#he's really good at cooking for a big group

[petalsonmoon]

breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out.

you're falling in love.

(i'd just like to say that in this scenario i imagined UA as an university so they're a bit older... thank you for reading <3)

you had no one to blame but yourself. you read too much and you never know when to stop. but really, how can you go to sleep when the found family are about to perform the heist?

so when school was back things got complicated. your brain had its own routine by now so when you were laying in bed and the moonlight was trying to get in through the curtains it felt like you just drank 3 bottles of coffee.

your celling was making your mind combust this is why you got up and decided to take a little walk. you left your dorm and went for the stairs, feet light as the moonlight touching the walls. maybe you should buy a sleeping mask. or try meditation. new year new habits.

when you arrived at the communal space you were trying not to let the frustation win the fight against your empathetic consciousness. one side of your head was screaming that the begining of a school year should be centered, organized and fierced and an insomnia on your first day is not a great start. the other part was giving you a gentle pat on your head saying that life doesn't end when you graduate and you just have to take one day at a time.

you find yourself walking very slowly towards the kitchen and sitting on your usual stool. the third one from right to left. the whole place was beautifully iluminated by the moon. isn't sad that the moonlight is actually an reflection of the light that hits them? must be isolating.

there was a mini jar on the counter filled with m&m's. you slided it close to you and started to eat the yellow ones.

it was 5:28am acording to the microwave. m&m's were a great breakfast.

but the moon itself was pretty once iluminated by the others.... so it must feel pretty, right? seen? especially if it knows us, humans are captivated by its brutal and elegant greyness,

"the fuck is this?"

you jump. like cartoon jump.

and he didn't even scream he merely whipered. a rasp and crude whisper but a hushed tone nonetheless.

"holy jesus bakugo-" you whisper back with your hand on your chest trying calm it.

"what are you doing?" his interrupition as strong as he is.

"you scared the shit out of me." you complete. sort of ignoring his question.

he stayed still a few feet away burning you with his red eyes. his natural rage and powerful aura filling up the space.

"morning." you say. not in a good mood to smile but with enough chocolate in your system to sound gentle.

his eyes were on you for 5 seconds (5 minutes in your head) before he growled and moved, walking around the counter, turning one single light of the relatively big kitchen and started to get everything to prepare his healthy breakfast.

since first year, bakugo grew gracefully for those who noticed. although he changed he'd still murder you with an m&m if you said that out loud. you're definitely not that close to the boy but you were one of those who got enchanted by a determination so big and fierce someone could get blinded by it.

just like you were constantly astonished by momo's bright and calculated mind or todoroki's immense gentleness after a life that lacked warmness, you spent those 3 years seeing bakugo as an inspiration.

although his whole group of friends had a confidence you wished you had. they intimidated you. hagakure says it's you being stupid.

you watch as the boy moves fast and domestically calm through the gabinets, knowing exactly what he needs and wants.

with his large back facing you he started chopping and boiling and cooking. all the yellow m&m's had ended by the time one of you said a word.

"why are you up?"

raspy and soft. but you were not expecting him acknowledging you at all.

"hm..." your eyes focused on his back. "insomnia. vacation consequences."

you hear a distant grunt.

"so you came here to eat chocolate?" he kept preparing his dish in an annoyingly organized way.

"well, if my body is not feeling like being healthy might as well join his thinking."

"great thinking." he concludes and it's not even lacying with sarcasm. just full judgement.

it takes a few seconds for you to toughen up and keep talking.

"any tips?"

with that he turns and looks at you for a few seconds. you hold his gaze.

he only answers when he's back at glaring at the vegetables. "just fucking sleep."

it's so blunt it cracks a chuckle out of you. you betray yourself and take a single red m&m to your mouth.

"you ever slept in?"

"no." he rumbles.

"not even like, 5 minutes?"

"no."

"that's crazy..." you whisper to yourself.

"that's discipline." he defends not whispering back.

"yes, it absolutely is." you sounded silly but that was not the intention. "once me and tokoyami tried to make a schedule and wake up at 5 to train together"

it was fun trying to be healthy doing team work. you remember him telling you that dark shadow was also excited to practice outdoors since it was going to be dark still the time you agreed. "we only did it for a week."

you see him shake his head and murmur something you took 3 seconds to decode. "more than what i was expecting"

"okay!" you protest softly. "not all of us wants to be the best there is"

"and that means i can't judge you for being stupid?"

he blunts it out. as you said, bakugo was stil an angry, angry person but with patience and respect on the edges now. if you look closely.

"and some of us are not that competitive... like, really not. ever played uno with me?"

you hear him taking a deep breath. you don't know if that's an "yes" a "no" or a "i dare you to keep talking"

so you keep talking. "and i tried, doesn't that count?"

"it doesn't if you don't even do the bare damn minimum" his voice still raspy and very dure but the sleepiness not there anymore "not sleeping fries your brain." he resolutes.

"but this brain is also the reason i have anxiety so i'm just paying it back."

he finally turns to you with those immaculate sharp red eyes and points at you with the knife he was holding. "stupid."

"no, fairness." you smile and point a red m&m at him.

you held his gaze until he turned again. but then he finished part of whatever he was doing and drops the knife, washes his hands and turns to you again.

now you're getting goosebumps because he's walking towards you.

"you should've given me tips to sleep if you didn't want me annoying you at 5 in the morning" you defend yourself of something. you're really grateful for the courage the dawn gives people.

"is this gonna be a recurring thing?" he whisper. he stops in front of you, a counter between you both.

"don't know. it might be."

your hand was going to another red m&m when he stopped it. "stop eating this shit."

"then do you mind giving me cooking tips as well?"

his eyebrows furrows and he takes another deep breath letting go of your wrist. the counter was not that big. he was too close. "just focus on your breathing and it'll help you relax. even if you're not sleepy breathing techniques do help."

oh!

he did try to help you and that was sweet and you couldn't help but smile. "thank you."

he quickly turned around and went back to the stove grunting in response "don't need you yapping my ears off at the one time i have peace in this place."

with that you got up from the stool and went to your dorm feeling lightheaded.

── ☆ ──

after that there was no reason not to take deep breaths and count before sleeping. of course the problem was not fixed but it actually helped! there was some nights where your brain could not for his own health turn off the lights and it took you couting till 50 to relax but overall. you were sleeping at least 6 hours straight so a win is a win.

your relationship with bakugo evolved from not talking at all to you saying hi to him and him grunting in return. the universe decided to be kind to you by pairing you two a few times to spare during some of aizawa's classes and it was so unhealthy how you felt happy and annoyingly you with him.

so some nights you did had to trick yourself into not think about bakugo. to not think about how domestically warm and confortable it would be to cook with the boy if you were a little bit more than friends.

and then you blink three times remembering you were at best his colleague and you shouldn't be thinking this just because of an exchange of 30 minutes and a few swift but blazing conversations.

but it's a reasonable crush if we analyze the bigger picture.

you're not one with much confidence, and even though you're not one with many romantic experience too it's an understandable situation having a bloom of emotions when you finally have nice exchanges with the person you admire the most in class.

right?

four weeks later, saturday happened.

you've been doing good in training and even your studing sessons were making you proud so you decided to give yourself a deserving movie night.

things were great when you watched a movie and then another one but you decided you wanted a sweet popcorn to accompany you with the third one. and that went terribly wrong.

which is where you are now, looking at whatever annomaly you were swiping in the frying pan.

"of course you're involved with that god awful smell." he grunts from a few meters behind you and you're not sure how you didn't hit his head with how far you jolted.

"fucking hell bakugo!" you turn to him and it's noticible he’s trying to hold the little smirk in the corner of his mouth. don’t look that way. "how does an angry bird like you have such a light feet?"

"by not wanting to wake the losers" he concludes coming closer to you to discover what was happening at the crime scene.

oh! he smells good.

at 5am? criminal. cinnamon but with a touch of sandalwood. you truly wanted him to give you a prolonged hug.

"you are a fucking dimwit." he grimaced.

"i'm not great with new recipes!" you didn't have a single argument this time.

"ruin popcorn it's a new level." he walked towards the trash and opened. it's kind of a superpower that his expression alone could criticize so many aspects of a person.

you defeatedly walked to him with the pan in hands and threw its content in the trash.

"hopeless." he whispered as he took the object from you and walked to the sink.

you pout and make way to sit in your stool by the counter.

"i make a neat rice." you whisper back.

he immeditaly let out a chuckle. "i bet."

why were you still here was a question you'd burned with the imaginary popcorn. so it took you while to say anything,

"i remember in second year," really nice of them to keep replacing the m&m's in the jar. it was a good distraction look for the yellow ones. "when we were celebrating jiro's birthday and everybody was outside, i was going back inside to refil my water cup when i heard kaminari's voice desperately apologizing-"

a loud noice startled you. it sounded like a pot hitting the sink. you're not to make assumptions but it felt like he knew where you were going.

so you kept talking. "and suddendly you barked at him to shup up-"

"i didn't fucking bark-" he interrupted snarling. oh he was so sweet.

"-turns out he accidentally ruined a small part of her cake and you fixed it in record time. and didn't even eat it. i'm quite sure you went to bed after the happy birthday" you interrupted his interruption.

it was a quiet night so by the sounds you could identify that he started to do whatever he was doing a bit more angryly.

"cakes are stupid." he rumbles.

"they are important on birthdays."

"fucking dunce face can't keep his mouth shut-" him angrily replying with his back to you was a bit comical.

"in his defense" in the counter, you make a heart with the yellow m&m's you haven't eaten yet. "i traded this information giving him my piece of the cake that day."

you glace up and he was still treating the food with rage. "because surprisingly i'm not a big fan of cakes."

"weird coming from someone with the most crappy eating habits."

"i know, right?" you answer and he doesn’t respond. you fill the little heart with the red m&m's.

you take a deep breath.

"it was nice of you" you look up. "the number one spot is in safe hands."

he stilled. for about 7 seconds.

then he started to move again. calmly. you start to eat the yellow m&m's and after a while of him preparing his perfect little breakfast he speaks again.

"you being a sting in my ass since last year and telling me proudly." he says, his voice a bit more deep and cemented.

"yes, i like to think i'm a nice little bee." you admit.

"HA!" his rough laugh invaded the room.

"they're pretty and united and very important-"

"will you include the part they make honey and you can"t cook for shit?"

"it's a team work!" you defend. "don't you think that when a bee has problems with her honey, another one doesn't come to help?"

now you try to hold your laughter from your own statement.

"that's just pathetic." he answers.

"you're just not a bee." you resolve. you start to eat the red m&m's left. "you're more like a lone wasp. they're big and quite prett-"

your discourse is interrupted when a small bowl is strongly put in front of you spreading the red dots.

"hey!" you're about to protest when its contents finally loads in your brain.

it's popcorn.

with chocolate.

you feel the little bees in your stomach make a mess. a pure and chaotically comforting emotion fill your heart and there is no going back now. how can a furious boy make you breathe so peacefully?

when you finally come back to the moment and look up he immediately turns around and goes back to the stove.

"bakugo-"

"no." his tone heavy and definitive.

you take a deep breath and try to relax. not fighting the small smile in your face anymore.

"bakugo." your tone soft but as decisive as his.

he fights for a second but turns to you with a locked jaw. his eyes the sharpest you've ever seen, giving you nothing to unravel before going to sleep.

"thank you." and with that you leave the kitchen.

── ☆ ──

the following week you felt like suffocating but also very fucking joyful.

nothing prominent changes in your rotine. you're still dedicated to have a good sleeping pattern and things with you and bakugo haven't changed. and you weren't expecting them to.

but you needed saturday to come.

you were going to be there on purpose this time. and you were fiercily holding the ballon of insecurities screaming that you were too in clouds of your emotions to not think your decision carefully.

so it's 5:37 when you're getting closer to the kitchen, the familiar hiss and chopping of the food capturing the place making you shiver for some reason.

a well known reason but whatever.

you gently pull your usual stool to sit on it and your eyes lock to his figure, who froze for a millisecond when you made the sound.

your hand automatically made way to the mini jar that lived in the counter only to find nothing there.

you whip around to glare at him.

"who did you threatened to blow to get my m&m's removed?"

he took his time finishing whatever he was doing and turned to you very slowly. to have his attention on you once again sent intense shivers all over your body.

"why am i involved?" he soflty replies and you think you like his voice a little too much.

"you're always involved."

"always?"

"yep." you nod.

he leans his body back on the sink putting his hands on his pockets. boy, it's really fucking unffair to be heavenly beautiful like this.

you pout. "i just want my yellow m&m's back."

and then. and then

he measures your face before taking his right hand out of his pocked, setting a yellow m&m on his tongue and closing his mouth.

"come get it." he replies nonchantly.

your body suddenly feels solid and your blood it's cathing on fire. there is no way this scene wasn’t a creation of your most desired dream that was buried deep in your consciousness.

"well?" he arches one eyebrow and you blink. twice.

you decide in a millisecond to fight fire with fire. you're not a confident person but you could pretend to be.

you get off the stool and walk around the counter, only to sit on it placing yourself not far from him. you feel his eyes piercing you until yours met his.

"someone told me once i don’t even do the bare minimum…" you motioned to the empty space where the jar used to be “why would i go there if it can come to me?”

you hold his gaze while he took four steps to arrive and place himself between your legs.

he’s fixated on your mouth while you decide your favorite color is the color of his hair.

his slight smirk felt like an illusion when he breathes in your mouth “you little minx.”

then his mouth was against yours.

his hand found the back of your head making he deepen the kiss deliciously firme. a kiss as intense and imposing and skilled as the boy.

your hands made their way to his hair and it felt like a fervent dream when his own hands were now behind your thighs pulling you illogically close to him. his tongue ardent against yours making your whole body melt in his and when you scrap where his hair meets his neck his throat makes a guttural noise. you wanted to overflow in him.

when you pulled apart you’re a bit dizzy.

“you taste like chocolate.” you blur out.

placing his hands on your jaw he touches featherly your mouth with his tumb.

“why don’t you let me find out what you taste like, brat?”

[karmicpunishment]

ranking hunting dogs by how well i think they can cook

tachihara. this might be a controversial rating but I do think the boy can cook. i mean with his ability he could multi-task a lot of the process at once. i don't think he's like a gourmet chef or anything but he's got a decent amount of recipes under his belt, and let's be honest, he totally had to learn to fend for himself cooking-wise. it was either learn or starve. whenever he spends time in the hunting dog base after a long time away he makes everyone a meal.

jouno. if he's in a kitchen that has the proper accessibility aides he's an even better cook than tachihara, but he struggles in unfamiliar spaces (understandably). he enjoys a lot of the technical processes of cooking and cares a lot about what goes into his food.

tecchou. okay hear me out here. tecchou is a perfectly fine chef in terms of the actual cooking. he can make rice and cook meat and chop vegetables, etc. he just has absolute dogshit taste in pairings and seasonings (as seen in canon). makes the most diabolical pairings.

fukuchi. this guy got shipped out to war at 18 and hasn't looked back since. too worried about the end of the world to learn how to cook rice. and he keeps accidentally chopping cutting boards into pieces with his ability.

teruko. love her to death, absolutely cannot cook to save her life. girl has never lived a life outside of being a soldier. she never saw the point in learning how to cook. tachihara offers to teach her a little and she nearly burns down their command center (she's secretly a little glad, she wants to keep eating his cooking). she is limited to only microwave use.

[ilydeku]

izuku loves to talk about you during interviews

- anything and every topic it will ALWAYS be about you

- the question won't even be remotely related to you and still izukus answer will revolve around "y/n, my wife!!" <3

- oh, the glint in his eyes, the peaking smile when he speaks about you, lover boyyy

- the media knows he LOVE LOVES you, they think it's funny for this big, confident, mighty hero to be reduced to sap when it comes to you

- it's like his whole is personality is HIS WIFE

- the journalists lowkey get so SICK of him for this, they don't want to invite him anymore 😭

- but they kinda have to, due to to his status as #1

"Good evening everyone and welcome Hero Talk! Tonight we'll be staring someone you all know and love, single handedly the greatest hero of all time, Deku! Alright, Deku how are you tonight?"

"Feeling pretty good! This is one of my wife's favorite shows, so I'm even more grateful to be here. And how are you?"

"Oh, same old. Really, just living. Now, we wanted to ask you some fun questions. Let's start with this one. Why did you want to become a hero?"

"Wow, haha! That really brings be back to my youth. When I was kid, my biggest influence was All Might, and he miraculously became my mentor. He was a good hero, and a good man. I wanted to be just like him: fearless, persevering, saving people with I smile. I would beg my mom everyday to watch this video on the computer of him saving a bunch a people. I was really swayed by All Might. I wanted to become a hero to make an impact in the world. I wanted to save people with a smile too."

"That sounds really endearing, Deku. I remember All Might's reign. He wasn't number one on the top charts all those years for nothing. So, did you ever think you'd be standing as Japan's top hero?"

"Well, it was never really my goal to become number one. That was Kacchan's- Dynamight's. My dream was, like I said, to become a hero and save others. But I have to say, it really is a blessing. I'd like to thank my Mom, All Might, my friends, and especially my wife for who I've become. My Mom has really done a lot for me growing up: protecting, encourage, and just always caring for me. All Might has kinda been that father figure for me when my Dad was away. My friends have shown me what it's like to work together and really be part of a heart. And my wife? Haha...I can't thank her enough for all the times she's been right by my side, even before we were together. Nothing I can say or do will ever be enough to express how much she means to me."

"Mm. Quite the supportive group. Your wife sounds like quite the lady!"

"She is. She's wonderful."

"Moving on to the next question, do you use social media often?"

"Occasionally, yes?? My wife uses it regularly, posting about us when we go out and stuff. It's mostly for her family to see how she's doing. She handles most of my official accounts. She says it's to be more appealing to the public, and I guess to show that there's more to heroes on the inside?? I'm not really sure, but I trust her process. Although, I'd rather be appealing to her alone."

"The public will always interested in a hero's private life! Now, Deku, what is your ideal setting of relaxation?"

"My wife doesn't like places that are too crowded or noisy, so maybe a cozy day at the beach?- but early in the morning or in the evening when the crowds calm down. Maybe a movie theatre, but days after the movie is released so it's just us together. Actually, a lazy day at home together is great too! Cooking meals and watching a movie on the couch? Really, any place is relaxing if my wife is with me."

(am i questioning Deku's wife or Deku!?) "How scenic! Those sound very fitting for you!! How about any restaurants?"

"Not really. My wife really knows how to cook, it's amazing! I love her home-cooked meals, so there's no way I'd go out of my way to a restaurant. But if my wife is feeling it, I'll be sure to make reservations."

"(sigh)"

"(smiling warmly)"

[sleepyangelkami]

CLOSE CALL b.blake

☆ WORD COUNT - 4.1K

BELLAMY BLAKE X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - based on the episode, 'the calm', season one, episode eleven. during the hunt for food with clarke and finn, you find yourself faced with death, lincoln saves you before it's too late but it's bellamy who finds you running for your life in the woods.

 ☆ WARNINGS - shy!reader, brief mention of insomnia, blood, gore, fire, grounders, saviour!lincoln, death threat, weapons, violence, assault, panic attack, anxiety, sexism, (3) uses of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

bellamy loved sharing a tent with you. he loved being able to brush the hair from your face as you slept soundly while he stared at the tent ceiling, wishing sleep would come over him. he loved waking up to you giggling, pushing him to get up as he slept half the day away.

but it was mornings like this, when he was met with the sight of you leaving that he groaned to himself, hands on his eyes. "where are you going, sweetheart?" pasting his softest tone.

you shimmied the wide-legged jeans up your legs, grinning as you swiped his jacket, not your own. "'m gonna go see octavia." she was currently in the smokehouse, cooking. it was some punishment for something devious she'd done with her grounder boyfriend, 'lincoln'.

"princess." his tone was a warning. "she's in the meat tent for a reason, it's not punishment if her best friend goes and visits her."

you weren't too sure why she was being punished, you weren't sure about a lot of things around here. all you knew was that the group weren't too fond of lincoln seeing as he was a grounder but he saved octavia's life once and had done nothing but be kind to her since. that was enough to get him in your good books.

"okay, then i'll be really mean to her." slipping on your shoes and sticking them out to him.

he rolled his eyes, sighing before sitting upwards. he bent down to tie the laces of your shoes, knowing that he should be up by now already. "no you won't."

you ignored him anyway, smiling as you seated yourself on his lap. he wore his black jeans, that you swore up and down about when he wore to sleep and was currently topless.

"i'll be back to you before lunch." pressing a chaste kiss to your lovers cheek, smiling softly.

you left the tent with a pep in your step, hearing bellamy yell the words, "and tell my sister to stop stealing my girlfriend!" but you only grinned, walking quicker.

everyone was out now, bellamy seemed to be the last awake. you smiled at clarke on your way, deeming her a good friend by now and opening the curtain to the meat tent.

"hi, o." octavia whipped around, grinning at you.

"finally." she scoffed. "next time you see my brother, tell him to stop hogging my best friend."

a smile forced its way on your lips at the mere thought. octavia and bellamy were so alike yet they'd never know, both too stubborn to ever admit it. your eyes trailed to the other person in the meat tent. it was john murphy, infamous around the camp right about now. "oh, hi murphy." a friendly smile gracing your lips. he helped you and many others out when you got sick, it was only fair to return the kindness.

"hey, y/n." though he didn't miss the way octavia nudged your side causing you to frown at her. it was safe to say that they weren't the biggest fans of each other right about now.

your eyes trailed across your best friend, seeing her face glisten. "do you want me to take your jacket? you're sweating."

"good idea, thanks." before the girl could shimmy the jacket off and pile it in your hands, the sound of someone else's voice filled the tent, not murphy's either.

"let's get this party smokin'!" del was a member of bellamy's posse, the one you weren't so fond of, tossing firewood into the fire causing you to frown.

octavia must have shared the same expression. "you don't want the fire too big so maybe just try to knock it down with some wet leaves." you were too embarrassed to open your mouth, inching your way closer to octavia. you never found yourself one to speak freely in front of others.

"you get that from your boyfriend?" the boy retaliated. "grounder-pounder."

but as shy as you may have been, your face suddenly contorted to a deeper frown. you looked at octavia who merely kept quiet, turning and fixing the hanging meat. luckily, murphy spoke instead. "she's right. a hot fire isn't gonna preserve the meat as well."

"can't take the heat? get out of the smokehouse." he looked between the two, knowing better than to throw around looks to you. "you should be kissing our asses for being back allowed in this camp."

"leave them alone." your shaky voice still managed to speak, you followed the boy despite octavia grasping your arm. "i'll tell bellamy."

the boy suddenly froze in his tracks. he turned to look at you, biting his lip with a scoff before turning back around, leaving.

you sighed awkwardly, wishing the entire encounter hadn't happened but as soon as you turned around, you felt smoke engulf you. del should have listened when octavia told him to lay it off with the leaves. you found arms engulfing you, octavia's familiar scent filling your nose. she all but dragged you out of the smokehouse.

the tent went up in flames faster than you could blink.

octavia passed you off to bellamy while a cough ripped at your throat. bellamy questioned his sister's wellbeing, she stated that she was fine, dragging a hand across her forehead. "you okay? are you hurt?"

you shook your head, coughing while bellamy wrapped a hand on the back of your head.

"this is all your fault." murphy stood, his hands outstretching as he pushed del backwards. "we told you it was too much wood!"

bellamy only let go of you once del and murphy began throwing swings at one another, as if it would change a thing. he split the two up, yelling at everyone to stop.

silence engulfed the group. you were next to octavia, a gentle hand rubbing on her back, her face covered in smoke. "bell, now what the hell are we gonna do?" she yelled causing everyone to turn. "that was all our food!"

the food was burned to a crisp. even when people managed to stop the fire, the food was already destroyed. clarke and bellamy looked over possibilities but they only had enough nuts and water to last them a week, two if they were lucky. clarke suggested they hunt.

it wasn't everyday that you were left outside the gates. "can i come?" you excitedly tittered, despite the appauled look on bellamy's face.

"i can take care of her." clarke spoke before he even got the chance to refuse. multiple times, you'd left the gates with clarke, talking on about things that she hadn't a notion about, chiming in with a hum every few seconds.

but she always took care of you, bellamy couldn't dispute with that. "with the entire grounder army out there?"

you slumped but clarke only raised her eyebrows. "and how do you expect her to defend herself if she's starving?"

he knew she was right, as much as he would have prefered to believe she wasn't.

he lined people up, splitting them into groups and handing out guns but keeping it so that one person per group had a gun, the last thing they needed was to run out of bullets right before the grounders hit them. truth was, bellamy didn't know if you were safer out there than you were in here.

you were paired with clarke, finn and a boy called myles.

"don't stay after dark, you hear me?" bellamy was zipping the zipper of his jacket around you but it was clarke who he handed the gun to. "you see grounders, you run back, i don't care who you leave behind."

"i'll be fine." you stretched out the last syllable, placing your hands on the man's shoulders as he was currently crouched in front of you. "y'worry too much."

"i have to worry." he assured. "you don't worry enough." he pressed a kiss to your head as you grinned, then leaning in and pressing one against your smile. "i love you."

"i love you too." you couldn't help but giggle, turning on your heel. "see you soon!"

bellamy watched with a twisting gut, feeling helpless but anxious all at once. he would have gone with you, watching your every move but being the leader of the camp made that incredibly hard for him. he sometimes wished he wasn't in charge, maybe then you could be his only priority. but if he didn't, who would?

"you know, i don't think you're actually allowed to say that." myles was a sweet kid, you supposed but he had some pretty out there views. the forest was quiet, too quiet while finn and clarke trailed above you.

you supposed hanging back with myles couldn't be worse than whatever conversation they were having. "why not? is it so bad to want a traditional marriage?"

"not at all." you answered swiftly. "but it's supposed to be a choice." by now, finn had already caught two squirrels. "the woman should be able to decide if that's what she wants and if you want that, then be with a woman who does too. you can't just force someone into being someone they're not."

"well, we wouldn't have this problem if women just stuck to what they were good at." the comment made you frown.

"myles, can you just be quiet for a second?" the words came from clark who shared the same look of distaste on her own face. you watched as she and finn studied the tracks on the ground, apparently belonging to a boar. "what is it?"

you followed where they sat, kneeling down beside finn to see what was wrong while myles hovered over you all. "these tracks..."

once you got a closer look, you could see how close together they were, how stuck in the mud they truly seemed. "they're perfect."

"too perfect." finn added, his eyes casting upwards. "we're the ones being hunted." someone had planted the boar tracks.

instantly, a shiver ran up your spine while myles stood up, pointing his gun as he glanced around the woods. "i don't see anything." as if on command, there was a swooping sound and suddenly, the arrow landed in his leg, the next in his shoulder.

you could have screamed, instead you gasped out the boy's name, looking to clarke for help. your hands instantly sat on the wound, covering it so blood didn't leak out, clarke sat at the other side, doing the same to his shoulder. "guys, come on, we gotta leave him." finn was adamant, rushing the girls forward.

"we can't just―" you didn't get to finish your sentence for something hard hit you over the head and suddenly you were laying flat on the ground, dizziness swirling your vision. you could vaguely make out a grounder coming from behind finn and doing the same, you didn't see what they did to clarke.

then everything became nothing at all.

it turned black.

𝜗𝜚

when you woke, you were being forced onto the ground. your hands were bound in front of you and your knees smashed against the cold gravel, you could feel the flesh break apart, little cuts littering against your skin. finn and clarke were in the same position, sharing glances of worry.

your brows were knit together as your eyes scanned where you were, some kind of cave though it also appeared to be a room. your first thought was bellamy, how worried the boy seemed when you left, you could only imagine the worry when you didn't return. you'd imagine by the lighting that it was well after sunset.

"we walked for about three miles." finn began to whisper. it appeared as though he and clarke hadn't been hit as hard as you had. "after crossing that creek, another two or so before we got to the road."

"i don't think it matters, finn." clarke's voice had a sense of desperation in it. "they didn't blindfold us which means they don't care what we saw. they're gonna kill us."

a cold feeling settled in the base of your stomach, bile rising to your throat. bellamy was right, it wasn't safe out here and you just had to go and get yourself killed.

two grounders pulled you up by your shirt, you let out a whimper as they shoved you forward, others doing the same to clarke and finn. they led you down the cave's hallway and into another room where other grounders were waiting then shoving you right back on the ground.

a woman stood in front of you, wearing a long black coat. she unleashed her sword, suddenly stalking towards clarke. you made a move. "wait." you tried, shoving yourself in front of her but you were quickly hauled back by one of the grounders.

but the woman didn't kill her, on the contrary, she cut the ropes on her wrist, untying her. they shoved clarke to her feet, uncovering a girl who laid across a table, gasping out in pain. "help her. if she dies, they die." you gulped, turning to finn who shared the look of fear. "her name is tris."

"i can't do this." clarke looked at the body, turning her so she could see her face. "i don't have any equipment."

"we'll provide you with what we can."

"why do you think i can save her?"

"lincoln told her." finn chimed in.

"yes." the woman answered. "our healer is gone, there's nothing we can do for her. for their sake, i hope you can."

"clarke." finn's eyes were glued to the blonde's, adoration filling them. "you can do this."

the woman and the rest of the grounders began to clear the room until clarke's voice stopped them. "wait. what happened to her?"

a dark look was in the woman's eyes. "she was on the bridge when your bomb exploded. you did this to her."

𝜗𝜚

alcohol stained your hands, blood too.

"it's as sharp as it's gonna get." grounders now filled the room, watching as clarke did everything she could to save the girl. she was hit in the chest and was loosing blood, she needed more and desperately so.

"okay, thanks." clarke snapped the syringe from finn's hand who'd been sharpening it against the ground.

you were busy holding a cloth to the girl's chest, hoping to stop the loss of blood but it wasn't doing a great job. clarke stained the needle with bleach, hoping to rid it of any bacteria while your eyes scanned the girl's face. she couldn't have been older than fifteen, how could anyone send her to battle in the first place?

she was a child.

"okay." she stood in front of the 'leader' who went by the name of anya. "i'm gonna need your blood."

a grounder placed his hand in front of anya, pulling her away. "no." was his answer.

"you're from the same tribe, it's the best match we're gonna get." clarke was adamant but so was anya, neither of them willing to take the risk.

"clarke, she's gonna die." your hands were shaking desperately, tears floating your eyes. "use mine! just use mine!" clarke took you up on the offer, pulling your hands from the girl's body and sticking the syringe into your arm. you winced as she sucked the blood into the syringe, you instantly felt sort of dazed but shook it from your head.

clarke handed the syringe to finn and she searched the girls arm. "i can't find a vein." frantically searching her. "she's clamping down, she's lost too much blood."

your faint voice could be heard. "clarke..."

"oh, come on." desperately trying to save her.

but you shook your head, icy fear withering you away. "clarke, she's not breathing."

a simple sentence that silenced them all.

clarke backed away, meeting in the middle between you and finn while anya stepped forward with her knife, cutting a braid from the girl's hair and nodding to one of the grounders. he picked the girl up, gently as possible, leading her out of the room.

you couldn't bear to look, chest feeling hot.

anya suddenly turned to the grounders in the room. "take them away." eyeing you who held your tied hands close to your chest. "kill them."

your breath caught in your chest. "wait." tears filled your eyes as one of the grounders grabbed you, hauling you upwards. "wait, wait, wait, no, no, no, please." he harshly pushed you forward, carrying you away.

"no, no, no, no, please!" one grounder held clarke back as she pushed at him, trying to get to you. "no, i did everything i could, please!"

but the sound of her voice suddenly faded out as they carried you away. you pushed at them, thrashing in their arms but it was no use, the grounder hauled you away from the room. he suddenly set you down, holding your tied wrists down as his face came close to yours. "don't move." his gruff voice could be heard as you looked away, tears filling your eyes.

another grounder walked behind you while he walked in front of you, leading you to the front room of the cave. your mind suddenly turned to bellamy, how worried he must be. you could see the darkness from the entrance.

you couldn't help it, you ran.

but you didn't get far. instantly, you were picked up by the grounder from behind. you whimpered, thrashing against him but it was no use, he shoved you inside the room, practically throwing you. your head hit off the stone floor and you brought your hand to the back of your hair, metallic liquid staining it.

you pulled it away, shaky eyes spotting the blood dripping down your fingertips.

"w-wait." tears pooled your eyes, fear lacing your tone. "please, please, i didn't do anything wrong, please don't do this―"

you gasped out as a grounder took a fist of your hair into his hand. "your punishment shall be death by a thousand cuts." and before you could take in what he said, you felt a knife scratch across your face, cutting your cheek.

you cried out, hand coming to grab your bloodied cheek as you dragged your body backwards, crawling into yourself. a fat tear rolled down your cheek as your body caved in, huddling your knees up to yourself.

it was no use to cry out and beg them to stop, the grounders were simple beings, once given an order, all they could do was follow it. but still, your mouth uttered the whisper, "please." at the same time as you felt a slash against your left leg.

suddenly, a sword crashed through the grounders head. this time, you screamed. the sight was horrific, blood spewed outwards and you held a hand over your mouth. the body dropped to reveal lincoln, the man who adored your best friend more than anything.

"natrona." the grounder suddenly whispered, the word meant 'traitor'. he yelled out and charged at lincoln who pushed him backwards, guarding him against the wall.

lincoln stabbed a sword through the grounder's abdomen, who yelled out again. "go!" lincoln yelled to you, staring at your terrified form. "go, now!"

and you had no choice.

a whimper left your lips as you ran forwards, lungs collapsing. you worried for lincoln, not wanting to leave him alone but if you stayed, it'd meant lincoln did it all for nothing.

your feet ran towards the exit, tears swamping you as your legs moved at a super speed, running the fastest you'd ever run in your life. never, had your calves burned like this and never had your lungs ached so horribly. all you could see was the moment you were thrown into the room, the horrifying look on the grounder's face. you'd do anything to escape it.

running as though your life depended on it, and perhaps it did.

you managed to look backwards, worried something or someone was following you but as you looked back, you felt yourself run into something solid.

someone.

your mouth opened to scream at the same time as a hand wrapped around your mouth clamping down on it as he turned you to hide behind a tree.

your eyes opened to reveal bellamy, staring at you with eyes full of concern. "what happened?" he frantically searched you as his hand left your mouth. "why are you bleeding? where are the others?"

"b-bells." your cry shook your voice, eyes turning behind you, you swore you could see people between the trees, though they vanished as soon as they appeared. "we have to go, we have to leave. they're-they're gonna find us."

bellamy had never seen you so shaken, shallow breaths making way to your throat but not seeming to find their way out. "hey, hey, look at me." his hands grabbed at either side of your face. even in the darkness, you could make out his pretty dark curls and his enlarged brown eyes. "you're okay, 's just me, you're okay, sweetheart."

and you couldn't hold yourself back any longer. you threw your arms around him, holding him close as nervous sobs wracked your body, chest heaving out as if it were on fire.

"'s okay, you're fine." his hands smoothed your back, doing his best to reassure you but by no means did your shallow breaths slow. "you're safe, princess."

"can we go?" you pulled away, nervous eyes scanning the forests. "please, bells, i wanna go home."

he couldn't deny your scratchy voice or blotchy cheeks. "okay, okay let's go, angel." he helped you walk though you stumbled better than you walked. his eyes glanced down at the blood seeping through your jeans. "your leg." he didn't bother to inspect it, merely hooking his hands around your legs and lifting you up.

your head lolled against his shoulder, arms around his neck.

you began to feel dizzy but bellamy carrying you seemed much better than trying to run again. still, your eyes danced everywhere they could, searching high and low for a grounder, a surprise attack.

you must have run far for it didn't take long for the clear vision of the camp to fall into line's view. as soon as the gates opened and bellamy carried you inside, you found air falling back into your lungs.

"y/n?" the sound of octavia's voice was the first to fill your ears. you must have looked a wreck, covered in blood, carried limp in bellamy's arm. "oh my god, y/n. what happened?" though her voice was directed at her brother, not you.

"it was lincoln." your scratchy voice suddenly spoke, causing her brows to crease. "lincoln saved me."

her eyes fluttered and questions began rolling in. raven suddenly stepped forward, demanding to know where finn was, others began to question about clarke. suddenly, you couldn't breathe again. "okay, listen up!" bellamy's voice rang through the camp, silence followed. "everyone get back to your tents! we'll continue the search in the morning!"

he didn't wait for them to follow his orders, knowing they would anyway. instead, he carried you towards a tent.

everything was suddenly spinning, nothing seemed to make sense. black dots began to cloud your vision and you couldn't see which tent he had carried you to. you could see a woman, very vaguely and he was speaking to her, at least he looked like he was. his lips were moving but you couldn't register the words coming out of his mouth.

the girl must have been something to do with a medic because you could feel her lifting your head up and inspecting between the strands of your hair. you saw bellamy's face contort, but it was turning to mush, practically a mere squiggle now.

he stepped backwards and your hand suddenly reached him.

he looked back to your face, eyes softening. it was apparent that you weren't really there and how could he blame you? the blood loss was already obvious.

"don't..." it seemed like a chore to get syllables to pass your lips but nonetheless, you willed yourself to move, grasping his large fingers in your hand. "don't leave me."

"'m not going anywhere, princess." and to prove it, he sat against the chair next to you, letting the woman inspect your wounds. "okay? you can rest now, i'm right here."

through the haze, his voice was the only thing your mind could grasp to.

you slowly nodded as your eyes fluttered shut.

"you're safe, sweetheart." being the last thing you heard before everything went black.

main masterlist/bellamy's masterlist

[withercat1]

Some observations about Mouthwashing

Spoilers ahead!

Ok so this game has got me so hyperfixated that I’m using Tumblr for the first time in like a year just to keep a tab with the Mouthwashing hashtag open so I can refresh it throughout the day and see what people are posting. That and my tab full of Danny AOD gifs. Anyway.

So I wanted to share some things I’ve noticed because I haven’t seen anyone else mention them and I want to seem smart and observant.

First off is the name Curly. Like it’s kind of a weird name. It’s unclear whether this is his first or last name because the writing on his id card is so burned and so cursive. It is worth noting that Curly is an actual name, meaning “strong man” or “great strength”. What stands out to me though, is that Laika, the dog who was sent into space, was actually named Kudrayavka originally, which means “Little Curly” (and a little fun fact, Laika means “barker”). Thematically, both of these make sense. I don’t know which one was intentional, if either. It’s entirely possible Curly as a name is a reference, or just a name the devs liked.

Secondly, Anya’s design is based off of Shelley Duvall in The Shining, most recognizable to most people for the scene where she’s hiding in the bathroom while Johnny breaks down the door. That being her most iconic scene really reminds me of Anya’s deal with doors, being unable to lock the door to her quarters, and then locking herself in medical while the others try to get her out.

Thirdly, and the one I find most interesting, is one of the videos that plays on the tv after the storage room is opened. It’s about atoms, and states that atoms make up everything, like shoes, and ships, and sealing wax, and cabbages, and kings. I don’t know if this video was chosen by the devs specifically for this quote, but for the purposes of my rambling I’m going to assume it was. This quote is a direct reference to The Walrus and the Carpenter, a poem by Lewis Carroll.

The poem is hyperlinked above (hopefully, Idrk how to use Tumblr), but I just want to post the segment that the quote from the video comes from.

“The time has come,' the Walrus said,

      To talk of many things:

Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —

      Of cabbages — and kings —

And why the sea is boiling hot —

      And whether pigs have wings.'”

To briefly summarize the whole poem, though I highly recommend reading it for yourself as well because it’s really good, the Walrus and the Carpenter come across a group of oysters and ask them to join them for a walk. The oysters do, and the Walrus and the Carpenter walk with then a bit, before finally stopping, where the lines above happen. Right after this, the oysters ask to take a break, and the Walrus and the Carpenter agree to let them have the break - because they plan on eating the oysters. “And why the sea is boiling hot,” I believe, refers to the oysters being boiled in order to prepare them for consumption.

The Walrus says he pities the oysters, and wipes his tears away, while actively partaking in the consumption of the oysters. The poem ends with a statement that all of the oysters have been devoured.

So! Let’s focus on the Walrus here. Someone who leads innocents astray, boils/cooks them, and then eats them, all the while crying about how awful it is while doing nothing to abstain from eating them. Sound familiar? Sound like that guy we all hate? Little bit! I don’t know if it was an intentional bit of symbolism or not, but it’s super big brained if it was.

That’s all for now but I’m sure I’ll think of some more things later. I love this game. If u made it this far I really appreciate it, feel free to comment and let me know what you think

Also let me know how to tag a post as spoilers properly, I seriously do not use this site

[rubiehart]

JJ and reader sneak away on the island of Poguelandia to get some… “alone time” iykwim

when obx3 first came out this was like my main scenario to sleep lol.. i love u nonnie

all the pogues sit around the makeshift fire, faces illuminated and cheeks blushed from the heat, listening to cleo’s bizarre stories from before she fell in with all of you, but you’re not really listening.

you adjust yourself on the log you’d used for seating, digging your toes into the sun warmed sand as you eyes jj across the flames, he was focused on cooking whatever he’d caught that day, the only thing you were focused on was the way his biceps flexed, deep blues occasionally flitting over and meeting your own eyes before correcting himself when he realised he’d been caught, smirk playing on his lips.

you’d had this arrangement far before this misfortune, stranded on an abandoned island in the middle of nowhere. you’d sit on his work bench, watching him fix up his bike, popsicle slotted between your lips as you watched him. before he’d had enough for your teasing and bent you over the warm metal, denim shorts pulled down to your knees as he pounded into you.

but something had changed ever since you landed on the island, he was so much softer, kinder, a lot less demanding when he’d fuck you. he really took his time with you when he could, he’d make you feel so good, it didn’t happen as much as it used to back home, so you’d learned to appreciate it a lot more when it did.

you clinged onto his tan shoulders, outgrown fingernails digging into the muscle as he finger fucked you behind a tree, the squelch of your wet cunt the only sound heard as he clamped a ringed hand over your mouth, willing you to be quiet with praise as he hit that spot over and over again. his jaw clenched as he kept half on eye on pope and cleo not too far away collecting fruits for your breakfast, fixing you up and giving you a quick peck before sending you off back to the group, strolling back a few after you like nothing had happened.

that was last week, and he hadn’t even touched you since. to say you were desperate was an understatement. sure, the island was desolate but that didn’t mean it was big, and sneaking away to fuck yourself and risk getting caught wasn’t something you wanted to do. so you thought eye fucking was enough of a hint for him, spoiler, it wasn’t.

he kept you on the edge of your seat all night, he knew what he was doing and he loved the power. concealing his grin when he caught you discretely rub your thighs together whenever you’d look a him.

you got what you wanted soon enough, when everyone was pretty much knocked out on their makeshift leaf mattresses, stepping over john b cautiously as you made your way up the sandy bank where you knew he would be.

you were finally at peace when he had you splayed out against a large tree, legs spread around his his head, his matted blonde tresses tickling your inner thighs as he devoured you like a starved man. his cocky persona dropped as he practically begged for you, even though he already had you in your head.

“wanted to taste this fuckin’ pussy all day.” he mutters, tongue dipping into your clenching hole as he brings two fingers up to steadily rub at your clit, your back arching beautifully against the rough bark of the tree, hand forcefully gripping his hair and keeping him right where you wanted him.

“strutting around in that little top, you dunno’ what you do to me, infront of all our fuckin’ friends.” he admits, skilled fingers punching your g-spot, a loud moan leaving your lips as your climax approached, immediately recoiling back into yourself as the sound echoes over the extensive ocean surrounding you, hoping your friends didn’t hear.

jj sensed your sudden shyness and tapped your thigh, one hand shaking up to grasp at your boob, calloused thumb teasing your nipple as he circles your throbbing but with his tongue. “nah- let it all out, wanna hear how good i make you feel.”

“yeah- gooooood girl. you got it.”

[waitingonher]

ELECTRIC TOUCH — [jason grace dating headcanons]

author's note: i need 2024 to be THE year. 2023 did me soooo dirty. im praying

dating JASON GRACE would be like dating someone from a regency era romance novel…he’s just SUCH a hopeless romantic but he would rather die than admit it.

in the initial first few weeks of dating, jason was sosososooooo shy about pda/physical touch. it’s not that he was uncomfortable, he LOVES physical touch, but he had just gone so long without it that he wasn’t used to it. but eventually, he warms up to it…and now he can’t go without having at least one part of him touching you 😭 

when it came to things like hugs, kisses, handholding, etc. jason would always wait for you to initiate it because he was so anxious about making you uncomfortable ?? fjsldfjs 

but when you communicated that he didn’t need to ask/wait for you all the time, jason started initiating things more. even still, he occasionally gets nervous to even hold your hand? like wdym you’ve been dating for over six months and you still get nervous doing simple couple things 😭 it’s very endearing though 

chivalry is NOT dead,, and it’s because of jason LMAO. he’s the type to swap shoes with you even though you’re wearing heels that are 3x too small for him, but hey, at least your feet don’t hurt anymore!

jason’s also hellbent on carrying things for you, opening doors for you, pulling out/pushing in chairs for you, etc… GOD HE’S SO CUTE. 

since dating him, you don’t think you’ve ever touched a single door or car handle when he’s with you. 

jason is NOT afraid to advocate or stand up for you, especially if you’re more on the quiet & non-confrontational side. if you’re in a group setting and someone interrupts you, he’s making sure you get your chance to say what you wanted to say. and he doesn’t do it in a way that leaves you embarrassed, he’s very very classy with it! 

if you’re a big music person, jason will literally learn your favorite artist’s entire discography so you guys have another thing to talk about. 

you guys also have a shared playlist of “your songs” and he’s so serious about it 😭 if jason hears a song that even remotely reminds him of you, he’s going to the ends of the earth to figure out what it’s called. 

rip to anyone around him if shazam doesn’t work! he’s gonna send voice messages to your big group chat humming the tune, but he’s so tone deaf that no one knows the song…and his search history is just variations of “song that goes du du ooh du ooh du du ooh” a for effort though babes…

jason’s love languages are definitely acts of service and quality time. over the years and throughout the many battles he’s fought, he’s come to realize that all he wants to do when he comes home is just spend time with his loved ones. 

after a busy day, you’ll come home to find your laundry folded, bed sheets washed & freshly made, along with a sweet little note from jason <3 

your guys’ thing are writing notes to each other. considering his and your busy schedule, you’ll write and leave tiny notes around the house for each other to find. it’s one of the many reasons why jason gets up in the morning. 

he loves coming home to you after a long day to simply melt in your arms. there’s just something so soothing about cuddling with you after a busy day. 

it does not matter where you are, you guys could literally be cleaning the camp toilets and he’d still be able to find the fun in it. you’re his home, and he’d follow you wherever you go. 

if you play sports, you already know he’s showing up to ALL your games. it doesn’t matter if it’s pouring rain or if it’s hours away, he’s absolutely determined to show his support. jason even makes posters with your jersey number and when you have big tournaments he’ll show up with posters of your face 😭 the refs are SO tired of jason help

i feel like if he really tried, jason would be a good cook. 

one day you sent him a recipe you saw online saying you wanted to make it with him, but then he decided to make it himself to surprise you. and it was actually so good??? 

JASON IN A “KISS THE COOK” APRON OMFG. that’s what you got him for his birthday and every single time without fail, he’ll wear it when he’s cooking. 

one of his hidden talents is that he’s super good at origami. he originally picked it up because he heard it was a good stress reliever, but now he also does it for you <3 

he loves your reaction when he gives you little paper rings or an origami version of your favorite animal! 

this guy DREAMS of domesticity. he’s always been the type to date to marry, and that’s just what he intends to do with you! even though you guys are still young, he’s been planning your proposal sfjfls

tell me why he already knows what kind of ring he wants to get you… omg. 

he really wants to just settle down with you in new rome. but honestly, he’s willing to do anything as long as you’re at his side. 

expect flowers from jason at least once a month! he even keeps one flower so he knows when it’s time to get you a new bouquet. and if he’s away, he’ll get one of his friends to deliver it! 

i have this headcanon that the aphrodite cabin teams up with the hephaestus cabin to throw a really elaborate party, essentially like prom. anyways, jason would go all out for your promposal jfdsls i feel like he would either do a super funny poster/proposal like y’know that one guy who did that medieval promposal 😭 yeah well jason would do something like that but like...more roman... LMFAO him pulling up to your place in a chariot 

or he would do something super super intricate and planned out…like a fancy picnic and then he’d have the fauns arrange fireflies to spell out “prom?” when it’s dark out. 

ugh! jason grace the man that you are… <3 best bf ever,, i can confirm btw

[hanbinniesmango]

ooohh i like this idea!! breeding and/or pregnancy nct dream

oooh good one,,,

big on jaemin and jeno for this one🫶🏾

jaemin would be so smooth talking and gentle, but when you bring up breeding, something like clicks in him. you can tell in his demeanor that he’s really into stuff like this, he’d make you cum multiple times, giving you sweet kisses each time you came, playing with your chest whilst. would def think you’re so cute, you getting drunk on his cock while he pumps you full of his cum, probably would hold your hand while fucking so roughly into you. for the pregnancy part he would always be so gentle with you, try his best to never leave your side in general. he would be all over you, hands rubbing your stomach, kissing your face, anything. would say something along the lines of, “you look so sexy like this..” while kissing your stomach.

for jeno he has this like primal instinct to breed you at certain times, but get a bit scared since you both haven’t brushed upon the topic yet. once you bring it up hes excited to finally do it. weeks later he comes home from work angry and feels the need to take it out on you which you happily comply with. he’s kissing and sucking spots onto you, your whimpers and whines fueling him. once he’s inside you he’s going crazy. gripping your hips while he slams into you, the sounds of sex loud in the room. he’s groaning and growling, moaning out curses as you squeeze around him. for the pregnancy part he’d also be one to be gentle and do everything for you, cook for you, clean around the house, he won’t make you lift a finger. would want to fuck you again after your first child, seeing you mingle with you baby. “lemme stuff you full again baby, ‘m wanna see you swell with my cum again..”

send me a kink and i’ll reply with which member(s) of each group has it 🫶 groups include- zerobaseone, boynextdoor, nct dream, seventeen, and ateez!

[egglain]

Go Ahead & Cry (I’d Wipe Away All Your Tears)

incl.: nanami, choso, toji, gojo, geto, sukuna

summary: for a group of men who kill for a living, they’re awfully sweet… most of the time. AKA: how the jjk men comfort you

a/n: ngl i’m writing this bc i’m finally processing the US election results & i just… can’t deal. my heart goes out to all of you. pls take care of yourselves & enjoy the drabbles 🫶

Nanami

Nanami would be the first to notice something is off.

Whether you’re both at home and you’re just a bit too quiet, or he hasn’t heard from you by his lunch break while at work, something is distinctly off.

He wouldn’t be the nosy type, or the type to press. He’d bring home a sweet treat and a sentimental good (a potted flower, a stuffed animal, something that reminded him of you) without a word.

He wouldn’t pity you; far from it. And he’d never want to make you feel like that. So he’d leave the gifts on the coffee table and greet you with a kiss to the forehead, like always.

He’d sit in silence with you as if nothing was awry— allow you to feel your emotions. He’d put on a movie you like, something mindless and upbeat, without asking. Drag you to his chest and hold you there, keeping you warm and grounded in his touch.

If the waterworks start up, he’d rub your back with a large hand and press kisses to the part of your hair.

“That’s it. Get it out. I know.”

Choso

Choso is either too emotionally in-tune or completely clueless until the tears start.

But when he knows you’re upset, he feels it too.

He gets it wrong a lot of the time, at the beginning— tries to pry the cause out of you so he can minimize it. In his defence, he does it with good intentions; tries to help you see that the perceived threat is small in the greater scheme of things, that everything will work out.

But when the tears start welling, he knows he’s fucked up.

And god, is he so sweet trying to fix things.

“So sorry—“

He’d kiss the salty tears off your cheeks without hesitation.

“How do I make it stop?”

His bleeding heart is his biggest weakness and his greatest strength.

You wouldn’t have to lift a finger for the rest of the day, as he tries to make things up to you. Cooking (though he burns the bottom of the pan), cleaning (though he spills the food and has to clean again), and cuddles would be the itinerary.

Though he loves to be little spoon, he’d let you rest in his arms as long as you need it. And once you find a spot in his arms, he wouldn’t dare move.

Toji

Toji is not great with words. Or gifts. Or quality time, really.

Despite his best intentions, he always manages to fuck it up somehow. Usually by minimizing your feelings with a “what now?” or a “‘s not a big deal.” or a “nothin’ to cry over.”

It’s not his fault you cry over the little things & that you look so cute doing it. Those fat tears and reddened cheeks scratch the sadistic part of his brain so good.

That being said, he’s learned what you like over the years. Even stopped scoffing when he senses you’re feeling down.

No, he’s developed a plan.

At the first signs of distress (he’s gotten really good at recognizing these), he’s got you in his arms. If he’s at work, you better bet he’s speeding things up and hauling his ass back.

He wrestles you into his big clothes; don’t even think about fighting him on this. He wants you comfy and cozy. He’d be setting you up on the couch, dragging the comforter down from the bedroom to wrap you up. He’d sit there with you for hours, massaging your feet or calves and ordering food in. Your favourite fast food— and a whole lotta ice cream.

Don’t take advantage of his kindness though; he’s still Toji. Any snide comments, and he’d be quick to snap back.

“Shut up n’ let me take care of ya.”

Gojo

Gojo’s a little… misguided when cheering people up most of the time. That is, unless you find his goofy antics comforting.

He’s known for draping himself over shoulders obnoxiously, pinching and pulling cheeks, and light jabs that crack (only) him up.

When that doesn’t work, it’s a quick fix— thanks to the seemingly unending pit of his black card.

Gojo Satoru, at his core, is a gift giver.

Nothing pleases him more than sharing things with you that he thinks will bring you joy— whether that’s an expensive physical present or a luxurious vacation abroad.

He’s wrapped around your little fingers and a sniffle would have him buckling at the knees and fumbling for his wallet.

While this might look like a cop out— a way to get out of emotional intelligence duty— it’s just one part of his approach. The man is actually quite sensitive and understanding once you dig beneath the layers of persona. And he can be surprisingly mature— though he’d never want to show that side to most of the world.

He’d always listen to your yapping, validating your feelings— he’d take your side always. And he is a pro at shit-talking. At the end of it, you always come out feeling a little bit better. A little bit stronger.

You are the strongest together, after all.

Geto

Suguru is a problem-solver.

He’d sit and motion for you to lay your head on his thighs. Long elegant fingers would make gentle work of your roots and scalp, and the tension would be melting away. When you’re relaxed enough to breathe, he’d want to hear all the venting.

“Now do you want solutions or just my ear?”

He’s your rock; always puts things into perspective if you ask. He’s always got advice— though sometimes clouded by bias. Still, it’s nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of. Someone who actually listens.

Understands.

The flipside, however, is the darkness you find in him. He understands what to do because he’s hurt too. You can see it in the way he carries himself, in the bags under his eyes and the shake of his hands on the bad days.

But you care for him like he cares for you— braid his hair back, let him talk it out, gift whatever advice you can muster.

And as soon as you’re both feeling better, you’d be getting crêpes with the girls.

Sukuna

The King of Curses does not understand human sadness.

Perhaps he had empathy for it, centuries ago, before he became the Two-faced Spectre.

But now, seeing you upset, all he can think of is how pathetic tears look in reddened eyes.

He’d wipe them away with a big thumb, clicking his tongue.

“Unsightly, pathetic little thing.”

Yet, the way he speaks down to you holds a softness. A protective nature he rarely gives voice to.

He’d treat you like a porcelain doll; a prized possession. No measure was inconvenient when it came to appeasing you— though he’d be quick to reprimand entitlement. And vehemently deny any sort of feeling towards you.

When the tears come, he’d be signalling for Uraume to draw a bath and cook your favourite. You’d find your room tidied, trinkets left on the foot of your bed as if dragged in by a wild animal— an ornate dagger, gold jewellery, incense.

He wasn’t one to demonstrate affection— but he’d keep you close on the tough days. Whether it be making a seat for you on one of his hulking thighs or allowing you to sleep in his quarters, he’d allow you to do as you please.

[penelopepine]

Maybe I'll write this later:

Poly!141 x Bull Rider Reader

Poly!141 go on a vacation to a cabin owned by Laswell. She let's them know that the county fair is in town the same time as them, and that they should check it out. Says they should experience this aspect of the states. Mentions at the very least they should go and watch the bull riders.

Poly!141 go to the fair. Price thought it sounded interesting, but didn't care either way. Gaz thought that it was a fun idea; definitely wanted to go. Soap was the most hype about going; he was down to go the moment he knew about it. Ghost didn't really want to go. The only reason he did was because he couldn't say no to Gaz's big brown eyes or Soap's pretty begging.

Poly!141 do all of them normal fair activities. They checked out the cooking competition. Trying all the chilies, pies, dips, and cakes. Making bets between themselves on which ones will win.

They play a few of the fair games. Price absolutely dominates at the balloon darts game, and wins prizes for all of the others. Soap tries to his best to win at ring toss; he REALLY wants one of those giant stuffed animals. He doesn't care how impractical carrying that thing is going to be. Try as he may he can't do it though. Soap had given up, and decided to give his last throw to Gaz; who won in one throw! This both delighted and infuriated Soap. Ghost was totally ready to just buy or steal the giant stuffed animal if he hadn't made it.

Poly!141 are finally able to watch the fair shows later during the day. The first they watch is the ax throwing competition. Ghost spends the whole time judging their stances and forms. While also silently admiring the strength that some of them have. Gaz can't stop thinking about how if Price wore a flannel shirt that he would fit right in, and they'd probably lose him in the crowd.

After that is when they go and watch the bull riding competition. Soap is immediately invested in what's happening, and is convinced that he could do this as well. Price is impressed; watching these men and woman willing get bucked around while they could easily get hurt. Ghost spends his time holding Soap down trying to tell him that he can't go down there and ask to do that. Gaz wants to try this for himself, but he knows better than to try it on a real animal. Looks up places they could go and ride a mechanical bull instead.

Poly!141 are instantly drawn to you when you make your appearance. Your smile was dazzling, and they definitely weren't looking at how good your ass looks in those pants.

Bull Rider Reader is an experienced rider. They've been performing since a young age, and has made a bit of a name for themselves within the community. They know how to make a show, and wow the crowd.

Once the show is done Bull Rider Reader runs into Poly!141. Soap is asking questions about how it feels to ride a bull, and how could he do that too. Gaz is saying that they were very entertaining to watch, and asking how long they've been doing this. Ghost is mostly silent; only saying that they did good and wondering to himself if bull riding would come in handy in other aspects of life. Specifically the bedroom. Price is the one who asks Bull Rider Reader if they live around the area or if they traveled for this event.

Poly!141 invite Bull Rider Reader to watch the fireworks with them, and later asks if they would want to hang out a different day since they're still on vacation for a few more days.

Bull Rider Reader knows a bar with a good mechanical bull, and offers to teach them some tips. Poly!141 is instantly down and ready to learn.

The next day everyone meets up and the amount of flirting is through the roof on both sides. Light touches and sexual innuendos are at a none stop with this group. The night ends with everyone having ridden the bull; even Ghost who was easily the best and managed to stay on the longest out of everyone.

Everyone leaves feeling happy and a new number in their phones.

[struwberrii]

iwaizumi headcanons??? :33

iwaizumi headcanons ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

cute headcanons for the cutest hot-head :33 (mainly couple stuff)

he’s a ‘tough guy�� until your name is brought up then he’s the biggest softie ever and wants to hear all about you

when you tell him a story about, say a rude cashier, he gets mad for you

like your convo will switch from you telling him a story to you having to calm him down 😭

he’s super good at mario kart, but he’ll let you win unless you get cocky

i feel like he’d a really good cook, he also makes super good salads

(he’s randy marsh in that one gordon ramsay south park episode)

he makes you breakfast often too

i feel like he’d be half filipino or full idk

tease him!! he gets so embarrassed and flustered it’s adorable

if you go to the gym with him he will literally bench you effortlessly

his love language is def physical touch and acts of service

loves watching horror movies

posts gym tiktoks

super protective over you, like he is so safe to be around (idk how to word that sorry)

loves play fights

i think sometimes he’d pretend to ‘play fight’ with oikawa and will literally body slam him to the ground 😭

he’s always so careful with you, he always makes sure he doesn’t do anything to make you mad or upset

unintentionally a dry texter, like if your convo isn’t super deep he’ll hit you with a 👍 or an “ok”

he’s definitely a phone call kinda guy

i feel like his breath always smells so good, like he always has gum on him and has a really good tooth care routine

minty fresh breath 🤑

he’s always pushing you to do your best, like he’ll motivate you to get out of bed and go out with him

he gives me big dog vibes, like i feel like he’d have a rottweiler or something

he’s 100% a nike wearer

board game enthusiast

i feel like he’d lowkey be a nerd, he probably has like a pokémon card binder or has a dnd group

i feel like he’d HATE sleeping at other peoples houses, every sleepover is at his place

has a super high spice tolerance, he loves spicy chips and ramen but doesn’t eat it often bc he’s scared the red 40 will kill him

has a bad habit of putting other peoples happiness before his own

i feel like he’s very… okay…. at skateboarding

loves going on vacations, like he loves traveling

his entire instagram feed is just his food, his travels, his dog and you

[with-my-calamitous-love]

I DONT LIKE ANYONE EXCEPT SOMETIMES YOU

shinso x reader

thoughts about how shinso would act in a relationship. same premise as the kirishima ver.

inspired by backburner

hitoshi shinso, who’s facetimes with you always run late into the night. you ramble on about your day while he hums in response, knowing that you know he’s not the talkative type. he never asks “how was your day?” he always says “tell me about your day.” because he really, truly wants to hear about your day. you could have cured a disease or simply just gotten out of bed, and he’d still want to hear every single detail simply because its from you.

hitoshi shinso, who loves to cook. only you're aware of it, because he doesn't always like sharing personal details with others, but you never complained- it just means more for you. you're always the first person that gets to try his food, though he claims you're not a very good critic. but you can't help it, everything he makes tastes so good. and with every compliment you shower him in, he'll hit you with a 'yeah, yeah, whatever.' and then next moment, make you more so you can always stay fed during long days at UA and long hours during hero-training. its his silent way of telling you he loves you.

hitoshi shinso, whose cats love you more than they love him. he has three triplets, a black british short hair, a siamese, and a grey ragdoll- pepper, lexi, and mustache- he absolutely hates the last name, but he had just adopted the kitten and you named it for its white streak right below its nose. he'll deny it forever, but he gets pouty and huffs in annoyance whenever he sees the cats run to you, even after he's fed and taken care of them for all of their lives. but he also cant deny the way his heart skips a beat whenever he seems them cuddled up with you on his bed, wearing one of his big t-shirts. it softens his heart in a way that nothing else does- your love fills his heart more strongly and more passionately than anything does.

hitoshi shinso, who is the closed-off, funny but quiet dickhead of his friend group. he's known for his out-of-pocket roasts at the right times and his nonchalant nature that contrasts with the loud, spunkiness of his multicolored-haired friends. but with you, he softens. the few times he's brought you along with him to movie night or training sessions, you've softened his heart enough for the love in him to seep out towards others as well. whenever you crack a joke, make someone else at the table smile, and draw laughs and happiness from their chests, a blush blooms across his cheeks. obviously, he fell for you, how could he not?

hitoshi shinso, who's favorite activity with you is your sunday-ritual. you'll wake up together, either in the same bed or over the phone, and bike down to the coast. you'll bug him about wearing a helmet, but he always complains that it ruins your hair. he'd never admit that its because he thinks you're absolutely adorable when you dote on him. afterwards he'll share a smoothie with you- he hates all the flavors except for mixed berry, which is the one he always insists on getting. he hates the the overpricing for what the product actually is, but loves the smile it puts on your face after a tiring bike-ride. and afterwards, you two will go back to either his of your place. his place if your parents aren't home, and his place when his parents are home, and binge watch a long t.v show of your choosing. he'll always complain that its stupid, poorly written or drawn out, but get pouty whenever you watch an episode without him. it's the one thing he looks forwards to at the end of a long week, drawn out with endless studies, training, and burnout. you're his safe place, and he needs it more than he'll admit.

hitoshi shinso, who somehow remembers every tiny detail about you. his mind works like gears, arranging formulas and deciphering codes, but the intellect of his mind makes you its priority. he remembers the way you pick your nails and cuticles when you have anxiety, and how placing his warm palm over yours soothes some of those thoughts. he remembers how prefer to tie your hair back during training but how you somehow always forget a hair tie- and he knows how you always give him a peck on his cheek once he shows off the one he's been keeping on his wrist for you. he remembers how you can't sleep without your nightly calls, and how he needs to hear your voice before he drifts of too- maybe more than you need it. he remembers the first day you met, the first thing he said to you, the first time he ever felt love for you. he remembers all of it and keeps it embedded in his heart. hitoshi shinso may seem like he hates everyone, but the one exception to that is you. and he'll remember that forever.

[mrsaltieri-real]

Ethan Landry as a Boyfriend Headcanons (SFW AND NSFW)

I was bored so rewatched Scream 6 and these just popped into my mind, hope you enjoy!

Warning/s: 18+, Fem!AFAB!Girlfriend, language, mentions of smut, oral, p in v, riding, sub!Ethan, begging, mentions of orgasm denial, degrading kink, praise kink, sweet and soft Ethan, you get the picture

Word count: approx 600

SFW

Very, very clingy. Feels completely out of touch when he’s not around you. The boy will follow you around like a little lost puppy

Big on physical contact. He likes to always be holding your hand or have your arm tucked into his

Yah, he’s touch starved

He’s literally obsessed with you.

Like, to the point where it’s probably concerning to those around you

He’s a shy little bastard though

Gets overstimulated in large groups of people so will absolutely cling to you for dear life in malls

But he really likes going shopping with you and helping you pick out clothes

He absolutely LOVES when you play with his hair

He’ll lie with his head on your lap for hours just relishing in the feeling of your fingers running through his curls

Likes to fall asleep with you in his arms, or the other way round depending

He’s a big spoon little spoon switch for REAL

He blushes every time you pay him a compliment

“You look really nice today, baby”

INSTANTLY RED. How cute is he?

Bless his heart, he’s not a good cook at all so you’re the one who ends up doing the cooking

But he’ll try his best to help until you have to kick him out of the kitchen for somehow burning water

But he’ll sit at the table and watch you cook away with a big old smile on his face

Doesn’t really use pet names himself, but loves it when you call him “baby,” “babe,” and “honey.”

His love languages are quality time, physical touch and words of affirmation

He could sit and listen to you talk about your day forever

He’s the best to gossip with

“And then he told her to fuck off!”

“Shut up, no he didn’t? What happened next??“

Such a good boyfriend, right?

NSFW

He’s a needy little fucker

Like HONESTLY so fucking needy

Such a sub it’s not even funny

Two words: PUSSY WORSHIP

He’ll literally be begging to eat you out until you cum

Over and over again

Will always want to make sure you’ve had at least a couple of orgasms before he even gets his cock out

LOVES when you fuck his face, I don’t make the rules

Absolute master of eating pussy

Guys got the kind of mouth invented for going down

Loves messily sucking on your clit and getting your juices all over his face

He’s such a slut for you, he’d go out of his way to make you feel good

Don’t ask me why, but he’s a thigh and tits kinda guy and pussy obviously

He likes when you’re on top when having sex, completely dominating and taking full control

He himself doesn’t have a dominant bone in his body

Begs really prettily

He absolutely 100% whimpers

He’s so fucking vocal

Likes when you pull his hair when you’re fucking him

Really riles him up

Won’t say it, but loves to be denied of release

Actively wants you to deny him so that when you grant him permission, the satisfaction is just oh so much better

Again, won’t say it but he loves when you’re blowing him and after he already cums you keep sucking

THAT kind of over stimulation? He likes

He’ll be sobbing, saying “thank you, thank you” over and over again when you let him cum

Likes when you look into his eyes while blowing him too. Does all kinds of things to him

Goes absolutely wild when you praise him

He’s playing with your clit just right?

“You’re such a good boy, baby.”

He’d be trying not to bust then and there

He also loves being degraded

Call him pathetic and needy and he’ll be a whimpering mess, almost sobbing from your words and especially if you’re overstimulating him

But balance out the praise and degradation

He’s a very sensitive guy in more ways than one

When you’re riding him he’ll be gazing up at you, hands on your hips watching your tits bouncing and just feel like he’s in heaven

Loves loves loves when you touch yourself in front of him

Really enjoys lazy, early morning sex

But loves long sessions in the afternoon even more

As I said, deny him and he’ll last as long as he can

Don’t deny him? Baby will cum just from eating you out alone he fucking loves it

What can I say? He’d do anything that brings you pleasure. He’s just that kinda guy

[familyvideostevie]

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!

[the-artist-grimm]

Did the couple meme finally! Modified the layout just to add more little notes. Also drew Anthea and Narinder having their typical reactions to seeing each other :3

(As a note for the sliders Anthea's color is RED and Narinder's is BLACK)

Also little facts under the cut!

Anthea

Anthea is short as heck and while they complain about it jokingly they do like how Narinder can just encompass them into hugs/carry them around easily

Borrows all the clothes cause comfy

Loves pet-names, if you can't read the text Anthea calls Narinder Nari, but also Honey, Love, Dear, Kitty, and Baby

Pretty much good with people so Anthea is a bit of an extrovert

Affection via words and actions all at once

Anthea and Narinder both confessed on the night they reconciled, at first Anthea had no plans to since they had tried to keep what the gift they'd been working on that caused the misunderstanding vague, but just decided to tell Narinder it was a courtship sash, and both confessions snowballed from there

Anthea feels just a little bad about killing bugs so Narinder's job

Cars don't exist but if they did Anthea would prefer letting Narinder do it most of the time

Can cook just fine

Big on PDA but only if chaste-so little kisses, holding hands, hugs and leaning on each other

Somewhat overprotective but not extremely so

Very much a bi-disaster. This lamb was a bit too young to think of dating while their village was around, then raised by a group of old knuckle-bones playing men while kinda in hiding till their 20s they have ZERO experience with crushes. When followers their age occasional approach with confessions or get a little too flirty Anthea has no idea how to handle it lol

Doesn't really get jealous

Flustered as heck when alone with Narinder sometimes, they were not expecting him to be as forward in private as he can be. Not that they mind of course-they just gotta wrap their head around how Narinder can be all shy in public, but the second they're alone at home he's all in on the sweet words and touches, very needy cat that one. They also are getting used to being put first so it's this wonderful mix of overstimulation

Narinder

Tall as heck and very much pleased about taking advantage of that-he enjoys how easy it is to just hold Anthea

Anthea's clothes cannot fit him but he doesn't mind, they look cute stealing his things-plus it makes them smell like him which scratches an instincts itch in his brain

Uses pet-names but kinda like old-fashioned pet names. Love, Heart, Angel, Dearest, Sunshine

Introverted as HECK this man cannot do social situations

Affection through actions cause he's not always great with words, so giving little gifts or just being next to Anthea

After Anthea revealed the gift they'd planned had been a courtship sash Narinder went through like 20 stages of grief then a rapid-fire desperate 'I need to say something NOW' as they tried to play it off as a 'I know you likely never saw me like that it was a bit more symbolic but-' thing. He just straight up said 'I love you' and it snowballed from there.

Kinda finds Anthea-a god-killer of 5, being slightly afraid of and feeling bad for bugs cute

Would drive the call all the time cause it's just easier

Really likes cooking once he's taught, it's peaceful and fulfilling.

Can be shy but does like PDA, same as Anthea he prefers to keep things chaste though, but does get a little thrill at being able to publicly reaffirm they're his

Overprotective as heck the lamb gets better at not dying but he still hates when they do.

Zero relationship experience AT ALL this man's never even had a crush before. Demi as heck he never got close enough to a person for it, so with Anthea he actually thought he was sick for a bit at first.

Part of him does still worry about being left behind so he does get jealous-he's working on it though. The only people who do not ever make Narinder jealous is the twins because well seeing his spouse and their children just makes his heart go very very soft. Anthea can spend a whole day with just the twins and Narinder's just in the background purring happily at the domesticity.

When it comes to intimacy Narinder very much enjoys seeing Anthea enjoy themselves first since after bottling up his feelings for so long, now that he has the lamb he wants to ensure they know exactly how much he loves them/remind them how much they're cared for

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[sunnyferr]

A polyamorous relationship with them!

Op men!: kid/killer zoro/sanji law/luffy

WARNING: ReaderF! Polyamorous relationship NSFW, Contains homosexual relationships between characters!

Kid/Killer

It's the most fun relationship you can have!

kid is your partner in pranks and dirty jokes, always up to mischief around the ship

but if you like quiet chats with a coffee, killer will always be there to listen to you, he's really good at listening and giving objective opinions

I remind you, they are very big, so their group hugs completely crush you.

I feel like killer is more into hugs, hugging you from behind and being there almost all the time.

kid is more into kisses, messy kisses with tongue in the middle, with his hands roaming all over your body

It's very sweet to see them share little kisses between the two

Sleeping with them is also a comical experience

I remind you for the second time, they each take up a king-size bed.

so you sleep on kid's chest face down, while kid holds you by the waist with one hand, and the other arm around killer (nice mental image)

sex with them is something wild and rough

Usually, the sessions last between 3 or 4 HOURS (a fallen soldier)

Kid always takes the lead, he's a dominant, and you're not going to take his place

killer, to be honest, is kind of the same, he can be sub or dom (although he does like being dom a bit)

Kid usually lets killer play with you while he's in the corner of the room, watching everything.

killer tends to praise you while biting and licking every inch of your skin

kid is more into saying things like "you little slut! do you like what killer is doing to your pussy, huh?"

the aftercare is very tender and sweet, well, kid tries to stay awake, as he usually falls asleep after 5 minutes.

killer is more about bringing you water and snacks if it was a long session, preparing a shower for all three (obviously having to drag kid into the shower)

sanji/zoro

These two always seem to be arguing

like a couple who have been married for 50 years.

But they do love each other for real…just that it's a bit hard for them to admit it.

Usually, your time with Sanji is on some island, buying food (which was the main mission), but he ends up getting distracted by looking at dresses in the shop windows, saying you have to try them on RIGHT NOW.

On the other hand, Zoro loves it when you join him in his 30-minute naps while you're together hugging. He says it's cheesy and silly to be like that, but deep down, he loves it. Sometimes Sanji joins in (just because you told him to).

Sanji is always touching you (holding your hand, your waist, brushing your hair, etc.) because he can't stand being away from you. Even if you're right beside him, he always has to have you close!

Zoro is a bit calmer with that, but there are times he likes to tease Sanji, grabbing you by the waist and carrying you on his shoulder away from the cook.

But they also show affection to each other…giving each other little love pecks when you're not looking…and sometimes it escalates to something more.

Sleeping with them is a bit tricky (usually, Zoro is busy at night taking care of the ship, but let's pretend they almost always sleep together).

Usually, Sanji loves being in front of you and Zoro hugging you from behind, but problems arise when it's midnight…

It's a constant push and pull!

Sex is really exciting.

The rounds last for 2 hours (which is not short) but…

they leave you stargazing for hours!

Imagine leaning on the table, sharpening Zoro's sword and having a full view of your backside, while he hits your sweet spot

and meanwhile, Sanji is below, licking and sucking your clit while pleasuring himself

simply glorious

Sanji tends to be very loud, moaning and shouting Zoro's and your name

Zoro is more of a grunter and curses under his breath, but the occasional moan escapes him

The aftercare involves Sanji preparing some tea or some ointment to soothe any pains or discomfort, while Zoro pampers you with small kisses on your head until Sanji arrives and they nap together for a while

Law/luffy

A very complementary relationship!

Luffy is like a little kid, you have to keep up with his mischief ALL THE TIME!

but it's really fun to follow him and play some pranks on Law, even though he might get mad afterwards and not talk to us for hours (it was worth it)

Luffy loves hugs! he's always with his arms stretched out hugging you and giving you uncontrollable kisses all over your face

Law is a bit more shy, especially in public, he'll shake your hand and that's it, but when they get home he tends to pamper them a lot.

Law really likes it when you two are in his room while he studies or works, seeing you cuddled up on the couch while you caress a nearly asleep Luffy, is something he loves about you

Sleeping with Law is not a problem… Luffy is

he tends to fall off the bed ALL the time, so now Luffy sleeps in the middle, lying on his back while you hug and kiss him

they don't usually have sex much… but it's still very rewarding

it usually lasts between 2 to 3 hours

Law is a fan of BDSM (NO ONE WILL MAKE ME THINK OTHERWISE) and SUB/DOM games

Luffy and you are the submissives, trying to please Law in various ways possible so he gives you your well-deserved "rewards"

An important detail is that Luffy is very inexperienced at first but gradually learns more, to the point where he'll try to be dominant with you (only sometimes)

They usually end up with a lot of moans and screams of passion among the three.

post-care is very important to Law!

he makes sure they've had enough water and gives massages in a specific place if they're in pain.

he would punish Luffy if he left too many hickeys (even if he did too) because it could be "dangerous"

but in the end, it always ends up being a good nap with lots of hugs and kisses (and Luffy's snoring)