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familyvideostevie · 1 year ago

Text

the meaning of it all

joel miller x reader

summary: Joel Miller, of all people, teaches you to ask for help.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: jackson au, post part i, joel and ellie worked it out! joel is soft! language, violence, fluff, learning to accept help and love.

a/n: this fic is a soft joel (think part ii joel but make it two years into jackson because he and ellie resolved everything <3) and a reader who is much more me than i've written before. i hope you like it! thank you again to @strangerfreaks who held my hand through this, i owe you my life.

___

Luck. God damned old-fashioned thank-fuck-for-that luck has kept you alive since the world ended. Deep festering rage and a near-constant state of fear have helped. But every bullet you've found, every undamaged can of food, every shot that landed in the right place so you were the last one standing -- that's all luck. Or a curse, depending on the day. Depending on how you're feeling about it all.

And Jackson? That's the biggest stroke of luck you've had in twenty years. A single woman on her own with plenty of working years left and no obvious red flags was probably a no-brainer for the community to take in but you feel like you've finally made it. After two decades of violence and horror and pain, you fucking made it somewhere safe.

You spend as much time as you can making sure everyone knows how grateful you are. You don't have any special skills, not really. You can shoot well enough, cook well enough, clean well enough. Young enough when all the shit went down that you don't have a trade or any work experience, you just go wherever they need someone in town.

Keeping busy means you're bone-tired most nights. Exhausted sleep means fewer nightmares, less time to wander the halls of your very nice but much too-big-for-you-home and miss everything you've lost. But picking up shifts wherever you can also means you don't meet many people beyond hellos and exchanging names. Farming is easy and you get to work with a lot of the kids in town, daycare much the same. You're lousy with power tools but you're able to carry materials wherever they're needed. Cooking is easy when it's stew for hundreds of people and doing dishes is even fun when someone turns on the radio. You're making it work.

Patrol is...patrol. You're able, so you're on the roster. It's not that you hate it, not exactly. Going outside the walls makes you feel like you're someone else. You slip back into the mask of fear and anger, the one that kept you alive for so long. And the worst part is it's comfortable.

You've done the training runs, the group patrols for three months. Infected still freak you out a little but you're smart enough to be more scared of people. All of the senior patrol members have cleared you for paired patrols and today is your first one.

Tommy meets you at the stables to check-in.

You don't really have any friends, though everyone is perfectly nice to you, but Tommy and Maria are probably as close as it gets. You figure they take a shine to newcomers like you, ones who come in alone, maybe to keep an eye on them as much as anything else. But they've both got a smile and kind word for you whenever you see them, always asking if you need anything. You always tell them no, you're fine, thank you.

"You ready?" Tommy says. "I've had them pull Apollo for you." You pat yourself one more time to make sure you have everything. Pistol on your thigh, knife at your hip, pack secure on your back. Hat and gloves tucked into your jacket pocket to account for the wind on the trails.

"I think so," you tell him. You blow a raspberry at your horse and he blows back, nudging your shoulder with his nose.

"After this, pretty sure you'll have done every job there is to do in this town. Pullin' crops, plantin' crops, cookin' crops. Kids, the library, cleanin', buildin' that ramp at Lenore's last month. You've been here, what, six months? And you've done it all."

It should make you feel good that he's noticed. It does, but only a little. You still feel like you could work every day for the rest of your life and not repay what he and this town have given you. To make up for the things you've done on the road.

"I'm the best floater in Jackson," you joke instead. Smiling makes people like you. You haven't had much cause to smile in recent years so you're still getting used to the urge. Tommy scoffs. "I don't do important council stuff like you and Maria, though."

He ignores that. "Y'know, pretty sure they call that a jack-of-all-trades. A real Ren-ai-ssance woman." You try to come up with a retort, eyes wandering to the patrol assignment board. Your name is under ELK CREEK and under it is --

"Quit harassin' her." Tommy rolls his eyes and flips off whoever comes up behind you. You turn around and see a man you know of but have never actually met.

"Joel," Tommy says. "I believe this is called havin' a conversation. You ever tried it?"

"Funny," Joel replies. He nods at you. "You my partner today?"

"Seems so." You introduce yourself, Apollo's warm breath at your back.

"Joel Miller," he says back.

You're a little intimidated, truth be told. You know him by reputation mostly. Tommy's big brother who came to town a few years ago with a little girl. They're both pretty much everywhere. Joel fixing houses and talking to kids in the street, going on patrols and always bringing back extra for whoever needs it. Ellie galloping around town with other teenagers and bringing home the biggest game. You've handed her books a few times at the library, too, seen her bright eyes and infectious energy underneath teenage angst that transcends even an apocalypse. And you've seen them together, heads down in the dining hall or pressed closed walking down the street -- heard rumors about why they came here, how they came here, too -- and one thing is clear to you: the Millers are beloved. By this town and by each other.

It's a miracle all its own in this fucked up world.

"You two ain't met yet?" Tommy says, pointing at the space between you. You snap out of your thoughts. "You've been here long enough to have met everyone by now."

"Guess not," you say with a wry smile. The younger Miller is too polite to call you out for not having a single friend in that time period, either.

"Well, here we are," Joel says. "Gonna keep us here forever, Tommy? Or can we do our job?"

Tommy claps him on the shoulder and winks at you. "Tone down the asshole for her first paired patrol, yeah?"

Joel snorts. He grabs a horse that was already tacked for him and leads it out of the stable. You follow with Apollo. The patrol coordinator hands out rifles and reminds everyone of the rules.

You hop on your horse. "You ready?" Joel asks, startling you a bit. "We'll gallop to the mouth of the river and then start patrollin'."

Something in you relaxes a bit at his clear confidence in you to handle yourself. You know you're with him for a reason -- he's one of the best. That, or maybe he just doesn't give a shit. Somehow you think it's the former.

You follow him up the hill outside the gates and through the tree line. The noise of the Outside is different than that of Jackson. Birdsong, snapping branches and dry brush under your horse, the wind rippling down the hill. You take a deep breath through your nose and feel a part of you come alive. It's funny how a world so beautiful can be so deadly.

Joel gallops a little ahead of you, strong and steady. You watch him, think about what you know. He's older than you, that much is obvious. Greying hair curling around his ears, lines on his face from more than just a stressful life. But he's strong, good at what he does. Those rumors come back to the front of your mind. How he and Ellie showed up, half-starved and bloody. How he and Tommy are the most famed patrol duo for Infected kills and otherwise. It makes you feel safe. It makes you want to learn from him. It makes you want to know more.

And he's got kind eyes. Somehow, he's got kind eyes.

"Alright," Joel calls back to you. "Route starts here." He slows his horse and you pull up beside him. He shifts in his saddle and turns his face to you. "Now, I know this is your first pair," he says. "I won't order you around or nothin' but my main piece of advice is that everyone has a different patrol style. Know how to adapt."

You dig your gloves out of your pockets and wiggle them on. Joel watches before his eyes snap back to yours. "Noted." You honestly didn't think he'd talk this much. "And let me guess. Yours is patrol in silence?" You punctuate the nervous quip with a smile.

Joel snorts. "Nah," he says. "Unless you're Max. Can't stand that fucker."

It startles a laugh out of you and any ice you'd imagined breaks for good. Max is one of the middle-aged men who probably would have been a lawyer or a politician based on the way he likes the sound of his own voice.

"Now," Joel says. "You done this route before?" His knuckles are a little red but he doesn't put on any gloves.

"Twice, I think. First log book in that old station, right?" Joel nods. "Second in the town?" He nods again.

"Color me impressed." His mouth tugs up at the corner into something you might call a smile. You try not to look too pleased with yourself. "Some of the dipshits on the roster don't even remember that much."

It feels like you've passed a test. His praise makes you feel nice. Noticed. Not something you often seek but you know yourself well enough to admit that you'd like a little more of it. Even if it's from a man you just met.

"Not that hard," you say softly. Joel looks at you for a moment longer before clicking his teeth. His horse starts to walk. You signal to Apollo to follow.

The patrol goes off without a hitch. Joel signs the log book in the station and you sign it in the tower. He lets you snipe two runners that he spots and doesn't scold you when you take three tries on the second one.

"Settlin' in okay?" he asks once you've rounded the town one last time and started back towards Jackson. "Six months, Tommy said?"

Despite his earlier words, you haven't chatted much this patrol. While you'd like to know more about him, want to get him to smile at you again, you're really just enjoying being out here with someone else, knowing that you're safe. That you've got somewhere to go back to.

"It's nice," you sigh. "I never imagined I'd find a place like this."

You really should pick up the pace to get back to town but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry.

"I know the feelin'," he murmurs. "Ellie'n me slept on the floor for a good two weeks at the start. Been two years and some nights I don't take my boots off."

"What a fucking life, huh?" That earns you a wry smile. "Having a house is...strange. All of the hinges squeak and I --"

"The hinges squeak?" You look over at him and Joel's brows are furrowed.

"Oh, I mean, it's no big deal --" You stumble over apologies. You don't want him to think you're complaining about a home his brother gave you when he sure as shit didn't have to.

Joel taps his thumb on the pommel of his saddle. "Can get that fixed, y'know."

You didn't know, actually. "Really?"

Now he looks at you like you're a little stupid. "Ain't you the one hauling shit to people's houses when they need a hand?"

He has a point and you hate it. It never occurred to you to ask for someone to come fix your hinges. They're just hinges, for fuck's sake. Other people have holes in their floorboards or leaks or need new rooms for family members. You're just...you.

Joel sighs. It feels like you've disappointed him and it swirls in your gut. "I'll take a look at it this week."

Your neck cracks audibly with how quickly you look up at him. "What? No, Joel, you don't have to --"

He says your name in a tone that you know means no arguing. "I know I don't have to. I offered."

"You don't even know me!" The words fly from your mouth before you can stop them.

He brings his horse to a full stop so quick you almost run into him.

"Look," he says. His gaze holds yours. Wow, he really can be intimidating when he wants to be. You can only imagine the things he's done, the things he's capable of. Anyone who has made it this long has blood on their hands. You've washed it from your own skin plenty of times. And yet, you feel completely safe. And you know that you'll probably do whatever he tells you. "I know how it can be."

Your gut swirls. "You don't know what I've been through," you say softly. It's not a jibe, it's just the truth. No one knows because you've told no one because it doesn't matter. You're here now.

"I've been alive for a while longer than you," he continues. "I've seen the world, just as you have. I've been out here. I was out here for a long, long time." He runs a hand through his beard, fiddles with his broken watch in what looks like reflex. "I know how hard it is to ask. To get back to something that makes any damn sense. But you can if you try."

The words linger in the chill around you. He's right, obviously. He's so fucking right that you want to be mad. You haven't asked for anything because you don't want to fracture the good thing you've got. Don't want to be too much, to be a burden they can't support, to make people think you don't deserve to be in Jackson. All things that don't make any fucking sense, not really, but you can't stop them. It's just how you're wired.

"So I'm comin' over this week to fix those hinges. Alright?"

"Alright." Something in Joel softens when you agree.

"Good," he says. "Good."

You finish the patrol in comfortable silence. All told it's been nice. To talk to someone, to feel like they give a shit about you even for just a few hours. You have no doubt Joel will be over to fix your hinges but you figure it'll fizzle out after that -- it always does. You don't know how to ask someone to stick around, anyway. But even this little bit of him will have been worth it.

Something both loosens and tightens in your chest when you get back to Jackson and through the gates. Goodbye beautiful, horrible outside world, hello safety, community, home. It's a trade-off. You and Joel hop off your horses and return your rifles. You're about to hand Apollo off to be brushed and returned to the stables when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Joel says your name and you turn around.

"Good job today," he says softly. "Not too excitin' of a patrol, but you're good out there."

You blink owlishly. "I-- thanks," you manage. "Maybe we'll get to go out again as a pair." You're showing your hand but you can't help it. You want more of whatever this was.

Joel's mouth pulls up at one corner. "Maybe."

___

Two days later you drag yourself out of the house for community breakfast. Most mornings you're out the door and at your work detail for the day before you can pop over but you don't have anything assigned today. It's a rare respite and it has you antsy. You don't remember how to be idle, aren't any good at it. Sitting in your empty house means your mind might wander to the thoughts you try very hard to keep at bay. The loneliness, the regret, the fear. The loss. It's always there and you've gotten better at dealing with it after so many years but some days you really just wish you could talk about it to someone, could just bitch and moan about how fucking awful this life can be.

But everyone is carrying their own shit and you don't need to add to it. You don't want anyone to have to carry yours, too.

Breakfast is quiet this morning. You settle at a table with your toast and your eggs and your potatoes and smile back at anyone who smiles at you but no one sits with you. If they did you don't know what you'd say.

But then the air changes. Your neck feels a little hot and you slowly look around until you see what's caused it -- Joel and Ellie are here. He's already looking at you when you meet his eyes and he smiles a little, a half-moon curve of his mouth, and nods. You wave.

Ellie waves back, which you don't expect. She says something to Joel and he frowns, rolls his eyes. She punches him in the arm and he flips her off and grabs two plates, starts to fill them. You smile down at your own food.

"Man, are the potatoes that fucking good today?"

You look up and find Ellie in front of you. You're pretty sure she's 16 or thereabouts, still growing into herself based on the way she shifts on her feet. Her right forearm has the outline of something floral. She notices you looking at it and crosses her arms, looking unimpressed. Ah, teenagers.

"Pretty okay," you tell her. "I don't know if we've met yet --"

"We kinda have," she interrupts. "I know your name and you know mine, so. And you're at the library sometimes when I check shit out."

This still does not explain why she's over here talking to you. You can see Joel in the breakfast line still, glancing over his shoulder every so often to see if she's still in the room. You try not to catch his gaze because you're a little afraid of what Ellie might read in it.

"Can I do something for you, Ellie?" you ask, not unkindly. She scrunches up her nose and then sighs.

"Joel told me not to bother you but I wanted to ask if you could look out for a book for me. At the library." Her words get faster as she reaches the end of her sentence. She takes a look at you, sees that you're not telling her to fuck off, or something, and keeps talking. Some book about the history of comics or something.

"Oh," you say. You feel a rush of affection for her and the fact that she can hold the record for headshots on a group patrol and still want to read about something she loves in her free time. "Yeah, I'll look for you. I don't have a library shift until tomorrow but I'll look and put it aside if I find it for you."

Ellie tugs on her fingers. "Don't you need to write it down or something?"

You smile at her. "No, I'll remember." You recite the title and author she just told you back to her and it seems to satisfy her. It's like a switch is flipped -- her earnest expression morphs into something you can only call mischief.

"So Joel's coming over to fix your doors, or whatever," she says. "How'd you crack him?"

"I--what?"

"You patrol with him once and he's coming over to your house," she says. "It took him like, weeks to laugh at one of my jokes. And I'm fucking funny!"

You have no idea what to say to that. Patrol with Joel was your first time talking to him and while he's a bit intimidating, sure, he never came off as anything other than...good. But you'd bet he wasn't always that way in this world. Maybe this girl in front of you had something to do with it.

And honestly, you're sure he just feels a little bad for you. He's nice enough to worry, to make sure everyone in town can do their part and you'll take what you can get even if it's temporary attention.

Part of you knows Ellie is just giving you a hard time because she's a teenager and you're kind of connected to the guy who looks after her so you're fair game, too. But she's talking to you like she wants to which is throwing you for a loop. And you're realizing it's been a long time since you actually wanted someone to like you. Well, Joel aside.

"You want to tell me one?" you ask. She looks surprised and then delighted.

"Oh, fuck yeah. Okay, let me think." You take another bite of your breakfast. "Okay, okay, I got it. What did the mermaid wear to her math class?"

You give it a few seconds before you shrug. Ellie grins. "An algae-bra."

Your laugh makes her grin bigger. "See? Fucking hilarious." She holds out her hand for a high five and you oblige. "Anyway, Joel's gonna come over tomorrow, I think. Seriously, dude, I don't know how you did it. He never used to be this nice!" She looks over her shoulder at the man in question. He's sitting down at another table. "He's getting soft."

Her voice is fond and you're pretty sure she doesn't notice. "You should go eat your breakfast, Ellie," you tell her.

She sighs like the weight of the world is on her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm fucking hungry. Let me know if you find that book!"

"I will," you call after her. You can't help but watch as she barrels back to her table with Joel and immediately makes an attempt at his bacon. He fends her off with his fork before surrendering a piece with a scowl.

He looks up and catches your eye again. You stand with your tray and nod at him, turning around before you can see his expression. Stupid, so stupid to be caught looking like that. But you can't help it -- looking at the love still alive in this shitty world and wondering what it feels like.

___

You run into Joel on your walk home from the next day's shift at the library. You spent probably far too much of it looking for the book Ellie wanted but it was worth it because you've got it tucked under your arm. It feels like a small miracle but you're not one to question it.

Maybe it's the good mood you're in, but when you see Joel from behind you call out his name. He doesn't stop walking but turns his head like he heard something. When he spots you he does stop, waiting for you to catch up.

"Hi," you say, suddenly a little less brave.

"Howdy," he replies, amused. "I'm headed your way."

"You --" He lifts a toolbox you now realize he's carrying. "Oh, right. Hinges."

"I can come by another day if it's not a good time."

Joel could knock on your door in the middle of the night and it would be a good time. "No, ah. Now's good." He motions for you to lead the way even though he clearly knew where he was going. He must have asked Tommy.

It seems like everyone waves as you two head for your street. They call out Joel's name and he knows pretty much everyone. You feel a little self-conscious being seen with him like this -- you, pretty much a nobody in town through your own doing and Joel, beloved by all.

It doesn't stop until you're almost at your door. "You're popular," you say, trying to make it sound teasing. Instead, it sounds awed.

Joel runs his free hand through his beard. "Don't remind me," he grumbles. "Can't go for a walk without a damn conversation."

You pull out your keys and unlock the front door. There are plenty of people in Jackson who don't lock their doors but you can't shake the need. "Sounds difficult."

He chuckles and you feel it zing up your spine. It's nice to make him laugh. "Yeah, yeah. S'pose it's nice." The front door opens with a creak and you look at him sheepishly. His eyebrows touch his hairline. "They all like that?"

You nod. Joel whistles. "Christ," he says. "Alright." He follows you into the house. You try not to think about what he sees. You've tried to make it your own, just a little. Posters you traded for, books you've collected. You cleaned the whole thing top to bottom when you moved in but somehow it still looks a little un-lived in. You're working on it.

"Don't let me bother you," Joel says, getting on one knee with a grunt and prying open his box. "Probably need 'bout an hour to get 'em all. I'll holler when I'm done."

That's your cue to busy yourself with something, anything, but you don't want to. You want to talk to him, to watch him do whatever he's going to do, to soak up this time with Joel before he walks out the door and you go back to being acquaintances.

"What are you going to use?" you ask. He looks up, a little surprised, before pulling out a spray bottle and a rag. He shakes it at you.

"It's some sorta homemade shit one of the younger guys cooked up," Joel says. Somehow he manages to sound self-deprecating, like he thinks he should've thought of it first. "I think it's...soap? And cleanin' stuff? Fuck, I don't know." He huffs a laugh. "I know it works, though. Back in the day we'd use shit you could buy on the shelf." He stands with a grunt. "You old enough to know that?"

That gets you to laugh. "Yeah, Joel," you say. "I'm old enough to remember the hardware store."

His gaze feels a little different than before, like he's allowing himself to look. "Hmm," is all he says. "I'll just --"

You don't know how to justify shadowing him as he oils your hinges -- there's a joke there's somewhere -- so you don't. You grab a book from the shelf and settle on your couch and try your best to read but your mind wanders.

It's pretty clear that you have a crush on Joel. You've spent one patrol with the guy but somehow he's gotten under your skin. It's inconvenient but also...nice? A crush at the end of the world. The fact that you can still feel something so sweet, so juvenile after all you've seen and all you've done is almost laughable. And it's not like it's going to go anywhere -- you're sure Joel thinks you're too young for him, too green, and he's probably tripping over admirers in town. But you can let it be something to keep your days interesting until it fades.

It was hard enough to love yourself before the world ended for reasons anyone could understand. Societal pressures, stupid comparisons, things that don't matter at all now. Who has time to think about being loved when you're constantly faced with death? Feeling desired, feeling loved, feeling looked after isn't exactly top of mind. You're not even sure you remember how. You put one foot in front of the other and that's enough.

But wouldn't it be nice to be on the receiving end of affection from a man like Joel?

"All finished." You startle and realize you haven't turned a single page of your book. If Joel notices he doesn't say. He wipes his hands on a rag and eyes you. "Pretty sure I got all the doors."

You hop up from the couch and try to find your words. "I -- that's -- you're --"

"Thank you will do just fine," he says with a smirk. He tucks the rag in his back pocket and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall.

"Let me cook for you," you blurt out instead. "In exchange." You can make a few things fairly decently and making him something is another excuse to talk to him like this, to be on the receiving end of those eyes. "I can make chili. Does Ellie like chili?"

"Don't have to do that," he says kindly. "Helpin' you ain't a business deal. S'what people do here." He stands straight and heads for your front door, picking up his toolbox on the way.

"Joel," you say, snagging his sleeve with your fingers. You pull them back quickly and grab the book you brought home, holding it out for him. "Ellie asked me to look for this. Could you give it to her?"

He looks at the book the same way he looks at his kid. It's tenderness so raw you look away. "I will," he says softly. He tucks the book under his arm like precious cargo. "Thank you for findin' it for her." He clears his throat and looks at you, smirk back in place. "Wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks. You don't follow. "Havin' someone help you," he adds.

Your face feels hot. "I'll still cook for you," you say, opening the door. He shakes his head.

"You let me know if you need anythin' else, alright?" A quick smile and he's down the steps and back into the street, strolling back to his own home.

"I will." You say it to yourself and almost mean it.

___

You patrol a few more times over the next month but never get paired up with Joel. If you were a little braver you'd ask Tommy or the kid he's training to take over the schedule to put you two together but you don't. Instead, you wave at Ellie when you see her, nod at Joel from the other side of rooms where he's always talking to someone else. You let yourself enjoy the way your heart picks up at the sight of him and the thrill you feel after he smiles at you. It's a nice change to the boring, lonely routine you had before.

The doors in your house open and close silently.

Being outside is fine. You don't like it any more or any less, it just is what it is. Life at the end of the world continues on.

Until you have a bad patrol.

It's no one's fault and no one gets bit. You and your partner, Astrid, are tailing a buck that's wandering along your route. If you can shoot it you can load it on one of your horses and ride back together on the other. Winter is on its way and any extra meat helps.

You follow protocol. You're lining the deer up through the scope while she keeps watch. Just as you prepare to pull the trigger you feel it -- the pull of your gut telling you something isn't right. That feeling has kept you alive all these years so you lower the rifle and turn to Astrid just in time to see a stalker lunge out of the brush.

Its broken and jagged nails catch your shoulders and you go down hard enough to bruise. You can't hear anything over its snarls and the blood pounding in your ears but you do your fucking best. You wedge your forearm under its chin and try like hell to keep its mouth away from you. Your other hand somehow makes it to your belt and unsheathes your hunting knife and in one swift movement, you shove it into the soft jaw of the infected. Hot blood spurts over your face and you keep your mouth closed, shoving the corpse off you.

A gunshot has you whirling around and scooping up the rifle. You've got it ready to fire but you only find Astrid standing over a stalker corpse of her own, forehead bleeding and revolver smoking.

"You clean?" you ask her, eyes on her forehead. She nods.

"Shoved me into some thorns. You?"

"Yeah. Can we go home now?"

Your hands don't shake until you get back to Jackson. They tremble when you wash the blood from your face, your hair. You wish for just a second that you had someone to hold them, someone to tell you it's alright. Someone to talk to about how shitty your day was and how scared you were and how sometimes this life is so fucking exhausting and just when you think you're safe you're reminded that no one is safe anymore.

Maybe this is the kind of thing Joel was talking about. Asking for help.

The thought fades quickly. You can deal with this. You're just out of practice. You just got comfortable.

You go to bed as early as you can bear, closing your eyes and hoping for dreamless sleep.

You could only be so lucky.

You're no stranger to nightmares. Hell, who isn't? Usually, it's the same old shit -- people you've lost, fucked up things you've done, horrors you've seen. You know how to deal with it.

But this is the first time in a while you've got new nightmare fuel. The hot, rancid breath of the stalker and the agonizing sound of its moans. Your own choked gasps as you try with all of your strength to keep its rotting teeth away from you. Unlike reality, your dreams don't allow you to grab a hold of your knife and instead, you feel it take a chunk out of your neck, hot blood splattering your face and you have to just lie there as it bites and bites and bites --

You jolt upright with a small gasp. Necessity has taught you to wake silently.

"Fuck," you say to the empty room. No way you're going back to sleep after that. You swing your legs over the side of your bed and put your head in your hands. "Breathe. Breathe."

The sky is black through your windows. You have no idea what time it is but you stand before the lingering panic can take hold and make things worse. Fresh air will get the iron smell out of your nose. You dress in the dark in more layers than necessary but you want to stop shaking.

Jackson at night is quiet but there are always a few people around, always someone else who can't sleep. The sky is clear and the moon is bright and it smells like woodsmoke and the unique earthy feel of the valley. This is your home. So long as you have this you can get through it.

Your feet take you through the streets of houses, most of the windows dark. Just another lap around town and then you'll go home, try to sleep again.

Then you hear something. The gentle strum of an acoustic guitar weaving with the night air like a dream. A song from before, a song you recognize but don't know the name of, don't know the words. You wrap your arms around yourself and follow the sound down Rancher Street. If you find whoever is playing it you'll wave and walk slowly home.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see whose house it is. Joel is on the porch, rocking slowly and head leaning back, eyes closed as he strums. How did you not know he played guitar? It only makes sense that the hands that are capable of such violence can also make something beautiful. He can ruffle Ellie's hair and pull the trigger and fix your doors and do this.

Something in your chest tightens.

Joel's eyes open and land on you immediately. You realize how it looks -- you standing in front of his house in the middle of the night, watching him. But he stops his playing and calls out your name.

"Hey, you alright?" he says. You hover between taking a step forward and a step back.

"Couldn't sleep."

He shakes his head. "Can't hear ya," he says. "C'mere."

Step forward it is. Up the stairs and onto the porch that creaks a little under your boots. There's only one chair and a small table with a lantern on it. Wind chimes dangle over the railing and you drag your hand through them on instinct like a child with a toy.

"Sorry," you say softly.

"Only got one chair," Joel says. He's got one boot resting on his knee, guitar slung across his lap. He looks tired. "I'll go get another --"

You wave him off. "No, please," you say. "I'll stand. I'm too antsy to sit, anyway." If you sit down in a chair next to Joel Miller you might never get up.

He frowns but settles back into his seat. "You alright?" he asks again.

His gaze is a little too much. You feel silly all of a sudden, not sure how you got here. A fucking nightmare? God, you're ridiculous. You cross your arms and lean back on the railing and look anywhere but him.

"Couldn't sleep." Joel hums.

"Heard that one before."

He strums some more and you relax again despite yourself. "Sounds nice. Do you play a lot?"

"Sometimes," he says. "Old habit."

"It's a nice one. Better than walking the streets in the dark." Your tone is harsher than you mean it to be and Joel frowns.

"It's safe to," he says, as though your wellbeing is his personal concern. "Bit cold, though."

"Why are you out here then?" You're frustrated with yourself and taking it out on him just a little bit. The smell of blood fills your nostrils again and you press your fingertips into your crossed arms, hard, and close your eyes. Your breath stutters in your chest.

"Nightmares," Joel says wryly. There's some shifting, the scrape of wood on wood and you open your eyes. His are fixated on your fingers and you stop squeezing. The guitar is now leaning up against the house and he's got his elbows on his knees like he's about to ask you a serious question. The lantern light makes his hair look darker, less silver, but it also makes the lines on his face look deeper. You wonder what kind of shit he's seen. What things he has nightmares about.

"Had this conversation with Ellie a million times," he huffs, rubs his hand through his beard in what you now consider a familiar gesture. "You don't need to talk if you don't want to. But can't hurt."

Is he asking you to talk about your nightmare? Does he actually want to know? Do you know how to talk about it?

"I take it you're a fountain of emotional sharing, huh?" Again, the misplaced frustration. You don't know how to turn it off.

His eyes flash but he just leans back in his chair and shrugs. "Depends on the day."

The low-level hum of your infatuation with him flares and your traitorous brain bats it down right away. You want to see all sides that he can offer you, want to make him frustrated and angry just to see if that'll make him sick of you.

You run your hand through the wind chimes again, watching your fingers move through the air. You remember what the knife felt like in your hand, the way the blood was hot as it dripped down your wrist and onto your face.

"Tough patrol," you say. "Messiest since I got here." Joel says nothing and you don't look at him. "I...it was fine. We got jumped by some stalkers and it was fine but...close. And I -- I didn't realize how badly I wanted to come back here until then. How badly I wanted to go home at the end of it. Does that make sense?"

You finally look up and Joel's knuckles are white on the arms of his chair. When he sees you looking he crosses his arms. "Sure," he says, clears his throat.

The urge to try to explain more is overwhelming. "I mean, we've all done fucked up shit. I've been up to my elbows in infected guts and still come out on top and slept like a rock the night after. And all of a sudden I can't fucking handle a stalker getting in my face. It's like I've never had to get my hands dirty before and what if it means I'm going to fuck up next time --"

"Hey," Joel says firmly. You feel a hand on your forearm and realize you've been pacing, arms flailing as you rambled. He gives it a squeeze and then releases you. "Feel like I gotta say fuck now to catch up with you."

A wet chuckle works its way out of you. Where did that come from? Are you about to cry? On the porch of the man you have a stupid, stupid crush on? This is embarrassing. And his touch. People touch you all the time, all things considered. A tap on patrol indicating silence, a hand on your arm to get your attention, to brace you as you lift something. Children in town who don't know the horrors outside the walls give affection freely. Hell, Joel touched your shoulder after your patrol. You're not touch starved but you feel like no one has touched you with tenderness and meant it in years.

"Sorry."

Joel tuts. "C'mon," he says. "I asked."

"I don't think I feel any better."

He stands and grunts as he does so. He's so much closer than before, so close you can smell what you can only describe as Joel: wood shavings and gunpowder, laundry soap and leather. It's a little dizzying. He leans on the railing next to you.

"Bet when you go back to bed you won't dream," he says. "Usually what happens."

"Here you are again," you sigh. "Helping me out. I promise I get on just fine on my own."

"I know," he says. His eyes are warm and so, so deep. "Don't have to, though."

Joel, for all his kindness and popularity in town, is a man just like any other. A person who has seen and done shit that no one should have to see and do. You know he's got his fair share of secrets, of things he won't talk about. You all do. You know he can be unflinching and maybe even cruel, dangerous and deadly. Whatever is happening here -- this openness, this desire of his to help you out -- is hard won. You think about what Ellie said and let yourself have a dangerous thought: maybe he's this way with you because he wants to be.

You sway into him just a little before catching yourself and standing up straight. "I should go try that dreamless sleep," you say softly. "And you should, too." It does not escape your notice that you haven't talked about Joel's nightmares, whatever they are. You don't think he'd be that open. A piece of you imagines a world where you ask and he answers.

"I might," he says. Neither of you move.

That small piece of you would stay here all night. That small piece of you tries for the next best thing.

"Will you let me cook for you now?" you ask. It sounds a little desperate to your own ears. "Please?"

"Persistent, ain't you?" He taps his closed fist on the railing once, twice. "Well, if it's that important to you. Chili, you said?"

"I can have it done by sundown tomorrow. I'm on greenhouses but we always finish early. You can come by and get it. I'll do enough for you and Ellie for a few days." You're rambling but finally he's going to let you do something for him. Hinges, nightmares, it's too much. Maybe you can somehow cook out this affection for him, get rid of it with your own hands if you try hard enough.

"Alright," Joel says. He puts his hand on your shoulder lightly and squeezes once. You feel it all the way down to your toes. "Now get outta this damn cold."

He doesn't offer to walk you home. You'd say no if he did. You need the time to sort out the mess in your mind. You give him the most earnest smile you can manage and he watches from his porch until you turn out of sight.

Joel is on your mind all day. More so than usual, which is saying a lot. The crush has turned into something...more. Something that makes you hope and that something is dangerous. It's just setting yourself up to be hurt through no fault of Joel's when it goes nowhere. Because why would he be thinking about you?

"You're smiley today," Dina says. She's a sweet girl and you're paired together on greenhouse shift today. She's always got a story to tell about plants she and her sister saw in New Mexico or some weird mushroom she found on group patrol. You love how positive she is and you try to absorb some.

"Am I?" you say lightly.

She tugs on one more cucumber, putting it in your shared basket before wiping her face. She gets dirt on her nose. It makes her look young. "Got big plans?"

Your face feels hot. "Just cooking for a...friend." It's the first time you've said that out loud. It's probably true, right? Acquaintance, at least. Joel is important to you and it's taken an alarmingly short amount of time for it to solidify. That's just how the world works these days -- you never know how much time you have so everything moves faster. You care harder despite years of proof that nothing good comes of it. You can't help it. You were made to leak love like an open wound.

"A friend," Dina teases. Teenagers. You remember that she's friends with Ellie and it's very possible she knows exactly what you're talking about but she's too kind to say anything more.

"Yep," you say, popping the p. "Do I have to start teasing you about Jesse or are you going to cut me some slack?"

"Well, hey," she laughs. "I think it's nice to be excited about something. You're so serious all the time."

"Am not," you mutter.

Something you appreciate about Dina is that despite her age she knows when to leave it. "Whatever you say," she says primly.

Once work is over and you're back home the cooking goes quick. You focus just enough considering you want this to actually be good and for Joel and Ellie to like it. It's thank you chili, it's you are important to me chili, it's I want to see you every day for the rest of my life chili.

Well. It's thank you at the very least.

And food, especially in this world, means something extra. There's enough to go around in Jackson, more than enough, but anyone taking the time to fix something with their own hands means more. You know how different a meal can taste when someone makes it with care.

And to say you care is a bit of an understatement.

The chili is simmering and you're about to start on the dishes when there's a knock on the door.

"Shit," you say. You wipe your hands on a towel and pad down the hall in socked feet. When you open it you find Joel bathed in the golden light of the sunset. His hands are tucked in his pockets, the collar of his coat turned up to protect his neck from the chill that's settled in for the season. His face softens at the sight of you but his shoulders are still tight. Is he...nervous? No, you're projecting.

Here he is on your doorstep again. If you're not careful you'll get used to him being there.

"Sorry for bein' a bit early," he says at the same time you say, "I was just thinking about you ."

The tension melts out of him and he smirks like a man with a secret. "That so?"

Your eyes are wide as you find your words. Hopefully ones that aren't embarrassing. "Come in," you say. "I'm letting the heat out."

He follows you to the kitchen. "Smells good," he says.

"It's not quite done yet but that's a good sign, I guess." You stir the pot before rolling up your sleeves and taking your spot in front of the sink. "Sorry it's a bit of a mess, I was about to start on this --"

"Now I know you ain't about to do all that yourself," Joel drawls. It's a syrupy tone you haven't heard from him, not really. Is he...flirting with you?

"I...what?"

"Scoot," Joel says. He steps beside you in front of the sink and gently bumps your hip with his. "Seriously."

"Joel--"

"Does it look like I'm kiddin'?"

He keeps his eyes on yours as he shrugs off his jacket, tosses it on this island, and rolls his shirtsleeves up to his elbow. You look away from him so you can watch.

"This is getting ridiculous," you tell him even as you hop up to sit on the counter closest to the sink so you can see his face. He turns on the tap and starts on the various things in the sink even though some of them are clearly not from cooking tonight. "You'll be sick of this chili before I can pay you back."

"I told you it ain't like that," he scolds. "So quit it."

There's no real bite to his tone but you do as he says all the same. You kick your feet out a few times and do your best not to stare but fail miserably. The fall sunlight seems to have followed him into your house, pinkish-golden beams falling across his face. You can see a triangle of chest at the top of his shirt, a few dark curls teasing the hair on him. The scar on the bridge of his nose is much harsher up close, much deeper than the countless other ones that dot his forehead, his temples. He doesn't look as tired today. Maybe he got some sleep after all.

So did you. You didn't dream.

"How was your day?" you ask. Joel's eyes flick up to yours for just a breath before he looks back down at his task. His mouth pulls up at the corner.

"Fine," he says. "Had to fix the water heater at Ellie's place."

A piece of hair falls in his face and you shove your palms under your thighs so you don't brush it back.

You tap his denim-clad thigh with your socked foot, almost like a compromise with yourself when it comes to touching him. "And that took all day?" Damn, are you the one flirting now?

Joel seems amused in a grumpy way. "Well, no," he says. The faucet is on so he speaks a little louder. "Did some house chores. Worked on a guitar. Took a nap."

The image of Joel sprawled out on a couch is clear as day. You bet he looks relaxed in his sleep, the lines on his face not as pronounced, his breathing steady and even.

"Busy day," you say softly. He's about to say more, lips parted to ask about your day, maybe, but you're not about to admit that you spent all day thinking about him so you keep talking before he can. "Does Ellie like living in the garage?"

"Think so," he says. "She spends a night in the house every so often but I think she likes havin' her own space. S'important to me to give her that."

This is uncharted territory. You desperately don't want to step in shit, to somehow make him bring his walls back up. Everyone is protective of the things they love in this world and for good reason and you're pretty sure there is nothing and no one Joel loves more than Ellie.

"She's a good kid," you offer. "Everyone in town loves her."

Joel smiles down at his hands, that soft, raw smile you've seen a few times when talking about her. It makes your chest ache. "She is," he admits. "Pain in my ass, too."

You want so badly to ask him the details. How did they meet? How did they get here? How did they become so devoted to one another? And what happened in the last twenty years to get him to right now, washing dishes in your kitchen?

But you haven't earned that stuff yet. Maybe you never will.

"Does she like Jackson?" You remember what he said about them settling in, sleeping in the living room with their shoes on. You imagine he kept watch for weeks, maybe months, before deciding it was safe.

He nods. "S'good for her to have friends. And havin' school is good for her. She's real smart." He clears his throat. "And you? D'you like it?"

"Well, I like it much better now that my hinges don't squeak."

Joel laughs. "I'll bet you do." He's almost done, everything from your chili-making washed and set aside to dry. He's doing your dishes from breakfast but shows no signs of stopping."Do you cook like this a lot?

Your brows furrow. "I-- no, actually," you admit. "It's just me, so. Not worth putting in the effort that often."

He turns off the tap and grabs a towel and starts to dry. You should offer to help but you feel frozen to the counter. If you get any closer to him you might snap. His jaw is tight.

"When Ellie and I --" he stops, takes a moment to focus on the bowl in his hands. Joel, you've noticed, doesn't tend to say things he doesn't mean, at least not to you. It's like he knows that every word counts in a life as unpredictable as this. "We had a bit of a rough patch last year and we didn't talk for a while. I was damn near eatin' canned veggies on days Tommy didn't drag me to the community meals." He sighs and sets the bowl on the counter ever so gently. Violence and tenderness go hand in hand with him. "Just didn't have it in myself to try cookin' if she wasn't there to eat it."

It's the most vulnerable thing he's said. He keeps doing this -- offering you pieces of himself that you want to hold close, that make you think maybe he wants you to know him.

"Joel--"

"I guess what I'm sayin' is it's easier to take care of yourself when you're also takin' care of people who matter to you. That make sense?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "It does."

The whole scene is so...domestic that your chest aches. Joel in your kitchen doing your dishes. He's helping you yet again but this feels different. It feels like he wants to be here, talking to you. It feels real.

He finishes his task and dries his hands on a faded towel. You hop down from the counter to check the chili. "Should be done," you say. "Do you want to try it? Make sure it's worth it?"

"Oh, it's worth it," he mutters. You work to keep your face neutral. What does that mean? "Sure."

You pull a spoon from the drawer and while it would make more sense to just hand it to him you don't. Instead, you dip it into the steaming liquid and hold it out for him, your other hand cupped underneath to catch any spill. Joel stares at your offering for a few seconds and you wonder if he can hear your heart beating.

Then Joel reaches out slowly like he's afraid you'll bolt if he goes too fast, and lightly wraps his hand around your wrist. It's the first time he's touched you skin to skin and you know immediately that it's a mistake.

You'll never stop wanting him now.

His palm is warm, callused fingertips pressing gently into your skin and he tugs, bringing the spoon -- and you -- closer to his mouth. Everything moves in slow motion for a few moments and it's like you are the only two people in the world. Your kitchen fades and it's just Joel. His lips part and he slides the spoon into his mouth at the same time as his thumb strokes the inside skin of your wrist.

It's very possible that you gasp a little.

He closes his eyes and you're torn between watching his face and his throat as he swallows. You could look at him forever, you think, and never get enough. The set of his brow, the hard line of his jaw. Lines around his eyes and mouth from years of terror and violence but also from laughter and smiles. You want to learn every inch of him if he'll let you.

"Christ," Joel says. His eyes fly open and find yours. "That's good. That's real good."

"You're just saying that," you say weakly. He hasn't let go of your wrist and his thumb strokes once again. You wonder if you realize he's doing it.

Something in his face changes, something so small that you only notice because you're watching. It feels like he has decided something and you wish you knew him well enough to say what. You dare to hope it has to do with you.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm a good liar but I ain't just sayin' that."

Sweetheart. It echoes in your ears, burrows its way into your chest and takes root.

You're so fucked.

But there's something in Joel's gaze, in the brush of his thumb across your skin, in the fact he's just done all of your dishes and talked to you like he wants to be here that gives your traitorous heart some ground to stand on.

You send him home with as many glass containers of chili as he'll take. He argues that you won't have enough for yourself and manages to convince you to keep a few. You don't tell him that what you really want is to sit next to him at a table and eat it, knees bumping under the wood and his smile making your empty house feel warm.

"Tell Ellie I say hi," you say once he's out your door and on the porch. "And let me know if she likes it."

"Will do," Joel says. You hug your arms around yourself against the chill. He frowns slightly.

You wonder if he'd touch you if his hands weren't full.

"And thank you for--"

He shakes his head. "Not acceptin' thanks," he chides. "Not from you."

You don't know what to say to that. Joel seems to realize he's rendered you speechless, not for the first time, and nods his head before heading home.

"See you around, Joel," you call after him. It sounds half like a question and half like a wish.

He turns. "Countin' on it."

___

You do see him around but not as much as you'd like. Things pick up around town before the seasons can change and send Wyoming into winter. You find yourself in the kitchen most days helping seal jars for the community food stores, hands chapped from the hot water and heart light when you think about Joel. He nods at you from across the dining hall, opens the door of the library when you're going in and he's coming out, and tells Ellie to tell you how good the chili was when you share a shift at the stables.

"Fucking amazing," she says.

You sleep fairly well, going to bed each night with a little bit of lightness in your heart that you allow because why not? There's no way out short of Joel telling you to fuck off and you don't think that'll happen. If only you could get over yourself a little more and actually do something about it.

As much as you want to keep telling yourself that this -- glances across rooms, smiles from a distance, memories of his hand on your skin -- is enough, you're not sure that it is. The force of your want is destabilizing considering the most that's happened is maybe a little bit of flirting. But maybe this is you taking his direction to ask for...no help, not exactly, but to ask for something. To ask for him.

Today you're going on patrol. You decide as you mount your horse that you're going to ask Joel if he wants to get a drink when you get back. You want to talk to him again, let him under your skin a little more. Maybe tell him some things about yourself. Sometimes he's milling around the gate or on wall duty but you don't see him as you and your partner -- a fairly new kid in his twenties -- take your rifles and head out. You're on an easy route today, just clearing out the town over the hill and the highway exits near Jackson. Shouldn't take you more than a few hours.

It goes to shit fairly quickly.

The kid -- Conner? Charlie? You can't remember -- is rambling about the infected he's killed for some reason when you realize something isn't quite right. You can't hear any birds. Apollo snorts and it sounds panicked. You motion for the kid to stop talking but he either ignores you or doesn't see.

He sure shuts up when the clicker bursts out of a house to your left. Apollo startles and rears at the moment you reach for your gun and you can't grab hold in time.

You go flying, bouncing off a rusted-out car and landing hard on the broken pavement of the street with a popping sound. There is a pain in your shoulder so intense your vision whites out. The kid is shouting, the clicker is making that awful sound, but then you hear two gunshots and nothing else.

"Holy fuck," he says, rushing over to you. "Fuck, are you okay?"

Well, for a talker, this kid a good shot.

"Get the -- horse --" You roll onto your back with a groan and he grabs Apollo and settles him.

"What happened?"

You stare up at the sky, blue turning purple. It'll be sunset soon and you very well might be fucked if this is what you think it is.

"I think my shoulder popped out," you say through gritted teeth. Your head doesn't hurt like you smacked it and your side is only a little sore. Maybe some bruised ribs. Your hands are scraped, blood beading on the heels of your palms. "Help me up."

"Holy shit." He helps you sit up and then stand, your left arm hanging limp at your side. You hiss through your teeth as it gets jostled and lean heavily on the car. "You don't look so good," he says. "Can you ride? We should only be a half hour out of town."

"I...don't think so." You're pretty sure you'll pass out from the pain and this kid doesn't look like he can handle that. You don't want to fuck up the joint any more than you have to. "You're going to have to go back and bring someone to set it for me, okay?"

"But the rules say --"

"I know what the fucking rules say," you snap. Don't let your partner out of your sight. Your shoulder is throbbing and you might cry but not until this kid is on his way back to town. "That's why you're going to go as fast as you can, alright?"

"We should at least clear a building first so you can --"

"No time," you say, looking at the sky. "If we want to be back before nightfall you need to go now. I'll handle myself."

You really should know his name. He sets his jaw in a move that reminds you of Joel which causes a pang in your chest so intense you want to rub it away. "I'll clear that garage, okay?" He points behind you and before you can stop him he runs towards it with his gun out.

Lucky for both of you it's clear. You take Apollo inside and slump against the wall, pistol in your hand. The kid closes the garage door behind him and you hear the clop of his horse as he gallops away.

"Fuck," you say into the empty room. It's dusty and full of cobwebs and not much else. Empty metal shelves, a rusted-out lawn mower, some tarps so ratted they're useless. Apollo snorts. "Not your fault, buddy."

Death has been nipping at your heels for twenty years now. You've always expected it. And you're fairly certain you won't die out here. Maybe end up spending a night on this floor, having to walk yourself back to Jackson tomorrow morning. But you can't help the fear that rises in your throat. You know how an injury like this means so much more in this world. You won't be able to work for weeks. You won't be able to patrol, to pull your weight.

You're going to need a lot of help.

You close your eyes against the stinging tears and thud your head against the wall.

The pain dulls the embarrassment you feel when you catch yourself thinking of Joel. You wish he was here. If you'd been on patrol together this wouldn't have happened. You wonder what he's going to think of this.

What you'd really like is for him to hold you and tell you it'll be alright.

A few tears slip down your nose. Apollo noses at your knee.

There are no windows so you don't know how much time has passed. You start to question if this was the right call. Maybe you could have made it back on horseback, or at the very least slung across the back of Apollo like a sack of flour, arm be damned.

Your traitorous brain is about to remind you of all the things that go bump in the night out here when you hear something.

Someone is calling your name. Yelling it.

"Here!" you scream. Apollo whinnies. "I'm here!" You have no idea if they can hear you. You press your good shoulder into the wall behind you and try to push yourself to your feet but just as you do the garage door is hauled open and there stands --

Joel.

A sob bursts from your throat and you will yourself to pull it together. Behind him the sky is much more orange than it was when you first sat down.

Joel's eyes look you up and down once before cataloging the space and locking on some milk crates. He stacks two of them.

"Sit," he says. His voice is tight.

"Joel --"

"Sit."

You do as he says. He kneels at your feet and rummages around in his bag. His horse stands munching on some overgrown grass on the driveway. Did he come alone?

"How are you here --"

Joel cuts you off with a glare. His eyes are blazing, jaw grinding as he holds out a length of bandage.

"Hold this." He stands and his knees crack. "Kid said it's your shoulder. Anything else?"

The throb is still deep, still intense, but his arrival almost made you forget all about it. You shake your head.

"Didn't hit your head? Crack ribs? Nothin' like that?"

"No, I don't think so --"

"Need you to sit up straight," he says. There's no warmth in his tone but it's a little softer now that he's taken stock of the situation. "I ain't gonna lie to you, this is going to hurt like hell." He digs in his pocket for something and pulls out a square of leather. "Need you to bite down on this."

He squats so that you're just about face to face and holds out the leather. It feels like being in your kitchen, you holding out the spoon and fighting your desire to touch him. Except this time he won't look you in the eye. You open your mouth and he gently places it between your teeth, thumb catching the corner of your lips and trailing along the edge of your chin before he pulls away and stands up.

"I'm going to reset it on three, alright? Bite down hard on that." He finally meets your gaze and you nod and close your eyes. He puts one hand on your shoulder and the other on your wrist and you wince even though you feel incredibly safe in his hands. "Alright. One...two --"

Joel jerks your arm up and around before he hits three and you barely hear it pop back into place because, as he said, it hurts like hell. You bite down hard on the leather which also serves to muffle your scream.

Someone is talking to you."I know, baby, I know. Good job, you did a good job."

You open your eyes and wipe away a few tears with one hand and pull the leather from your teeth. Joel looks pained but his face snaps back to neutral when he sees you watching. His eyes narrow.

"Where did that come from?" He gently grabs your wrist and looks at your palm and you both find it bloody. "Got it on your face."

"Scraped my hands when I fell," you say hoarsely. He clicks his tongue.

"Give me that bandage." You don't even get a chance to hand it to him because he plucks it from your lap. "Gonna make this into a sling for this arm. Try not to move it much. Then we'll clean those hands and head home. Get you to the clinic for some meds." He gently positions your arm, which hurts a lot less than before but is still throbbing, and ties a sling so it's bent close to your chest. You can feel his breath on your neck as he does the knot.

And then he's back crouching in front of you.

Joel Miller on his knees for you so many times in one day makes you a little dizzy. Or maybe that's the adrenaline.

"Are you angry with me?" you ask softly as he wipes clean your palms and cheek with firm touches. The muscle in his jaw twitches again and his hands freeze for a split second.

"No," he says. "I ain't mad at you. I just can't believe the fuckin' kid left you here."

"I told him to."

"Can't believe that either. You know better."

"It's fine, Joel," you say. "It doesn't matter. I would have just walked back in the morning if no one came --"

He pulls his hands away and tosses the rag to the floor. "Damnit, it does matter," he curses. "'Course it fuckin' matters. Cut that shit out."

Now you're confused. It sure seems like he's angry with you. "Joel, I don't understand --"

His hands cradle your face and the protest dies in your throat. "You matter to me," he says thickly. His eyes are wide but his stare is steady. "Ain't it fuckin' obvious?" Anger and desperation are dripping from his words. "It matters."

For one long second you think he's going to kiss you. Now that might kill you.

You wrap one hand around his wrist and lean into his palm. A thousand thoughts swirl in your head but you focus on one. Joel is here which means you're safe. Joel is here which means he's going to take care of you. Joel is here. Joel is here. Joel is here.

"Oh," you breathe. You turn your face in his palm and press your lips to the center of it. His breath hitches and it feels like something big between you shifts, slots into place. "Okay," you say against his skin.

He pulls his hands away and stands. He works his jaw a few times before shouldering his pack and holding out his hand. "Let's go home," he says.

You stand with his help. "I think you'll need to help me get on my horse."

"Not a fuckin' chance," he growls but you can still see tenderness in his eyes. "Can't hold on well enough with one arm. We're ridin' together."

This Joel is one you haven't seen. But this is what you wanted, right? You want to see every part of him. Something molten and heavy sits in your stomach at how tense he is, how his hands remain gentle despite his harsh words. How he just told you that you matter to him. Maybe this is all a dream.

He helps you on his horse and then gets on behind you, tying Apollo's reigns to his so you won't lose him. He wraps one arm right around your stomach, mindful of your arm.

"Ain't gonna be comfortable," he says in your ear. "But it'll be over quick."

You lean back into him. Hell, it's all on the table now. If your arm is going to hurt you might as well enjoy your time pressed against him.

"Oh, I don't know," you say. "This isn't so bad." He snorts and snaps the reigns.

He talks low and steady in your ears as you gallop, his palm firm on your abdomen to keep you as still as possible though it's a hopeless venture. Your shoulder aches, sends sharp tendrils of pain through your entire arm with every stride.

He tells you that he was on the wall when your partner came back alone. That he knew something was wrong with you as soon as the kid came into view. He'd seen the patrol assignments and knew you were paired together. Kid didn't know what flag to use to signal his approach because you're not supposed to leave behind your partner.

Joel tells you how he hopped down from the wall and asked the kid where exactly he left you. Demanded to know how hurt you were, if you'd been bit. He was on a horse before anyone else could get their shit together, told them to get Tommy and have the clinic ready for you. Started hollering your name as soon as he got to the street, rifle ready for any infected to show up.

"Damn miracle when you yelled back," he says just as Jackson comes into view. You're sweating and dizzy from the pain, practically all of your weight slumped back into his chest. "Almost there, sweetheart. Doin' real good."

The rest of it is a blur. Joel takes you to the clinic where he becomes increasingly agitated that he set your shoulder wrong until one of the staff says he did it just fine. They give you a real sling and one painkiller to take if you hurt really bad, despite some harsh words from Joel in an attempt to get you more.

"Don't move it above your head for two weeks. Keep the sling on for that time, too. Ice it today, start moving it back and forth a few times in a few days. You got someone to help you for a bit?"

Before you can open her mouth Joel answer for you.

"Yes." The nurse hides her amusement well. She lets you go. Joel keeps his hand on your back as he walks you to your house.

You stop him when you get to your front door. "Joel --"

"If you're about to argue with me, so help me God, I'll --"

"I was going to ask if you need to go check on Ellie." You pull out your keys and after a second hold them out for him. Maybe letting Joel help you is helping him, too. You can handle that. You think.

"Told Tommy to when I left. I'll go home once we get you settled."

We.

"Okay," you say softly. He unlocks the door and motions for you to go in. You sit gingerly on the couch and Joel brings you a glass of water.

And then he paces. He looks at the books on your shelf without seeing them and rubs his thumb against his first two fingers over and over. And all of a sudden he won't look at you.

"Joel, sit down or something," you grumble. "You're making me nervous."

He stops. "Fine." His tone has a bit of bite to it that makes you close your eyes. There's an armchair in the room but he sits next to you instead. He presses his knee to yours, almost in apology.

The adrenaline has faded by now and all you feel is the ache of your shoulder and ribs and rawness of your palms and heart. The shoulder hurts like hell but in a way all of this hurts deeper, harder than that. In the way you know love, or the beginning of it, can hurt.

You sniffle.

Truth is you're overwhelmed. By what happened, by Joel coming to get you and saying all that shit. By him touching you, by him being here, by your own heart beating so quickly at his nearness. Even though you dared hope he felt something close to your affection for him it's a shock to realize he cares about you because you're you, not just because he's a good man. You've always wanted love that came from a place of purpose, which feels selfish on the best of days. You should just accept whatever kindness comes your way in this cruel world.

But, fuck, you've always wanted to feel chosen. Like you matter.

And you do. Right here, you do. From his own lips he's said you do.

You don't even realize you're crying until Joel curses softly and one wide, warm palm is on your face again.

"What's wrong? You hurtin'?" His thumb swipes at your tears. "Talk to me."

"I'm fine." You press your face into his shoulder and he holds you, hand soft on the back of your head. "I'm just -- I'm just really glad you're here, Joel."

"Course I'm here," he says into your hair. "C'mere."

There's nowhere for you to go considering you're already pressed against him. But his arms come around you fully, mindful of your shoulder, and your fingers fist in his shirt.

You should be embarrassed. On the scale of fucked up shit that's happened to you, today is remarkably low. But you let yourself have this. You breathe him in and let him hold you.

"I was going to ask you to get a drink tonight," you mumble. His chest vibrates with laughter.

"That so?" he says. His hand rubs up and down your spine. "Reckon I'd say yes."

You pull back just enough to see his face. This close you can see how his eyes have a bit of gold in them. "Really?" Even with proof of his affection right in front of you it's a little hard to believe.

"Am I readin' this wrong?" he asks. "It's okay if I am--"

"No," you say quickly. "No, you're not."

"Thought so." His lips pull up at the corner just a bit. "But, still. You've had a real rough day, and --"

"Joel," you breathe. You free your good arm from your embrace and put your hand on his jaw. He's touched you plenty today and you want to give it a try yourself. His face is warm, his beard gently rubbing against your skin. His eyes flutter close for a breath before he opens them wide and leans into your hand just a little.

"Alright," he says softly. Then he says your name, just once, ever so tenderly. It sounds like a prayer.

Joel Miller kisses you in the middle of your living room. Despite the affection you've been nursing for him over the last little while you never allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to kiss him.

It's like this: the first press of his lips is soft like he thinks you'll pull away. When you don't he takes your lower lip between his and presses a little harder. Your hand slides into his hair and he palms your hip with one of his and cups your face with the other. His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you open for him, let him lick into your mouth. You sigh into it and tug on his hair just a little. Joel makes a sound deep in his throat and then pulls away.

You're both breathing heavier than before, both smiling. Joel presses his lips to your forehead, your temple. He holds you against him and you breathe against the skin of his neck.

"Will you let me take care of you?" he says into your hair.

"For my sake or yours?"

You think he'll laugh but he just breathes. "Both," he says. "Hell, you know what's goin' on here. I showed my hand. Been showin' it." He pulls away so you can see the honesty in his face. "I told you in as many damn words as I know how."

He did. He did and you make yourself believe it. Love in this life is worth holding on with both hands. Whatever this is, whatever this is going to become, you want it. You want to let this man continue to teach you to ask for help. You want to learn from him, maybe teach him a few things of your own.

You want to love him. You think you could sooner rather than later.

You trace the line of his brow, run your fingertip over the scar on the bridge of his nose.

"Can you kiss me again?" you ask.

"What a fuckin' question," he says. "C'mere."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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sh0esuke · 4 months ago

Text

" Frustration " - ENG VERSION.

Starring : Joshua Washington.

Summary : After a few months spent studying in the city, the Washington siblings can finally rest at the Washington Logde located in Blackwood Mountain, this time, the getaway being quite small, they only bring one person with them. The beginning of the weekend starts, and the guest seems to have many catch-up to do with Josh. Without their parents in sight, away from the city, they only have one thing in mind.

Warning : sexual content.

ENG : PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORKS. If you want to translate it, ask me first then we can talk about it. If you want to find me on Wattpad, my account is in my bio, this is the ONLY ONE i have. FR : MERCI DE NE PAS VOLER MES OS. Si vous avez envie de les traduire, merci de me demander la permission avant. Si vous voulez me retrouver sur Wattpad, j'ai un lien dans ma bio, c'est mon SEUL compte.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 𝟑,𝟎𝟏𝟗.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are heavily appreciated. All types of support are ! Thank you !! <3

A/N : English isn't my first language so I apologise if you find any incoherence/mistake in this work. I tried my best to translate it as I know not many french people read fanfiction about Until Dawn, I wanted to see if i was able to write in English and also maybe find other fans of Josh on this app. I truly hope you will enjoy my work, feel free to criticise anything, I'm willing to learn and get better. Thank you !!

“Are you going to close that window or what ? I’m freezing !”

I bring my hands to my arms, rubbing them generously in order to make my goosebumps disappear. A huge storm is blowing outside, the shutters can’t hold straight, they won’t stop slamming against the windows, and a few snowflakes manage to enter the room and melt on the floor. Even with a blanket on my shoulders and my legs warming up under the sheets, I'm still freezing to death. My whole body is shaking. My toes are iced. Winter has always been rough here, in the mountains, makes me wonder why Josh’s family has made it a tradition to come here every now and then. It must be a habit for him, he grew up there the cold doesn’t do anything to him anymore. But, unfortunately for him, not me. I’m cold and I can’t take it anymore. I await only one thing; for him to close this damn window and join me in bed.

“Give me two sec’ babe, I'm trying to put on some ambiance. Wouldn’t want the neighbors to see us while we wrestle between the sheets, if you know what I mean. Well, you know.” he jokes.

“You won’t wrestle anything if you waste any more time.”

“What ? You’re breaking my heart.. I did all I could to make you happy and It’s a little storm that’s going to come between us ?”

He rotates the window handle. He looks at me questioningly, pretending to be hurt.

“The next house is miles away !” I curse. “Hurry up !”

A smirk takes place on his lips. He approaches the bed, take off his jacket and climb on it before leaning in my direction. Our faces are getting closer. Using my elbows to lean forward, I kiss his mouth. The blanket falls from my shoulder, sags onto the pillow which makes a chill run up my spine –or it’s because Josh’s hand is grabbing my neck, fondling my jaw with his thumb. My stomach wiggles. I close my eyes and let him take over me.

Josh kisses me.

The day was tough, between the walk here in the mountains, cleaning up the place, Josh, Hannah, me and Beth have worked hard in order to make this house a home. The rest of the year it collects dust, we had a lot to do.

I thought about it the whole day. Me, him, finally alone in his bedroom, I dreamed of it between two strokes of feather duster, three snow fights and a non-satisfying meal. So, in this moment, having him against me, his hands on my body and his lips on mine, it’s a fantastic sensation. I need him closer. I want to entirely lose myself to him, forget our exams, the pressure of an uncertain future and our parents’ expectations. Everything falls apart while he is sliding the sheets off my legs to take place between them and while he pushes his tongue in my mouth. I shiver. My fingertips are pulsating, my heart is racing and I'm losing my mind. A fire is burning inside of me, which makes me forget about any kind of coldness and which gives me the irresistible desire to let go.

Josh's lips are tender. They’re thin and unctuous. I’ve always loved touching them, with mine or my finger, other parts of my body. I love feeling them against my skin. They give me the impression of flying. It’s as simple as that : they touch me and nothing else matters, everything disappears only to leave nothing but me and him.

My hands reach his shoulders then his hair. His strands of hair are getting tangled as I caress them. Our lips keep meeting as he’s standing above me, I try to breathe between kisses. His tongue touches mine. I can’t help but whimper. The humid noises escaping our exchange are making me feel funny. I can’t stop. I feel him all around me, everything that my legs touch, my arms, everything my ears hear, my nostril smell. Everything loops back to him.

I’m still cold but his arms wrapped around my waist and his torso crushing my chest are the reason I'm sinking into this burning bubble, leaving me sweating, craving more. I don’t know how but Josh –who was wallowing on the windows a few minutes ago, warms me. His nose blows against my skin. He growls and kisses my lips.

When I suddenly get a grip on his neck and open my eyes, I hear the door of the bedroom creaking. Josh appears lost, gets away from me.

"Joshua ? We’re not interrupting anything ?” says a voice.

We turn our head, jump out of surprise.

“Beth ? Hannah ?”

Josh breaks away from me to get off the bed, swallowing with embarrassment. I can’t blame him. At the same time his sisters enter the room, both of them have a blanket on their shoulders and are holding bowls of food. Shaken up, I pull a strand of my hair behind my ear then clear my throat. It’s not enough to make the knot I feel there disappear though.

“What are you- why are you not asleep yet, hum ?” asks Josh.

“It’s too early.” declares Beth.

“We wanted to watch a movie. Are you guys coming ?” says Hannah.

Sitting cross-legged, I wave my hand at them, to which they enthusiastically respond. Hannah smiles at me.

“We were-” Josh looks at me. “We were a bit busy.”

"You’ll have all the time in the world to make out later, come on ! We’re going to put a horror movie and we’re too scared to watch it alone.”

“You have to protect us !” insists Hannah.

Josh needs nothing less to be convinced, I already know it because he’d never dare say no to his sisters, they are way too precious to him. But the way he stares at me makes me understand he’s afraid I’ll be frustrated. He knows I've been waiting for this. Waiting to get my hands on him. Despite the affection I have for my two friends, I have not come in this desolated place to not enjoy some alone-time with my boyfriend. The whole year, I thought about it. With our studies, our parents, we barely had the time to hang out. This night was supposed to fix it.

Unfortunately, I think I will have to wait a bit more.

My feet fall onto the ground as I get up and get closer to my boyfriend. He seems out of space, looking at me with big eyes, I don’t know if he’s still with us. However, the moment I take his hand into mine, he comes back to us.

“Let’s go, Josh.”

He frowns his eyebrows.

“You sure ?” he asks.

“Mhh. Your sisters are waiting, come on.”

He moves effortlessly, I just have to pull him a little to make him follow Beth and Hannah. They keep the door open for us, giggling happily, I smile back at them. Leaving without us, I hear them rushing to the corridor, almost running down the stairs leading to the living room. Beth yells, her sister laughs. Their enthusiasm warms my heart, I truly didn’t have the heart to ask Josh to stay with me, they are way too adorable. I also believe that since we are not alone, it would be incredibly foolish to stay on our own the whole time we’re here.

Hannah and Beth would’ve understood. They know Josh and I are together –it's been a few years since; I can’t remember what was my life before him- they wouldn’t have minded. It won’t be the last time we leave a place to make love. Nevertheless, it’s not something I like to do; keeping their big brother away from them. Not while knowing he would move heaven and earth for them. I would rather please them and wait a little bit, it’s not like Josh is going to disappear : we have the rest of our lives to make out et have fun under the sheets. I’m not saying it’s not bothering me –of course it is, but I know what choice to make under such circumstances. We will still spend the night together, it’s a win-win situation.

I glue myself to Josh, look up to him. It's hard to see his face when it’s so dark in the house, but I can feel his fingers tightening around mine and his body heat caressing my skin. He’s here, he’s letting me know.

“I can’t believe I missed the best sex of my life.” he curses, makes me laugh.

"The best ?”

"Babe, I promise I had a feeling. Have you seen me ? I even put this little ambiance, made you warm up real’ good.”

“Dumbass, it was just a window...”

“Ah ha,” he cuts me. “I saw how you reacted, you’ve never done this before, you can’t lie to me.”

“What ? You think you’re getting better or something ?”

"I think...? I am !”

Rolling my eyes, I hit his chest.

“Don’t be too full of yourself, it’s been a long time since we last saw each other.”

"And ? Doesn’t mean what I did was for nothing. You would be surprised to see what a little attention to detail can do.”

"You learned that in a porno ?” I asked curiously, about to scoff but still with a mocking smile on my lips.

"Ah ha, very funny, babe.”

Josh kisses my cheek.

“You’re the only girl I want to see finish. I tested a theory which came true, that’s all.”

“That’s actually so sweet I could almost think it was a compliment.”

We arrive at the stairs. Just like Hannah and Beth did previously, we go down them. From here I can see the light of the television, and hear my friends bickering about what film they want to see, I believe they can’t pick between two films.

Josh pulls my hand. I stop walking.

It’s sweet, the way he draws me towards him, pressing me in the center of his arms. I melt under his touch. His body against mine, his beautiful dark eyes fulling staring at me. The natural light going through the shutters make one part of his face glow with a blueish tone, the rest is black, but it’s enough for me. I know every part of him. Spiritually, physically, I don’t need light to find him. It’s hard to believe. That all of this is real, I mean. This universe is big, I’m somebody among billions of other beings, but it’s still given to me. I'm lucky enough to be with the person that I love, to be loved in return and to enjoy fully all of this, I become aware of this the moment his skin encounters mine. Like a strike of lightning. It's too good to be true. Josh and me... It’s.. It's everything I've dreamt of. He’s with me, touching me, caressing me, kissing me. His lips encounter my cheek again as he’s leaning over me.

I don’t know why he stopped us here, between the two stairs. He suddenly took me in his arms and is now leaving kisses all over my face. Coming from him, it’s almost too sweet.

It’s only when he reaches my mouth that he dares to stop. He doesn’t go anywhere else.

Josh kisses me with passion.

Our lips meet, touch each other with such fondness, our saliva becomes one. While his hands are wrapped around my waist, mine are all over his face. I’m holding him. Eyes closes, I’m holding his head, savouring the taste of him. It’s not enough to satiate my thirst of him, but I can satisfy myself with this.

The moment we break away from each other and our forehead comes in contact, I can’t help but giggle.

“What’s so funny ?” asks Josh out of breath.

I put my hands on his chest.

Embarrassed, I look away.

"Nothing... I’m starting to regret saying yes to your sisters, that’s all.”

My heart is painful. It beats too fast. My stomach feels heavy.

"Too late now, if we change our mind and go back I’m pretty sure Hannah will kill the both of us.” he jokes.

"You think ?”

"Wouldn’t be the first time she tried. Remember last Halloween when we slipped away ?”

"Oh no... don’t remind me. Sam had to come save us.”

Josh laughs. He touches slowly the top of my head before taking a step back. He is so pretty... I want to kiss him. I don’t even want to move.

I’m fine here.

Perfectly fine.

“Josh, I-”

I need to tell him those three words. However, I can’t, lost into his eyes, his gaze takes away every single word in my mouth. I hold onto him. Losing control.

“You’re so regretting saying yes right now.” he mocks me.

I’m suffocating. It’s hot.

My body is still freezing.

“Shut up.” I grumble.

"Admit it, babe.”

His snarky smile leaves me weak. With the palm of my hand I smack his chest and glare at him. He’s being real' annoying right now... Once he’s started, I fear nothing can stop him.

"You love me so much you can’t spend five minutes without drooling all over me.”

“Ah ! Says the one who kissed me. Between the two of us you’re worse.”

“Me ?” he takes offense.

I grab his hand, force him to walk. He’s shaking me up, I can’t look into his eyes any longer.

"You literally begged me to go upstairs to f- ouch ! Did you just pinch me ?”

"I said shut up.” I reply with a smirk.

"You become violent when we don’t have sex ? That’s new.”

Josh gets closer to me, I jump at the feeling of his lips brushing over my neck. He then whispers into my ear :

"Looks like I'm going to have to fix this.”

"Will you- Will you move...?”

I try to get away from him but he’s not letting go of my hand. It ties me to him. I try to get it back but Josh is faster and grabs it again, he then intermingle our fingers and laughs.

"Are you mad ? Come on, it was just a joke.”

We continue our path down the stairs while still arguing, even after reaching the living room where Hannah and Beth are seated. One on the couch and the other on an armchair. Hannah waves her hand at us and points us to her sister who glares in our direction. I push Josh with a hit from my elbow, let him growl, and suffer on his own to get closer to his sisters.

"Are you guys alright ?” asks Beth, worried.

"Of course ! Why wouldn’t we ?”

Between two whimpers of pain, Josh raises his thumb.

"Everything’s good.”

"See ? Everything’s good, he said.” I add.

Hannah giggles.

“You’re the worst.”

“Come on, Joshua, you’re making your sisters wait, we gotta go, let’s go !”

With all the strength in the world, I grab his wrist and bring him over. Josh keeps a hold on his stomach with his other hand, where I very gently hit him. He doesn’t fight me. He lets me install him on the couch, I go grab us a blanket, knowing it’s cold as winter in the living room, and come back to him in order to find a place in his arms. I’m almost jumping into him. It’s not the night I've dreamt of for the past few weeks but the idea of spending three hours into Josh’s arms doesn’t seems that bad to be honest, even if we’re not doing anything. My boyfriend receives me into his hands and snakes his arms around me, he says nothing the moment I cover mostly myself with the blanket. I even dare to bend my legs and put them over his thighs.

“Are you comfortable, is it okay ?” says Hannah, the tv remote in her hand.

"Amazing.” answers Josh, fully crushed, my arms around his neck.

"What a fool..” says Beth, rolling her eyes.

Hannah clicks on a bouton and the screens turns white, I hold my breath.

Josh and his sisters are immediately getting into the movie, as for me, I have to get used to this scene. Not only this room or the house, but the Washington and the mere fact that this weekend will stay engraved in my memories for the next few years. Nobody moves. I look at them one by one. When comes my boyfriend’s turn, I can’t help but melt; my lips turn into a smile and my gaze softens. I touch the extremity of his jawline, then let my head rest against his : it’s not very comfy. I’m sure I won’t take me long before I start stretching out and find another position, but for now it’s all I want. Being close to Josh, it’s all I crave.

From the corner of my eye, I see something. Something is moving.

“Mhh ?”

I almost stand up.

What was that ?

“Mhh ? What ?” worries Josh.

He brings me closer to him, his head raised in my direction.

“What ?”

“What’s up ?” he whispers.

I sit back.

“Must’ve been my imagination, sorry.” I respond.

Beth hits the armrest.

“Shush !”

Josh and I look at each other, I can’t help but smile. To be scolded like this is rather funny. Josh hugs me. He leaves me enough time to move to find a more comfortable spot while returning his attention to the TV. Having nothing else to do, I do the same. I squeeze my head on his shoulder, intoxicated by his presence, and observe the same thing as my three friends. From time-to-time, Beth and Hannah share their food with us, make the bowls pass from one person to another –pop-corn, chips- the movie is sprinkled with noises of chewing, small screams. And, sometimes, kisses. It’s perfect. Everything’s perfect.

#joshua washington x reader #josh x reader #joshua washington #josh washington #until dawn

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lulablogss · 1 year ago

Text

co-parent bakugou

katsuki bakugou x reader (part two)

fwb! bakugou who often came by your dorm during college to drop off school work when you missed lectures and loads when you missed him.

fwb! bakugou who came by before bed to fuck you into your pillow and listen to your hushed moans, hushed so your roommates wouldn’t hear. (they did)

fwb! bakugou who’s scared of committing because he “couldn’t see you in his future” and was too focused on his.

fwb! bakugou who’s late night visits became more and more scarce.

fwb! bakugou who months later soft launches his new partner on his story after telling you he’s not ready for a relationship.

fwb! bakugou who stops breathing at the sight of your name popping up on his phone as he cuddles his partner while watching movies, and nearly has a stroke at the “Im pregnant.” text.

_____

“well are ya sure it’s mine?” he asks, not daring to look away from you. you break eye contact and look outside the coffee shops’ window to focus on anything other than this conversation you’ve been dreading. “are you serious? you should know i’m not exactly one to sleep around,” you say to the man. he nods and his grip on his mug gets tighter, knuckles visibly whiter. “well, are ya keepin’ it,” he asks, “i don’t think that’d be a bright idea for either of us.” you kind of glare but think over his words. “you know how my parents feel about abortion kats.. i’d be disowned. the second the press found out about it, my family would be done for,” your eyes start to water and a tear threatens to fall, you pause “.. i thought you said you don’t do relationships?”

katsuki stares at you and shakes his head, “those fuckin’ hormones already getting to your brain or somethin?“ he sighs, “you know i can’t do this *nickname*. i’m in a committed relationship with raya, we’re getting engaged next month. on top of that, i can’t be number one with a baby leechin’ of me.” your heart drops, “you’re.. getting engaged? i.. um.. well, congratulations. i’m sorry to burden you with all of this… and i can’t abort it anyway.. i.. i’m too far along.. and i cant do this.” you finish & get up from the table and leave.

________

baby daddy! bakugou who ends up losing contact with you for months after you block him on everything a refuse to meet up per your family’s request.

baby daddy! bakugou who nearly forgets about you years later til kirishima brings you up and shows him your instagram.

baby daddy! bakugou who gets home and stalks you from a burner account, finds out you still talk to everyone from college but him.

baby daddy! bakugou who sees a pretty little ruby-eyed girl down your timeline, her resemblance to him uncanny.

baby daddy! bakugou who pulls some strings and texts your number asking to meet his daughter, hana.

___________

hana is 2 years old by now, forming choppy sentences and now waddling on her feet. after a week of texting, you finally fold and let him come over to meet his daughter. when you open the door to let him in he nearly finds himself choking on his spit at how beautiful you are. you looked even better than your posts, if that’s possible. you greeted him with a nod and invited him in. he takes his shoes off and head to the living room you led him to. you exchange stale pleasantries and small talk til you decide to go get your baby girl. “her name is ‘hana lei bakugou,’ as much as i wanted her to have my last name.”

you walk over to him and hand her to him, noticing the wedding band resting around his ring finger. you scoff, “wow so you two actually got married?” he nods and analyzes his daughters’ features. “shes so pretty, just like ‘er momma,” he half smiles and look up at you. “so i’ll have her back later tonight, gonna take ‘er home to meet the wife and all of that.” he goes to get off the couch. “woah, you don’t get to do that. you don’t get to come back back after all this time like nothing happened.” he looks frustrated for a second, “you can’t just- … yea yer right, ‘m sorry.’’

you nod, “how about we go up to her room and play?” he agrees and follows you into his daughter’s bedroom while carrying her.

“So.. how long have you two been in the area?” he asks, scanning his daughter's room. “I never really left, just moved closer to the city i guess,” you reply; putting hana down to the floor. She waddles over to katsuki. “hana, baby this is your father,” you look down at the little girl. At first she looks up at you with her glowing beady eyes then she looks over to Katsuki sitting over on a couch. “papa?” she asks and she points her dainty finger at him. you nod and smile. “yes baby, that's your papa.”

katsuki looks at the little girl and she reaches up for him. “up.” she says, and he obliges. you two talk and rekindle for what seemed to be days. In reality it was just about 4 hours. “*name* it was really nice to see you again, let's go out for dinner sometime. with hana of course.” you lead him downstairs while he says his goodbyes to hana.

“I told ya about this years ago raya, you can't be mad about this. What did you expect? for them to disappear?” bakugou yells at his wife. “well i didnt fucking expect you to go out of your way to to reach out either!” she pouts, anger and jealousy laced in her tone. “I have to own up to this responsibility now whether you like it or not, stop fuckin’ cursin’ at me. ‘m already stressed as is; ‘ion need yer bitchin’.”

“oh so now i'm bitching because you went out and got some slut pregnant.. you're just full of it katsuki.” raya says, glaring at him now. “ya cant get mad at me because I wanna be a father, ‘nd not just leave some kid stranded out here.”

“it's not just about the kid is it? do you miss the bitch or something? do you miss the sex? did she give you better head than I do?” raya accuses, bakugou sighs and goes to leave the room, “‘nd yea- she did give better head.” as he walks to their shared room he can hear her still yelling in the distance.

katsuki bakugou goes to sleep confused tonight. He wonders why was he such a prick. he wonders why did his heart pound so fast- why were his hands so sweaty when he saw you.

he couldn't do this. he has a wife. hes happily married, regardless of any arguments. his wife was the mayors daughter and promised him various things, she promised him glory. of course he didn't need her but it's definitely more helpful to have more "support." plus you hated him, only putting up with him for the sake of his daughter. no, it wasn't attraction- it was just nervousness. he loved his wife.

katsuki woke up to his wife, raya in his arms. she looked so pretty and peaceful like this. he snapped out of his daze and got out of bed to catch a shower. he couldn't help but find his hand reaching down to take care of himself. usually when he finds himself touching himself; its of thoughts of his wife from the night prior. but today it was you. he felt shameful but he just couldnt help it. he couldn't stop himself from thinking about you. hes only human.

#lulawrites #katsuki bakugou #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #no proof read #no beta we die like men #im sorry guys #part two soon #fwb series #HIII guys leave feedback or any typos #ive missed writing #bitvh

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snowball-doie · 6 months ago

Text

| pairing: fem!Reader x Yuta ft. Johnny and Jungwoo

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Poly ilichil. No threesome/orgy. Period sex. Reader is prob free bleeding or using a pad in this scenario. Breast play. Mentions of fingering and sex toys. Unprotected sex. Vaginal penetration. Creampie. MLM behavior.

| wc: 2.6k

It seemed counter productive, but you had a tendency to get incredibly needy whenever your period was just starting up, in the days leading up to it but also once it was in full swing and you were having all kinds of cravings while hiding under a heating pad to help with your cramps. Before you began dating the boys, you would take care of it on your own. You spent hours and hours getting yourself off, yet it never seemed to be enough. It was frustrating, truth be told. But once you started dating the boys, that frustration disappeared once your shyness went flying out the window after you were caught by Johnny and Yuta while you were touching yourself to help with your cramps and to get rid of your unbearable horniness.

“Our baby girl is a little desperate for some attention, hyung,” Yuta played with Johnny while they leaned on opposite sides of the door frame to stare at you as you scrambled to cover yourself up.

“Don’t stop on our account, darling,” Johnny told you.

But you tried to kick them out even though you knew that you’d get in trouble for talking back to them— It was only because you were on your period and you didn’t want them to know! As if it were anything to be embarrassed about. When they caught wind of what had gotten you so worked up, Yuta grinned. He found it enticing. Johnny was a little wary because he wasn’t sure if you were actually okay with them being there once they had pried the truth out of you, but Yuta was insistent on knowing more and lending a helping hand.

“Open your legs for us, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you did so. Yuta was the first to crawl into the empty space, and all Johnny could bring himself to do was watch from behind with curiosity. Yuta took good care of you. It was like he had done it before. He understood that it was messier than usual, so he called for a towel, which Johnny retrieved in the blink of an eye, meanwhile Yuta got to work with his fingers, and that took you by surprise because you never imagined in a million years that a man would willingly do such a thing for his girlfriend… Then again, Yuta was different from most guys. Even Johnny seemed interested but only from afar. Yuta enjoyed it so much that he had to pull two orgasms out of you before he was content and cleaned the two of you up in the shower.

After that month, Yuta would linger outside of your door, waiting to see if he would catch your neediness spurred by uncontrollable hormones in the hopes that his assistance would be needed again. It was. Every time. At first you were nervous to ask for his help— He found it adorable how you fidgeted with your hands and couldn’t look him in the eyes when you popped the question; and he only accepted after he made you look him in the eyes and ask again politely. Once you were more comfortable, it became habit. Your period would approach, Yuta would catch onto the signs so he would fuck you more often. The others weren’t sure what to think of it. Johnny was still intrigued, but the others allowed Yuta to have his preferred alone time with you. And you had a lot of alone time during those days. Yuta would get tired if he fucked you too many times, but that was what his fingers and toys were for! You tried pretty much everything he had in his collection, and that still wasn’t enough sometimes, so he would go shopping for more, and he would even ask you to join him for input sometimes.

You couldn’t believe that someone cared so much to take care of you during your period. You had gotten so used to doing it yourself for so long that it never occurred to you that maybe someone would willingly do it— That someone would be as into it as Yuta was. He would even lock the door to make sure you wouldn’t be interrupted… Locked doors were practically unheard of around the house… But that was how the boys started to know when they didn’t need to bother you or Yuta. If the door was locked, there was a silent agreement in the house that your bedroom was off limits until you would emerge in a good mood and ready to see literally anyone aside Yuta. If he were being honest, Yuta was proud of himself for staking claim to a week of your attention— He knew it was wrong to think of it like that, but sometimes he didn’t want to share you, and he didn’t want to have to worry about someone walking in on you and asking if you could join. He wanted you all to himself. And he was more than happy to provide when you were desperate for someone to help you out and no one else was exactly jumping at the chance like he was.

“Weirdo,” Haechan had joked one time when you came out of your room in the morning, feeling like shit, and all you did was croak that you had cramps, and Yuta scrambled to go help you. That comment got Haechan a week’s worth of punishments from Yuta and Johnny who were of the same mindset that claimed if anyone had an issue with your period or Yuta's help, they would suffer too. Cramps? Dirty sheets? Sore muscles? Irritable mood? Exhaustion? Dehydration? Oh, how Yuta hated the things you had to endure. Calling him a weirdo for wanting to help was his last straw.

Ever since then, everyone was chill about it. You did your thing, Yuta did his. All was good in the house. So long as the boys knew what was going on— Some of them were a little more oblivious than others.

“Sorry, baby, let me grab that real quick,” Jungwoo told you, already leaning up to grab a box of crackers from the cupboard over your head. When he brought the box to the counter, he accidentally elbowed you, getting you right in a sore spot in your breasts.

“Ah, fuck, Jungwoo, don’t do that.” you whimpered, on the verge of breaking down pathetically. “My boobs hurt today.”

That caught Yuta's attention. While he began eavesdropping, Jungwoo apologized by wrapping his arms around your hips and kissing your cheek while saying that he was sorry a million times over. It cheered you up enough that you didn’t want to cry anymore. Instead, you giggled at his silly faces and kissed him. When Yuta snuck up behind you, you were slightly taken aback, but you welcomed his warmth and the way he began sensually kissing your neck, and since your hips were taken by Jungwoo, Yuta's hands wandered upwards towards your breasts.

“Yu…” you croaked into the hanging air.

He massaged them for about a minute, his hands so gentle with you in order to wear off the lingering pain from getting elbowed by Jungwoo, and after you melted into him, he looked up at Jungwoo to offer quietly, “I’ll take care of her from here,” which caused Jungwoo to let out a frustrated and confused pout. “She needs some special attention…” And as his fingers gently rubbed over your bra to stimulate your sore nipples, you let out another relieved groan. Jungwoo understood immediately that what was happening was too far out of his realm of capabilities. So he surrendered you to Yuta peacefully.

You brushed Jungwoo's orange hair out of his eyes. “I’ll play with you later, baby, I promise.”

That hope was enough to send Jungwoo off with a grin on his face. In the meantime, Yuta was dragging you towards the bedrooms upstairs. He was interrogating you. “When did you start? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I thought I fucked the hormones out of you last week, fuck. Do you need anything? I’ll make Jungwoo get it since he hurt you. Do you want to shower first? Do you want to change?” You thought he was funny like that. He was right, he was usually so good about knowing when your period was coming that he’d be all over you before it started; but it started the day before and you hadn’t told him. Why? Well, you weren't exactly sure… Maybe it was because you thought it wasn’t going to be that bad. You were feeling okay. Yeah, you were desperate like usual, but Yuta and Jaehyun had their fun with you all of the week prior to your period. Now that the cramps were starting to kick in and the soreness was becoming more of a pain, you were glad that Yuta had taken notice and leapt into action before you could ask him to do something about the state of you.

“I need you…”

He locked the door behind both of you after you entered. “I know.” He grabbed you gently and led you towards the bed before laying you down on top of the comforter. “Let me grab the towels, baby…” He left a fat, wet kiss on your lips before rushing to his dresser.

You took off your sweatshirt in order to stop the fabric from rubbing against your nipples anymore. Yuta, the second he was back on the bed and had slid the towels under your hips, gave back into the desire to heal your troubles by latching his lips around your left nipple and using his hands to play with the other. It stung a bit… The feeling of having your soreness played with had an unbearable bite to it in the beginning before it slowly began to feel relieving and relaxing, encouraging your lust for Yuta to grow while you got wetter. Sometimes Yuta liked to take his time with you— Most of the time, actually; but on the rare occasion that you were instigating a rushed fuck, Yuta let you do what you wanted. He let you reach between your bodies so that you could find his erection in his basketball sleep shorts. He moaned around your nipple and pinched the other when you began pumping his length quickly. Foreplay and teasing wasn’t necessary. Both of you knew what you were there for, and you were both ready.

So Yuta pulled away from you in order to focus on ridding himself of his pants, then he lifted your hips so that he could pull your shorts down too. You watched as Yuta held his hips in the air. He concentrated solely on wrapping one of his hands around his cock while the other held your hips steady so that he could line his tip up with your entrance for a few teasing moments in order to feel how wet you were. He bit his lip as he began pushing into you.

You moaned, throwing your head back into the pillows, squeezing your eyes shut. The stretch felt so good. It was a distraction from your breasts and your cramps. The way he slid so easily into you was a slight reminder that there would be a mess to clean up afterwards, but Yuta didn’t seem concerned whatsoever— Especially after he was balls deep in you and could let out a moan that was caught in his throat while he tried to put so much attention on making you feel good before himself.

“Move,” you begged quietly.

Yuta's hair fell in his face when he nodded in agreement, then began thrusting into you at a fast pace right off the bat. You turned your head to the side to hide your face in the pillows, but Yuta moved one of his hands up to grab your chin and force you to look at him while he was panting and moaning above you, his lip bleeding from how hard he had bitten it in the middle of sliding into you for the first time that day; And you fell apart a bit more when you saw how attractive he looked. His butterfly tattoo was moving with every thrust. His 127 tattoo on his bicep was flexing while Yuta held your hips with such a tight grip that you couldn’t even squirm left or right. You were stuck pinned beneath him. The sound of your moans and skin clapping together echoed throughout the bedroom— You wondered if you were loud enough yet that the boys were now warned of what the next week or so would be like.

“You guys could learn to keep it down, you know,” Doyoung scolded the two of you one time after you spent four days fucking through your period back in March. “We don’t have to hear it every time.”

“Blame her,” Yuta pointed at you.

You scoffed, offended. “You’re the one who told me to scream your name so that it would wake them up.”

Everyone believed you over Yuta because they knew how possessive he was over you and how he liked to make you scream whenever you would cum. It was like a reward for him.

“Focus on me, baby,” Yuta brought you back to reality with a coo in your face before kissing you passionately.

You craned your head up slightly in order to reciprocate. “I wanna cum, Yu, please.”

It wasn’t a warning that you were close. No, you would’ve said it more outright if that were the case; and besides, you had only just begun so there was no chance you were that close already. Yuta was good but he wasn’t that good. He understood that it was your way of not-so-shyly asking him to fuck you even faster and harder, and to add to the pleasure with a finger on your clit. He obeyed. There would be other days for him to mess with you, but for now, he just wanted to help you forget all your pains by cumming on his dick.

“Cum whenever, baby.” And that was his way of giving you unlimited permission as your Dom. His index and middle fingers found your clit and began rolling over the sensitive nub at a pace which rivaled his thrusting hips. “That’s a good girl,” he said in response to feeling you tighten around him. “My good girl.”

You kissed him even harder than before.

“Mine…”

He bit your lip like he forgot that he was supposed to be kind and of service to you rather than causing more pain. But Yuta was Yuta. He couldn’t help himself sometimes. He reveled in the way your lips tasted when he’d prick a little bit of blood out of them, and he swooned at how your walls fluttered at the feeling.

“F-Faster—”

Yuta immediately put more of his attention on his fingers since it was more pleasurable for you than his selfish need to brush the tip of his cock against your sensitive spots in order to chase his own orgasm. He was a gentleman. He wanted you to cum first, always. Whenever he was in a foul mood and had you tied up, he would make you cum over and over again for his own entertainment, but at least he was “still a gentleman” like he said!

“You gonna cum on my cock, pretty girl?”

You nodded desperately.

“Go on and cum.”

After his hand on your hip loosened slightly, you were able to buck your hips up into Yuta so that he was all the way inside of you once more when the coil in your stomach snapped, pleasure immediately replacing every single ounce of pain you had experienced throughout the day. The pulsing of your walls, the relief washing over you from head to toe, your eyesight blurring slightly, it was everything you needed to overcome your bad day.

“Ah, fuck, baby, I’m close. Fuck, you feel so good.” His pace picked up again. "So fucking good for me, princess. Fuck!"

With another deep grunt and a thrust into you that had his pelvis pressed against your cunt, Yuta came. You tugged at his hair. The feeling of being full in the midst of the pain in your stomach was somehow a relief rather than an annoyance. It felt good. You liked having him inside of you, his cock throbbing, his cum so deep that you imagined if it were any other time of the month that he’d be bragging to the other boys that he surely got you pregnant.

Yuta slumped. “How do you feel?” He kissed your collarbone.

“So much better…”

You also slumped as he slid out of you.

He would take care of the towels, and he would help you into the shower— You would probably go for round two in there— And once you would be back in bed, Yuta would likely go to the kitchen to get you something warm to drink, or maybe he really would force Jungwoo to do it instead. Regardless, you were certain that you were being taken care of, so you didn’t move a muscle. All you could do was grin and reply that you loved him too when he said it first. It was going to be a long week with Yuta.

#op #fanfic #yuta #yuta smut #nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #yuta nakamoto #yuta nakamoto smut

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desertduality · 1 year ago

Note

gigs phasmo but the ghost is just confused mumbo jumbo

physically unable to write a snippet so here's a whole oneshot AKJSDKJ I hope you like it!! Personally I had a ton of fun lmao

-------

The house was nice, as far as haunted locations went. The flowers out front were dead, sure, but that was probably on account of their caretaker being dead as well.

The neighbors had been the ones to call this address in, claiming that although the owner of the property had died quite some months ago, lights frequently turned on and off in the house. The police had been by several times to check for intruders, and had come up empty every time. Finally, some desperate neighbor had given in and called paranormal investigators.

So there they were, Impulse pulling up on the curb just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Prime ghost hunting time, for some reason; Scar hadn’t really paid attention to the science and research when he’d signed up for the job. Besides, the other three had all that handled quite nicely. Scar was just along for the ride.

“Scar, you know what you’re doing?” Impulse asked, grabbing a flashlight off the wall and clipping his walkie onto his belt.

“Sir, yes sir!” Scar quipped, scanning the gear for his usual fare. “One paraba-dolical microphone coming up.”

“Grab a thermometer, too,” Impulse suggested, clapping him on the shoulder on his way out of the van. “Let’s try to keep this one clean! The company is running low on cursed items with resurrection abilities.”

“I know for a fact we’ve made the biggest dent in that,” Skizz’s voice crackled out of the walkie, changing to a slight echo as he presumably walked in the house.

“Why do you sound proud of that?” Grian asked, speaking into the radio as he grabbed a salt canister. Scar snickered, reaching over him to grab the thermometer.

“We’ve got a record going, man! No one can stop us!”

“You have to admire his positivity,” Scar said brightly, clicking his flashlight to make sure it worked.

“Yeah, I guess he’s got that going for him,” Grian replied, giving a short wave as he left the van. “See you on the inside, Scar.”

Scar gave a jaunty wave, doing one last check on his equipment before starting after him. A voice cut him off before he could leave.

“Did anyone check the name?” Impulse asked, and Scar turned around to squint at the corkboard, eyes catching on the top.

Huh. Interesting.

Scar clicked the talk button on his walkie. “Looks like… Mumbo Jumbo?”

There was a long pause, and Scar almost thought they had missed it somehow. Then the response came.

“Scar,” Grian said, sounding tiredly amused. “If you can’t pronounce it, don’t just make something up.”

“No, It— It literally says Mumbo Jumbo,” Scar replied, glancing up to double check. “Don’t make me waste a photo to prove it. I will, you know I will.”

“Don’t, Scar,” Impulse jumped in, so quickly that the start of his sentence cut out. “We believe you.”

“Get in here before I come and drag you, Face,” Skizz chimed in, and Scar rolled his eyes with a chuckle, stepping out of the van.

The house was warmer than the air outside, so Scar took that as a sign that someone had gotten to the fuse box. He wandered around with the paradabolic microphone for a few minutes, watching closely for big leaps in the readings. Eventually, Impulse called out from upstairs, claiming that he’d found the room. Scar hurried towards him, making it there just in time to watch him set up the video camera, fiddling with the tripod and muttering complaints about its stability.

The room was a bedroom, a large bed against one wall and a shelf full of dead plants on the other. Everything was covered with a thin layer of dust, but that was pretty usual. Obviously no one had been keeping up with the cleaning.

“Anyone done spirit box?” Grian asked, and Scar jumped and whirled around, finding him in the doorway. Grian giggled, and Scar huffed.

“Not yet,” Impulse said, finally getting the tripod to settle. He looked over at them. “Want us to leave?”

“Not really,” Grian grumbled, starting to power up the spirit box. “But yes.”

Scar walked out of the door and Impulse followed him, closing it and leaving Grian in the room alone. Immediately, they heard the telltale singing introduction of Grian beginning to ask questions. The rest of the house was quiet. So far, everything had been entirely unremarkable.

“I’m going to go grab D.O.T.S and a book,” Impulse spoke suddenly, starting to walk away. “Maybe you could start grabbing some stuff for a polty pile?”

“Sure, will do,” Scar said, and started picking up objects from the table in the hallway. A lot of picture frames and spare wires, for whatever reason.

Grian opened the door to the room just as Scar arrived with his arms full, and Scar tilted his head at the odd look on the other’s face. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was wearing a faint frown.

“What’s wrong?” Scar asked, curious. Normally, Grian came out of a spirit box session with wide eyes and immediately ran to the van. This was out of character.

“I think…” Grian started, contemplative frown getting more pronounced. “I think the ghost apologized to me.”

“...huh?”

“I asked where it was,” Grian said, spirit box slack in his hand. “And then it said something, and then I screamed, and then it— I could have sworn it said sorry. Like, for scaring me.”

“Oh,” Scar said, tilting his head. “Has that happened before?”

Grian shook his head slowly, staring at the spirit box for a minute before exhaling forcefully. “Let’s just keep going,” he said, shoving the device in his pocket. “We still have a job to do.” Then, into his walkie: “We’ve got spirit box, guys. One thing down.”

They kept doing their jobs like they normally would, but none of them could quite shake the sense of something being different.

Usually, the haunted locations they visited had a foreboding sort of feeling to them. They get in and out of those places as soon as possible, the feeling of imminent danger settling on their shoulders like a heavy jacket. There was none of that, here. It was obviously haunted, but it still just felt like... a house. It didn’t feel malicious at all.

Impulse put a book down, and writing appeared a few minutes later. Just a single sentence, asking if they would water the plants on their way out.

They laid down D.O.T.S and stayed out in the van for a while, eventually seeing a tall, hazy figure pass quickly through.

They caught ghost orbs on the video surveillance.

Impulse took the Ultraviolet flashlight and found fingerprints on the side of the video camera, like the ghost had been curious about it.

The salt Grian had placed on the ground was smeared and scattered, almost as if the ghost had slipped on it instead of stepped in it.

“If we discovered some new type of ghost,” Grian said eventually, muffled through his own hands covering his face, after hours of pouring over the conflicting evidence. “I am going to be upset.”

“None of this makes sense!” Impulse complained, flipping through the research journal that Scar had never touched. He was scowling at the pages like they’d personally offended him. “It won’t even hunt!”

“He seems kinda friendly,” Scar said, staring at the steady line of the EMF reader on the screen. “The poor guy just wants his plants watered. I don’t even have the heart to tell him that it probably wouldn’t help. Those things are dead dead.”

Impulse’s head thunked down on the table in front of him. “We’re so fired.”

In the silence following that statement, Skizz burst into the van, holding an object aloft in celebration.

“I found it!” Skizz yelled triumphantly, the wrinkly figure of the monkey paw clutched in his hand. “It fell behind some boxes. I told you it was here.”

“Oooh,” Scar said, rushing over in excitement. “What should we wish for?”

“A quick death?” Grian said flatly.

Scar waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve had too many of those. It gets kind of boring, believe it or not.”

“Let’s just wish to see it,” Impulse said, heaving himself up from his hunched position by the monitor. “We’ve done everything else we could do, let’s just do it.”

“Sure, why not,” Grian said, shrugging. “Let’s go out in a blaze of glory, then.”

“That’s the spirit!” Skizz laughed, and together the four of them marched back into the house.

The room was exactly as they’d left it, and Impulse took a moment to turn off the D.O.T.S. Then they stood in a loose circle, tense and determined. Whatever was happening here, it would be over soon. One way or the other. Maybe the company wouldn’t even bother to bring them back, this time.

Skizz held the monkey paw aloft, dim light casting dramatic shadows on his face. “I wish to see the ghost!”

A finger on the monkey paw cracked and groaned as it bent down, and a chill swept across the room, quick and encompassing. Their flashlights flickered, and then died, leaving them in complete darkness. For a long moment, the only sound was their chorus of quick and shaky breathing.

When the lights turned back on, Scar was face to face with a ghost. A ghost that looked equally as startled as he was.

Scar yelped and stumbled backwards, tripping over the open book on the ground and hurtling towards the bed. The ghost — a tall man with dark hair and an absolutely wonderful mustache — lunged forward and reached out as if to catch him, eyes wide and panicked. To be fair to the dead man, it absolutely would have worked if his hands were still a tangible thing; As it were, his attempt at grabbing Scar to keep him upright was rather rudely foiled by his outstretched hand passing right through Scar’s flailing arm.

Scar hit the bed with a grunt as various cries of alarm sounded out around him, light bouncing around the room haphazardly as the sound of clattering reached his ears; someone had dropped their flashlight, apparently. Scar laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling, dazed.

“Oh gosh! I’m so— I didn’t mean to pop in like that, I—”

Scar looked up just in time to watch a crucifix fly through the air and pass harmlessly through the ghost’s head, hitting the wall with a thud and falling gracelessly to the floor. The ghost yelped and ducked — much too late, not that it mattered, anyway — and Scar’s gaze next landed on Grian, still standing there with his arm extended in a throwing motion, hand empty and eyes wide.

“What was that gonna do, G?!” Skizz asked hysterically, fumbling for his camera, accidentally snapping a picture of his own face and swearing when the light blinded him.

Impulse had knocked over the tripod in all of the chaos, and was now frantically attempting to set it back upright. The ghost — Mumbo Jumbo — turned his anxious eyes on Scar, who for once was struck speechless, jaw slack.

“Are you alright, mate?” Mumbo Jumbo asked, hands fidgeting together. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but— Well, you summoned me. There’s only so much to be done for that.”

With everyone else still scrambling about the room, Scar allowed himself a few seconds to process things. Most ghosts they’d come across — all of them, actually — had been nothing less than murderous and bloodthirsty. The cordial ghost of a perfectly normal man was not something they had been trained for, but that didn’t exactly mean that it was impossible. Sure, maybe it had come way, way out of left field, but Scar prided himself on rolling with the punches. He pushed himself up from the bed with a sheepish, charming smile.

“It’s all good,” Scar said, bright and friendly. “For sure our fault, we summoned you and got surprised when you showed up. Kind of rude of us, I think. Your mattress is super comfortable, by the way.”

Mumbo Jumbo blinked, as if surprised by the onslaught of words, a confused little furrow appearing between his brows. “Thank you?” he said, glancing behind him at the bed. “It was…expensive.”

“I mean, hey! We spend a lot of our lifetime in a bed, right? Might as well shell out some cash for quality.”

“What are we doing?” Grian asked quickly, almost like he was talking to himself, hands pressed to his head in utter bafflement. “This is insane, what is happening.”

“Grian! Don’t be rude,” Scar admonished playfully, then turned back to grin at the ghost. “Mumbo Jumbo, right?”

The man nodded faintly. “Just…Mumbo is fine.”

“Sweet! I’m Scar,” Scar said, and then started pointing to his friends, all standing stock still in various stages of shock and confusion. “The rude one who throws stuff is Grian, that’s Impulse by the window, and over there is Skizz!”

“Nice to meet you?” Mumbo said, glancing around nervously. “I would offer to shake your hand, but…”

“God, this is weird,” Skizz blurted, eyes still wide but starting to relax his stance. “You do know you’re dead, right? We never actually get to ask any of the ghosts we meet.”

“Oh, I— Yeah, I’m well aware,” Mumbo said, laughing a little. “You’ve met other ghosts, then?”

“We’re ghost hunters,” Impulse said, and now that the shock was fading, Scar could see a spark of excitement in his eyes. “But I mean— We’ve never met any like you.”

“Mostly they want to kill us,” Grian said, stepping up next to Scar. “Are you sure you don’t want to kill us?”

“I don’t think I know how, much less want to,” Mumbo said, glancing out the window. “Did someone call you to find me? I’ve been trying not to scare anyone, but I suppose the lights might’ve done me in.”

“Yeah, that was pretty much what tipped them off,” Scar said apologetically. “A few too many weird things happen and boom, here we are.”

“What happens now?” Mumbo asked, chuckling nervously. “I mean, you found me. Job done, yeah?”

“Usually we figure out what type of ghost it is and the company sends out a specialized team to evict it,” Impulse answered, brow pinched in thought. “But normally that’s for safety reasons. You don’t seem like a threat. No offense.”

“Oh, none taken.”

“Can I ask how you died?” Skizz asked, eyes alight with curiosity.

“Skizz,” Grian hissed. “You can’t just ask people how they died!”

“I was just wondering!”

“No, it’s— it’s fine,” Mumbo stuttered, and Scar had a feeling that if ghosts could blush, he would be doing it. “I… fell down the stairs.”

Scar nodded solemnly. “Could have happened to anyone.”

“So what are we actually going to do about this?” Grian asked, vaguely gesturing at the room. “It feels like it would be wrong to kick this guy out of his own house. He’s not really causing trouble.”

“Yeah, I— I do like my house,” Mumbo interjected, awkward smile on his face. “I’d rather stay, if that’s alright.”

“Someone’s bound to move in eventually, you know,” Skizz said, pitying frown on his face. “There’s already a for sale sign in the yard. The new owners might not be super ghost-friendly.”

Mumbo’s shoulders slumped, a dejected look on his face as he frowned at the floor. Scar felt a pang of sympathy grow in his chest, and he glanced out the window at the rows of houses down the street.

It really was quite a nice neighborhood.

“...You know,” Scar started, gaze drifting over to Grian, a slow smile forming on his face. “Our lease is almost up.”

Grian looked over at him, eyes already resigned, and sighed.

Scar laughed, grinning, and Mumbo slowly smiled back.

#this let me practice my ability to write silly fun things AKSJDKJ it was a blast actually :]#thank you for the prompt anon!! I hope i brought your vision to life aksjdk #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #grian #skizzleman #impulsesv #mumbo jumbo #my writing #writing request #now that this is finished i am going to go to bed <33 #might post this on ao3 later but rn i'm tired <3

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beannoss · 3 months ago

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Twilight headcanon

Inspired by this super lovely art by @roucaelum-art 😍! (brief mood spoiler: roucaelum's art is so soft and so sweet! This hc has a touch of the bittersweet 🫶)

After Strix, when the Forgers are well established, no secrets between them, Twilight starts journaling. Obviously this is a security risk, so he creates an elaborate cipher. He tests it on Franky. He tests it on the cipher-breakers at WISE. He even feeds some to the SSS. None break it. Satisfied, he starts to journal. Twilight's journaling time is something he starts to jealously protect; given how much it means to him and helps him process things, Yor starts to protect it jealously, too.

Later in life, when he and Yor have been together for decades, he teaches the cipher to her in case she wants to read and/or share his journals after he dies. It takes time, of course, but not as much as someone might otherwise think, knowing Yor and looking in from the outside. This is in large part because Twilight creates the cipher with Yor in mind. Rarely one to do something for a single purpose when multiple are available, creating it with the intention that Yor can easily learn it also works to confound others in his profession. You see, he’d never met anyone who thinks the way Yor does, and certainly it's far outside espionage or intelligence norms, a way in which no one in those professions would expect a cipher to operate. This revelation he saves for his final journal, and Yor only learns it had been intended specifically for her after his death.

To that point, Twilight does (peacefully) predecease Yor, but she finds she can’t share his journals with the outside world, not yet. They're too precious, too close, touch her too deeply, to share outside the family.

She teaches Anya the cipher, so their daughter can read and share his journals after Yor passes away.

Anya does: she reads her Papa’s journals. Spends a few months, a couple of years, keeping them between herself and her parents' memories. Twilight’s accounts, unsurprisingly, have incredible detail about Yor and Yor’s life and Yor’s opinions and Yor’s views and Yor’s daily life and the way Yor moved through the world. There’s an incredible amount of detail about Anya too: Twilight hadn’t started journaling until years after Strix ended, nearly a decade after he adopted Anya. But, of course, his memory was impeccable, and once he started writing, he never stopped.

Anya reads about herself, about her mother, about their loved ones and their enemies. She reads his words about politics and the news and Twilight's opinions on literature, film, various cuisines. The bakery down the street and the neighbour with the lush roses. Spycraft, war, and international relations. Parenthood, partnership, friendship. Every other idiosyncratic thing he chose to write about. All of it written in her father’s matter-of-fact style from his matter-of-fact perspective, which was always more full of love than he would admit or accept.

She grieves anew, softly, and in her own time.

One day, when she's ready, Anya goes to her father’s favourite archive. She asks to speak with the archivist team. She asks if they would like the journals of the greatest spy in Westalis history: had they ever come across the name Twilight in their research?

She teaches them how to decipher his code (it is, of course, the most complex and creative cipher the lead archivist has ever seen. Anya thinks of her mother, and smiles). It takes them time to go through everything; it takes them time to verify it. But of course, they do. Because Twilight was thorough and he was precise and and he was an excellent planner, prescient more often than not. He ensured there were enough careful points of reference that diligent researchers would be able to confirm his identity and the veracity of what he wrote. And he would only trust the most diligent of researchers.

It's a small archive; the launch of the display of Twilight's journals is similarly small. Anya thinks he would prefer that. The idea of hoards of people reading his words all at once, even if he had intended their being made public, might be enough to revive his stomach aches from beyond the grave.

Anya attends the opening with her loved ones, and later, at home, she shares her own memories of her Papa, and her Mama, and the times they saved the world.

#spy x family #spy family #sxf headcanon #twiyor #loid forger #and thus the man who works from the shadows gets to control how he comes into the light #the woman who thinks herself alone & unknowable learns again and again thru to the end of her life how deeply she is cherished & understood #and the child whose life started scary and uncertain grew up surrounded by love and solidity that lasted thru her life #forgive my corniness; i made myself emotional #twilight #the forgers #here fandom take this!#this hc sort of turned into a fic..? idk

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shaisuki · 2 years ago

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❝ A CHANGE OF HEART. ❞

Ψ FEATURING. YANDERE! EX! NAGI SEISHIRO

CONTENT WARNINGS. lovers to exes + exes to lovers + guilt tripping + creep behavior + somnophilia + masturbation + nonconsensual groping + dubious consent + creep behavior + overstimulation.

SYNOPSIS. everything's a drag for nagi, relationships even and he wasn't surprised nor hurt when you decided to end it all but a change of heart occurs in nagi.

you only appreciate things when they're gone.

the phrase hits close to home to nagi. it's been a month since you ended it. his house was nothing like it was with you. what's left is the monotonous taps of his fingers in the buttons and screen of his gadgets and his yawns filling the room unlike the occasional humming of your favorite songs, the clanks of pans and the sizzle of food being cooked and the call of his name when you finished preparing. he would lazily drag himself to eat with the hearty meal you cooked, no qualms of his console being confiscated and nagi, would only pout and resume eating.

it's white noise and sometimes he would hear you still calling his name. nagi would still reflexively turn his head to the sound of your voice even you're not with him anymore. at this point, being alone is bad anymore and he can't go back the way he used to live his life before you.

one sleepless night with the cold side of his bed being empty. his gaze fixated on the screen of the game he was playing while his fingers worked wonders to beat the level. his mind thought, made a strategy on how to get back the stolen item from him. his avatar would need to make efforts to gain it back and then he'll proceed to the next level. a second of thinking and nagi made it up. the victory tone of the game ringing in the room. ignoring the game in his hand, his thoughts drifted in you. what could you be doing right now.

his finger clicking the instagram app, an account with nothing. devoid of any post and nagi couldn't bother to post anything. his username only a suggested name for his account. tapping your profile and nagi checks what you had posted. nothing. nagi thinks it's reasonable you didn't have anything posted at this hour. only a few hours before the first rays of sunlight shining through his window.

he checked the picture on your account. noticing the pictures you secretly took of him are gone and the selfies, deleted also. this was your way moving on and nagi only scrolls the pictures posted in there. a few candid photos and a goofy selfie you took. a ghost of a smile in his lip while he stares at your pictures. so much for late night thoughts and what his mind doing at this hour. a yawn escapes in his mouth and nagi thought, so much for staying late at this time. his eyes closing as he drifts into a dreamless sleep.

a notification pinged up on his phone, with a groan and his eyes still heavy from sleep. he can make out a message from a unknown name in one of your socials. forgetting to disconnect it after the break up. you were getting asked out on a date and nagi doesn't care, does he?

a few taps and sent the text message. a overused reason of excuse which he didn't bother in thinking and blocked the number. his mood turning gloomier than usual. maybe, a trip to the arcade would cheer him up.

oh shoot. the rain came pouring down and nagi isn't bothered by it. the drizzle will stop if he'll play a little longer but it doesn't. the dark came creeping out and nagi sighs. it's a pain to go home but you live closer maybe you'll let him in. he thinks, paving his way while he soaks through the rain, not bothering the coldness seeping through him.

“sei, uh, nagi... what the hell you're doing outside this weather? come.” showing him the way inside your home. you didn't expect nagi would visit at you more like crash. fully knowing nagi would never bother at things. what more surprised you is nagi soaked through the bone. having to walk at the rain outside and you could never ignore him.

you made way to your drawers. putting out the dry towels for you to give nagi. “wait here. i'll prepare the bath.” going to the bathroom to get his bath ready and nagi only nods.

soaked in the warmth, nagi only slides more in the tub. this wasn't intended for him to come to you but he makes way. makes effort to somehow mend the relationship or see if he has a chance when in the first place he was the first to fuck up. nagi stares at the ceiling, the haze in the bath getting him dizzy and a knock in the door somehow saves him from another mishap. ahhhh. what a pain.

seated in your couch, the towel drops in his shoulder. losing the motivation to properly dry his hair and he feels you grab the towel. “can i?” asking him permission to properly dry his hair. “yeah.” he replies and leans down to the couch for you to properly dry his hair. after patting his hair dry, nagi instinctively raised his head. knowing a kiss and your arms would wrap around him and whisper you're a pain in the ass you know that but nothing happens.

when you two were still together. you would pull him for a kiss and returns it to you with such vigor, leaving you breathless and it's only the time he would make an effort. nagi was a bit disappointed, you two have broke it off but nagi still wanted you.

his gaze following you as you go back to your nightly routine. if he made an effort or rather put an effort would things be different? nagi didn't knew he would be affected this much as long for you and from what things are for you, it looks like you were moving on from him. nagi couldn't deny he misses you, so bad. it only leaves him going empty for days.

in the dimness of your room, nagi remained awake. things were already changing for you and you made it clear to him. his ex and him sharing a bed. the reason? you don't want him to sleep on the couch, knowing he's still an athlete and needs to rest on a proper bedding. your guest room still a mess.

you also made clear that you don't want anything from him anymore. a pillow in between of your bodies, separating you two. nagi frowns. crawling where you lay. removing the blanket and his blank gaze stares at your choice of clothing. when you and him were still dating, you would wore a nightie. for easier access when he wants to fuck you when he wants but now you were wearing your pjs. it's been long since nagi had intimacy with another being, with you. he can't jerk himself without you doing to him.

his hands wandering all over your body. nagi would not make efforts when fucking you. only preferring you to ride him until your both tired and in the first time, nagi's initiating it at first. without your consent.

what a pain. he thinks, pulling your pjs down. what a pain. for wanting you. what a pain. his cock hardening in the confinement of his pants. what a pain. having to touch you like this. what a pain. for wanting you more. what a pain. he needs you more than ever. what a pain. you leaving him. what a pain. everything's a drag. what a pain. hoping it will change your mind and take him back after fucking you. what a pain.

a moan leaving from your mouth when he finally strips you out of your pjs. it would be troublesome if you woke up. grabbing your shoulder for you to roll and lay in your back. his huge body hovering above you and for the first time, nagi breathes into your scent. his nose buried in the crook of your neck and his cock throbs harder.

freeing his cock in the confines of his pants, red and angry and pre-cum drips out of it. nagi hisses. pumping his lengthy cock in his hand a few times before rubbing his cock to your fat pussy. how he misses to be inside you. his fingers pushing your panties aside. slowly, the tip of his cock protrudes in your entrance. his cock stretches you while he pushes himself harder to you and nagi groans, fully sheathing himself inside you.

his forehead pressed into yours before moving his hips. his breathless whines and the deliciously feeling of being stretched wakes you up. your eyes slowly fluttering and widens when you realized you were being humped like a dog by your ex-boyfriend.

“n-nagi, what the hell you think you are doing? get off.” you scolded him but nagi ignores it. stares at you with those large gray eyes of his innocently. sometimes you forgets that nagi is huge and he can easily overpower you and you're feeling the power that nagi held. his muscular body crushing your soft, plush body. you can feel his hard rock abs in your belly as it jiggles from how nagi violently thrusts into you.

you can hear the whines and the fan of his breathe while he ruts into you. his cock hitting your insides that leaves you gasping. your hands holding his toned biceps while he mercilessly fucks you.

“don't you love me anymore?” he asks, his hips still relentlessly moving and you can feel the tears well up in your eyes. “why you're asking me that? we broke up nagi.” how dare he ask you if you still love him anymore. maybe, you still did.

“you broke up with me. left me.” there was a hint of sadness in his voice.

“there's nothing left in us anymore, nagi.” you bluntly told him but it left your heart heavy.

a particular spot inside you is hit by the movements of his cock inside you that leaves you gushing around him and nagi groans, feeling you clench around his length. he wouldn't last longer but he still continued.

“say my name.” purposely slowing down and you whine from the loss of building your orgasm and nagi continued this. surprised at his forthcoming. never hearing nagi to be demanding. “say it. say my name.” he demands.

the tears came rolling when you blink and you gave up.

“s-sei...” and that drives nagi to bury himself deeper to you. his thick cock buried to the hilt and moves it outside and inside again. his heavy balls making a smacking sound every time it hits your ass and how hard he was thrusting.

your thick thighs trembling and it jiggles to the impending sign of your upcoming orgasm. it was enough for nagi to cum. send him to the edges of pleasure he didn't felt for long.

with one desperate thrust he came, releasing all his warm cum inside you and it triggers yours. clenching around him so hard. milking him dry for all his worth. pulling his body closer to yours. your chunky legs wrapping around his waist to let all of his cum pour inside you.

your cunt throbs when nagi moves his hips again and your eyes widens. not liking when nagi's planning to cum again inside you.

the white-haired man was not letting you ride out your orgasm, only getting another one again from you until you say the words he wants to hear again.

“say you love me”" he murmurs. squeezing your wide hips while he sloppily kiss the side of your mouth. “say it. say you love me.” he groans, while he pummels your inside. the desperation adding the intensity of his thrusts. his tip almost kissing your cervix and you only whined. not wanting to feed the greed he was having.

you only shake your head, refusing to say it. your nails digging in his arms and nagi ignores the pain.

your stubborn behavior was nothing when nagi pounds to you. another orgasm surfacing from how rough nagi was with you. you can't have another one with you, you'll past out for sure and you gave up.

“i still love you, sei...shiro. i love you, okay!” you cried out and that made nagi's heart flutter. warmth blooming in his chest and he kisses you. the lazy kind of kiss.

“i love you too.” he whispers. biting the shell of your ear.

slowing down and your orgasm wasn't intense like the first one, like a wave in a windy day at the beach and gently crashing to the land and you pant. glad it wasn't intense like the first one.

nagi releases inside you whilst his forehead is pressed against you. that was tiring. having to exert more effort but he was glad that you still love him.

he pulls out his softening cock and watches his cum drips out of your hole and he misses also the sight of it. he falls to your side and pulls you close to his. not minding how sweaty you both are and in need of clean.

maybe, he's a changed man now. maybe.

he's only glad that you're back again to him.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#blue lock #blue lock x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro #yandere blue lock #yandere blue lock x reader #blue lock x chubby reader #chubby reader #nagi x reader #nagi x chubby reader #anime x chubby reader #tw dubcon #blue lock smut

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diejager · 1 year ago

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[a portal opens and i crash onto the floor, looking nauseous. i get up and weakly raise my hand:]

requesting.. your… makarov headcanons… pleaseee- AaHHHH-

[another portal opens and i fall into it, disappearing]

Vladimir Makarov headcanons

Pairing: Vladimir Makarov x reader

Cw: manipulation, kidnapping, obsession, DUB-CON/NON-CON, DARKFIC, mind break, physical abuse, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 854

As I’ve said previously, I doubt that Makarov knows how to love. He can’t love because it isn’t necessary for his cause, to provide him with something useful in his steps towards his purpose. He does not need something useless —something that’s lost its use over the years, that’s why he sees no problem with disposing of his helpers after they failed or disappointed him.

If he has no use for something, he lets them go. If you plead your case enough and prove to him that you still have some usefulness in you, he’ll keep you for the time being. He has many enemies, much more than allies —those he considers allies.

He, however, is still a man under his acts of terrorism and infamous image. Makarov might be busy, but he still has time for his needs, especially after spending four years in prison. He, however, has expectations, he likes challenges as much as he likes winning, and he wants something he can control, manipulate and order around. Makarov wants something easy enough to influence and exploit, and who better than a soldier stolen from his enemies —you.

He takes per quality. He prefers quality over quantity for the things he keeps close, for simple soldiers he employs for Konni, it’s all about quantity, a number high enough to overwhelm the people, but qualified enough to work. You’re the only thing that isn’t from the old Soviet Union in his organisation, little you who came from outside his precious Motherland.

You’re feisty, you bite back like a feral dog he picked up from the streets, unruly yet smart. You see through some of his tactics, but miss others, falling straight at it and ending up skimming under his boot, wounded and yelping.

He likes hearing you yip and bark, snide remarks turned to tearful mewls. He doesn’t harm you, he leaves that to his men until he comes to stop them, posing as your saviour. He specialises in psychological warfare as well as guerilla warfare done on a grander scale, breaking down the morals of his enemies and causing a break in their mental fortitude with his cruel and sudden attacks with little to no care about citizen casualties. The more chaos he causes, the better.

You power through his manipulation and control of the scenario for a while, seeing through his saviour charade and hissing at him, backing away from his touch. He likes that fight in you, mind overheating like the engines of old cars, working to find the gaps in his plans, the small mistakes you could use against him. But he had none, he accounted for everything to keep you.

Makarov won’t force himself on you, he’s subtle, making you ask for it, making you think it was your idea. It might take a month or two, but he’s a patient man, waiting for your mind to confuse reality and delusions, push you to think that he truly cared for you. Look at what he did for you, he took you away from death, the danger of fighting on the front lines and the danger of men and women who might want to take advantage of you.

He’s your saviour. He gave you a house to live comfortably, a big bed where he could hold you after being cornered by his men, he handles you so gently and he cares for you. Where are the friends and family you spoke so fondly about? He’ll berate it into your mind that they never came, they thought that you were dead and never searched for your body. You were forgotten, a buried memory that he replaced with another so quickly that it insulted him.

What he doesn’t tell you is that he faked the body, planted your dog tags on the unidentifiable body and left it for them to find. That didn’t stop them, they were determined to get you back, but he thwarted them at every step, stopping them from finding you and taking his new obsession away from him. He’s a possessive man, he takes care of what he calls his as long as they’re useful.

And when you let Makarov in, it’s the best moment in years, everything he put into you, the time, the effort and the scheming, finally came to fruition. You’re teetering on the edge of oblivion and subservience, you’d forgotten the world outside of your relationship with him, content with being under his warm body, leaving yourself to his pleasure.

Give it a year and he’d have you eating out of his hand, becoming an asset he could trust to send out and come back home bruised and bloodied, hair matted and bags under your eyes from exhaustion, but you’d be successful, holding the head of your target in hand as proof of your success.

You were more than just an object of pleasure and assassination, you were his doll, a puppet on strings that he controls. He dictates every step, he chooses every decision and he makes every plan. You are his to control and to own until you lose your functionality.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders

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luvyeni · 2 years ago

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THE BUTTERFLY GARDEN ; LEE HEESEUNG

pairings. yandere!heeseung x fem!reader

wc. 1.4k

warnings. dark fic, reader is trapped , but heeseung has brainwashed her , oral (m. recieving) , unprotected sex , names (butterfly, baby, pretty) this is just fiction , this doesn't portray heeseung irl at all !

synopsis. heeseung loves you so much , his pretty little butterfly.

authors note. loosely based off a book i read called the butterfly garden by dot hutchinson , it's a really good book , i recommend it ! someone asked for a yandere heeseung fic and i thought of this

heeseung loved butterflies , he thought they were the most beautiful creatures he'd ever laid eyes on. as a kid , he'd go to his grandparents's house — his grandfather was very rich man , who had a huge mansion , with a huge green house , the size of a mini mansion — that's where his grandmother kept all her flowers , and butterflies.

he'd watch the butterflies fly around the green house, all sorts of different colors , he was mesmerized by them. when his grandparents past , he inherited all the money , along with all the properties , including the green house.

heeseung hadn't outgrown his obsession , rather he gained a new one , you. he saw you one day , working at a coffee shop he often visited , he couldn't keep his eyes off you. he could remember the outfit you wore , a yellow sundress , you were so sweet , the way you greeted everyone. your smile , you were so beautiful , like a pretty little butterfly... he had to have you , he needed to add you to his butterfly collection.

he watched you for silently months , learning everything about you , where you were from , your family name , favorite things. you didn't have many friends , so that was good , no one to really miss you. while watching you , he made some moderations to the green house , adding a beautiful bedroom , with all your favorite things , along with a bathroom. he made sure everything was perfect — perfect for his newest and prettiest butterfly yet.

it was so easy befriending you , you were polite to anything with a pulse , all he had to was introduce himself , and your friendship blossomed from there. you thought he was so cute , you never really got attention from boys , so it was new. you'd seen him multiple times at the shop , so you were aware of his existence. he was kind , and sweet.

you never saw the signs , you would have never believed that the doe eyed boy had a sick and twisted plan brewing. first he got rid of your family , isolating you from them , telling you lies , saying that they hated that you two were so close , that he was only using you as a charity case , until you stopped contacting them all together. your so called friends didn't even need any pushing , he just wired a few thousand into their bank accounts , telling them to back off. when you came crying to him , telling him that they completely cut you , he put a act , telling how he always said they were no good , that he was the only one for you , he was your only friend , you believed him , you believed that he was the only person who had your back , that everyone else basically hated you.

that's when he knew he had you...

that was was about a year ago , a year and 6 months to be exact. a year and 6 months since you last seen your family , or friends , or the outside for thay matter. a year and 6 months since he trapped you in his butterfly garden.

"butterfly , where is my pretty little butterfly?" you heard his voice , the door closing on the way in. "im in here!" you called from the bathroom , running out into the indoor fields where you spent most of your days , alone with the butterflies , watching them fly around. "hello pretty , it's been a while hasn't it." you smiled , nodding. "almost a month , i missed you so much." it was sick , you knew that , but he was your only source of friendship , that love that you so desperately craved.

"did you , i missed my butterfly too , i watched you from the camera , wishing to be with you while on my trip." he said , pointing to the camera in the corner. "maybe next time i can go with you." he shook his head. "now you know you can't , butterflies are fragile , people will hurt butterflies and i can't have you getting hurt and corrupted by those people , now can i?" he caressed your cheeks , noticing your frown.

"those work trips are boring anyway , i would rather be playing here with you in the garden." you knew what he meant by playing. "don't you like playing here with me and the other butterflies?" his doe eyes always made you feel bad about asking to go out , he knew that and he loved to use it to advantage. "i do , i promise i do love the garden." he smiled. "good , now don't ask about it again , okay?" you nodded. "i won't heeseung , i promise."

"good , now how about you show me those pretty wings of your , take off your shirt off for me." you turned around , taking your sweater off , revealing the huge tattoo on your back — butterfly wings. he had gotten them tattooed on your back the 4th day you were trapped here , it took almost 5 months to heal. "so pretty." he could feel himself growing hard in his slacks , just from the tattoo. "my pretty butterfly." he pressed his hard cock against your ass.

"i think you're the prettiest one here." he kissed your shoulderblade. "butterflies don't live long , but you , you'll last forever , won't you." he kissed your neck. "hee-heeseung." you moaned softly , he was sick , this was sick , you shouldn't want him to touch you , you shouldn't crave his touch. "i'll never let you go." he bit down on your earlobe , he genuinely meant what he said , he was never gonna let you go.

"get down on your knees." he said sitting on your bed once you reached your room. you sunk down to your knees , his bulge right in front of your face. "you see how hard i am for you?" he palmed his cock , unzipping his pants , his cock slapping against his stomach. "come on , grab it." he groaned as you wrapped your hands around his cock , jerking him off. "fu-fuck , put it in your mouth." you obeyed , taking him fully into your cavern. "sh-shit , just like i trained you to do , good girl."

he grabbed the back of your head , guiding you up and down on his cock , you gagged around his length , tears wielding in your eyes. "you looks so pretty , gagging on my fat cock , drooling." he grunted , pushing your head down , fucking up into your mouth. "fu-fuck im gonna cum , gonna cum down that pretty throat of yours." he whined , pushing your head down one last time , keeping you there as he came , hitting the back of your throat. "fuck!" he pulled you off him , you coughed , finally being able to breathe.

"you did so good , took my cum so well." he pulled you up , manhandling you on to the bed , putting you into his favorite position , face down ass up , so he can see the wings on your back. "such a pretty sight , my beautiful butterfly." he lined his cock up at you entrance. "so tight." he filled you up , his cock stretching you open like always. "your pussy is always so good , you feel so nice around me struggling to take my cock." he grunted , thrusting inside of you.

"fucking beautiful baby , gonna keep you here forever -fuck- the only butterfly i need." he began to fuck into your hole much faster , you gripped the sheets below. "fe-feels like heaven." his eyes were trianed on the tattoos as he fucked you , pushing your back down to hit a new angle that made you scream. "shit , heeseung im gonna cum." he grunted , fucking you faster. "fuck , cum for me , cum all over my cock." he rubbed your clit , you mouth formes a 'o' shape before you came , legs shaking.

"oh fuck , you're squeezing my cock , im gonna cum." he pushed your body flat against the bed , using your tired body to get himself off. "fuck , im cumming ngh fuck !" he whined , his cum painting your walls , pulling out milking his cock , more cum spurting on your back. "sh-shit." he stuttered , he breathing heavy. he looked down at your body , almost getting hard again , the way his cum looked on the wings , made his cock jump in arousal. "shit , i'm gonna get hard again if i keep staring at your pretty wings , covered in my cum like that."

you whimpered , trying to move away. "n-no more." your voice horse , body sensitive to touch. "i know , i know my fragile butterfly is so sensitive." he climbed off of you. "no need for clothes , i want to see my butterfly covered in my cum for awhile , just for me." he wanted to capture this moment.

"my pretty little butterfly"

©️LUVYENI

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year ago

Text

The Danger Zone (Part 2) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.1k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Secret Relationship; Angst; Undefined Relationships; Overprotective Family; Background Relationships; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: It's Phoenix and Coyote's wedding. Also known as the day that Jake Seresin reached his limit.

Series Master List

Master List

You slowly smoothed down your dress in the mirror for maybe the thousandth time, convinced that you could see a very noticeable bump there. Penny assured you that even if you had an actual bump now, it wasn’t noticeable, but your brain still fabricated that image. Part of you worried that someone would make a comment about your appearance, but there was nothing that you could do now.

“Are you okay? You look really nervous,” Emma asked, causing you to look away from the mirror.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, looking down at the ground as you tried to come up with a white lie to cover your ass. “Just nervous about my speech later. That’s all.”

“You were great at my wedding. I’m sure that you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, Emma.”

“Anytime,” Emma replied with a bright smile. Squeezing your hand supportively, she turned to head over to the room that Phoenix was getting ready in. “I’m going to go check on Phoenix. But did you need anything else?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks, Emma.”

You watched as Emma walked off before slowly turning back to the mirror. Resting your hand over your abdomen, you let out a breath to steady yourself.

After you took the pregnancy tests and probably cried to Penny about it for about a half an hour straight, you knew that you needed some time to process everything before talking about it with anyone else. And then there was the whole subject of Phoenix’s wedding, which you didn’t want to upstage in the slightest.

So, you just kept it to yourself. Well, yourself and Penny.

You went to work in the morning, came home, made yourself dinner or picked something up along the way, and just hibernated. You didn’t go to hang out with anyone else outside of the wedding-related events. You just stayed home and got lost in your thoughts.

Jake texted you every day, but you always made up some lame excuse to get out of whatever plans he tried to set up. The truth was simple—you were terrified of what Jake’s reaction would be. Sure, the two of you had been messing around for several months now—almost a year technically, if you counted all of the months that he was deployed.

But the two of you weren’t together. You weren’t a couple. And you didn’t plan this.

Would Jake even want a kid? Were kids in his life plan at all? Did he even see a slight future with you in order to make it work? Would he dump you on the spot? Would he want to be heavily involved? Would it all go up in flames?

You had no idea. And it wasn’t like you could look at Jake’s childhood for any indication.

He was absolutely tight lipped about his upbringing and you had never been able to crack him. All you knew was that he grew up in Texas and that the slightest mention of his dad got him to shut down. And that was about all you knew about Jake Seresin’s life before the Navy.

It was a recipe for disaster and you were not ready to handle it. So, you avoided him.

And, of course, you were also totally convinced that when you finally sat him down to talk about it, you were going to cry and cause a scene. And that wasn’t taking into account whatever his reaction was going to be. So, you pushed it off. You cared too much for Phoenix and Coyote to even risk interrupting their wedding in the slightest.

But tomorrow, after the wedding was wrapped up, you would tell Jake. You would tell Jake that you were pregnant with his baby.

~~~~~

Jake stared down at his phone for a moment, scrolling through his last few texts to you. He texted you last night after you spent the entirety of the rehearsal dinner avoiding his presence. And Jake just automatically assumed that he did something to upset you, so he sent you a generic apologetic text. But all you responded with was some bullshit about being stressed about the wedding and that was it.

Jake Seresin wasn’t used to being the one who was more attached in a situation-ship.

He never had been. His job and his personality combined ensured that. At a moment’s notice, he could be sent to the other end of the world, which didn’t exactly give him much time to build strong bonds with his partner and inevitably led to strain. And then there was the fact that he was just an asshole who pushed people’s buttons easily.

He had left a long train of relationships—though perhaps he was using that term a little too liberally—in his life that blew up because he was an asshole who ran his mouth when he was pushed to be vulnerable. He had his career to propel him forward and he didn’t need any of the additional bullshit that seemed to come with every relationship, so he just didn’t put up with it.

But this relationship—whatever you wanted to call it—with you wasn’t bullshit. That was real shit. And Jake was growing more and more annoyed that you were dodging his texts and his presence. He was the desperate type, but he really could have used a text back from you. Or just an answer about what he did wrong to piss you off.

Was that really asking too much?

“Why do you look so pissed?” Rooster asked, causing Jake to quickly pick his head up.

Sliding his phone into his pocket, Jake cleared his throat as he turned to face Rooster. He wasn’t too worried about anyone seeing the texts between the two of you. After all, you were saved in his phone as ‘Honey B,’ so it wasn’t like anyone would see your name. And it had been about two weeks since you sent him a sexy photo anyways.

“Nothing. Just want to get this started already,” Hangman lied, adjusting his dress white jacket a bit.

“Right,” Rooster replied, eyeing Hangman curiously for a moment. “Is Javy ready?”

“He’s been ready since like five this morning,” Jake dismissed, glancing back at the room where Javy was by himself. “He wanted to be alone to fix his vows.”

“Again?”

“For the twelfth time,” Jake replied, shaking his head. “He wants to make sure that they’re perfect.”

“Well, Javy’s the type to only get married once. I get where he’s coming from.”

Jake knew that Rooster didn’t intend that as a dig, but he still took it as one. After all, Rooster was setting up to live that picket fence life with a wife and a house and probably a gaggle of kids and a dog or a cat or both. It’d be like a postcard for the perfect family.

And Jake knew that Rooster didn’t think that he was that type to do the same. And Jake also knew that Rooster was probably right about that. And Jake was also pretty sure that him repeatedly hooking up with Rooster’s little sister wouldn’t help Rooster’s image of him. Especially if Rooster ever found out that the first time that they ever hooked up was at Rooster’s wedding.

But he was an asshole, remember?

Rooster was about to add something else when his phone started to buzz. He pulled it out and Jake immediately spotted your name on Rooster’s screen. Ignoring the way that his chest contracted against his will, Hangman listened in as Rooster answered the phone call.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Phoenix wanted me to make sure that Javy was alright,” you stated, sounding amused. “I think that she’s worried that he’ll get cold feet.”

“He’s fixing his vows, according to Hangman,” Rooster responded to you.

“Oh,” you replied, in a way that made Jake wince. “Can you just make sure he didn’t climb out the window or anything like that? Please?”

Hangman nodded and walked over to the room that Javy had taken shelter in. Knocking lightly on the door, Jake opened the door to find Javy fixing his suit in the mirror. When he saw Jake standing there, Javy turned and practically radiated pure joy. Hangman turned back to Rooster, who passed along the message to you.

“Great. We’re going to be on time. Don’t be late, Brad Brad.”

“I think that we can handle it,” Bradley assured you, rolling his eyes lightly. “Bye.”

Jake watched Bradley hang up the call, letting a rock settle in his stomach. Pursing his lips together, Jake pushed all of his thoughts about you to the back of his mind and turned to face Coyote, who was already walking over to him.

“You ready?”

“I was born ready,” Javy returned, grabbing Jake’s shoulder with a tight squeeze.

~~~~~

You could feel Jake staring at you through the entire ceremony. You could feel his eyes on you when you walked down the aisle with your bouquet. You could feel his eyes on you when you stepped forward to take Phoenix’s bouquet and fix her dress. You could feel his eyes on you when you stood behind Phoenix, supporting her as she said her vows to Coyote.

And when Coyote and Phoenix walked down the aisle together, hand-in-hand for the first time as a married couple, you and Jake locked eyes across the altar. And the fact that you were standing there with a bouquet and he was in his dress whites and the tiny detail that you were pregnant with his baby was just a little too much for you to take.

Jake offered you his arm, and after swallowing some nervous bile, you looped your arm through his and started walking down the aisle together. You looked out through the crowd and quickly spotted Penny and Maverick. Maverick waved to you before going back to clapping, blissfully unaware of the situation. And Penny shot you a supportive look that you needed to get your breath back into your lungs.

You could do this. You could make it through one more day.

Jake didn’t say anything to you as you walked down the aisle, probably sensing that it wasn’t an appropriate time to discuss your relationship. But once you were out of the view of the crowd, he gently pulled you to the side. Jake called your name softly, causing you to turn to face him properly.

“Look, I know that it’s been crazy and everything, but I was hoping to talk to you about . . . everything,” Jake spoke softly as the rest of the wedding party walked into the atrium behind you. “Please.”

Gripping your bouquet even tighter, you looked around the atrium for prying eyes and listening ears before turning back to Jake, who looked far more desperate for your attention that you were used to seeing him. And that realization made your heart break just a bit more, since you knew that you were the person who did that to him.

But you couldn’t do it. Not today. Not here. Not at the reception. Tomorrow. It had to be tomorrow.

“Tomorrow,” you stated, a bit firmly. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Come on, we’re going to miss them,” Emma encouraged, grabbing your hand and pulling you along.

Jake watched you go with a slightly stunned expression, almost as if he was slapped in the face, as you walked away from him like he was just some random guy. But just as soon as you slipped out of his grip, he put up his usual mask when he spotted the wedding crowd starting to file out.

He expected you to be a bit skittish, but not that skittish. And that made his mind wander to the worst possible situation.

~~~~~

“One for you and one for you,” Bradley stated, handing you and Emma a glass of champagne each.

After a very awkward photo shoot—at least as far as you and Jake went—everyone moved onto the reception hall for drinks and dinner. But given the information that you found out a few days ago, you stared down at the glass of champagne with a slightly panicked expression. How the hell were you going to spend the whole night dodging alcohol? It was a fucking wedding. A Navy wedding too.

Shit, you didn’t think this through.

“Thank you,” Emma mused, pressing a loving kiss to Bradley’s lips.

“Yeah . . .” you trailed off nervously.

Looking around for somewhere to dump the alcohol, you let out a breath when you spotted Penny and Maverick walking over to you. Penny saw the glass in your hand and nodded discreetly. While the five of you chatted and caught up, Penny switched your glass with her half-empty one.

“Thank you,” you whispered to her, causing her to smile softly.

“Don’t mention it. And you just have to wait for everyone to get through their first few drinks and then no one will notice,” Penny assured you, giving you that maternal support that you desperately needed in that moment. “Worst comes to worst, just dump it.”

“I just need to get through my speech and then I’ll be fine,” you sighed, glancing around the room.

“Ooh, are you looking for Javy’s friend from back home?” Emma asked, causing you to turn to her. “You know, the one who was flirting with you last night?”

“Who?” Bradley questioned, causing Emma to shoot him a look.

“She’s not a teenager. Let her live a little,” Emma scoffed, bumping her husband with her hip before turning back to you. “And I thought that he was really into you.”

“Who is he?” Maverick inquired, earning a look from Penny.

“Oh, don’t you start either. You’re far from a saint yourself, Pete.”

“I’m not looking to meet anyone tonight,” you stated, trying to end the conversation then and there. “Just trying to get through my speech, get a slice of cake, and toss these stupid heels out the window as soon as possible.”

“I have an extra pair of flats in my bag, if you wanted them,” Emma offered, causing you to perk up.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” you joked, dragging her away from your brother.

“Love you too,” Bradley scoffed, shaking his head as he watched the two of you walk off.

The reception got going shortly after that. Phoenix and Coyote made their grand entrance, dinner was served, and then it was time for your speech. Everything went smoothly, since you spent the entire week memorizing it. And then Jake gave his speech, during which you alternated between staring at him with damning intensity and hiding from his gaze in a dizzying cycle.

When the dance floor opened up and everyone started to break into their own separate activities, you slipped away to grab a drink. Ordering a ginger ale, you made your way out onto the back balcony where it was nice and cool. Resting your head in your hands, you took a moment to compose yourself.

You were exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. And now that most of the wedding was done, your mind was only focusing on the inevitable conversation with Jake that was fast approaching whether you wanted to have it or not. Mostly because Jake watched you slip away and took his opportunity to speak with you alone.

“Are you alright?” Jake asked quietly, causing you to pick up your head.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, gripping the railing tightly. “Why do you ask?”

“Because for the last week, you’ve been avoiding me,” Jake pointed out, moving to stand beside you. Staring into your eyes, Jake frowned when you immediately broke eye contact. “And now you won’t even look at me.” He called your name, causing you to pick your head up. “What is going on?”

“I can’t talk about it right now,” you stated softly, glancing back into the reception hall. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

“Why can’t we talk about it today?” Jake countered, causing you to purse your lips. “What’s going on?”

“I . . . it’s not right to talk about it right now.”

“Why not?”

“It’s Javy and Nat’s wedding. It’s not our event,” you pushed back against Jake stubbornly. You would never forgive yourself if you somehow ruined this wedding and you weren’t even going to approach the subject with Jake until after the wedding was all wrapped up. “And I’m not going to cause a scene at their wedding. It’s not fair to them.”

“How are we going to cause a scene? We’re just talking.”

“We’re both tired,” you pointed out, reaching for your ginger ale. “It’s been a long day.”

“Are there any other excuses that you’d like to use?” Jake asked, causing you to turn your head sharply to shoot him a look. “I mean, is there a list that you’re checking off?”

“Are you seriously giving me that attitude right now?” you shot back, standing up for yourself.

“Well, apparently there’s no other way to get a reaction out of you,” Jake returned, causing you to look away from him.

“Why can’t we just talk about it tomorrow?” you replied with a false sense of calm.

“Because after the last couple of days where all you have done is avoid me and dodge my texts, I’m not convinced that you’ll actually talk to me tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m not talking about it right now.”

“Then I guess we’re never going to talk about it then,” he stated, causing you to whirl around.

Jake shot you one last hurt expression before turning and walking off to rejoin the reception. You thought that he was just trying to call your bluff but when he ignored your calls for him to come back, you knew that he was serious.

“Jake,” you called one last time, but he was already gone.

Turning back to the landscape, hot tears started to roll down your cheeks. Did you just ruin everything? Was Jake done with you forever now? Should you have just fucking talked about it? Should you have just yelled it after him when he stormed off?

Feeling another wave of nausea roll over you, you sought refuge in a dark corner of the balcony. Leaning against the wall, you slowly slumped down and let out a quiet, pitiful sob.

Tags (PRETTY PLEASE have your AGE on your blog or message me about it to be tagged--thank you!):

@mrsjobarnes @wishiwasacasualfan

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lunarflux · 2 months ago

Text

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

a/n: holy shit it's over

part 26: reset

word count: 3,407 tag: @bruhidkjustwannaread | @rubyxx16 | @bellabarnes1378 | @johnmurphys-sass | @strangeobsessed

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

It was just past noon when you entered the betting house, the familiar hum of the Blinders' daily grind in full swing. The chaos of the morning’s business dealings settling into a lull. Tommy sat behind his desk, speaking quietly with John and Arthur, his sharp eyes scanning the room as usual. Your arrival was met with nothing more than a subtle glance, a knowing acknowledgment. You were already a part of the furniture, as integral to the operation as the ledgers carefully tucked away.

Today, though, the tension was palpable. A new shipment had arrived, and the logistics of it all were weighing on everyone. You spent the morning coordinating with the men, ensuring the distribution routes were set, and making sure their contacts were loyal—loyalty being a currency the Blinders didn’t often take lightly. The risks had grown larger, and there was no room for failure.

Tommy had given you full control of the day-to-day, trusting you to act on his behalf, a responsibility you’d earned over the past months. The work had initially come in bursts—small tasks here and there, conversations with men on the docks, reports on deals—but over time, it had grown into something more. Tommy had seen in you what he needed all along: someone who didn’t just follow orders but made the right calls on your own.

Most important of the aspects that you unknowingly displayed: you showed no resistance to the world that welcomed you. There was no part of you that sought change—only progress.

You walked across the room, your heels clicking against the worn floorboards. Your presence didn’t command the room the way Tommy did—there was no need for grand entrances. The Blinders didn’t need to be reminded of your role; they had already learned it.

“Everything set for today?” Tommy asked without looking up, his voice the kind of deep, calm authority that left no room for doubt.

You nodded, stepping into the back room to check on the paperwork. It was all in order—accounts balanced, the deals set to move smoothly, the men in place to ensure it all went without a hitch. You came to understand the business quickly, and as you sorted through the ledgers, you felt a sense of pride in it. It was a strange thing, working for Tommy Shelby, and yet, it had begun to feel like a place you belonged. More than that, it was a place where you had a voice—a voice that was respected. No longer did you cling to the shadows. The light found you, and from there, it was only a matter of keeping the flame burning.

Outside the back room, the brothers were starting to gather around the table. John had a glint of mischief in his eyes, already looking to stir things up. Arthur, for once, seemed quieter than usual, lost in his own thoughts. And Finn—Finn, the youngest, watched you more closely than he would have dared before. There was something different in the way he looked at you now—respect, maybe, or perhaps even something more.

He wasn't the same since the incident outside the bookshop. A change that didn't go unnoticed, but it was overlooked by Tommy who attributed it to the numbing years of a growing boy in the business.

You walked back into the main room, placing the papers down with a calm efficiency.

Arthur caught your eye as you moved to join them, giving you a nod of acknowledgment. It was rare for him to show his approval so openly, but it was clear to everyone in the room that you were more than just Tommy’s confidante. You were someone who stood alongside him, someone whose decisions were just as binding as his. That, alone, was an anomaly.

“Everything set, love?” Arthur asked with a grin, always the one to break the tension. Tommy, too, had come to see that Arthur wasn’t just the wild card—he was the heart, even if he sometimes acted out of impulse.

You glanced at Tommy, catching the slight nod he gave you. His approval was silent, but it was there.

“It’s all in place,” you said, your voice steady and subtly confident. “The new shipment will be at the docks by tonight. We’ll need to make sure everyone’s on time for the distribution. The last thing we need is another delay.”

The brothers shifted, murmuring among themselves, clearly pleased with how you were taking charge. The weight of Tommy’s expectations was always there, but you learned to bear it. You were used to the tension now, the constant weight of your role, the subtle pressure from Tommy, and the way the brothers looked to you for answers when he wasn’t around.

“We’ll handle it,” John said with a chuckle, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Ain’t no one better for the job than us, right?”

You nodded with a smirk. You didn’t need to say much.

As the brothers continued to discuss the logistics of the day, you stood back, your eyes drifting across the room. Finn's stare caught your eye again, and you motioned for him to join you in an empty office. You sat down quietly while he stood rather stiffly.

"How are you?" you asked plainly.

"Business as usual." His responses were always short.

"Finn," you sighed with the soft shake of your head. "I told you why it happened that way."

"I know."

"And yet, you're upset with me."

The briefest look of anger flashed over his eyes before it disappeared back into his face of apathy. He shrugged. "I know."

You stood, placing your hands on his shoulders with a gentle squeeze. You didn't want to continuously placate him. It was understandable—his frustration. His mistrust. He thought he'd let you and Tommy down by letting you leave with Bingham that day.

Finn's eyes searched yours for the explanation he was looking for. "Tommy doesn't think I can handle it."

"And can you?"

"I know I can."

You grinned, a touch of playfulness and amusement. "Then I trust you to prove it."

After a few seconds, he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief that you could say something so simple.

"Come with me to the new shop. You can run the books if that's what you want. Show Tommy you can handle running my business." You raised an eyebrow, hinting at all he could accomplish.

It wasn’t just the business side of things that had changed. Tommy showed an immense amount of proactivity. He took all of Bingham's properties, turned them into new places for the Blinders to conduct their business. As for you, once Bingham's old bookshop was handed over, it was put in your care. He knew what it meant to you—having another place to run to if you ever needed it.

Finn nodded with a curt grin. "I'll take care of it."

You learned to be tough, to be assertive, but you also learned when to step back and let the brothers handle things. There were times when Tommy needed your voice, and there were times when he needed you to be his eyes and ears. In the silence of the Garrison or the betting house, amidst the noise of the world outside, you knew that this was where you belonged—for now. It was a strange thing, being with the Blinders, but it was something you’d come to embrace.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The Garrison was alive with noise. Laughter echoed off the stone walls, glasses clinked, and the familiar scent of whiskey hung in the air. The Shelby family had gathered as they always did, a moment of respite from their usual chaos. Tonight, however, the atmosphere was warmer, more relaxed. Even Finn had allowed himself a smile as he sipped his drink.

You sat beside Tommy, as you always did now. Over the past months, the unspoken distance between you had dissolved. You became more than just Tommy’s right hand—you were part of the family. The Shelbys treated you like one of their own, with the same loyalty, the same grudging affection. And Tommy, for all his coldness, let you in—let you see the man he was beneath the armor he wore.

The conversation had shifted to the usual tales, wild stories of old schemes and new faces in the streets of Birmingham. But as the laughter continued and the family reveled in each other’s company, Tommy’s gaze fell on you, steady and intense. He watched you for a long moment, almost as if lost in thought. There was something different in his eyes tonight—a flicker of something that you couldn’t quite place. Neither of you ventured past the comfortable silence. Even though the others knew there was more to this relationship than the business, you both kept the briefest amount of distance as if it was better to keep the intimate details a secret—something sacred to be saved for your eyes alone.

Arthur raised his glass , his voice louder than usual. “To Tommy and y/n—may the world fuckin' burn at your feet.” He paused, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And to Shelby Company, Limited.”

Everyone murmured their agreement, clinking their glasses together in a unified toast. Even John, whose usual cynicism had softened in recent months, smiled as he raised his own drink.

Quietly, you slipped into the back room, hoping to find a moment of solitude. The noise from the pub had softened into murmurs, and the lamplight flickered as shadows stretched across the floor. You always needed a break from all the noise, just a moment to breathe. But you hadn’t expected to find Polly waiting in the corner, a glass of whiskey in hand, watching you with those knowing eyes.

You paused in the doorway, feeling a momentary hesitation. Polly wasn’t just a sharp observer—she was someone who understood the weight of the world, someone who had seen it all. And you weren't sure if you wanted to be seen right now.

"Come in, love. No need to stand there like you’re hiding," Polly said, her voice soft but firm.

You entered quietly, closing the door behind you. You glanced toward the table, uncertain whether to sit. Polly, as always, didn’t rush you. She didn’t need to.

With a resigned sigh, you took a seat across from Polly. Her gaze never left you, not in a way that was judgmental, but more like she was watching for something you weren't yet ready to admit.

After a long pause, Polly took a sip of her whiskey, then placed the glass down with deliberate slowness, her eyes never straying from you.

“I’ve been watching you and Tommy,” Polly said, her tone light but filled with the weight of experience. “It’s not lost on me, you know.”

You didn’t look up. You didn’t want to. You could feel the words swirling in your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say them. You fidgeted with your sleeve, the rough fabric doing little to ease the anxiety creeping up in your stomach.

Polly continued, as if she’d already known the thoughts racing through your head. “You two are different from how Tommy was with Grace.”

You stiffened. Tommy never brought up Grace, and you did all you could to avoid thinking about her. You paid Tommy the same courtesy, leaving Ezra in the past ever since that day at the cemetery. You knew, though, that there were times he wanted to ask. Those moments when you were too quiet or lost in thought. Polly always seemed to find a way to pull the past back into the present.

“I know he loved her,” Polly said softly, almost to herself. “But business always got in the way. It always does with him. Even at their wedding, he was conducting business.”

You stayed silent, your chest tight as the memory of Grace resurfaced. Standing in the shadow of that history, you knew there was no easy way to compare yourself to Grace, not even now.

“But with you,” Polly’s voice cut through your thoughts, “it’s different. You’re part of the business, yes. But you’re also part of him. And that’s something he doesn’t give to just anyone. I have a feeling that if business were to intrude on your time with him, you'd be at his side if only to make sure things were done the right way.”

You finally looked up, meeting Polly’s steady gaze.

“I have another feeling,” Polly continued, her tone quiet, “He wants more from you. More with you. He just doesn't know how to say it.”

“Is this one of your visions, Pol?” you asked with a smirk. “Or has Tommy been whispering about me?”

Polly smiled, but it was a smile that held both understanding and something more, something deeper. “Not a vision. Maybe it's women's intuition, or maybe I'm just not as blind as you choose to be. I think he’s more serious than you know. And he’s not going to push you. But I also think he’s waiting for you to decide.”

You leaned back in your chair, tilting your head playfully as you always did.

"All he has to do is ask, Pol."

“Exactly the answer I'd expect from you,” Polly said with an accepting nod. “I only hope he has the balls to do it.”

Polly gave you a reassuring look before walking toward the door.

“The boys and I are betting on when it will happen. Be sure to let me know if it happens before midnight.”

As the door closed behind Polly, you laughed to yourself. You sipped your whiskey slowly, and as it trickled down your throat, you breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

When you stepped back into the main room, Tommy's eyes fell on you immediately. You took your seat beside him, cigarette already between your lips as he held the match for you.

You could sense the eyes continuously glancing over at you. The boys were never subtle. They were watching. They were waiting.

Without a word, Tommy reached under the table, sliding a small gold ring from his pocket. He placed it on your thigh, his fingers brushing against the smallest part of your skin that revealed itself from beneath your skirt. The gesture was almost imperceptible to anyone else, buried beneath the noise of the celebration, but to you, it felt like the room had fallen silent.

The ring was simple—no grand flourish, no extravagance. It was exactly the kind of sentiment you would have expected from him. He needed no grandiose display of affection, just a ring and the comfortable silence.

You looked down at the ring and slipped it over your index finger, turning it slowly with a soft smile. You turned to Tommy who looked straight ahead towards the end of the table. After a moment, he turned to face you, his expression still. As he stared, you heard his voice in the back of your mind, the question that needed to be asked.

Marry me.

You slowly stood, your chair scraping across the floor. The eyes of the family turned toward you, the sudden movement drawing their attention. There was a short silence as they all waited.

“Excuse me,” you said with a brief nod of your head.

Tommy watched you walk towards the door, his jaw tight, his gaze unwavering. No one spoke, not until Tommy stood up from the table and walked after you.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Outside, the cool evening air hit you like a rush of clarity.

The door opened behind you, and you didn’t need to turn to know it was Tommy. His presence was a constant now, one that you had learned to rely on, even when everything else felt uncertain.

He stepped beside you, not speaking at first, just letting the silence stretch between you. His hands were in his pockets, but you could feel the tension in his posture, the same quiet patience he always had.

"I didn't want to ask in front of everyone."

You turned, taking a long drag of your cigarette before blowing a plume of smoke into the air, but you didn't respond.

Tommy’s lips quirked slightly at the corners. He had expected resistance, but your silence told him something else. Without a word, he reached for you, pulling you into him. He threw your cigarette to the floor, and the moment his lips met yours, your chest seemed to collapse into him, your heart pounding with something deeper than desire.

When he finally pulled away, your breath was shaky. Tommy knew just how to unsettle you—be unpredictable. It was the only way to shake someone like you who knew how to anticipate everything.

“You want me to ask you out loud, don't you?” Tommy asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

Your smile was small, but there was a raw honesty in it, something Tommy had never seen from you before. “Well, I'm not going to ask you,” you whispered with a giggle. "If we weren't standing in the middle of the filth of Birmingham, I would've given you shit for not getting down on your knee."

Tommy nodded with a smirk, a rare look of contentment crossing his face. There was no need for grand gestures or declarations. Not here, not now. This was enough.

"Very well then." He took your hang and removed the small ring, still loosely hanging from the tip of your finger. He held it up between your faces, his eyes suddenly turning serious.

It finally settled in your mind that he was being sincere. While neither of you would ever be the type to be sentimental in front of the others, here—in the privacy of the moonlight, he was more than willing for you only.

"Marry me, y/n. I'm afraid I won't be able to do this without you, and that's something I wouldn't admit lightly."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Even now, Tommy Shelby, with the menacing tone."

You reached for the ring, but he pulled his hand back. "Not yet."

Both your gazes turned serious and still as he dangled the ring in front of you.

"I said it." Tommy moved in closer until his lips hovered just above yours. "This ring isn't going on your finger until you answer."

Your eyes searched his, and in his stare you found all you needed to give the answer you both wanted. But, even now, you couldn't resist bringing back the silence that started this story. Thomas Shelby finally learned to tell you what he wanted without the unspoken strings attached, and now, here he was, standing before you—not as a broken man seeking a dream. He was asking for you because you were the one he wanted.

And damn anyone who would expect him to accept anything less.

You took his face in your hands. He eased forward, anticipating a kiss of acceptance, but you pushed further until your lips grazed the edge of his ear.

"Yes, Tommy, I will marry you."

Tommy's lips brushed against yours in the briefest of moments. A cloud of contentment enveloped you in the midst of the Birmingham chill, at last hinting towards the oncoming spring. He slipped the ring over your finger and admired it.

The doors to the Garrison burst open, and Arthur lurched forward before abruptly halting in his tracks. He looked at the two of you and his face twisted between bewilderment and joy. One by one the family peered out the door, each with a growing smirk before they all collectively groaned. Polly won the bet, and they knew it wouldn't be long before they had to pay up.

Arthur cleared his throat, walking up with his hand held out. "Is this the part where I say 'congratulations'?"

Tommy smirked and shook his hand.

Arthur's face slowly dropped. "Tom, we got a call. It's from Ada. Said she got a letter."

"From who?" you asked, almost forgetting all together what just happened. Instead, you focused on the serious tone in Arthur's voice.

Tommy's face slowly grew cold, but still, he held your hand firmly with the subtlest squeeze.

Arthur spoke slowly, "She got a black hand, Tom."

Tommy turned to you, and for a moment, he allowed you to see that he didn't forget. This was the beginning of your future with him, but not only that—this was the beginning of a new game.

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