenepleurepasbaby @kalynnjonas @spinback-kiva @frankcastlesvest

[pearlessance]

Lust Among Thieves [part two]

[part one]

Summary: Fifteen years after escaping your captors, leaving them and the cabin in the woods behind, you end up in a community named Jackson and find yourself repeating the same old habits. Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, angst galore, mild infidelity (Tommy is with Maria but he and reader share one [1] kiss), canon typical violence, mention of kidnapping, mention of blood, angssssttt but with a happy ending (reader ends up with one brother!!!) NOTE: this is a cowrite i've done with my BFF joelmillersgirlfriend!! make sure to go and read her other stuff on A03! thank you guys so much for all the positive feedback on this one, I'm glad you guys are liking it! let us know what you think about the ending <3 [MASTERLIST]

The sun is so warm that it’s beginning to melt the snow, turning it from soft and fluffy to a wet sort of slush. A comforting relief, because the winter holds memories you’re better off leaving behind. Memories of scowls and whittling knives, of the taste of whiskey and lighthearted laughter.

After fifteen years, you thought you’d grow out of the feeling, that you’d grieve the loss and go on instead to appreciate the recovery of your autonomy. But every winter, without fail, you remember your time in that cabin. You remember them. 

You’d never grown out of the feeling and you’d never grown into the now tattered canvas coat. If you closed your eyes and imagined the burn of the winter snow grazing your skin, you could remember how Joel smelled. You could remember how Tommy’s lips tasted.

But years had passed. The memory was now a faint one and one that you tried not to dwell on for too long. You have met a lot of people over the years and had dangerous encounters daily. Why was this one different?

Joel and Tommy had turned you into a new person within the four walls of that cabin. You weren’t the same afterward, now you were sculpted into a being with a sharp tongue and a toughed exterior yet… the core of you was soft. If you dug deep enough, the creature that Joel and Tommy had created was still inside of you, tender and vulnerable. 

For a while, you considered what you would do if you ever encountered them again. You were so far away from the outskirts of the Boston QZ, the death of your father and the weight of the situation turning into a calloused scar instead of a leaking wound over time. Over the past fifteen years, you had made your way across the country, searching for something. Whatever that something was, you weren’t sure of yet.

If you saw the brothers, would you be angry? Would they? They were heavy on your mind that morning as you made your way through the abandoned, ice-covered streets of Jackson Hole Wyoming.

You had left a compound back in Nebraska weeks ago. The people there weren’t bad, but it felt like another washed-down version of living under FEDRA. Constant patrolling, ridiculous rules. It was no surprise that you felt trapped because you had always felt trapped. It was only a matter of time before you ran away. It was the only thing that you were good at. 

You jumped from house to house in Wyoming, occasionally spending a couple of days if you were tired of the constant headache of moving every day. Most of your days consisted of you laying on an old, lifeless mattress, staring up at the ceiling and asking yourself ‘What if I never left?’ Would you have more of a purpose now? Would you not be alone?

You practiced your regular routine of bouncing through dilapidated houses, grabbing what supplies were still left, which was practically nothing. For an area where you had encountered absolutely no one, the houses were surprisingly scarce. 

It was getting late in the evening, and you had picked a house to settle down in for the night. The house had a rough exterior, similar to yours, but the inside was surprisingly still in good condition. You crept through the house, picking through each drawer and cabinet to once again, find nothing.

Truly, the master bedroom should have been an indicator to leave, but you were always a sucker for taking things that did not belong to you.

Just when you were about to call searching the house quits and crack open a book from your bag, you noticed a shifted floorboard in the bedroom. You hummed to yourself in curiosity, reaching down to investigate the suspicious piece of wood. It came out of the floor easily, revealing the contents buried inside. 

Ammo, water, packaged food, medicine. 

But most importantly, a bottle of Jack. Jesus, how long had it been since you had seen one of these? You laughed to yourself when you pulled it out of its hiding spot, half empty but still the perfect amount for a lone wanderer. 

You grabbed your pack, slipping all of the things you had found into it before you heard the voices. 

Fuck.

Moving swiftly, you grabbed everything you could before glancing around the bedroom. Footsteps and conversations were coming up the stairs, and you couldn’t believe how stupid you were for not checking the perimeter of the neighborhood before poking through the houses. 

“Jesse, go get the stuff from the master. Maria is gonna be pissed that we weren’t able to find more. Might as well bring back what we can,” you vaguely heard a gruff voice say. 

Into the closet you went, quietly tiptoeing across the room. Your hands were shaking as you grasped the straps of your bag, praying that luck would be on your side, just this once. 

The second you faded into the darkness of the shadows in the closet, a man stepped into the bedroom. You could see him through the panels of the closet door, especially if you squinted in just the right way.

He appeared young, with long dark hair that fell into his eyes when he glanced around the room. You held your breath when his sharp, determined eyes shifted to look over at the closet momentarily. It didn’t last long, which you were grateful for. You could feel your pulse ticking in your neck as he moved away to check the floorboards, knowing that he wasn’t going to be pleased with what he found. 

He was turned away from you so you couldn’t physically gauge his reaction, but his voice told you all you needed to know.

“Uh, we have a problem here. Stuff’s gone!” he shouted, standing back up quickly to unholster his gun. He glanced around the room once more, waiting for his partner to shout something back.

The voice was distant when it spoke, most likely still downstairs, waiting. “What do you mean, gone?”

The man who was only a few meters from you sighed, shaking his head. “I mean, it’s gone, someone must’ve taken it!”

You could hear heavy footsteps, every movement clearly laced with annoyance as he climbed the stairs. And then they stop a short distance away, and you hear the familiar click of his gun. 

In the holster strapped around your thigh sits your pistol. You have only two bullets—enough to kill a clicker in a pinch, but not enough to fend off two grown men who are also armed. You tighten your fingers around the handle of the old knife, leather now cracked with age, formed perfectly to the hills and valleys of your fingers.

Heart hammering, you know and accept the fact that you’re going to have to take your chances and run. You could already see the shadow of the man entering the room, grumbling at having to come up the stairs. His back was to the closet, approaching his partner.

“It was here two days ago,” he began before quickly stopping. His hand reached out, gesturing towards the ground. Your eyes squinted, following the gesture down until you saw what he found. Wet footprints.

You lunged out of the closet before anyone could even move, and latched onto the man's back like a starfish. You looked at the first man, Jesse, before pressing your knife against the second man's throat.

“Just let me leave. Let me leave and I won’t kill him,” you said coldly, the tip of the blade pushing into your prisoner. 

Jesse’s eyes widened, his hands spread in an attempt to calm you. “Hey, wait a second. We’re not looking for a fight. It doesn’t have to be like this,” he spoke, loosely holding his gun in his hand. You glanced at it with hesitation, which was enough time for your prisoner to grab your wrist and whip you around.

He was much larger than you, probably almost three times your size. There was no way in hell you would’ve been able to keep him restrained for long.

You whimpered in pain at the feeling of your wrist being twisted, the knife dropping out of your hand and clattering to the ground below.

“Stupid girl,” the man said, turning slowly to face you. There’s something about the way the words sound in his mouth that twists up your insides, a timbre that makes your hands tremble and shake. “Shouldn’t make threats when you’re outnum—” He stops. 

And your heart does, too. “Joel?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just narrows his eyes and clenches his teeth, jaw feathering. His hair has gone a little gray and there are defined wrinkles around his mouth and a scar across his nose that didn’t exist the last time you’d seen him, but you’re sure of it. As sure as you are of the ground beneath your feet, you’re sure that a ghost stands before you. 

His eyes soften as the realization hits. You know you’ve aged, too—though perhaps not as drastically.

Jesse is the one who speaks. “Do you know each other or something?”

“Yes,” Joel says, in perfect time as you answer, “No.”

“O…kay.” Jesse shifts uncomfortably on his feet before he closes the space between himself and the place you and Joel stand in what seems to be an eternal face-off. He plucks your knife up from the ground and hands it to you, hilt first. “Here. We don’t want any trouble.”

The shine of the blade catches Joel’s eye, and he scoffs as he processes what he sees. He takes the knife from Jesse’s hand before you get a chance to do so. He raises it in front of his face, no doubt inspecting the two letters etched into the metal.

“T.M? Tommy?” Jesse’s brows furrow as he turns his attention to you. “Is this Tommy’s knife?”

Neither of you answer him. Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and sweat beads your hairline. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and every cell in your body urges you to run as far and as fast as you can. 

“Joel,” Jesse says, voice a little more firm. 

“Just let me go,” you plead, staring Joel in the eye, trying to hide your fear. Not of him, but of the feeling that rises in you upon seeing him. The yearning, the desire, the familiarity. You’d convinced yourself it’d be gone by now, eviscerated. But feeling the warmth of his skin, smelling the pine scent of him—it all comes flooding back with a vengeance. “Please. Just give me the knife and I’ll walk away and we can pretend—”

“She’s coming back with us,” he tells Jesse. “Feed her. Get her some new clothes. If she wants to stay, there’s that empty house over by the cemetery. Fixed it up last week.”

“Stay? Where?”

“A town,” Jesse answers. He smiles at you and it’s warm and inviting, something you haven’t seen in some time. “A community.”

Your stomach growls at the thought of a decent meal, but your fear has you shaking your head. “No, I can’t. I’m—”

“You what?” Joel’s voice cuts through you. “Don’t got anywhere else to go. God knows how long it’s been since you last ate.”

You want to protest, to argue with him, to prove him wrong. But you can’t, because he’s right, and that fact enrages you more than anything else. 

Still, you agree. One night, you tell yourself. A good meal and a good night’s sleep and then you’d leave, never to be seen again.

Jesse helped you onto the back of his horse, leading the way back to the settlement while Joel followed. Every time you glanced back, unable to prevent yourself from looking at Joel, you saw his icy gaze watching your own. You swallowed nervously, pulling back into Jesse. You wondered what Joel was thinking. If he remember everything, if it meant anything to him.

Jackson was huge. There was food and people and walls. It wasn’t like the QZ. People lived like a family, working together for the better of humanity. It brought tears to your eyes to see. 

You felt overwhelmed as you trailed through the streets of Jackson, still mounted upon Jesse’s horse. Random strangers on the street greeted Joel as he led the way like he was some sort of beloved member of the community. All you could do was force a smile and nod during the random greetings, wondering if they knew who Joel really was.

“That jacket looks real familiar,” Joel spoke, gesturing at the worn coat swallowing your shoulders. It was large and had outlived its life, but you couldn’t let it go. It had been with you during some of the coldest winters, keeping you warm. 

“Looks a lot like the one my daddy gave me before he passed. I went crazy, thinkin’ I misplaced it. All this time, it was just you stealin’ shit that don’t belong to you,” Joel scoffed, but without malice. You stuttered, closing it around your body to cover your chest, a habit stemming from pure nerves.

It had been your jacket for years, your only source of comfort during cruel winters. It belonged to you just as much as it belonged to him. You were the one who had taken care of it all of the time.

Joel chuckled at your reaction, grinning down at you. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna ask for it back. I’m happy that you’ve gotten some use outta it.”

It was bewildering, how one sentence he spoke could come across filled with resentment, with ire, and the next be filled with something that felt sort of like relief.

But even back then, even fifteen years ago, you’d never been able to quite understand him. And though his anger was a kindred spirit to yours, Joel was so confusing. 

Once in the stables, Jesse helps you dismount. Before you even swing your leg over the horse, Joel’s handing his reins off to the stable hand and rounding the corner, disappearing from sight. 

Jesse sees your attention follow him, no doubt reading the expression of confusion on your face. “Don’t worry about him,” he says. “Joel can be a bit of an ass sometimes.”

You think that might be the understatement of the decade, but you keep that to yourself. 

“C’mon. Let’s go meet Maria to see where we should place you for housing and then I’ll let you get settled in.”

As Jesse leads you through the streets of Jackson, you can’t help but feel a bit of shock at the way things operate here. There are so many people you can’t keep their faces straight. Children of all ages, people your age, and elders. A rare occurrence these days.

There’s electricity powering lights strewn between the buildings. A carpenter and a grocer and a bar. It feels like something out of a dream.

Jesse leads you into what looks like a cafeteria. There are a handful of tables with hundreds of mismatched chairs around them, and a low chatter that greets you the moment you step through the doors. 

You notice him in a second.

Tommy’s laughing. His hair has grown out long enough that he can tuck the dark blonde strands behind his ear now, curling just slightly at the ends. 

He’s got a couple more freckles and wrinkles around his soft eyes. And seeing Joel was jarring, but it’s Tommy and his boisterous laughter and that wide grin on his face that makes your chest crack wide open. 

You love him, and you’ve always known it. You love them both, but it’s the loss of Tommy’s warmth you’ve felt the deepest since escaping from that cabin. It’s taken you a long time to accept it, but you have—and seeing him brought back a burning feeling that you thought was long gone.

Tommy notices Jesse, waving at him wildly, looking past you as if you were transparent. He didn’t recognize you yet, which wasn’t surprising. You were standing a handful of meters away, and from what it appeared, you seemed to be a ghost from a past life. One that he never anticipated seeing again, with how settled down he appeared to be now.

“Jesse! You have to hear this shit, man! Get over here,” Tommy gestured, a shit-eating smile still filling his face. You noticed the way Jesse looked at you first, evaluating your reaction, which was little to none. You’d grown good at hiding your emotions over the years, a calloused exterior being your own personal form of protection. A shell.

Your brain felt like it was pounding against the walls of your skull when you followed Jesse over to Tommy’s table. You kept your eyes glued down at your feet and prayed, that maybe, he wouldn’t notice you. But, of course…

“Hey, Tommy. I think I found an old friend of yours,” Jesse starts off with, the bastard. Tommy’s soft eyes move over to you, staring blankly for a couple of beats. The noise from the cafeteria droned out as you looked into his eyes, locked on those deep irises that you had dreamt about for years.

The sound of Tommy’s metal chair scraping against the floor pulled you out of your haze. His arms wrapped around you, engulfing your frame - swallowing you in his own body. He was so warm and firm. You hadn’t touched another person for so long, not like this. 

But you still were so uncertain. Your hands wavered, shaking nervously as you considered hugging him back. Things were so complicated, incredibly taboo, and filthy. You shouldn’t want to hug him back. You opt on loosely hugging his waist, too nervous to match the pressure of his embrace.

He pulls back, his large palms coming up to cradle the sides of your face. It reminded you of that night all those years ago when you first kissed him. You could still taste the bottle of Jack on his lips, warm and heavy against your tongue.

Tommy was contemplating kissing you, you had seen the look before. It was all too familiar.

His eyes were heavy, but the look left almost as quickly as it had appeared. He awkwardly shifted back, pulling out of your incredibly loose embrace. Jesus, Tommy was just as conflicted with you. His remorse for what had happened was clear on his face, those heavy puppy dog eyes searching your face desperately, praying that you would forgive him. Forgive Joel.

It was all too much - your head was spinning and your tongue was stuck to the roof of your mouth. Tommy glanced over at the table he had jumped up from, directly at a woman who was sitting next to his seat. Her freckled face was etched with a frown, one that was full of confusion about the situation.

“Christ, you’re alive?” Tommy whispered, wavering away from you. His disbelief wasn’t one that you had expected, nor had Jesse. The young man was still standing beside you, watching the events unfold with wide eyes. 

“I’m not really hungry, Jesse,” you turned and said, needing to get out of there immediately. Something was unraveling deep inside, what that something was, you didn’t know. Your palms felt slick with sweat, your legs unintentionally pulling you back, protecting you from the conversation.

“Please,” Tommy begged, “Let’s talk. Settle in, get used to everything, but don’t leave town without comin’ to talk. And for the love of God, eat .”

You nodded, backing away from Tommy like a scared puppy. The sound of your heart beating filled your brain as you turned and walked away, Jesse hot on your heels. You heard Tommy’s voice speak, “Maria, come on, we gotta go over some things.”

The air is cool against your heated skin, and you greedily swallow the icy air. You press your palm against your sternum, trying to will your heart to slow and your blood to settle in your veins.

“Hey,” Jesse says, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder that makes you jump out of your skin.

When you turn to face him, you don’t even remember unsheathing your knife from the holster strapped to your belt. He has his hands held up in surrender, that friendly smile on his face, and guilt begins to trickle down your spine.

“Alright, alright,” he says. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You lower the knife quickly, returning it to its rightful place at your hips. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry, too. Uhm…instinct, I guess.”

“I get it,” he says, and for some reason, you believe him. There’s such understanding in his voice that it’s hard not to. “Jackson is a lot to adjust to. Doesn’t happen overnight.”

You nod slowly in response. 

“There’s an empty house over by the cemetery. I can show you, and you can rest or look around or…you know, do whatever you need to. There’s hot water, you can shower, and some staples in the pantry if you feel like cooking. I can run to the community hall and get you some new clothes and drop them off if you want some space.”

The words sound foreign in your ears as if he’s speaking a different language. Cooking, showering, hot water …the thought crosses your mind that you’ve somehow died and this is all some kind of strange hallucination. 

But a moment along sounds like bliss, and a shower sounds like heaven, so you find yourself nodding and following him through the streets of Jackson. Jesse tries to make small talk, but you’re not in much of a talking mood and he seems to pick up on it and doesn’t press for much more information.

He tells you there are towels in the linen closet in the hall upstairs and promises to return in less than ten minutes with a basket of clean clothes. “I’ll set them just inside the door,” he said. ”Take what you want. If there’s anything that doesn’t fit, I’ll bring it back to the hall later.”

The house is nice, bigger than any of the places you’ve ever holed up in for a few days, and more secure, too. Upstairs there’s a massive bathroom and before you do anything else, you turn the handle to the hottest setting. The water spits and spudders and is freezing at first, but the second it begins to warm you’re stripping off your clothes and stepping beneath the stream.

And you’re not quite sure why, but the sensation of it brings moisture to your eyes, salty tears mixing with the warm spray from the showerhead. The water that pools at your feet is dark and grimy, ridding you of the dirt that clings to your skin. 

You scrub your skin raw and still don’t feel clean enough. But when the water runs cold, you leave wet footprints on the wood flooring of the stairs and find that Jesse stayed true to his word. 

Just inside the front door is a laundry basket full of clothes; denim and fleece, cotton t-shirts and undergarments, socks, and even a half-decent bra. You settle on jeans and a hoodie that’s just a little too big, but still hold tight to the old coat you’d stolen.

He also left a plate of food, which you assumed was from the cafeteria. Even though you didn’t think you could’ve eaten earlier, not after seeing Tommy, you were suddenly famished. The food was gone in under a minute. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had something fresh, rice, green beans, onions. It was life-altering.

There’s a big bed in the center of one of the bedrooms upstairs, and you tell yourself you’ll rest just for a few seconds. A few minutes. But the moment your head hits the pillow, you know it isn’t true and you don’t have the energy to convince yourself otherwise. 

When you finally wake, the room is dark, and the rays from the rising moon are silhouetting the bedroom in a blue haze. You sigh, relaxing into the bed sheets. It was crazy to reflect on your current circumstances. Just a day ago, you were starving, sleeping on an old rotted mattress with a gun held tightly in your hand. Now, you could hear the laughter and shouts of children from the street outside your window.

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes as you stood up, deciding to leave the house and explore. It would be beneficial to know where everything is, you think. If for nothing else than to know the best escape routes, to become familiar with the routine of the watchers on the walls.

You brush your teeth before heading out, the night air rushing against your face when you step onto the front porch. Even though it’s late in the evening, the streets are still filled with people; families walking back home together, couples holding hands. It almost feels unreal.

Walking past the cemetery, you notice some people crouched at the gravestones, crying. Even when you were somewhere safe, you could never escape the horrors of loss.

It felt like you were floating through the streets of Jackson, an outsider peering in. The closer you got to the center of town, the more people you stumbled upon. Icicle lights were strung across the powerlines and street before you, random strangers greeting you in passing. 

You finally grew tired of the attention, the stares, the forced conversations. You ended up pulling up the hood of your jacket over your head, shielding yourself from gazing eyes. 

A small church was planted near the center of town, and the doors cracked, allowing you to glance in. Though it wasn’t entirely full, many people filled the pews and watched the priest give his sermon. You could pick up a few words from where you were standing, but you didn’t really care to hear. You gave up on a religion a long time ago. 

A couple of meters away was an open space that had a bonfire square in the middle, with a handful of picnic tables spread across the space. The hum of the people talking drew you in, despite not knowing anyone, or so you thought.

“Settlin’ in good?” you heard from behind you, the voice making you jump in surprise. You turned back to see Joel, his dark eyes watching you from a couple of feet away. Those dark eyes still made your palm sweat and your cheeks burn bright. He had always held something in him that made you docile. 

You cleared your throat, subconsciously pulling at the strings of your hoodie. “It’s surreal here. Not like the QZ.”

Joel huffs, nodding in agreement. “Thank God it ain’t.“

There is an awkward pause where you stand shyly in front of Joel, uncertain of what to say next. Making small talk with him was never your forte, because typically he never even wanted to speak with you. Now, here he is, actively trying to pull a conversation out of you. He had changed. 

“You’re not like how I remember,” you say, your lips moving quicker than your brain was able to think. Joel stiffened, rubbing the scruff of his beard.

“Yeah? And how do you remember me?”

It’s a test, one to see how you would describe your relationship with both him and Tommy. A mutual romantic bond? Or something much more sinister, much more taboo? You don’t fall for the trap because you aren’t even sure how you want to interpret everything. Not entirely.

“Quieter. Less gray hairs too,” you said, not expecting the warm sound of Joel’s laughter to hit your ears. He smiled down at you, the grin boyish and full of hidden memories. It made you ache for something you never even had. 

“It’s been a long time. When you left…” Joel trailed off, his expression morphing into a dark cloud. You knew that leaving would hurt both of the brothers, and it felt shameful to admit that sometimes you regretted your escape. Yes, you were free, but what difference did it make? You had lost companionship. Love?

“We both hated to see you leave, but we understood.” Joel was no longer looking you in the eye but was instead staring down at his feet. “What happened there? It wasn’t right, the things we did with you. I can be the first to admit. It was the actions of two desperate, lonely men. But I’m not here to make excuses.”

His eyes moved back to look at your face, to gauge your reaction. 

“I’m sorry. Tommy sure as hell is, he beat himself to death over all of it. You don’t have to forgive me or forgive either of us. But, please, just hear him out. He wants you to come over to dinner tomorrow so you can meet everyone. Then maybe we could all talk?”

You stepped back, crossing your arms and shaking your head. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you tried to explain. The idea of being trapped in a house with people you didn’t know didn’t exactly sound appealing. Joel had apologized for both him and Tommy, truthfully, there wasn’t much of a point to even go now. What more was there to talk about?

“Joel!” shouted a voice from where the bonfire was taking place. Both you and Joel turned to watch a young girl run over to where you were standing. When she arrives you’re able to get a good look at her - pretty blue eyes and a smattering of freckles across her nose that reminds you of the constellations.

For a moment you considered that maybe he had a kid. She looked no older than sixteen - it could be possible. But she didn’t look like Joel, much too soft in the cheeks. Joel had strong features while this girl was the epitome of a cherub, her rounded lips turned up into a smile as she grinned at you.

“Joel. Is it alright if I spend the night at Cat’s? I don’t have garden duty until the afternoon so I’d have plenty of time to get back,” she explained. Well, if she wasn’t Joel’s daughter then she was certainly Joel’s something. The sick thought crossed your mind that maybe something was wrong here, but the moment Joel reached over to tousle her hair, you knew that you were wrong.

“Of course not, El. Be back by dinner tomorrow,” he said, shooting her away, back towards the crowd at the fire. She gave you a farewell wave, one that you returned, as she ran off to find her friend.

Your face was warm when you thought about how you had considered that Joel might’ve been in a relationship with her. Joel noticed your embarrassment, watched the way you huffed into your palm, and shook your head.

“What?” Joel questioned, the distant fire casting a fire over his face. It reminded you of the cabin, of the fireplace. Of his warmth.

“You kidnap her too?”

The small grin that he had on his face disappeared in an instant, replaced with rage and disappointment.

“Of course not,” Joel sputtered, scoffing at the accusation. “I would’ve never- I mean, she is just a child,” he hissed.

“And I wasn’t?” you whispered back just as angrily, pulling your hood off of your head. You wanted him to look at you, to see you. 

“I told you, I’m sorry. I’ve had fifteen years to reflect and I can admit that I was,” Joel pauses before snarling, “a goddamn monster back then. But, Ellie, she’s like a daughter to me. She gave me a purpose. With her, things were different,” he sighed, shaking his head in frustration. 

Tears were burning the back of your eyes, but you forced yourself to keep it together. You weren’t going to show Joel that he had hurt you. That you had missed him. 

“And why wasn’t it different with me?” you questioned, a genuine curiosity behind the words. 

Joel only stood, looking down at you with his lips pressed into a frown. This girl, Ellie, had broken Joel, but you hadn’t. What was so special about her that she was able to receive his empathy?

The answer to that question was easy. You knew that deep down, it was never about you. It was about Sarah. 

You hated that you weren’t able to watch him grow and change, to help him change. He never gave you the chance. 

“I’m going to go,” you said, turning to leave both Joel and the conversation behind. Before you could walk off the sidewalk, you felt a familiar hand wrapped around your arm. A heat rose in your chest and settled in between your thighs just by being touched by Joel. 

His dark eyes softened as he took you in, his gaze tracing the lines of your face, your body, your palms. His large hands dwarfed yours when he pulled you towards him, wrapping you in a hug. It was different from Tommy’s, one that was full of surprise and longing.

Joel’s was tender and soft, his large palms moving in small, gentle circles as if he was afraid he’d break you. 

“Is this okay?” Joel questioned, one that took you by surprise. He had changed, that’s for sure. You nodded, melting into his touch, practically cemented between the pressure of his arms. It had been so long since you had been touched, focused purely on survival. It felt good, to feel wanted.

“When you left we searched for you,” he spoke into your hair. “With the raiders and all, we thought that maybe more had come and taken you. Took us a little while to realize that wasn’t the case. We understood why you left, why you felt like you had to leave, but… fuck .”

He had pulled back now, unable to meet your eyes. “I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to be by your side until it was too late. I fucked up. We both did. But it was me who treated you badly, who excused it. So, I’m sorry.”

It was Joel’s third and final apology of the night. You had decided that you did forgive him, for all of it. There was no point in wallowing in anger forever. You had to let it go.

“I know,” you whispered, reaching to hold his palm in your hand. He wasn’t a bad man. He had never been, and it hits you only now that maybe you’ve always known from the very first moment that he’s not bad …he’s just like you. 

Quick to anger, quicker to self-preservation. Neither of you has ever seen the best in others before the bad, your psyche molded always to expect the worst, tragedy burned in like a bad memory.

“I know,” you say again. “And I forgive you.”

His shoulders deflate as if setting down something so heavy he’d become accustomed to the weight of it after all these years. He gives you this smile, but it’s sort of sad and the sight of it quietly breaks your heart. 

But Joel regains his composure quickly, casting his eyes away from you and clearing emotion from his throat. Your hand still sits in his, a firm, warm hold on you, full of surety, devoid of hesitation. You try not to think about how much it feels like home. 

“So, would you think about dinner then?”

You don’t know these people. You know Joel and Tommy but everyone else remains a mystery, and though nothing about Jackson raises any immediate red flags, there’s still a nagging warning that rings in the back of your mind. Don’t get close. This is only temporary. You don’t belong here. Yet still, you find yourself nodding, pleased with the look of further satisfaction that finds its way onto Joel’s face. “Okay. Dinner.”

When he releases your hand, it feels like a loss all over again. You swallow it down, bury it deep, pretend it’s not there like you’ve always done. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then,” he says. “I’m going to try and get some sleep. Been a long day.”

You nod and force the words out of your mouth even though all you want is to beg him to stay, to wrap his big hand back around yours and pull you into his side. “Goodnight, Joel.”

Even though it makes you feel a little pathetic, you watch him walk away. But he’s turning back to face you, slowly walking backward as he quickly says, “You’re free to take any leftovers, by the way. No, uh…no thievery needed.”

It makes you laugh, the joy of the tender moment seeping deep between your bones. “Good to know,” you say. “I’ll keep it in mind, but don’t be surprised if I pocket a silver spoon or two.”

You hardly sleep the entire night. All you can think about it the weight of his calloused palm, of the timbre of his voice as he told you they looked for you.

No one’s ever looked for you before.

Just before sunrise, you allow yourself a moment to regret running. It’s the first time in all your life that you think maybe flight was the wrong response. 

Tommy knocks on your door early. He’s got on a pair of Levi’s and a black and red flannel, and there’s a long-barrel rifle slung over his shoulder with a scope attached to it. “Morning, sweetheart,” he says. The familiar sobriquet sends a warmth slithering down your spine. “Thought we could go out today. Just the two of us. That sound okay?”

Before you have the chance to think better of it, you're stepping outside and closing the door behind you. Tommy chuckles softly at your lack of hesitation and throws an affectionate arm around your shoulders. You can’t resist leaning into him, can’t think of another place you’ve ever felt safer. 

But then you think of that day so long ago, with Joel wrapped around you, his strong arms encircling your waist, and you think tucked into Tommy’s side might be the second safest place in the world.

The streets of Jackson are relatively empty compared to yesterday. The sun is up, casting orange shadows over the puddles of melting snow, and the lack of prying eyes makes you curious. “Where is everyone?”

“It’s Sunday,” he says simply. “For one day of the week, no one’s got any jobs to do.” 

Truthfully, the concept of a weekday or a weekend has been foreign to you for so long you’d nearly forgotten its existence. “Oh,” is all you can rebuttal. And then a few moments later, “Where are we going?”

“Hunting trip,” Tommy explains. “Just like old times. Joel says you still got my skinnin’ knife.”

The words hold some accusation, making you flush, but there’s a proud smile on his face and you know he’s not angry for your stealing. You can feel the weight of it at your hip, and pull it from the sheath attached to your leather belt. Slowly, you turn it in your hand, polished silver glinting. 

“Figured you’d taken it when I couldn’t find it. Looked everywhere for that thing. Looked everywhere for you, too. But…I just hoped it kept you safe. Wherever you were, I kinda liked the thought of, ya know…just being able to protect you somehow. I’m glad you had it.”

His confession cracks your chest wide open and leaves you bleeding. You think of all the times his knife had done just that; protected you, fed you, saved you.

“S’alright,” he says. “Go on an’ keep it. S’yours now, sweetheart.” 

You slide the blade back into its home on your hip and follow Tommy as he feeds and speaks softly to an all-black horse in the stables. He saddles it quickly and with precision before pulling you up onto the horse behind him.

Instinctually, you wrap your arms tight around his waist and rest your cheek against his spine, inhaling the familiar but long-forgotten scent of him. The watchers on the walls let the two of you pass with only a nod to Tommy, and you ride slowly through the wet grass until you come to a clearing in the woods.

There’s a tree blind, hidden at the edge of the brush. Tommy ties the horse’s reins to the post and he lets you climb up the ladder first. 

Once you’re both safely inside, the horse grazing on the grass below, Tommy sits the end of his rifle on the edge of the window before settling into one of the rickety wooden chairs that have been hauled into the blind. 

You take the one beside him. Even though you know a big part of hunting is the silence, a million questions press against the back of your teeth. After a few minutes pass by, you can take the pressure no longer and ask, “Who’s Maria?”

A smile climbs onto his face. Unsure of what to expect, it surprises you as he answers simply, saying, “My wife.”

“ Wife ?” It raises a plethora of new questions. How long have they known each other? Did Tommy ever tell Maria about their time in the cabin? Did the two of them build Jackson together? Why does his answer sting?

He seems to sense the confusion and reaches across the open space to squeeze your hand in his. “After you left. Jesus, I think both Joel and I had a moment of realization. I missed you like hell, the feelin’ of you, the warmth. To think that you had gone back out there, with raiders and God knows what else, because of me and Joel? Christ.”

Tommy sighs, pausing before staring out into the wooded distance. You could see how much he had on his mind, an unbearable weight that he had been holding for years. It was wearing him down, weakening his bones. 

“I know Joel talked to you, but I really can’t explain to you how sorry I am,” Tommy began. You glanced down at his palm which was still holding your own, large and heavy against your skin. 

“There’s no excusin’ it. You were so young, and innocent. Something that we hadn’t been around for so long. We had seen horrible things, had done awful things. We took advantage of you. I took advantage of you.” He turned to look at you, a deep sincerity held in his eyes. “Please, forgive me. I don't know how I’d be able to keep livin’ with myself if you don’t.”

There wasn’t anything to forgive. You had wanted everything that happened, at the end of the day. You had missed both him and Joel. 

“I’ll forgive you if you forgive me for stealing from you,” you said in an attempt to break the ice. You knew it worked from the way Tommy’s face broke out into a toothy grin. 

“You’re forgiven.”

Tommy explained to you what had happened after you ran away from the cabin. How he had gone back to the Boston QZ in search of you, eventually abandoning Joel there to join the Fireflies. From there he had ditched the Fireflies, deciding that their methods were too extreme, and then, he met Maria. She had saved him, washed him of all of his sins, and gave him a purpose again. 

“She’s a good woman. An amazing woman, Jackson wouldn’t even exist without her,” he said, but it felt like he was convincing himself and not you. Tommy looked over at you, a dark lust behind his eyes that you hadn’t seen since the last night you shared in that faraway cabin. 

“She is,” he breathed. “But… sometimes I think about how different things would’ve been if I made better choices back then. I’m happy here in Jackson, beyond happy, but-“

You closed the distance quickly, knocking your wooden chair into his own. His lips were warm and soft, just like you had remembered them. It was easy kissing Tommy, like second nature. He hummed into your mouth and didn’t push you away. There was no huge rush of passion behind it, but something much more important. Catharsis. A conclusion.

“For closure,” you whispered into his lips. Tommy nodded, kissing you once more before leaning back in his seat, his hand still holding yours.

“For closure.”

On the way back, Tommy fills you in on Joel’s relationship with Ellie. They met in the QZ, where he agreed to take her across the country to Salt Lake City. When you ask why, Tommy insists it isn’t important, that if it was he would tell you. “It’s Ellie’s secret to tell, anyway,” he says.

You let it go, far more interested in something else entirely. Your arms are wrapped around his waist on the back of the horse and you’re breathing a little easier now as you ask, “Does she make you happy? Maria?”

There’s a moment of hesitation. Or rather contemplation, perhaps. But then he nods slowly and says, “Yeah. Yeah, she does.”

You’re glad to hear it. Truthfully. Even with all that’s transpired, you’re thankful Tommy was able to find this slice of bliss in the hellish affairs of the world. 

“Does she know? About what happened?” you asked shyly. Tommy sighed, nodding.

“She knew bits and pieces but not at all of it. After Joel and Jesse found you, I told her everything. It wasn’t fair for her not to know.”

You would’ve guessed that he told her. He seemed to really love her, to trust her. If Joel even trusted her, then that showed the strength in the relationship. It didn’t bother you that she knew. It was for the best.

“And…Joel? Do you think he’s happy?”

This time it’s definitely hesitation. Tommy’s throat bobs as he swallows hard. He lets out a long breath, misting in the cool air. “He hasn’t been the same since…”

“Since Sarah, right?”

Tommy shakes his head. “No. I mean, yes, but…”

There’s something he’s holding onto, and you’re not sure if it’s for your sake or for Joel’s. Either way, this is the secret you decide you need to uncover. “Tell me.”

“When you left…I mean, I know I already said it was hard but it was different for Joel. I had the Fireflies and then I had Maria and Jackson, all things that filled the emptiness but Joel…I don’t know. S’like he never came back from it. From losin’ you.”

You can see Jackson in the distance now. A silhouette of a town, of a home. Your stomach turns, thinking that all this time you’ve both been suffering from the same plight and the cure has simply been forgiveness. 

But can you live with entirely forgiving Joel? Completely? He advocated for your death, held you hostage, and shot you in cold blood. You can acknowledge and accept the fact that he’s changed, that you all have, that you’ve grown and matured and established a firm line between what’s right and what’s wrong, something the three of you once lacked.

You’ve finally found closure enough to move on from this, but if you let go of your anger, let it dissolve into nothing, what would be left of what you feel for him but longing?

If you let it all go…there would be nothing left inside you for Joel Miller but love, and you’re fairly certain that that would be even more difficult to navigate than your anger. 

Once back in Jackson with nothing to show for your hunting trip but ease in your shoulders, Tommy secures the horse back into the stables and offers to walk you home. You laugh and joke the whole way and it feels natural, just like old times but perhaps even better now that you’re here of your own volition. 

Once in front of your house, Tommy takes your hand in his and kisses your palm. “I’ll always care for you,” he whispers, dancing around a word far more intense. Once again, you’re not sure if it’s for your benefit or for his, or if it’s for Joel’s.

You lift his hand to your face and lean into his caress, feeling the warmth on your cheek, the roughness of his skin brought on by age and hard labor. “Me too,” you admit. And then quieter, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I know it was…”

Tommy shakes his head. “No, sweetheart—don’t you ever apologize for that.” He used his free hand to thread his fingers through your hair, not dissimilar to the way you’d first touched him all those years ago. “You needed it. I needed it.” 

He wraps his arms around you and you lean in close, soaking up his warmth, his safety.

You share so much in one embrace—longing, lust, regret, forgiveness. And when he pulls away, it all fades into the ether, leaving nothing behind but this deeply rooted fondness for him, a desire for him to be happy above all else. 

“If you need anything, and I mean anything, come and find me. We live next to the daycare. Maria said to be there after nightfall tonight,” Tommy spoke, knocking his shoulder across your own playfully. “I hope you’re ready for a home-cooked meal. How long has it been?”

You stand, truly considering his question. Eating in the QZ wasn’t exactly pleasant. Typical meals consisted of stale bread and watered-down soup. You couldn’t even remember your last fresh meal.

“Too long,” you sighed. Tommy smirked, his warm smile making the skin of your cheeks burn.

“Soon enough. See you tonight.”

The day goes by quickly. You fill the empty space with exploration, walking through the greenhouses, around the buildings, and through the one currently being constructed in the northwest corner within the walls.

The people begin to emerge a little after midday, socializing with one another, smiles on their faces and ease in their shoulders. You see Jesse at one point while you’re walking the perimeter, checking for weak spots, and he waves at you and it feels so strangely normal that it startles you. 

When the sun begins to set behind the heavy clouds, you find the house beside the daycare and stand a few feet away. You can see through the open windows that you’re likely the last to arrive—and for a second, you consider turning back and running as far away as you can. 

Because beneath the yellow light, they all look so happy. Maria, Ellie, and someone else you can’t put a name to, all work together setting the table, six place settings with mismatched cutlery.

Joel and Tommy can be seen in the kitchen, sharing a few concerned looks between warm smiles, once in a while knocking the neck of their glass bottles together. They’re all at home here and have all curated a routine, a familiarity. 

And you know without a shadow of a doubt that if you walk in there, you’re going to disturb it. You’re going to break the tranquility they’ve worked towards, you’re going to be the odd one out, the sore thumb in their causal, familiar cacophony. No matter what, you’re not going to belong. 

The only hope you have is trudging through the unfamiliarity until it becomes familiar, hoping to integrate yourself into their already established lives. 

But after all you’ve done since leaving that cabin, after all the blood on your hands, is that the sort of thing you’ve earned?

It’s not. You know it. You turn to leave.

The front door swings open, yellow lighting silhouetting his familiar frame.

He must see the terror in your eyes, must see the flight response kicking in because he’s off the porch in a second and taking your hand in his. 

You’re shaking your head and your breath feels stuck in your throat, amassing into a stone of instinct that sits heavy on your chest. 

“Tell me,” is all Joel says.

The words come spilling out, mechanical, one after another. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve this. I don’t belong here. I’ve killed people. I’ve lied and stolen and—”

He takes your face in his strong grip and forces you to look at him, the sight of adoration in his eyes like a balm to your heart. “It doesn’t matter if we deserve it,” he says. “Do you want it?”

More than anything.

Tommy’s voice cuts through the intensity between you and Joel. “Dinner’s ready,” he says. “Come eat, sweetheart.”

You do. Maria’s made a whole platter; roast and vegetables and some sort of broth soup with rosemary. There’s red wine and whiskey and sweet tea. Joel sits beside you at the table. Ellie sits across from you, beside her girlfriend who you learn is named Dina.

They’re all incredibly nice, asking you questions about your life before Jackson, never pressing too much, sensing when a topic is brought up that you don’t particularly want to recall and quickly changing the conversation.

The chemistry flows far easier than you’d imagined it would. You find you even like Maria, and you especially like that fond look in her every time she glances over at Tommy. 

The food is delicious and you’re bringing a forkful of roast to your mouth when Dina asks, “So, how did you meet Joel and Tommy?”

The table goes quiet then, and Dina and Ellie share a confused glance. You chew slowly, hoping someone else will answer the question or, better yet, ask something else entirely. 

But then Ellie jokingly says, “What? Did guys kidnap her or something?”

You nearly choke, Tommy lets out a long breath, and Joel is stone still apart from the feathering of his jaw. Even Maria looks uncomfortable. 

Ellie sees the unsaid words and quietly mutters, “Oh shit.” She turns to Joel then, eyes narrowed into slits. “You kidnapped her?”

“It wasn’t like that,” you supply. “Not exactly. I stole from them first. Back when food was a lot more scarce.”

“So you held her captive,” Ellie corrects, unrelenting.

“A story for another day, maybe?” Maria suggests. “How’s the soup, El?”

You can tell she’ll circle back to the conversation the moment she can, but for now, Ellie lets it rest. And you’re thankful for it, because you’re not sure how to explain a moment of your time spent in that cabin even to yourself, let alone someone else.  

After dinner, you help Maria clean while the brothers drink beer out on the back porch and watch Ellie play guitar. From the kitchen you can see Dina stretched across the wooden floor, propped up against the rails of the porch. The sound of Ellie missing a couple of strings makes Maria hum in amusement. 

“Joel’s been teaching her for a couple of weeks now. She picks up quickly,” Maria informs you, taking a now cleaned dish from your hand to dry it. It didn’t feel weird, being around her, despite the fact that you had kissed her husband just a couple of hours ago. 

“Yeah. She seems like a good kid.”

Maria places the plate into the cabinet before turning to you. She leans against the counter, taking a moment to look you over. 

“You weren’t how I imagined you when Tommy told me about everything.”

Her words didn’t feel rude or passive-aggressive. They were more so honest, and revealing. 

“How did you imagine me?” you asked, continuing to wash the dirty dishes in the sink. Focusing on the soapy suds melting off the plate the more you scrubbed it distracted you from the conversation. You knew that Maria was trying to understand you, but it made you feel anxious either way.

Maria sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not so quiet. Fiery, like Ellie. I suppose you are, deep down, especially if both the Miller brothers like you.”

You used to have more of a spark inside of you, but over time, it had slowly fizzled out. You had killed too many people, done too many awful things. After your father was murdered, you lost the majority of the fire that was meant to burn in your chest. You learned how to be a drifter and not get attached, because getting attached meant losing them someday.

The only exception were the brothers who you could hear laughing loudly from the back porch. Even after all this time, after leaving them, they had found a place to call home where they could love freely. 

“They both care a lot about you. You had Joel pacing back and forth, wondering if you’d actually show up.”

A warm blush washed across your face and didn’t stop until it reached the bottom of your spine. Joel was waiting for you? How was it that he had shut you off, practically hated you all those years ago, but now, suddenly was worried about you? What had changed?

As if she could read your mind, Maria spoke. “Ellie helped him open up a lot. According to Tommy, she’s got that same spitfire energy as Sarah. Maybe back then, it wasn’t the right time. Joel was too far gone. But now, it could be different. You could take advantage of his weaknesses this go around if you think it would make you happy.”

You understood why Tommy loved Maria. She had created this town, a haven, and even cares about people she doesn’t know. She allowed her husband’s people to be her own.

“Maybe,” you agreed, focusing your attention back on washing the dishes. Maria didn’t pry and instead moved back into the pattern of taking clean dishes from your hands. 

Once you finished, you followed Maria onto the back porch, trailing through the sliding doors. Ellie and Dina were so focused on singing a Foo Fighters song that you hadn’t heard for years (that you were sure Joel introduced them to) that they didn’t notice your approach. Tommy and Joel did, Tommy smiling at Maria before extending his arms. She walked to where he was sitting and joined him, sitting on the edge of his lap. 

You were glad that you didn’t feel anything but happiness to watch the intimacy of the couple.

Joel’s eyes were watching you, dark and full of thoughts you wished you could understand. You wondered how he would react if you closed the space and sat on his lap - not that you had nearly enough courage.

“I think I’m gonna get ready to head home. I gotta organize the pantry in the morning,” you said, glancing over at the two girls who had moved on to singing some song you didn’t recognize.

All three of the Millers looked disappointed in your confession. “At least let me walk you back,” Joel begged, but you shook your head.

“No, stay. Don’t wanna miss out on this,” you said, glancing back over at Ellie and Dina singing. 

There was something like hurt that flashed across his face, but it didn’t linger long. 

“Feel free to come back any time,” Maria said.

“For anything,” Tommy adds. 

Joel says nothing, even though you linger there on the porch for several seconds, secretly hoping he would. But you nod silently, thank them for all their hospitality, and compliment Maria on the food, before parting ways to the soft sound of Ellie’s strumming on the guitar. 

For several days, you find yourself grappling with a decision. Should you stay, or should you do what feels most natural and flee? 

Fleeing would be what you’re used to. A rehearsed, calculated event. Premeditated. You’d been thinking about it from the moment you set foot in this place. Take a backpack full of supplies; food, medicine, water. You’d probably even get away with taking a horse and a couple of guns from the armory.

You’d do it first thing before the sun rises on a Sunday morning when the whole of Jackson is sleeping apart from the watchers on the walls. You wouldn’t say goodbye because you know Joel and Tommy both would convince you to stay. 

Instead, you’d leave a note on the table in your kitchen. One Saturday night you even sit there with a pen in your hand, but all you can manage to scribble down are the words I’m sorry. 

You trash it before sunrise. And that morning, Ellie stopped by to ask if you’d help her tend to the greenhouse. “It’s an eight-hour shift,” she explained. “Four with an extra set of hands. They have that dance going on tonight, down at the community hall. Dina really wants to go.”

Of course, you agree. And as the hours tick by, you understand Joel’s attachment to her. Ellie is probably the funniest kid you’ve ever met. Intuitive too, and so smart it’s jarring. You like her, mostly because she reminds you a little of yourself when you were her age. 

She talks briefly about her journey with Joel to Salt Lake City. Says he started out as this gruff, overbearing man, but towards the end, he was the only source of comfort remaining in her grasp. She says Joel saved her life but then gets really quiet for a while afterward. 

You don’t pry. The silence is comfortable, the dirt between the creases of your palms and beneath your fingernails is warm, and you realize that fleeing is going to hurt an awful lot more than you thought. 

After your shift in the greenhouse with Ellie, you begin to consider staying. Jackson is a good place, a safe place. One without the tyrannical rules of a standard QZ.

The following weekend, a fight breaks out between two men at the Tipsy Bison. One is drunk and sloppy and he has a knife strapped to his belt. You watch from a far distance as the drunken man stabs his opposition between the ribs, blood pooling in the mud beneath his feet. 

You don’t see Joel right away, too focused on the commotion that breaks out over the event, but the moment he steps in he’s hard to miss. He has that strong, domineering energy about him. He breaks up the fight in a second and has the man with the knife unclenching his fist, silver glinting in the pool of blood as the weapon drops to the ground.

Maria and Tommy arrive a short moment later and the man with the stab wound gets carted off to the infirmary. Joel towers over the man with blood on his hands but says not a single word.

You’re not sure why, and you’re too exhausted to attempt unpacking it, but the way he just… controls the situation so easily has your thighs pressing together.

Joel and Tommy take the man someplace, but you don't stay around long enough to find out where. You half expect them to make some scene of it; whippings in the center of the town, a public execution as a display of power. You’ve seen such things before in the QZs you’ve drifted through. 

But nothing like that happens, and all anyone can talk about is Rick’s miraculous recovery and what they plan to bring to him in the infirmary. 

You ask Jesse what happened to the drunken man who stabbed him, wondering if they killed him someplace away from prying eyes. 

Jesse laughs and shakes his head. “No, we didn’t kill him. He was exiled.”

You’re not sure why it surprises you, but it does. 

The next time you see Joel, he’s in the stables. The first taste of summer has presented itself, spring slowly giving way, the earth thawing further each day. He’s wearing a navy t-shirt that stretches tight across his biceps and a good-fitting pair of blue jeans, and you watch from a safe, non-conversational distance as he moves haybales from one end of the stables to another, making room for the new ones loaded into the back of Tommy’s truck. 

A light sheen of sweat coats his sun-kissed skin, and it makes your mouth water. All you can think about is that first time with him, how he’d gripped your hips with calloused fingertips, how he’d kissed your lips until they were swollen, how he’d pressed himself between your spread thighs.

You run home so fast you’re out of breath when you close the door, and the moment you make it up the stairs and to your room, you're slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your jeans to alleviate the ache that has settled and made a home between you legs. 

Telling yourself it was a fluke, you don’t think of it again. In fact, you try very hard not to think about that day in the cabin, you try not to think about the way he looked at you before leaving you and Tommy in the bed on that last day, you try not to think about the way his muscles flexed in the stables. 

You fill your time with chores. The greenhouse, watch, patrol, shifts at the Tipsy Bison. Anything that keeps your mind from Joel you greet with ready and willing hands.

But it happens again. Of fucking course it does.

It’s raining hard and has been for several days. The western wall begins to flood, and it’s an all-hands-on-deck situation, moving sandbags from one end of Jackson to the other. Everyone is running around, moving as fast as they can, piling them into the back of one person’s truck and then someone else’s the moment one pulls away. 

Maria woke you up in the middle of the night with a yellow raincoat in her hands, and of course, you didn’t waste a moment before you put on your sneakers and ran out the door with her. 

She stations you at the western wall with a handful of others, unloading the sandbags and stacking them as high as possible to detour the pooling water.

Joel stands two feet away from you, yelling orders over the sound of the rain, commanding the situation in that way of his. You’re shivering, even with your raincoat, and as Joel’s hand brushes yours when he helps you lift a sandbag onto the pile, it sends an electric jolt down your spine. “Jesus,” he huffs. “Here. Take off your jacket real quick.”

You do, in time with him as he removes his canvas coat, soaked through with water. He pulls his flannel off and hands it to you, and normally you would argue he needs it more considering your dry t-shirt, except you’re freezing.

The soft fabric is warm and it’s a little too big but it’s the most comfortable thing you’ve ever worn. It smells like him, like pine and rain and Joel. For a moment you consider not returning it back to him and adding it to your collection of clothes you’ve taken from him. But for now, you relish in its heat, in its softness. 

He goes right back to instructing others after shrugging his coat back on, as if the act of kindness was nothing, as if he’d give just anyone the shirt off his back. And maybe he would, but you’ve never stuck around long enough to find out. 

It’s still dark when you finish, sunrise still a while away. Maria and Tommy thank everyone for their help and send you home, telling everyone to try and get some extra sleep, that shifts will start an hour later than normal. 

You do as she says, noting the way the muscles in your back ache from strain but finding it strangely satisfying, feeling less like you’d lost sleep and more like you’d protected something that was worth protecting. 

Joel’s flannel remains on as you climb back into bed. And though you’re exhausted, all you can think about enveloped in his scent is how he would feel beside you, on top of you, between your legs. Heavy and warm, strong and so incredibly safe.

It doesn’t even feel like there’s a choice when you wiggle your fingers beneath the elastic of your panties. And even though it only takes a matter of minutes to make yourself reach the pinnacle of bliss, it feels unsatisfying. Like it’s not enough, like it’ll never be enough.

You still wear Joel’s flannel while on patrol with Jesse later in the day. You vow to return it, promising yourself this is your chance to change. To be a better person, to reinvent yourself here in Jackson, to stop running, to stop thieving. 

But you don’t return it. Several days go by and you practically live in the goddamn thing.

You lost count of how many times you squirmed against your pillow with the flannel pressed against your lips, imagining that Joel was there. 

“Just like that, baby girl,” Joel would say gruffly, his strong palms pressed against your thighs to make your hips rock. “Missed listenin’ to those little moans.”

If you squeezed your eyes closed just enough, you could feel him on you, guiding you. You prayed that he still thought about you, but you were scared to know what it meant if he did. It would mean that Joel reciprocated your lust, your feelings.

One evening you walked past Joel’s house after a long, tiring day of helping create concrete for the expansion of the South wall. The summer project was to create space for new houses. Jackson was growing day by day, getting stronger. 

You stopped outside the concrete steps, looking at the path to the front door. Would you have the courage to walk up that intimidating trail and knock on Joel’s front door? Would you have the courage to ask him to kiss you, to show you how much he missed you?

Your question was answered once Joel’s front door opened, and a dark-haired woman stepped out. She was turned back, telling Joel something that you couldn’t quite make out. The steps of your sneakers crunched across the gravel of the road, your feet carrying you as far away from Joel’s house as possible. 

One last glance back allowed you to witness the faraway silhouette of Joel passing something over to the woman, something that you were much too far away to see. You had done something stupid again - assumed that Joel was single. You weren’t trying to jump to conclusions but Tommy was married after all. It would make sense that Joel had found someone too, someone to settle down and raise Ellie with. 

The happiness that you felt seeing Tommy and Maria together was not what you felt when watching Joel with another woman. A big, ugly, green monster bubbled inside of you and threatened to crawl out of your throat. 

You hated this feeling. You hated it so much that you’d ended up going to Joel’s house later that, shortly after his bedroom light had turned off. The streets were completely empty except for the night shift patrollers walking towards their posts, the day saying its last goodbyes in the same way you meant to. A basket with Joel’s flannel and his original jacket from fifteen years ago was left on his porch. They were rejected and discarded, like how you felt. 

The basket mocked you when you walked away from his porch, a visceral reminder of what you were actually returning. Your devotion. 

It was impossible to sleep that night, too many rampant thoughts running wildly through your head. You stayed up the remainder of the night, a scratchy wool blanket tucked beneath your chin as you sat on the couch.

The moonlight streamed in through your living room window, painting colorful silvers and purples across the peeling walls. It was eerily peaceful to watch the earth sleep.

A stark opposite to the peaceful moonlight was the sudden rough knocks banging against your front door. You couldn’t help the way you jumped up, your bloodshot eyes glancing over to watch the wooden frame shake with each knock. 

You move over the back of your couch to glance out the front window to see who is pounding at your door. The top of your head peeks over the blanket, your eyes straining to see. It’s Joel, of course, it’s Joel, and seeing him with that frantic look in his eye has your heart in your throat.

When you open the door to ask what he wants, you see both his flannel and his coat clutched in a knuckle-white grip. “Is this your way of saying goodbye?” 

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” You open your mouth to speak but he raises his free hand and stops you. “An’ don’t lie to my face, don’t…don’t look at me and tell me you’re staying just to disappear in the middle of the night.” There’s a kind of aggression in his voice you’ve never heard before, even when he shot you. “You’re leaving.”

It’s not a question this time. And you know he’s reliving it, remembering every moment in that cabin, the same way you’ve been since setting foot in Jackson.

The urge to comfort him rises in you, to promise to stay, but you can’t. Not when all you can see is that dark-haired woman on his doorstep. So, you swallow thickly and cast your eyes away, staring at the clothes you’d return instead. “It doesn't matter. Keep them, Joel.”

“It does matter,” he insists. “How can you say that?” He pushes into your house, this desolate place that suddenly comes to life with him in it. “After everything we’ve done, after everything we’ve seen… it matters. This place matters. You —”

Your breath catches at his near confession. It’s the first you’ve heard it from anyone, and the young girl you were fifteen years ago silently begs for him to finish it. She begs to be seen, cared for, and loved. 

But you’ve spent so long shoving her into a box in your heart that it’s second nature when you do it this time. Joel shakes his head. He begins to speak, stops, and tries again. “I…you…”

“What, Joel?”

He runs an exasperated hand down his face. Whatever it is he’s trying to say is bothering him, an irritation dug in deep like a tick. “Don’t…”

You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s none of your business, yet you still find yourself crossing your arms over your chest and saying, “Should you even be here right now? Isn’t there someone else you should be giving the pleasure of your company to?”

Confusion sinks in quickly. “What are you talking about?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, so I can’t lie to you but it’s fine if you lie to me? Typical, Joel. You’ve always been a hypocrite.”

"Hypocrite? What are you talking about? I’m here, trying to convince you to stay in Jackson because it’s safe. Even if you want nothing to do with me, if you want me to…to stay far away, that’s fine. But this place needs people like us and we need it.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel—I saw her. Don’t fucking play dumb.”

“Saw who? ”

You throw your hands up, anger rising to the surface of your skin. “I don’t know! And I don’t want to know! She was leaving your house with a really big smile yesterday so I guess I should say congrats, right? To you and Tommy both, for finding whatever it was you were looking for in me fifteen years ago.”

Joel shakes his head. “No, no—you’ve got this all wrong. It’s not like that.”

“Right,” you say indignantly. “Because that’s believable.”

He closes the space between you and wraps his hand around your elbow, holding tight enough to bruise. Joel stares at you with his eyes filled with intensity, so much of it that you actually start to believe him when he says so quietly, “There’s been no one. No one since you.”

“Oh, so it’s just the start I interrupted then? My bad, Joel, should I apologize?”

“Will you stop?” His jaw ticks, and you can see his irritation as it rises, a near palpable thing. His neck flushes, and his eyes narrow. “She’s Dina’s mom. She came over to meet me formally since Ellie’s been staying over there so often. She doesn’t mean anything. Not like…”

“Like what, Joel?”

“Not like you,” he finally says. It feels like a breath of fresh air, and you think he must feel that way, too. Because his grip on your elbow loosens, his shoulders drop, and his eyes soften instantly. “You…you mean something. To me. An’ I don’t…I want you to stay. I’m…I’m askin’ you to stay. Please.”

In all your life, in all the places you’ve passed through…not once has anyone ever asked you to stay. Not once has anyone seen you like this, seen and known you well enough to know when you’re tempted and have enough time to deter your decision. 

Well, until now. Until Joel. 

“Don’t do that,” you say, shaking your head, trying to clear the moisture that pools in the corner of your eyes. 

He takes your face in his hands, calloused palms rough and warm against the tender skin of your jaw. “Stay,” he says. And again, softer this time, a plea. “ Stay.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, don’t give me false hope.”

Joel presses his forehead to yours. “I mean it,” he promises, and you want so badly to believe it, so you do. “Do you have any idea how long I looked for you? And even when I stopped lookin’ I saw you everywhere. Saw you in everything. That first winter without you…Christ, couldn’t think about anythin’ else.”

All you manage to say is his name like an escaped breath. Your skin prickles at his closeness, and you’ve never been good at resisting your impulses so you don’t even try to keep yourself from pressing your lips to his. 

His hands slide into your hair, pulling you in closer, his tongue running across your bottom lip. You grant him access in the form of a moan that he echoes the moment he tastes the inside of your mouth. 

You forget everything. Everything. All you know is the way this feels, and you suddenly think that maybe all this time you weren’t running from anything. Maybe you’ve been running to him. 

“It’s always been you,” he says against your lips. His hands trail down your spine, gently caressing your soft curves.

The pad of his thumb brushes against the bare expanse of your spine where the smallest bit of your shirt has ridden up, but you feel the touch like lightning skittering across your skin. You wrap your hands around his neck, anchoring yourself against him, and it feels like second nature when he pulls you closer and lifts you off your feet. 

In fifteen years nothing has changed—you still melt against him, defenses giving way, legs wrapping around his waist. You break the kiss long enough to whimper direction, saying, “The bedroom is upstairs, second door—”

“On the left, I know. Tommy and I fixed it up a couple months ago. Talked about you the whole time,” he says. And you’re not sure why but the knowledge has your heart flipping in your chest.

It’s almost like he knew, like they both did. Like they could feel you somehow, out there, wandering, finding your way back to them.

Joel lays you down and strips your clothes off slowly, fingers familiarizing themselves with every inch of your skin as if he’s learning it for the first time. He kisses your lips until they’re swollen, leaves marks in the shape of his mouth down your chest, and leaves moisture from his tongue over the hardened peaks of your nipples.

When he parts your thighs and tastes you, he’s still fully clothed. And you begin to feel exposed, like the two of you are standing on uneven terrain, but then he lets out a feral-sounding moan and you think maybe he’s suffered in your absence even more than you yourself have. 

His tongue is soft and hot and makes your back bend off the mattress. Twice he makes you come undone with nothing but his mouth. And when he rises to his knees, peering over you, he looks sated. Relieved, somehow. As if being this close to you has healed him, stitched up some long-opened wound. 

Unhurried, he begins to discard his clothes onto the floor beside yours. His flannel first, and then his t-shirt, and you let out a pathetic moan as you drink in the sight of him. His scarred, masculine hands working at the metal buckle of his black leather belt, his toned arms and his soft tummy, and that trail of thick, dark hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans. 

Everything about him ignites you, calling to you like some sort of beacon. Your skin prickles as he discards the remainder of his clothes. 

And before you have a chance to speak aloud your fervent need, he’s settling between your thighs and pressing the head of his cock to your entrance. He cradles your face in his hands, gently smoothing your hair away from your face, and there’s so much devotion in his voice that it makes you tremble as he says, “You were made for me, little girl. Do you know that?”

You think you do. You think you’ve always known it, always known that whatever god-like, mystical being that resides in this world had crafted you with Joel in mind. All you can do is nod and bask in the moment, in the sanctity of your creation, in the wickedness of his. Carefully, he pushes his cock into you. 

The stretch is painful at first, even with how wet he’s made you. But it’s a bearable pain, a sweet ache, especially with the way he whispers in your ear and presses soft kisses to your cheek with each breath. “S’okay, you can take it. I know you can. See? There you go. So fuckin’ proud of you, baby. You’re so perfect. Perfect for me.”

Joel rocks his hips against yours at a gradual pace. There’s nothing rushed about it, no aggression in his movements. It’s so different from the last time but the change in him just brings the two of you closer. Your orgasm builds like a fire in your belly, burning more and more with each thrust, heightened by the gruff moans that escape him, by the pressure of his body on top of yours. 

He’s so warm and he feels like home. A sensation you’ve never felt since leaving that cabin, a safety like you’ve never known since. You love him. You forgive him. And so you tell him.

And as the words escape your lips, as you make that final confession that will alter the course of your life forever, his breath stutters in his chest, and that fire that’s been building in your belly reaches its full height, flames licking at your skin. He says, “I love you, too, little girl,” and it tips you over the precipice.

You reach the high of bliss together, at the same exact time, and everything but this feeling fades into nothing. All that remains is you and Joel and this otherworldly closeness. There’s nothing left to forgive, nothing left to navigate. As one, singular soul, you simply are. 

He takes the time to clean you up afterward. You shower together, and he massages body wash into your skin, relieving the ache from your muscles. You don’t ask him to stay because you don’t need to; he just does. Because he knows you like no one else ever has. 

You fall asleep quickly. It’s late and you’re exhausted, but for the first time in fifteen years, you feel stable. He holds you through the night. 

But when he shifts just slightly, it wakes you a few hours before sunrise. His eyes are wide open and bloodshot, clearly straining to stay awake.

Shifting on your elbow to lean up, you ask, “What’s wrong?”

Joel just shakes his head and gives you a small smile. “Nothing,” he says. “Just go back to sleep. Get some rest.”

It’s clearly a lie. Something is tugging at him, and you’re determined to fix it. “Tell me,” you say.

He hesitates for a moment, working over his words in his head. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it, and tries again. And then he says quietly, unable to look you in the eye, “I wanted to be able to talk you out of leaving. If you changed your mind again.”

The words break your heart, cracking open your ribcage and allowing a trace of bitterness to settle there. It’s your fault, you know. Your fault he worries about you leaving so much, that he allots time to talk you down from a ledge you’re not quite sure even exists anymore. You swallow down the tears that threaten and crawl into his lap. You kiss his face a hundred times, leaving no space untouched until you’re both quietly laughing. “You can sleep easy tonight,” you say.

He nods as if he believes you, but you can tell there’s still anxiety lingering within him. It’s quiet for a long time. He just holds you tightly, arms wrapped around your middle. You think he may have fallen asleep, but then he whispers into your hair, “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Just don’t leave me behind again. Please.”

It’s a plea. He’s begging, in his own way. You kiss him hard, and in only moments he’s snoring with his arms locked around you.

You only wiggle out of his grip when the sun rises, yellow and orange hues cast across your bedroom through the glass pane of the window. You pull Joel’s t-shirt over your head and make your way down the stairs as quietly as you can.

This will be the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. You know it will be. You know Joel will pull things out of you you’ve been shoving down deep, know he’ll poke and prod in an attempt to heal all within you that’s been broken. 

Because that’s the kind of man he is; one who takes care of those he loves, who sacrifices his own comfort for others. You don’t deserve someone like him and you know it. No matter how much you forgive, no matter how many times you try to wash your hands clean, you know it’ll never be enough for his devotion. 

You stand in the middle of the kitchen, eyes glued to the front door. It would be easy to leave, you know. Second nature. Instinctual. You wouldn’t have to face all you’ve done, wouldn’t have to unearth all you’ve buried, wouldn’t have to open that closet with all those skeletons. 

Hands trembling, you try to catch your breath. Try to make that final decision, try to forgive a little more. Not to forgive Tommy or Joel, but to forgive yourself. 

The longer you stand there in the kitchen, the less you believe you’ll ever possess that sort of absolution.

But it’s worth a try, isn’t it? To find mercy in a place it’s never existed.

You take a slow breath.

And then you put on a pot of coffee.

taglist; @arizonadreamingg @sirendyes @untamedheart81 @pinkiec6-rubi @galway-girlatwork

[justanotherescapism]

After all this time

Homelander x Super!Fem!Reader

Word count: 684

Spoilers for season 4

“C’mon dig in before it melts.” Homelander put the ice cream cake down on the table. He laughed, everyone around him was silent. Their eyes flicked back between the cake and the supe. They were shocked to see him, he hadn’t been back since he first left, they had hidden behind the safety of it. He walked around the lab, pointing and laughing with nostalgia. He may not like to think about it but he remembers every moment from his childhood. It was why he had to return today.

“You know what day it is today?” He looked around, no-one spoke up. “Today is the day when you sent her away.” 

“Joh-”

“Homelander.” He sneered. “Call me Homelander.”

“Homelander, you know why we had to send her away,” Marty tried to reason.

“Yeah, you said. You told me over and over again. But let me hear you say it, one more time.” Marty looked to his other colleagues, scared of what he had to say and how he would react. 

“She was a distraction.” Marty looked down, avoiding Homelander’s steel eyes. 

“Yes, a distraction, from what? The pain? The suffering? Yes, I guess she was.”

“Homelander, sh-”

“Oh don’t worry, I get it. I do.”

He looked at the rooms at the back of the lab. They weren’t allowed to be in the same room but they both had super hearing so they talked through the walls. Something had grown from that, something that even now Homelander craved. He thought he could get it from Vought but the company did nothing for him anymore. His son came closest, but he didn’t understand, Homelander suffered in a way Ryan couldn’t understand. When he looked at the rooms, he realized her door was closed. The tiny window was covered. He walked across to the door, his manic mood shifting. 

“Homelan-”

“Shut up, Marty.” He chuckled but gritted his teeth, staring at Marty, who looked terrified. Homelander grabbed the handle on the door, pulling it slowly. Inside was just how he remembered. The walls were stark white brick, the floor a cold concrete with no room for comfort. It was no bigger than a broom cupboard. 

But on the floor was a figure he recongised instantly. She was still here. 

“John?” 

“You’re here.” He quickly dropped to her side. She looked healthy - super healing and all - but her eyes were hollow, how long has she been down here? 

“After all this time, you came back.” She weakly smiled at him, tears flooding her eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” He dropped to his knees beside her, wrapping his arms around her. She hugged him back. He looked different but the same. She could still see the pain behind his eyes that others so easily missed. Tears fell from her eyes, as he shuddered, both in pain and excited. 

“Why?” He asked this not really knowing what the answer would be. He couldn’t understand why they’d keep her down here all these years, and lie to him about it. 

“Finding a way to destroy you. A safety protocol.” She fell more into his arms, her strength waning. Homelander’s jaw clenched. To find a way to destroy him, they needed to destroy her first. Torture for years and years. 

“I’m going to destroy them.”

“Make it painful.”

All she could hear was screaming and the sound of Homelander’s laser eyes. She smiled, she always knew some day he would come back, even if it took everything in her not to give up. All of them would die and she’d leave with the man she had loved since she was a child. 

“They’re dead. We can leave now.” He looked down at her. He was covered in blood from the people who had tortured them. She smiled, tears falling down her face. When she stood, she fell into his arms, hugged him tightly. He hugged her back, just as tight. The hole he had was filling and he felt her look up at him. 

They got into the elevator, holding hands. She shut her eyes, waiting to feel the sun on her face.

[ughgoaway]

hiiii how’s neighbor matty doing on this lovely tuesday (?) night follow up question can i suck his dick

- heather

omg heather my beloved!!!

neighbour matty my LOVE. he is currently trying (and failing) to make weed brownies!! failing because 1) the man can't bake 2) he's already high and 3) he doesn't have half of the ingredients... so he comes not-so sheepishly to your door and rings the bell and excessive amount of times.

(long rambles below)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

"Hi, do you have coco powder?" he asks, leaning on your door frame.

"ye-"

"and caster sugar?" he interrupts.

*sigh* "yes ma-"

"Oh, what about self raising flour?"

you don't respond, staring unimpressed at him until you're sure he's finished speaking. Eventually, he nods impatiently, waving his hands, urging you to answer him.

"I have all-"

"and eggs." he cuts in, grinning like the Cheshire cats, "Sorry, could tell it was winding you up, had to do it one last time." he smirks teasingly at you, biting his cheek to hold in his laughter.

"you're a twat." you reply bluntly, "yes, I have all of those. What are you even making? I didn't think you used your kitchen for anything other than storage and heating up deliveroo. " You turn and walk into your apartment, leaving the door open and silently inviting matty in. you wouldn't be caught dead verbally doing it anyway.

he strolls in behind you, "brownies, but more fun if you know whag i mean" he answers half heartedly, too busy nosing around as he does, analysing the framed photos of you and your friends along with the art that covers your wall.

"hmm. I like this one, where'd you get it?" he says pausing in front of a more abstract collage piece.

"I made that one..." you pause awkwardly as matty struggles to find a response. but luckily you start talking again before he needs one, "self rasing right? and how many eggs was it? oh and caster sugar or icing?"

"uhhh... yes?" matty answers, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"you're useless. I'll come over and help, maybe you'll get something edible that way." you say grabbing two aprons and a bag for your ingredients.

"desperate to come over and have some alone time huh? you're welcome any time baby, don't need the excuse of "helping" me." he winks as you breeze past him ignoring his comments as you usually do.

the baking goes reasonably well, matty was in charge of infusing the weed into the butter and you with everything else. he tried to help but ended up dropping 3 eggs and adding 200 grams more flour than you needed.

you stand around in the kitchen chatting as they cook, 45 minutes melts away so quickly when you're talking to him, much to both your chagrin. but it flows, matty makes teasing jokes, and you roll your eyes and try not to smile (he sees right through your frustrated sighs).

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

eventually, the timer goes off, and you force matty to check them.

"just stick the skewer in!" you say standing behind him hovering.

"where though? and how deep?" he huffs, muttering under his breath "why can't you just do it"

"you're a grown man matthew, you can test your own edibles to see when they're done." you tease.

they come out perfectly, and matty is too impatient to wait, ripping into them whilst they're still hot and huffing as he chews them.

"Delicious!" he says, or you think anyway. it's hard to decipher when his mouth is so full of brownie he can barely chew.

you take the last bit out of his hand and eat it, holding eye contact as matty raises his eyebrows at you. Shocking him isn't easy, but you can tell he's a little thrown off.

"didn't think you smoked" he says licking the chocolate crumbs off his fingers.

"didn't say I did. edibles aren't smoking, are they?" you say smugly, licking your lips and smirking.

he smiles, grabbing two forks and the pan before walking over to the sofa, silently beckoning you as you had done to him earlier. you silently follow, despite your internal monologue screaming no.

you sit there and eat the brownies with two forks, slowly getting more and more stoned and giggly with each other and with whatever shitty Netflix Christmas movie you put on the TV.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

you wake up groggy at 3am, huddled into matty's side, your legs intertwined and a blanket thrown over the two of you. your eyes scan around the room as you stay perfectly still, assessing the scene in front of you.

an almost empty bronwie pan sits on the table, along with 6 half empty mugs with drinks you both clearly forgot about. multiple times. the only light in the room is the flashing TV, muted and playing some QVC shopping channel selling so-called "super mops".

You can't help but settle back into matty's warmth. pine and cedarwood overhwlem your senses, the hot skin of his shirt riding up is pressed against your arms, with his curls tickling the top of your head. his arm falls around your shoulders, tightening his grip.

that's enough to scare you straight, your eyes snapping open as you try and wiggle out of his grip without waking him. you manage, and he grumbles as he rearranges fast asleep, pulling the pillow you replaced your body with in close.

you slink out silently, shutting the door and gently as you can before sinking into bed. you know you should change your clothes, but the smell of him is just too much to lose.

(ALSO follow up answer; yes, he's currently sitting on the sofa, ready to pretend to ignore you sucking him off with a cigarette in one hand and the other sat on your head to still remind you he owns you! <3)

[hanni-3]

EVERYONE WELCOME...!!

LUCIA FLOQUET!!!!!!

I've been brainstorming for two days on how to word my thoughts out, specifically for step 2.......

At 10 years old Lucia Floquet moved to Golden all the way from France, she was skeptical with the whole moving out from the continent. But how much worse could it be? She barely bat an eye back in France, not having much friends, when people come up to her she ignores them. But she'll definitely miss the pastries, especially the mille-feuille. Those are her favorites. (Mille-feuille are French pastries that has three layers of puff pastry and two layers of pastry cream. And on top icing sugar or fondant. You can add jam or fruits.)

Lucia is a cis girl — but that's only in step 1. With a few doubts here in there still back in step 1.

If Lucia tolerates you enough, she can be a playful and teasing — if you're a girl. Lucia is the complete opposite. Hell, won't knowledge you once and if she did she'll just be plain with you. Even if you knew her since diapers she'll act as if you two are just neighbors, that's all you'll get.

THE RELATIONSHIP WITH THE LEADS!!!!!

Whenever you would ask Lucia about love, she'll look at you weird.

When Tamarack Baumann popped out of the leaves, Lucia was caught off guard was an understatement, but she tought Tamarack was so pretty, and so she blurted it out and quickly got embarrassed right after, but Tamarack just compliment her back plus her bow. Which Lucia complimented back with her hair tie.

They bonded very easily and attached to the hip! It was easier since they we're both girls, Lucia tought.

When she saw Qiu Lin up at his "hideout", she liked his hoodie, but quickly got annoyed by his personality and ignored him half the time. But as time passes she slowly started to tolerate him.

(

When I was making her outfit I found this one rlly pretty and it suited them)

Gender dysphoria warning!! Read at ur own risk.

Lu personality did a whole 180° when they stepped into teenage hood.

Lu is no more a polite person, barely talks and is biting in general.

Not comfortable being called a "miss" anymore and people calling them their old name just icks her, deciding to shorten it sound it doesn't sound too 'feminine' but that's not their government name, just a nickname. And in this step they go by she/they, but feels less uncomfortable with 'they'.

In their room, when they we're twelve they used to have a mirror in the corner but now it's covered, not feeling comfortable with their look and how their body looked, more specifically their chest and would only wear baggy clothes with two baggy sweater under their hoddie to cover it up.

Their hair was annoying too, it grown over the years and people would come up and braid it for fun and compliment it. Lu we're grateful and happy for the compliments but they found it annoying and triggering when their strand of hair would rest on the back of their neck, feeling like carrying weight on their back which is why they put it up in a bun or ponytail most of the time.

Once they were home alone they really could take it anymore and still in their mind, they decided to cut their hair and that felt like the weight was finally off their shoulder and they could finally breath in peace. And asked their mom if they could them dye their hair.

(their hair went trought it all)

They're still best friends with Tee of course, going on walks in the forest and Lu talking about their gender, talking about they don't feel comfortable with their own skin and not feeling like someone.

And with Qiu? Their relationship grew between their years, knowing Autumn can count on them and they can do in return.

(Also why do people think they're dating or or something??)

BUT THE RAIN DOESN'T FALL FOREVER BABY!!!!!!

Lucas can proudly call themselves a man with he/him pronous but won't mind they/them. After tough battles of the storm the clouds dissipate from the side and the sun shine. He finally feels comfortable with his own skin.

Relationship with Tee? Yeah uhm, they're siblings. Can't tell anyone or them otherwise.

And Qiu? Uhmm....

Yeah so, Lucas knows what he's feeling for Qiu, and what he felt when he still battling. He actually likes them. Like, a lot..a lot, lot. But is scared to commit, scared to destroy the friendship in between of them. Everyone has to suffer and often encourage the other to just give hints and confess but Lucas rather shit himself than 'ruin' what's good between them.

WHOOOOOHOOOO there he is!! Btw he's the mc that I was talking about when I introduced Mariana :3 Thank you for taking your time to read this and have a great day/afternoon/night!!

[marvelsage]

Avatar: The Way of Water

Part2 pt3

Your clan lives in the deepest depths of the ocean. -an ocean based clan

I had seen a drawing of Na’vi ocean based form a while ago and got some major inspiration:) I lost the page though so if you see this and know what I’m talking about then you kind of get the idea

When your fellow brother, Tonowari had sent a signal to talk, you had not expected for him to be accompanied by Jake Sully and Neytiri. It seems they did not expect for you to be, you in all your oceanic glory. Your people were different, living in the depths of the ocean had altered your genetics greatly to where your skin were a a few shades lighter than the Omatikayan. Your bottom halves while in the ocean were ‘fish’ like, often being referred to as mermaids. You had similar tribal tattoos to the Metikaya along the lengths of your legs and face. They called your people the Tìkakrel Turku, the Blind Spear for your eyes were near white and your people of great huntsman, in and out of the water.

Wading in the shallows of the shore, you and a few of your people had arrived just after eclipse to play it safe. Slowly you broke through the surface and as you all ascended from the water your bottom halves changing to legs, a few metikayin offering wraps to cover up. Jake and Neytiri had not been expecting for you to do all…that, more so Jake than Neytiri as she had grown up with hearing stories of your people.

“Olo’eykte Y/n.” Tonowari and his mate, Ronal greeted as you reciprocating the gesture keeping an expressionless exterior. Doing the same with Jake and Neytiri before being lead to a marui to discuss. For a moment nobody said anything, they were having a silent conversation between one another as you observed them all, you didn’t mean for your gaze to be so intimidating as it rested. Eventually, you broke the ice having given them enough time to speak up first but they didn’t so you did it.

“Well…” For some reason this startled them and you couldn’t help it but it caused the slightest twitch of your ear.

“You are familiar of the war with sky people , yes?” You nod as you could practically feel the scars littering your back and chest sear. You turn to Jake as he takes the lead in what has been happening and why they were in the Metikaya Clan, they had not been there long only a few weeks so far.

“Hm and what does this have to do with me and my people?” They were once again glancing at one another before Neytiri and Ronal had enough and took the floor.

“They seek alliances-”

“-we ask for your alliance and security of our family.” Your ears twitched at the women, especially Neytiri finding it hard to believe that she, a mighty warrior, you had also heard of would come to you for this. It just goes to show that nobody is invisible or far from the great mother after all you guessed.

“We will work for it as well, just like we do with the Metikaya. We just…our family and these people, all of our peoples in this time need to have one another’s backs. The sky people are evolving along with us and the only way we can survive this is by uniting.” You admired the speech from Jake Sully finding it comical to believe he is the great Toruk Mokto as he could have fooled you for a poet.

But still the message is there and it made you think, turning to your accompanying members for further input. This put Jake and Neytiri on edge as they saw a few head shaking, they held each other’s hands tightly in anticipation. Eventually you return to the group and stalled setting your gaze amongst each and everyone of them as you spoke.

“You ask for unity, we can do that, yes. Security of your family, we can provide it. But listen and hear me when I say this…” Emphasizing the ‘hear’ leaning towards them, gesturing between one another.

“If it comes down to you or my people, I must put us first do we understand? Because at the end of the day it is what we all must and will do, yes?” Tilting your head as they all took a second to take in what you said and in their minds knowing you speak truth.

“Good. We will have lessons after your day lessons with the Metikaya.” They agreed even though you weren’t really asking it was more of a statement but with that you ended the meeting and retreated back into the ocean.

“Wow. They are-”

“Intense, intimidating, stern…”Tonowari lists off to Jake as they all rise to leave the marui.

“Yes.” Patting his shoulder he smiles nodding.

“It is the very reason she is Ao’nungs second guardian.” They leave with that and break off from the two leaving Jake and Neytiri taken aback.

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

Eliza Henderson

It starts off like this:

Eliza Henderson gets a phone call from her mom that her cat is missing. Eliza is very obviously hundreds of miles away at college in a different state and can't do a single thing about it. She wouldn't anyway, her mom loves that cat more than her or Dustin.

She tells her mom she'll be home next month for Christmas break anyway and she'll help her find a new cat if needed.

When she gets home her brother is screeching, not much is new, and excited to go to the Snow Ball.

"Just don't screw this up for me." Dustin is pacing around her room.

She flips through a magazine bored. She pops her gum between his pivots.

She rolls her eyes and glares at him. "How would I mess up your playdate with your new friend?"

"It's not a playdate! Steve's coming to do my hair! It's a sacred bonding moment that I won't have you mess up with your girl-" he wiggles his fingers at her, "stuff."

She puts the magazine down and stands up, she brushes off imaginary crumbs and huffs at him.

"I'm going to Jenny's, enjoy nerd." She walks past him and can see him flip her off in her peripheral.

She covers her face trying to hide the smile that covers it.

-----

The following year she goes around town and tries to find the little (not so little) rugrats.

Her brother has been away all summer and she wants to do something special for him.

She's driving down the main road when she spots the kids on their bikes heading towards the new mall. She turns around and follows them all the way until they enter an ice cream shop.

She runs up to them and manages to grab Lucas before he enters.

"Eliza!" He greets her with a smile.

"Hey kid!"

"You're literally six years older than me."

"That proves my point." She feels a prickling in her neck and quickly flips around to see a small redhead glaring at her.

"Hey Lukie...do you know why that small child is glaring at me?"

Recognition dawns on his face and then a small blush is creeping on his cheeks.

"That's my girlfriend Max, she's probably waiting on me." He shrugs his shoulders sheepishly.

"Oh man! Look at you! All grown up." She pretends to wipe a tear from her eye. "You know Dustin told me he has a girlfriend too?"

Lucas raises an eyebrow. "Sure, if he can raise a demonic lizard he can do that."

"Wha-"

"Anyway!" He chuckles nervously.

"Right! I won't keep you long, Dustin is coming home soon and I think it'd be cool if you guys planned some kind of surprise party for him."

"That'd be cool we can totally do that."

"Awesome! Invite that Steve kid Dustin always talks about."

"Steve?"

"Yeah, apparently they're best friends but I've never seen him. I thought I knew all the kids your age."

"Right...well-"

"Ok great! Bye Lukie!"

-----

When she picks up her brother outside the burned down mall she forgets to ask how the party went.

------

It ends with a zombie Eddie Munson.

She was home for spring break.

She was walking in from the store, grocery bag piled high in her hand, humming a new pop song.

The screaming really threw her off.

There was her baby brother, hanging off a man holding a...nail bat, pleading with him to not hurt what looks like a bleeding and bruised (and wanted!!!!) Eddie Munson tied to a chair. The regular crew of kids was circled around them including one new girl with her arm raised up.

She had a long day.

"Enough!" She screams.

Every head turns to look at her.

The little buzzcut girl moved her arm so her palm was pointed at Eliza.

"El no!" Dustin hurries off the man and stands guard in front of Eliza.

He turns around and his big tear filled eyes almost make her forget what's happening.

...almost.

"Dustin dear," she mutters through clenched teeth.

"Eliza-"

"What is a WANTED criminal doing in MY HOUSE! And you!" She points at the kids. "You know damn well to take your shoes off. You also know to come to me if you need help and you also know NOT TO FOLLOW DUSTIN'S PLANS!"

"Eliza-"

"Don't even," she holds a hand up to his face. "I know in my bones this is your fault. You'd be so incredibly lucky if I didn't tell mom."

"Mom?" The man with the bat is asking.

"I'm sorry who the hell are you? Dustin how do you know two grown men."

"I was just gonna ask the same question," tied up Eddie asks. "Who are you?"

"I'm Eliza Henderson...duh." She flips her hair over her shoulder.

Dustin rolls his eyes. "My sister."

The bat man gasps and mutters something like "another older role model" he looks defeated.

"Don't be sad Stevie this one was assigned from birth." Eddie smiles with a tongue between his teeth.

"Stevie?" The pieces are all clicking. "You're Steve?! You are not a child."

Mike raises his hand from the side, "technically we're not children-"

"Shut it Wheeler!" Both her and Eddie shout.

"Ok." She takes a deep breath. "The whole story. Now."

"Eliza we can't-"

"NOW Dustin!"

"...ok."

-----

He's a terrible storyteller.

Eddie is trying to chime in with exaggerated versions of the story to help 'set the scene'. Steve is interrupting with little facts that make her heart rate skyrocket like:

"Well if you think that's bad what about the demogorgan you raised off nougat."

"He did WHAT!"

"Eliza please don't tell mom!"

And has led to her creating new catch phrases like:

"I knew you were up to something."

And

"What the hell did you do that for!"

Overall a very overwhelming experience.

They told her everything including why Eddie was tied to a chair.

"He says he's fine but he died! In my arms! He can't be real he has to be some upside down creature."

Eliza is going to come back to the 'in my arms part' because she knows she'll be the one up at night holding him through his nightmares.

"El was about to do a scan to see if she could find anything out when you stormed in."

"Well sorry for accessing my home in the middle of the day. I did not mean to interfere with your chaotic evil doings."

"That's ok," Dustin says seriously, "you didn't know."

She slaps him upside the head.

"I'm getting some air."

She heads out of the living room and out the back door.

She spots the new girl, El, sitting with her arms around her knees. She quietly moves to sit next to her.

They sit in silence for a bit.

"I like your name." Eliza says.

"It is not my real name."

"That's ok, nicknames are cool. We have the same one." She knocks their knees together. "We're both Els."

El gives her a small smile.

"You've had a tough life kid. Let's see if we can finish this. You really think you can handle all this?" She waves a hand around hoping El gets the gist. She can't exactly say "Hey you're gonna scan that guy for demonic goo right?"

El nods at her and slowly stands up.

"Alright then. I guess this is happening."

-

She stands in her bedroom with Steve. Team Big Kid, as it was reluctantly named, was ready in case something went wrong.

Steve paced the floor, his bat dragging next on the floor.

"Can you not? It's gonna rip my carpet."

"Oh!" He stumbles a bit. "Sorry."

"It's fine." She hates the silence.

"Thank you." She says.

He seems surprised.

"For what?"

"Taking care of him."

"Well I-"

"I'm jealous of you."

"Me? Why?"

"When I thought you were another one of his children friends I said, fine, I don't need to be with him. The last thing I want to do in my free time is hang out with some kids." Tears prick her eyes.

"But you're not a kid. You're a grown up. You're like me. The only difference is you've spent so much time with Dustin being the sibling I can't be. You've stayed close. You've protected him in three different apocalypses-"

"Four."

"Perfect. Even worse." She clears her throat.

"My point is. I miss him. You've been there for him and taught him life lessons. You did his hair for him! I can't compete with that. You didn't even know I existed until I interrupted your threatening session."

"Eliza-"

There's a knock at the door.

"He's clear! It's him!"

Steve flashes her a bright smile.

"Dustin is a special kid. We all get brought into his orbit and we can't leave. He loves us all the same." He holds out his hand to her.

"Come on, let's go see another person Dustin sunk his claws into. Then we can all compete for the title of number one Dustin handler."

"Deal."

------

Then they all become friends and Steddie happens or something and Eliza and Dustin get really close again and she moves back home after graduation. Max was never hurt and the town maybe cracked a little but it was overall not that bad. Eddie got magically healed I guess idk or maybe he's a vampire but Vecna gets killed doubly and it's all ok! Yay!

[omgahgase]

charthur oneshot

so it happened. again. a pathetic wet kitten of a man with his pretty eyes and gorgeous smile captivated my heart and the result is a semi-coherent fic speed written in the wee hours of the morning. this is for all you charthur enjoyers out there, and for @tortureddpoett for always listening to me ramble in the dms. thanks for withstanding my lengthy headcanons <3

Arthur hears it, but he absolutely refuses to acknowledge it, let alone accept it. 

“I can’t kill all of them silently, so…when they chase me, you go the other way.” 

It’s a simple enough plan, one that’s ten times better than Micah’s bright idea of “Shoot the motherfuckers and book it.” Hell, even Dutch agrees to it, and that’s saying a lot because he’s normally the one cooking up a way to escape a potential shoot out. Or, in this case, a quick way to the Devil downstairs. When Dutch agrees with someone, it can only mean one of two things:

It’s in his favor.

He doesn’t have anything better.

And, considering how there’s four heavily armed Pinkerton’s and only four of their men are in fighting shape—Hosea and Lenny are practically bleeding to death on Bill and Javier, Arthur’s surprised those dirty pigs haven’t picked up on the obvious trail of blood leading to their pile of crates—this is the best they got. 

So, when Arthur thinks about it afterwards, maybe that’s why Dutch had to lock an arm around his middle to he wouldn’t fling himself in Charles’ face and explain why this plan is fucking stupid. He fights, dear God, he fights against him. Javier tells Arthur to shut up lest he gives them away, but fuck that because Arthur would rather get arrested with him than let Charles be hunted so they can bag. Dutch tightens his arm around Arthur’s chest, tries to cover his mouth so he doesn’t scream why sacrificing yourself is, again, fucking stupid, but what barrels up his throat and trips out of his mouth like a sputtering gun spitting out a rusty bullet is a choked plea. 

“You can’t—please—”

But Charles—smart, kind, stupidly brave Charles who wouldn’t put himself at risk for anything other than what he believes in, and goddamnit if Arthur doesn’t love him a little more now than ever—is as sturdy as a bison when he cuts Arthur off. 

“It’s your best bet to escape, don’t fight me on this.”

Arthur almost hoped Charles would tack his name onto the end of that demand, give him some idea that he’s saying it more to him than their band of outlaws who wouldn’t be as destroyed as Arthur would be if Charles gets hurt in this dumb fuck plan. He’s lost almost everyone he’s ever cared for, he’s not about to add his best friend to that growing list. 

(He’s also not about to pay any mind to how his chest constricts at the mere thought of lobbying Charles in anything less than the person who holds his heart, but his brain is too busy flagging down the ice-cold dread spider-crawling across his skin and tampering his adrenaline to something worse than fear.)

The arm around Arthur loosens, if just for a moment, maybe because Dutch can feel how badly Arthur’s shaking, or maybe his age is finally catching up to him and he can’t hold back a grown man dead set on not carving out another gravestone for his beloved. It’s enough to break out of Dutch’s hold, nearly sending him flying into a loaded crate with how hard Arthur pushes him back, and in two quick strides, he’s face to face with Charles. Passionate, gentle, beautiful Charles who looks even prettier in the moonlight and with a splatter of blood across his cheek than Arthur’s ever seen. It’s not his blood, thank God,  and that’s all Arthur can focus on before that rat bastard Micah is putting in his two cents. 

“I say let the man go. He’d be doing us a noble cause, letting us go.” 

Arthur growls, and even Charles is a little taken aback. “No one fucking asked you, Bell.” 

“Well, Morgan, you got any other ideas? It’s not like we got the law on our dicks and our friends bleedin’ out, but, sure. Hold up the line. That bullet in the boy’s guts ain’t going anywhere until we do.” Micah chuckles a dry, humorless laugh that, normally, would’ve had him getting real intimate with the end of Arthur’s pistol. Only now, it’s making the shake in Arthur’s hands turn into a full tremble. 

He chances a glance at Lenny, takes in his blood soaked front and the way he’s almost deadweight, slung haphazardly across Javier’s shoulders. His breathing is getting shallow, his eyes barely open. Hosea isn’t doing much better but at least the shot went through clean, he only has to worry about a few stitches. Lenny, on the other hand…

Charles plants a gentle hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and the world stops on its axis, if just for a moment. The gang falls away, the Pinkerton’s disappear, every thought that’s ever occupied Arthur’s mind up until the moment Charles touches him, his thumb a soothing little thing on the gooseflesh of Arthur’s neck, melts into a puddle and drips into the waves lapping at the dock’s edge. 

“I’ll be fine.” Charles says it with such assurance that Arthur is damn near convinced right there. But still, he’s gotta voice the words hammering behind his teeth. 

“It’s a fuckin’ stupid plan.” 

Charles grins, a soft, barely there upturn of his mouth that could be mistaken as just a twitch of his lips if Arthur didn’t know him any better. But he does. He knows how Charles wakes up in the morning, eyes groggy and with just enough energy to piss before grabbing his first cup of coffee. Arthur knows how Charles’ hands feel in his, rough and calloused from the reins of his horse, the ax back at camp, how such big and strong hands can craft the most delicate of arrows, string the tiniest bead into his hair. And Arthur knows that once Charles makes up his mind, there’s no going back. There’s no use fighting him on it, no matter how badly he wants to fight. It’s what Arthur’s good at, arguing, butting heads, but Charles, with all the ways he so easily lassoed Arthur’s heart and hitched it to his person, his stubbornness towards never backing down was the first spark against Arthur’s flint as to why he loves this unyielding, honorable, stupid man. 

One of the Pinkerton’s tilts his head in their direction, squints real tight to see beyond the glow of the shack’s light. “Y’all see something over there?”  

No one answers, but the guy is still staring in their direction, and Dutch is getting real uneasy by just standing around with two guys knocking on death’s door and bags filled to the top with cash. He tells Charles to get on with it or else they’re sitting ducks, and Arthur has half a mind to say fuck it and throw Dutch to the hounds instead, but Charles is grabbing Arthur by the handkerchief around his neck and Arthur kinda of forgets everything else besides the way Charles’ chocolate brown eyes dance in the flicker of the overhead lamps. How the scar on his cheek and the plump of his lips has Arthur wanting to pitch forward and know if Charles’ mouth is as soft as it looks. 

‘Not the time to get rejected, cowboy.’ Arthur swallows. He allows himself a few seconds to get his fill before Charles runs off because he’s a selfish prick when it comes to him, wants Charles all to himself if he could have him, but instead, Charles is gearing up to host the worst game of tag Arthur’s ever played. He huffs. ‘This is a stupid fucking plan.’ 

“I know it’s a stupid fucking plan,” Charles agrees, because who else would he be if he also wasn’t smart like that. Maybe that’s another reason why Arthur’s in love with him.

And because it’s a stupid plan, maybe that’s why Charles kisses him too. 

It’s the shortest, roughest kiss Arthur’s ever had. It’s all force and no finesse, no time to get a good enough feel for each other, and their teeth clicked on first impact, but by God is he gonna think about it for the rest of his life. He doesn’t care that the guys are watching and that Bill is flinging all kinds of insults because he’s a bitch who can’t let Arthur live. Hell, the Pinkerton’s could open fire on them now and Arthur wouldn’t bat an eye. As long as his last conscious thought is Charles’ lips on his and Charles’ hand moving to cradle his jaw and Charles Charles Charles. Arthur doesn’t give a flying fuck. 

It’s over before it could get started, and Arthur is left a little lightheaded from the shock of it all. He’s not shaking anymore, the hand twisted in Charles’ dress shirt isn’t trembling, only pulling him closer because Arthur is selfish and he wants the full line of Charles’ everything pressed against him, but Charles pushes him away, breaks their kiss with a breathless gasp. 

“I’ll find you after,” he promises, eyes doing that thing to Arthur’s insides he’s only recently come to realize is just the overall effect Charles has on him. “I swear.”

He’s off after that, and Arthur is left standing there, a little off his center of gravity and more than peeved that their first kiss wasn’t under the stars near a glowing campfire like how he’d envisioned it. 

He walks in front of them, then breaks out into a run. The Pinkerton’s immediately chase after him, and in the midst of Arthur watching the whole thing go down like a prisoner in chains, Dutch turns to him, expression unreadable. 

“That is one of the most beautiful acts I’ve ever saw.” He checks for the clear then motions for them to follow. “Come on.”

They make it a total of five steps forward before Arthur swivels towards the lot of them, gun cocked and voice steely when he says, “Not a fuckin’ word.” 

Javier snorts, hefts Lenny a little higher on his person. “How about five, compadre? Karen owes me twenty bucks.” 

Arthur growls, arms his pistol at Micah and Bill. “I don’t wanna hear anythin’ from either of you, if you say some vile shit about me and Charles—”

“Don’t get your granny panties in a twist, Morgan,” Bill heaves, moving Hosea so he’s not being completely dragged. “We have more pressing matters to deal with than who you swap spit with.” 

“I’ll bitch about it later,” Micah says, which tears a ‘fuck you’ out of Arthur’s throat, “as for now, that boat’s calling my name and those lawmen,” he points over his shoulder to the flashlights coming dangerously closer, “are on our dicks! Let’s fucking go!” 

No matter how much he wants to shoot both of them because they’re not going to let this little moment go and they will be total assholes when they get back to camp, Arthur can’t argue because the flashlights are closing in and Dutch is nearly out of his sight. 

They make it to the boat and sneak below deck to an empty medbay. Dutch goes to find the captain with a little gold in hand, ‘financial persuasion,’ he called it, while Arthur and Javier get to work on Lenny and Hosea. It’s a grueling task, digging out the broken fragments of a bullet from Lenny’s insides, but they manage it without making him take more damage, and Bill only had to knock him out twice to keep the screaming down. By the time the two of them are all patched up and sleeping in the bunks, Micah found some booze and passed out on the floor. Javier wasn’t too far behind him, followed by Bill, and then it was only Arthur. 

With nothing better to do, Arthur goes to the open window facing the retreating glowing lights of Saint Denis. They departed somewhere around the first time Lenny woke up screaming, and now the city is just a line on the horizon. Arthur’s mind drifts to the camp, wondering if the Pinkerton’s are on their trail now too. He thinks about John and Abigail, worried if either of them are alive, scared that Arthur may return to camp to find Jack without his parents. 

And like how he’s been doing for the past half year, he thinks about Charles. Something in him tells him Charles gave those bastards the slip and he’s safe somewhere, probably lost in the bustle of gossiping men and women demanding to know who could’ve robbed the Lemoyne National Bank and got away with it. 

It sinks in, then, like a bolt from the blue. The robbery, the chase. The bags of gold stashed under the floorboards. They pulled their last heist. The money's theirs. 

Arthur lets out a disbelieving laugh that soon into a full, belly clutching bellow of sheer joy. No more scams and schemes, no more running. He can get some land, settle down, be it in Tahiti or otherwise, Arthur doesn’t know, nor does he care. 

What he does know, however, is that when he returns, he’ll find Charles and they can have a proper first kiss, one without blood and guns and life or death situations. He’ll probably ask Charles to go hunting with him, spend the day shooting game and exchanging tender looks that can last longer than the few seconds Arthur always gave himself. They’ll pitch a tent somewhere in the wild, their bed rolls a little closer than before, sharing a meal with a bottle passed between them. 

Then, as Charles describes the different constellations and explains what the stars and the gods mean to his people, bellies and hearts full, hands touching, thumbs caressing over scarred knuckles, Arthur’ll stop him mid sentence because he’s selfish and he can’t stop himself now he’s gotten a taste. He’ll kiss Charles like he means it, words never said but always felt, exchanging between their lips. Hands and kisses softer than what Arthur could ever deserve because he’s only lived the life of an outlaw, only ever knew how to shoot and survive.

But now, with cash in his pockets and a new dream in mind, one where he’s not just a gunslinger, but maybe a farmer, or a horse rancher—a husband. Yeah. That sounds nice. 

Arthur thinks he can be a little selfish, if just this once. 

[captainpains]

Meet Cute (Kylux)

For the @kyluxshortshorts. Enjoy🖤🧡

Prompt: Public Transit

Warnings: Modern AU, yearning, meet cute, strip clubs, Hux is a stripper,

~

Armitage Hux, despite what some may think, was perfectly fine with taking public transit. He had grown up in London, a city with excellent public transportation, at least when compared to the US. He was lucky to live in New York City, one of the few places with any public transit. He was used to the filth and the rush hour crowds, used to the oddness of some of the fellow patrons.

However, he could do without the shoving.

A particularly harsh shove to his front caused him to bump into the person behind him, namely what felt like that person’s guitar case.

“I’m terribly sorr-” Hux turned to the side to apologize, but was utterly dumbfounded by the attractive beast of a man that was behind him. He was very tall, taller than himself, and broad. He was wearing all black and was clearly into the punk aesthetic, with an eyebrow piercing, layered chain necklaces, and jean vest. He also had very muscular arms that were covered in tattoos. 

“It’s alright.” The man said – in a smooth, deep voice – as he picked up his guitar case that was leaning against him.

“I hope your guitar is okay.” Hux blurted out, still a little gobsmacked that this stranger was so handsome.

“No, it’ll be okay. A little knock wouldn't hurt it; it is a Gibson.” He gave the case a little pat before grabbing the handle. “Oh, I like your accent by the way, sounds kinda sexy.”

And with that the handsome stranger exited the subway at the next stop.

Now, Hux had only expected to see this man once. He sees hundreds of people a week just on the subway. What were the odds of seeing him again?

Well, a couple of weeks later, he saw that same man when he was working at his second job, at the strip club. He had lost shame about his stripping back in university, when his father cut him off it became the best way to earn money on a busy class schedule. However, partners in the past had shown their great distaste for his occupation, calling him a whore and demanding he quit for them. He had always refused, feeling hurt over the lack of trust in him, especially because he had never been dishonest about it. Hux was worried that this dark, handsome stranger would be the same, even though he probably would not ask the other man out or even remember him. So, he was sitting at the bar, chatting with Phasma, the bartender.

“So, are you going to tell me why you are avoiding that biker gang?” Phasma asked, pointing at the table that had Mr. Subway at it.

“You remember that guy from the metro I told you about? He’s sitting over there, and I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of him again. Besides, I can make up the money this weekend.”

“Really? I mean one of those guys had been staring at you since you took the pole earlier. Maybe it’s him?”

“No, and even if it was, I doubt that he would remember me at all.”

“Well, he is coming this way. Better put on a pretty smile.”

Hux glared at her. He turned his face away from the approaching man, wanting to

“Can I get a Long Island Iced Tea?” The sardonic voice that has permeated his recent dreams asked.

Hux cringed a little bit hearing it. He should not have been dreaming about this stranger reassuring and praising him. 

“Do I know you?” Mr. Subway asked, clearly directed at Hux. Hux took a deep breath before turning to face him, and he was as handsome as he remembered, eyebrow piercing and all.

“No, I don’t believe you do,” came his answer. Mr. Subway’s brown eyes gave the smallest flash of hurt before it vanished and he put on a cavalier smile.

“I’m Kylo, Kylo Ren,” he said. “And I’d remember your pretty hair anywhere. You bumped into me on the subway, but I wouldn’t expect you to remember, probably talk to guys twice as attractive as me everyday.”

“No! You are twice as attractive as them.” Hux had to actually cover his mouth after that. He wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by the floor.”

“Thanks, Red.” Kylo smirked. Phasma then placed his drink in front of him. Hux looked at her with pleading eyes, wanting to be put out of his misery. 

“So, Red, how’s it going?”

Hux found Kylo fairly easy to talk to – and by that he means causing him to ramble on and on about his projects at his other job and his cat. Kylo was kind enough to listen to him, and cheerly answered his own chit chat questions. Hux learned that he was a part of a band, where he played lead guitar. He worked at a mechanic’s shop, and his favorite color was black. 

“Hey, Kylo, we're gonna head out soon. But you can stay with your little boyfriend if you want.” One of Kylo’s friends interjected into their conversation.

“No, man, I’ll only be a minute.” Kylo replied. He then grabbed a napkin from the bar counter and scribbled down his number on it.

“Give me a call, I’d love to take you out sometime.”

Hux’s heart fluttered as he accepted the napkin with Kylo’s number on it. With a wink and a smirk, Kylo left the club with the rest of his friends.

“Armie’s got a crush!”

“Oh, shut up, Phas.”