#it has been like a hundred years since i've written anything

[baby-yongbok]

Cam Star

Camboy!Hyunjin x Camgirl!Reader

♡ Genre - Smut ♡ Word Count - 10k ✧ Masterlist ✧

♡ Summary - You haven’t seen Hyunjin since the CamStar convention but he’s been on your mind and you’ve been on his. Today’s the day of your collaboration with him, a spicy show for hundreds to watch but the cam is the last thing on your mind.

♡ A/N: I started this as soon as I saw that gif of Hyunjin on live. I wrote this based on one of the many thoughts that gif brought me but it took me FOREVER to complete this. I'm glad that I can at least post it on his birthday! This is the longest fic I've written on this account and I'm proud of it. I hope that you enjoy! 💕+ reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ MDNI

♡ Warnings: Use of marijuana and alcohol, Foot worship/play, unprotected piv, exhibitionism? - That should be all, let me know if I missed any!

You’ve had a month to prepare for tonight's plans. Everything around you is perfect, your sheets are soft and clean. Your set is lit to perfection and the new matching co-ords that you're sporting for tonight's show were picked out carefully by you and your best friend, Felix, who happens to be a close friend of tonight's guest. You’ve confided in your friend for weeks about your guest's preferences to try and calm your nerves but he didn’t tell you anything that you didn’t already know. 

You would think that maintaining a spot as one of the top five creators on CamStar for two years would make you feel more like a seasoned professional but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Every time that you think about the fact that you’re about to collaborate with Hyunjin, one of the top three male creators on the site, you want to scream and kick your feet like a flustered school girl. Hyunjin is the epitome of beauty, that might sound a bit extreme but it’s true. He’s captivating and shameless with what he does, always begging the chat to let him cum and making such intense and sexy eye contact with the lens that you feel like you’re right there with him. You’ve gotten off to his cams more times than you’d ever admit to him and according to Felix his friend has done the same to yours.  

The mirror would be sick of seeing you if it were a person because here you are standing in front of it for the hundredth time tonight brushing off your short shorts and pulling up your tube top. The deep golden yellow fabric is nearly see through against you and you can’t help but to think that maybe you should change. Maybe this is too much? I mean yeah you’re about to be naked on camera for others across the internet to see and you’re more than comfortable in this outfit but what if Hyunjin doesn’t like it? Felix said that he thinks that his friend will go speechless when he sees you but what if he’s wrong? What if - oh fuck, he’s here.

The echo of the doorbell through your living room leaves you frozen for a second too long before you break into a soft jog over to your front door. You slide across the hardwood with your fuzzy pineapple print socks and take a deep breath as you twist the knob. There he is. Your eyes meet his for a second and you both smile as you take each other in. He’s chosen his usual laid back attire for tonight's show as you expected. His oversized Hilfiger t-shirt and black cargo sweats don't surprise you one bit but you seemed to have caught him a bit off guard with your choice of threads tonight.

“Hey, you’re early.” Hyunjin stares at you, wide eyed and silent for a second too long before he’s clearing his throat and lifting his gaze from your bare thighs to your eyes.  

“Yeah, I uh - roads were clearer than I thought.” You step aside, inviting him in and you can feel the nervous pit in your stomach deepen as he brushes past you. 

“I told you they would be.” Once he slips his shoes off and drops his bag at the door the two of you stand in awkward silence as you steal glances and open and close your mouths for what feels like an eternity. 

“It’s uh- good to see you.” He leans in for a hug, wrapping his arms around your waist and you follow his lead, lacing your arms around his neck as you sigh.

“We’re being such losers right now.” The vibration of his chuckle as he pulls away brings a smile to your face.

“Can you blame me? I haven’t seen you in what? Five months? Maybe six.” You hum, making your way over to your couch and plopping down onto the soft cherry red cushion. 

“Six months, yeah. I mean, we’ve kinda kept in touch since the convention.”

“Commenting on instagram photos and retweeting posts do not count as keeping in touch and you know it.” A blush creeps across your cheeks as he sits next to you, elbows resting on his knees and that damned smirk on his lips. It’s the same one that he uses during his livestreams, the same one that you’ve cum to over and over again. 

“Yeah I know, I know.” You cross your legs underneath you, turning towards him. “You dyed your hair?”

“Yeah, wanted to do something different. I haven’t gone live with it yet so tonight will be the debut for this look.”

“I’m honored that you’ve chosen to debut it with me.” Your fingers rake through his soft locks as you take in the new cut.

“Of course, Princess.” The fact that you aren’t gasping for air right now and appear to be keeping your cool is actually magic. Pure witchcraft, honestly. How can someone make a pet name sound so good? “I need to get used to calling you that so I don’t say your name on cam.”

Your blush deepens as you stare down at his lap. Right, you forgot that you go by Princess when you’re on cam. He’s only calling you that cause that’s what you go by, gosh are you that down bad already? 

“I don’t have to change much, Jinnie.” You sing his name a bit and he smiles at the sound of it. 

“You’re lucky that I go by my name or else you’d have to moan something outlandish like Your Majesty or something.” You fall into a laughing fit, falling onto his shoulder dramatically for support. “Maybe I’ll have you call me that since you seem to enjoy it so much.”

His laugh mirrors yours as he watches you, your head resting on his shoulder with your eyes shut and your mouth hung open as you try to catch your breath. He’s never heard a prettier laugh in his life, he swears it. “Please do not make me call you that I won’t be able to keep a straight face.”

“You already won’t be able to do that though.” He grins as your laughing dies down and you take a final deep breath. Your previous laughter has started to turn into something else entirely. You can feel the heat start to surround the two of you but you’re not even on set or in front of the camera yet. This is what happened last time that you and Hyunjin were together. Everyone at the convention swore that you two had undeniable chemistry. 

“I would say that you’ll have to get used to moaning Princess but something tells me that you already have experience with that.” His eyebrows raise as he leans back into your couch.

“What gives you that idea?”

“Word on the street is that you watch my shows.” There goes that smirk again. He lets his head fall back against the back of your couch as he sighs a bit. 

“Is that right?” He lifts his head, inspecting your matching smirk as he licks over his bottom lip. “Well what if I told you that I heard that you are a big fan of my shows too.”

Your blush is back as you tongue your cheek. Damn Felix and his big mouth! Why would he tell him that? Just play it cool. “Where did you get that information?”

“From the same street that you got your information.” The eye contact that the two of you hold is strong and hot like a steady flame. You watch as his eyes trail from your lips and down the curve of your neck for just a second before rushing back up to meet your gaze but instead of his honey pupils meeting yours he’s met with the view of your own lustful gaze trailing down the slope of his toned arm. 

You’ve done other collabs with people that you're close to and some that you’ve only spoken to for a couple of hours at a convention so you can confidently say that you have never felt as titillated as you do with Hyunjin right now. To be fair, you didn’t have a crush on any of those other people. 

You may not talk to Hyunjin as much as you desire to but you’ve watched every single one of his cams and SFW Q & A’s as well as his YouTube vlogs that you only just found out about days after you asked him to collab with you. He’s mentioned his art to you before but it wasn’t until you came across his channel that you saw just how good he is with a brush or almost any other medium. That mixed with being able to enjoy his everyday lifestyle content and his breathtaking dance covers has made you feel closer to him than you felt before. Though you do find it kind of embarrassing that you’ve gotten close to him through a screen instead of real life.

 Little do you know that Hyunjin is no better than you when it comes to consuming an unspeakable amount of your content. Every single cam that you’ve ever done has been viewed by him at least once and he’s not ashamed to say that he’s even paid to view the premium content.

 He found out about your lifestyle and mental health blog around the same time that you found out about his YouTube channel and he proceeded to scroll all the way down to your first post and back up again. He watched each and every one of your advice videos on the site and has read every word that you’ve ever written and posted. He found himself falling in love with the way that your mind works. He loves the way that you look at life and how you’re able to transform your feelings into breath-taking statements. He nearly forgot about your cams when he found your site. 

“So you think that I’m used to moaning your name?” His question pulls your attention back up to his gaze. 

“Maybe you moan it in your free time.” You shrug with a wink, turning away from him quickly but luckily you don’t miss the smile and blush that he tries to hide from you. 

“I could say the same for you.” He grumbles under his breath as he lets his head fall back against the couch again. You both sit silently, trying your best not to smile like an idiot in front of the other. “Did you pre-game?”

“Uh no not yet, didn’t know if you wanted to join.” You stand, raising your arms to stretch a bit and shamelessly giving him the perfect view of your ass in your shorts. “I know it’s not really your thing.”

“Mm.” He must be enjoying the view. “I’m your guest, I follow your vibe. I don’t mind joining you.”

You hum, making your way over to the black box on your TV stand. “You smoke?”

“Yeah, casually, mostly just with Felix or at parties and shit like that.” 

“I didn’t know. Do you have a favorite strain? I have just about everything.” He falls into silent thought as you take your seat next to him, setting the box in your arms on the table and starting to set up.

“Purple Runtz, I think. I smoked that one before a cam once and I felt ten times more sensitive.” He sits up, leaning forward to watch as you open your box which basically serves as a mini dispensary. Your interest in weed goes way beyond just getting high for the fuck of it. It’s been the best remedy for your anxiety since you tried it but then again you don’t owe anyone an explanation on why you always have a blunt rolled and ready. 

“Ou, I love that one, I think I have some of that. My favorite is Apollo 11, it makes me feel so relaxed and fucking brainless. My anxiety evaporates as soon as I hit it.”

“Are you anxious tonight?” You don’t look over at him. You simply grin as you continue to search for your favorite pipe. You actually aren’t too nervous about tonight's show, something about having Hyunjin here is grounding.

“Not really but I still wanna take a hit or two.” He nods, reaching for the pipe that you laid out on your coffee table. 

“How the hell did you get your pipe so clean?” You giggle as you finally find the strains you both mentioned earlier and take a bit out for the both of you.

“That’s a secret, your majesty.” You erupt into your second fit of laughter for the night when you look over and get a glimpse of the most wicked side eye you’ve ever seen. 

“Fuck you.”

“You will soon.” You pick out your favorite grinder and close your box. “Want anything else?”

“Got any soju?” You pause, turning around slowly to face him with a raised brow.

“You want to get cross faded?” 

“Not really, I don’t drink much just up to the first line of a solo cup. That’s more of my thing than smoking, really.” He shrugs, placing your pipe back down onto the table.

“I mean, if you think that you can handle it. I do want you to remember the night, you know?” 

“I’m not a teenager, I can handle it. I’ve done it before and it’s not like I’m smoking an entire blunt by myself.” You proceed grinding the buds as he stands from your couch. 

“Your kitchen is…” He walks towards the archway of your living room and mumbles a small ‘there’ when he spots the dark kitchen right across the narrow hallway.

“Soju is on the top shelf of the cabinet next to the fridge.” You call out as you start to fill the bowl of your purple glass pipe. 

“So high up for such a little person.” He calls back as you hear the cabinet close.

“Solo cups are on top of the fridge and fuck off tall person.” You can hear the faint echo of his chuckle as he fixes his drink. You take the couple of seconds that you’re waiting for him as an opportunity to light the bowl and take the first hit. 

“A yellow solo? Really? You know that the red solo cups are the sexy ones.” You stifle a chuckle in a desperate attempt not to choke on the smoke in your lungs. He brings the cup to his lips quickly before taking the pipe that you're offering him.

“Sexy?” You question following your exhale. “What makes the red ones sexy?”

“The sense of mystery.” He mumbles as he exhales over his shoulder. “I just never see the yellow ones.” You hum, taking the pipe back and peaking into his cup.

“Hyunjin, that’s way more than just the bottom of the cup.” The corner of his mouth twitches as he offers you the cup.

“That’s because I got just a bit more to share with you.” 

“I didn’t say that I wanted any.” You tease.

“True, you don’t have to have any. Just thought of you since I came to your house and started drinking your liquor.” You set your pipe down and take the cup from Hyunjin’s hand silently before turning to him completely and holding your pinky out. 

“I’ll have some but I just need us to promise something first.” He turns to face you completely, glancing down at your finger with a faint grin. “I get high before almost every cam and I know that you’re aware of that but I’ve never really done it with anyone else. Well, not on cam. I just want us to be comfortable.”

He holds his pinky out to you, wrapping it around yours without question. “I promise that I’ll be fine and that I’m more than okay with everything that will happen tonight. If I’m uncomfortable I’ll tell you, you’ll do the same, right? I only want to make you feel good, nothing else.” 

“I promise that I’ll be fine too. I’ll tell you everything. I’ll communicate so much that you’ll want me to shut up.” The two of you had already discussed your limits beforehand and you’ve both done your research on the other person - whether it be for business or personal benefits varies - but you feel yourself relax further now that you’ve heard him say that he’ll be fine. Pinky promises are like a contract after all. 

“Impossible, I could never want such a thing.” You let go of his finger and he follows, a grin on both of your faces as he reaches for his cup but you beat him to it. “We’re sharing the bowl and the drink anyway, It’ll literally just be the tip of the iceberg.” He’s right, this isn’t enough to fuck you guys up, not with the tolerance that you have. It’s just enough to make you both melt and feel loose enough to drop your masks a little faster.

“You know what we should do?” He takes the cup as you pass it to him, drinking from the same spot on the cusp that you just did. Did he mean to do that? Was that like an indirect kiss? Or are you really that down bad for him already? Fuck, get a grip. “We should start a bit early, maybe just sit and talk to set the mood?”

“You can’t smoke on cam though.” He takes another sip as you finish your second hit. 

“Let’s start after the bowl then. We can share the drink and just chill? Get a feel of everything and vibe check the chat.” He hums, choking a bit on his inhale but recovering pretty quickly, he must do this more frequently than you thought. He clears his throat taking a sip of soju to substitute one burn for another. 

“That’s fine with me, Princess.”

“You never told me if I look okay.” The two of you finished smoking maybe fifteen minutes ago and decided to move to your office to start getting comfortable on set. 

“That’s because I didn’t trust myself to say something that didn’t sound lame.” Hyunjin makes himself comfortable on your sofa bed, yellow solo cup in hand while he pushes his hair out of his face.

“That was then, what about now?”

“Now I can confidently say that you look absolutely breath-taking.” The soft sound of R&B music playing across the room fills in the silence after his answer. Your content giggling and smiling while you set up your camera and adjust your laptop is enough feedback for him.  “What’s the second cam for?”

“Oh, collabs aren’t available in my archive to try and encourage more people to watch them. So if anyone misses this they’re assed out but I do like to record collabs for myself to watch back later.” 

“Yeah? Gonna get off to me fucking you later?” The weed and soju are definitely doing their job for him. His playful and teasing nature has been on full display since the two of you finished smoking. Your mask is dropped too so you have no problem matching his energy.

“Maybe, better put on an unforgettable show.” He tongues his cheek, eyeing your glossed lips. He can’t wait to smear that red tint across your cheeks, he’ll definitely give you an unforgettable show. You settle next to him, draping your bare legs over his clothed lap.

“You’ve seen my cams.” His eyes meet yours slowly. “So you know that I will.”

“Then let’s do this.” You lean forward to hit ‘Go Live’ but Hyunjin stops you before you can press it. 

“Hold on, I wanted to do something first.” He takes your hand gently as he leans forward to sit the yellow cup on the table in front of the both of you. You hum, staring at him with pinched brows but when he pushes your hair from your face and runs his thumb over your cheek bone you can’t help but to let go of the tension in your face. 

“I don’t really want our first kiss to be on cam, if you don’t mind.” A grin creeps up on you as he searches your eyes, leaning in so closely that you can feel his breath tickling your lips. 

 “Can I kiss you?” You answer him by leaning in and pressing your lips against his. He sighs into you as his lips move against yours. Soft, gentle and only for you. His other hand finds your waist and he pulls you closer to him until your racing heart is nearly against his own. You let out a soft moan as you feel his tongue trace the seam of your mouth. Once he hears that sweet sound he knows that he has to pull away or else the two of you will never turn that camera on and he’ll keep every inch of you to himself. You notice his reluctance as he pulls away but the look in his eyes once they flutter open and meet yours makes you forget about everything except the feeling of him against you. 

“You’re smiling.” You turn away at his comment trying to hide your face from him but he turns your head back, a matching smile on his lips. 

“You kissed me, of course I’m smiling.”

“Does that mean that you like me?” You turn away from him, groaning playfully as you avoid his gaze. 

“Are you ready now? Or are you going to keep flirting with me?” His chuckle brings back the smile that you’re fighting to get rid of and it excites the butterflies in your stomach all over again. Luckily for you Hyunjin is just as down bad as you are, his stomach is doing somersaults right now and he swears that his heart is beating out of his chest. 

“I’m ready.”

The chat went from being chill with just about ninety people watching to absolutely overflowing as soon as your usual air time hit. You’re used to having a large audience but the number on your screen is nearly more than double what it usually is thanks to your special guest. 

Jinnie! You dyed your hair. They look so hot together omg I’d do anything to be between the two of them right now Can he handle our Princess?

You and Hyunjin skim through the buzzing chat, responding to the comments that catch your eye. 

“So many comments about my hair. I just did it because I wanted to impress you all, did it work?” He winks at the camera, his signature smirk on his lips as he brings the cup up to take a sip. He tilts the cup towards you once he sips from it but you bring your hand up to play in his hair instead. 

“It’s so soft, like, you all would not believe it. I really like the black on him, don’t you?” His eyes meet yours as he licks his lips. 

“Are you impressed?” It’s your turn to smirk as you take the cup from him, brushing your fingertips over the back of his hand in the process.

“Let’s save the reviews for after the show.” You offer a quick wink as you sip from the cup. He tongues his cheek as he focuses back on the chat but his hands are only focused on you.

His fingers are having a field day as they trace sensitive circles and lines into your calves and thighs. He kneads at the flesh softly as he makes conversation with the viewers that he recognizes, but you can’t seem to focus on chat right now. Not when your crushes' big hands are massaging every inch of exposed skin he can reach.

Hyunjin notices that you’re a bit spaced out, so he asks you a question to help you refocus. The conversation kind of turns into an impromptu story time that consists of you and Hyunjin telling the viewers and each other about the other collabs that you’ve done. The further that you get into the show, the closer you and Hyunjin get. You’ve gone from just having your calves draped over his lap to moving closer and putting your arm over his shoulder. That has led you to how you are right now, his arm around your waist with your legs draped over his lap and your head on his shoulder. Your breath is tickling that sweet spot on his neck, and he’s trying desperately to focus on the timbre of your laugh instead of how eager he is to touch you. You’re laughing about something that probably isn’t that funny - thanks to the weed - when Hyunjin reads a comment out loud. 

“Looks like you got a tip and a request.” He leans a bit closer to the screen, pushing his hair out of his face and licking his lips as he reads the request to you. “Your socks are cute but I want to see your pretty toes.”

“Mm would you take them off for me, Jinnie?” He sighs at the way that you make his name sound so sweet yet sexy at the same time. He’s already rock hard in his sweats from how close you are to him, he can’t possibly handle your pretty voice saying his name like that too

“Ask me again.” Actually, he can take it. He’ll definitely explode later but right now he wants to take all that he can get. “You sounded so sweet the first time I just need to hear it again.”

“What if I'm not sweet this time?” 

“Indulge me, Princess.” A mindless giggle escapes you as you lean in and run your fingers through his hair. You stop right when your lips brush the shell of his ear and whisper. 

“Will you please take them off for me…” You suck in a slow breath and Hyunjin’s eyes flutter shut for just a second. “Your majesty .” His eyes squeeze shut and he folds forward in a fit of laughter that you quickly reciprocate.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” He sits up, trying to catch his breath the best he can so that he can fulfill your request.

“Then you should have no problem fucking me dumb.” You fake a pout at him through your laughter.

 “Come here.” You bend your knees, bringing your feet to his lap to give him better access. Your laughter quickly dies down when you get a feel of his hard cock under the soles of your feet. It would be a shame not to help him with that. As Hyunjin removes one of your socks you press the ball of your naked foot against his clothed shaft lightly, just enough for a delicious hiss to escape him. 

He moves to remove your other sock and you repeat your previous actions, pressing against his hard cock with the other foot and then following with both. Hyunjin's hands run over the tops of your feet as he watches you massage his dick over his pants. It’s too subtle for your mic to catch but you can hear his breathing start to pick up as you work against him. “Pretty.”  He mumbles, his voice thick with desire. You grin at him lazily, the effects of both strains of weed is starting to hit you a bit harder now that the heat between you and Hyunjin is starting to pick up. 

“You think my toes are pretty?”  He nods, his eyes darkened with lust. One of his hands runs up your calf, his grip gentle but firm. You arch your back, pushing your hips forward and inviting him closer while he leans in, bringing one of your feet up to his mouth with a feather light grip on your ankle and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your foot. A shiver runs down your spine as you watch him. 

“So pretty.” His voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough for your mic to pick up but quiet enough to know that he’s talking to you and only you. It’s like he’s forgotten about the chat and if he is to be completely honest, he did, just for a moment. The feeling of your foot pressed against his dick is so intoxicating, how could he not? “Can I suck them?”

“I’ve never done that before.” The wide nervous smile and breathy chuckle that follows your confession leaves Hyunjin smiling too. He presses another kiss to the top of your foot, this time it’s sloppier and it sends another chill down your spine, are you into this?

“Do you want to try it?” You’ve never felt shy when doing a cam before. Not even when you first started, so why are you covering your eyes and giggling like a drunk teenager at the mention of having your toes sucked? “Aren’t these feet just too pretty, chat? Shouldn’t they be worshiped appropriately?”

I’d give anything to be Princess right now Such pretty feet need to be praised

Hyunjin’s question received more than a few comments back and nearly double the amount of tips but truthfully, you were already sold the minute that he asked to do it. Who in their right mind would say no to having those beautiful blushed lips on them? 

“I’ll try it.” Your bright eyes meet Hyunjin’s for just a second as he silently asks for confirmation. You nod your head, a goofy smile on your face as you lean back on your palms. He presses soft sloppy kisses to the top of your foot, adding more pressure and tongue as he trails down. His eyes stay on yours when he kisses your pinky toe, adding so much tongue that he’s practically licking it into his mouth. Your smile drops as he does the same to the next toe, you watch with parted lips and bated breath as he sucks on the digit, swirling his tongue over your purple pedicure and effectively making you gush between your thighs.

“Why the fuck does that feel so good?” Your question comes out as more of a quivering moan than you meant for it to but you’re way too entranced in this pleasure to give a fuck about how you sound. 

He smirks, his eyes twinkling with a soft desire to unravel you further. “Because I'm good at it.” His lips and tongue leave a trail of wet heat as he continues, his slow and deliberate movements build you up perfectly. 

Something tells you that this is going to be a good show. 

You can't help but let out a sharp gasp as his lips close around your big toe. Why is that one ten times more sensitive? “Oh fuck.” Your eyes flutter shut and you throw your head back with your lips parted in a euphoric smile. You puff out a small sigh of relief followed by a mindless giggle as he continues to lavish attention on your toes. “This is my new favorite thing.”

“Having your toes sucked?” He plants a sloppy kiss on the top of your foot as he lowers it back to his lap. “Or having me suck them?” He moves his hands to your thighs and parts your legs he sinks the tips of his fingers into your thigh as he pulls you forward into his lap. You gasp at the sudden shift, trying your best to stifle a giggle.

“You can answer that when it’s just you and me if you want.” His hands move to grab at the curve of your ass and you smile down at him, we can’t let him have all of the fun can we? 

The moan that escapes Hyunjin when you wrap your hand around his throat and pull his face towards yours is enough to make your ego explode. It’s only now that he’s so close to you that you can see how his eyes have a faint red tint from the weed, they’re droopy and have the tiniest fucked out glaze to them as they stare back into yours. 

“You sure are talking a lot for someone who needs me on their cock.” You swirl your hips against him, pressing your soaked core against the tent in his pants. You can’t help to resent the clothes keeping you away from each other, you much rather be grinding on his bare length right now. “Shouldn’t you be begging for me instead?”

"Make me beg for it." His words huff out in a shaky breath, his large hands swiftly and mindlessly gripping your plush hips as you grind against him slowly. 

"Show me how much you want it." He attempts to lean forward and catch your lips with his but you dodge him a bit before he can reach you. “Use your words, baby.”

The second that you call him baby Hyunjin swears that he could melt in your hands. He’s no stranger to the sweet name but hearing it fall from your lips makes every other time someone has called him that feel bitter. “You’re gonna drive me crazy.”

You halt all movement and he whines in protest. He attempts to buck up into you but you press down to stop him. “Let me hear you beg for me.”

 “Please let me kiss you, let me taste you.” His pleading voice is barely above a whisper. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, his pounding heart is all that he hears as he awaits your response. Your hand slides up the back of his neck, lacing through his raven locks and pulling lightly. “Please, I need you.”

“You sound so pretty.”  You lean in and kiss him, smiling against him as he cups your face with both hands and deepens the kiss. His lips move over yours with a hunger that you’ve never experienced before.

 His rhythm is gentle yet desperate like he’s savoring the taste of you. Your hands run over his strong shoulders and trail down to explore each curve of his bicep. You brush your fingers over the muscles, moaning when you feel them flex beneath your fingertips, the simple reaction prompts you to grind into him a bit harder earning a pleased groan to vibrate through him. Your hands are caressing the smooth skin of his forearms when his tongue swipes across the seam of your mouth and you promptly grant him access.

 Your hands fall to rest on his chest, balling the fabric of his shirt into a fist and your brain blanks out, there’s not a single thought going through that pretty head once the taste of him floods your tongue. He tastes more like Soju than he does weed and there’s a hint of mint from the gum that he was chewing beforehand.

“Chat…” Hyunjin pulls back, his eyes stay on you while he talks to the audience that you completely forgot about. Forgetting that you’re live with hundreds of people watching seems to be a running theme tonight. “You think I should take her top off?” His eyes trail down the curve of your neck until they reach the hem of your strapless top that’s leaving very little to the imagination.

“It’s so tiny how the fuck does it stay on?” You laugh a bit harder than intended at his question causing your top to slip down a bit. “Oh, fuck can you do me a favor? Bounce in my lap, I wanna see your top fall down.”

“You want me to bounce in your lap?” You coo with a sweet yet teasing tone. “Like this?” You bounce lightly, grinding down on his pulsing erection each time you come down.

“Shit, baby, please.” You continue to bounce in his lap lightly, feeling your top slip down little by little. 

“Is this how you want me to ride you, Jinnie?” You bat your lashes at him, his hands find a home on your waist, digging his fingers into the flesh. 

“Such a fucking tease.” The smile on his face quickly dissolves once your top finally gives way, you continue to grind against him slowly as he takes in the sight. “ Gosh, you’re gorgeous.” 

One of his hands slides up the curve of your waist and cups at your bare breast, kneading the mound slowly while pinching and twirling your nipple. It doesn’t take long for his other hand to follow suit. “Shit, they’re sensitive.” You moan at the contact, whining a bit when he pinches harder.

“Yeah? Can you cum from this, Princess? Gonna soak my lap from getting your nipples pinched?” You whimper, arousal flooding your - already ruined - shorts as you arch into his touch. “ Her shorts should come off next, shouldn’t they, chat?”

“Nuh uh, Your shirt is next.” 

“Can’t wait to get me naked, huh?” He reluctantly moves his hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion and revealing his beautifully built body to you. Hyunjin doesn’t usually get completely naked for his cams, eighty percent of the time he’ll keep his shirt on or just pull down his jeans enough to free his cock but he agreed to do it with you when the two of you were talking about your limits. “Happy?”

“Very.” You mindlessly run your hand over his chest, taking in every bit of him. You’re interrupted by the warm feeling of his hands snaking up your thighs and messing with the hem of your shorts. He taps your outer thigh twice, his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth as he waits for you to follow his silent command. “Can't wait to get me naked, huh?”

You mimic his previous statement and he offers a dark and airy chuckle in return. The banter between you two is not helping how hard he is right now. He’s always liked that about you, he likes that you always have something to say back. “Damn right.” 

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts, keeping steady eye contact with Hyunjin as you remove them. He moans at the sight of you bare before him, the previous petting your thighs has turned into him digging into the soft flesh in an attempt to control himself. “No panties, Princess?”

“They’d just get ruined.” You grab at the hem of his sweats, fumbling with the drawstring and trying to not make your desperation too obvious. Once you undo the bow he helps you pull his pants off of his hips only to find him bare underneath. “No underwear, Jinnie?” He smiles, chuckling a bit with a shrug.

“You’d just rip them off of me anyway.” You laugh loud, hitting his arm and throwing his sweats to the side. 

“I would not!” Hyunjin follows up with a joke that you only half laugh at, you’re way too busy taking in the sight of his dripping cock resting against his toned abdomen, how is this man even real? Hyunjin catches on shortly after, taking a chance to enjoy the flawless view of you.

His cock jumps once his eyes land on your glistening core, wet and ready for him to ruin, he has half a mind to just turn off the camera and carry you to your bedroom where he can enjoy you without the prying eyes of your viewers who you both forgot about the second that you got undressed, or maybe it was sometime before that, when was the last time that you looked at the chat? A familiar text tone pulls you out of your thoughts and hurls you back into reality. This is a cam show. 

You don’t even need to look at your phone to know who texted you. You’ve got Felix’s text tone memorized. He attends every one of your shows and watches the chat to make sure that no one gets out of hand and you do the same for him when he goes live. Tonight he’s accompanied by Hyunjin’s stream mod and roommate Changbin.

 You assume that Felix texted you to tell you just what you were thinking a second ago, you need to look at the chat. You force your attention over to your laptop screen, trying your best to focus on the comments and tips flooding in left and right. 

“Jin is distracting me from the chat.” You tease, leaning in to read some comments.

They are in their own world Princess is going to ruin him I want him to look at at me like that

“You’re distracting me too.” He pulls you towards him by your hips so that you're straddling him with his cock pressed against your core. “Are you guys enjoying the show so far?” He asks after you send him a playful glare.

The chat lights up with comments and requests. Hyunjin knows that he should pick a request to entertain the audience. He knows that some people want to see him do specific things to you and you to him but he can’t help but to feel a bit selfish right now. He’s been dreaming about being this close to you for weeks. He doesn’t want to spend his time doing things that others request. He wants to savor you. 

“I know I’m enjoying it.” You turn your attention back to Hyunjin, your eyes run over his features, taking in his soft lips and his shining droopy eye. He licks over his bottom lip as he looks you over too. Your eyes are barely drooping despite being high, your lips are kiss bitten and barely glossed but the red tint is still visible and it’s smudged onto your cheek ever so slightly. Just what he wanted.

“I’m sorry…” Hyunjin mumbles as he switches focus between your lips and your lust glazed eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t pay attention to chat right now.” His lips are on yours in an instant, punctuating his sentence with a heated kiss. You gasp at the sudden impact, your heart racing as your tongue tangles with his. Hyunjin pulls away for just a second, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “Can I fuck you now, baby? Can I fuck you like nobody’s watching.”

“You wanna play with me, Jinnie?” You whisper back as your arms wind around his neck.

“Until you break.” He dives back in, moving one of his hands to cradle the back of your head as he tastes you. You pull him closer until your chest is flush with his and you can feel the vibration of your shared moans rattling between you. You reach between your bodies with whatever space is left, lifting yourself up just enough to position him without breaking the kiss. He groans once he feels the head of his cock brush against your dripping slit, he breaks the kiss and leans back to take in the sight of his cock stretching your cunt. “That cunt is so fucking sloppy.” His eyes roll back as you sink down on him and he drinks in every second of your cunt swallowing each thick inch of his throbbing length. 

“O-oh, fuck.” He closes the gap between the two of you again with his hands on your hips to help guide you down. He leans his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes as he fills you to the brim. Once you take him to the hilt you pause to catch your breath but Hyunjin has other plans. You cry out when you feel the tip of his dick kiss your cervix just right. The stretch of him is unlike anything - or anyone - you’ve ever felt before. 

“Tiny fucking cunt taking my cock so well. ‘S fucking made for me isn’t it, Princess? This cunt was made for me to fuck.” You move in tandem, timing when to swirl your hips so that he feels impossibly deep. You know that Hyunjin is the type to talk dirty during sex, you’ve watched enough of his cams to imagine what he might be like. You’re usually no different but the way that he feels inside of you is so dizzying that you might not be able to keep up with him tonight. The sweet buzz of the weed and soju makes everything feel like it could have you floating at any second. Even just trying to remember his name or your own for that matter is a full time job that your brain keeps clocking out of.

“J-just for you baby… god, this pussy is yours just please don’t stop.” Your fucked out eyes stare into his as you start to take more control, the sound of your skin colliding echoes as you bounce in his lap. His hands stay on your hips, periodically squeezing the flesh when you clench around him just right. Sweet whines and chants of ‘ah ah ah’ fall from your lips but you become muted when Hyunjin sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and lightly bites it. He plants broken kisses as you arch into his hand tracing the length of your spine. He had to get you to be quiet, if you keep moaning like that this show won’t last very long. 

“You know I could have you however I want, right?” He groans as he practically melts beneath you. “I could pick you up and ruin this pretty cunt but I want you to use me. I want you to use my cock in front of all of them.” His hands fall from your back and settle on your ass. The soft flesh in his hands has him holding on for dear life. What the hell are you doing to him? He’s never felt this good before. He needs you off of him now or else he’s going to explode.

 “Fuck, baby.” He lands a firm smack that draws a whimper from you. “Come here, show that pretty ass to the camera.” He lifts you up mid stroke and turns you around, your ass and dripping hole on display for more than a hundred people to see. The thought of it makes you bite your lip as Hyunjin reaches over you to jiggle your ass for the camera, leaving a bruising slap on either cheek as he pleases.

“Beautiful isn’t she?” He spreads your cheeks and leans over with puckered lips. Letting a stream of spit fall from between them and onto your asshole. He watches as it runs down and mixes with the sticky arousal of your pussy then drips down to pool on the sofa. A curse escapes him when he brings a finger up to tease your tight hole, rimming it gently then trailing down to tease your fluttering pussy. 

“Jin.” A mindless whimper escapes you and Hyunjin hums a  moan in response. He wants nothing more than to taste you, he’d make you cum while he plays with both of your holes but he wants to take his time with that. He can’t give you rushed head, you deserve better than that so he’ll settle for sinking his finger into your pussy with his thumb rubbing at your pretty puckered hole. “Oh my god.”

“Think I should add another finger chat?” Tips flood in as soon as the question leaves his mouth. You wiggle your ass at the camera earning a chuckle and a light ass slap from Hyunjin. “My eager princess, want another?” You nod, drawing out an excited hum that promptly fades into a moan once his middle finger slips into you. He fucks into you, pressing against your walls and sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. His other hand trails up your back and you arch for him, pushing your ass into his hand. Your moans echo through the room like a porn site on loud speaker.  

“Jinnie I'm gonna - gonna -” He slaps your ass, sending you into a broken moan. 

“Go ahead and make a mess for me, baby.” You’re coming undone before you can process it. He fucks you through it, massaging your sweet spot and drawing out your climax. You collapse onto his lap, eyes closed as you try to catch your breath. “I’m the luckiest guy alive.” A smug smirk pulls at Hyunjin’s lips as he repeats the comment that he was able to catch before it went zooming by in the messy chat.

 Your eyes flutter open with the intention of looking up at him and throwing a smart remark his way but his throbbing cock resting against his stomach is too close for you not to pay attention to. Hyunjin is running his fingers through your hair as he’s still trying to read the chat. He’s so engrossed in that that he only half notices when you move closer to his cock, sliding it into your mouth with a content hum

“Oh baby, oh fuck” His hand rests on the back of your head, instinctively guiding you as you take all of him and allow his tip to abuse the back of your throat. He marvels at the stretch of your pretty lips around him, taking every single inch of him until his tip makes your throat bulge and your mouth water. “Please don’t stop, don’t stop.” He pants above you, his eyes are glued to your watering ones as you blink up at him and bat your thick lashes. You swallow around him with each bob of your head and use your free hand to pay attention to his balls. You massage them gently, covering them with the spit that dribbles down from the hilt of Hyunjin's cock.

“You have no idea how good you are at that. You have no fucking clue, do you? I’d give you anything, I’d do anything just to feel this pretty mouth on me all of the time. Holy shit, Princess.” You choke around him when he pushes your head down a bit, holding you there for a second to indulge in the way your throat squeezes him. A tear rolls down your cheek and Hyunjin wipes it away with his thumb. He brings the finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean, keeping his eyes on yours as he swirls his tongue around the digit. You whimper around him and he throws his head back at the sensation. “You’re gonna make me nut if you don’t stop. I don’t wanna bust in your mouth, I wanna fill your pussy.”

He makes a fist around your ponytail when you don’t stop, pulling your head back with a grunt. “Don’t fucking listen.” You offer him a messy smile, sticking your tongue out in an attempt to catch his dick in your mouth again. He takes the base of his dick between his fingers and slaps the tip on your tongue. “Filthy girl, so pretty. Look at me, Mhmm keep those eyes on me, fuck you’re unbelievable.” He groans, pushing into your mouth and moving his hips in slow circles. You gag slightly as he pushes deep, his grip around your ponytail tightening as he fucks your face. 

“You’re gonna drive me insane.” He pulls your head back again, a single string of spit keeps the two of you connected but it’s broken when he turns your head to the camera. “You liked being dirty for me in front of them? You see how many people are watching you suck my cock.” Arousal gushes between your thighs and you press them together as the intoxicating feeling of embarrassment creeps up and paints a blush over your cheeks.

“I love it.” You hum and he smiles down at you sliding his thumb into your mouth “You’re a dream.” You smile around his finger, swirling your tongue around the tip then releasing it with a faint pop.

 “Wanna lay down for me? Let me fuck you dumb?” You’re pulling yourself into position before he even finishes the question. The sudden urgency in your actions earns you a faint chuckle and a quick kiss to your forehead as you get comfortable. He gets up on his knees and slots himself between your legs. You bring them up to rest on his shoulders and he plants sloppy kisses along your calf while he strokes himself against your entrance, teasing your clit with his tip. 

“How ya feeling, Princess. You got a bit quiet on me earlier.” 

“I’m literally seeing stars.” Your loud laughs echo through the room and rumble through the mic in front of you. “I’m good, just on cloud nine.”

“Am I your favorite collab?” The answer is yes but you’ll never admit that to him, especially not while you’re live. Truthfully this barely even feels like a collab. It just feels like you and your boyfriend fucking in front of a camera. Wait, boyfriend…? What are you even thinking? Are you catching more feelings for him right now? Ugh, okay, you gotta sort that out later. 

“Are you trying to get me in trouble?” You lightly push his chest with your foot before resting it back over his shoulder. He chuckles and kisses the inside of your ankle. “Just fuck me.” 

“My pleasure, this is what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna slip into this pussy nice and slow.” He runs his pointer finger between your slick folds and your back slightly arches off of the mattress. “Then you’re gonna cross your ankles over my chest and I'm gonna hold them.”

“Is this supposed to be some type of forbidden position?” He rolls his eyes, laughing at you as you smile up at him. “It’s gonna make that tiny cunt of yours feel even tighter.” 

You take a shaky breath in as he starts sinking into you. It feels like there can’t possibly be enough air in your lungs. They’re burning but you willfully ignore it. “Oh, come on baby, this messy cunt takes me so well.” His voice is thick with aroused exasperation as he fills you. He halts his movement for a second to allow you to adjust. “Breathe for me.”

You suck in a slow breath but that’s all in vain when he starts rocking into you. “Hyunjin” Your eyes roll back as you moan his name repeatedly. It’s amazing how perfect he feels, like he was made specifically to be inside of you.

 “Cross your legs, baby.” You do as you’re told, moving slowly as you adjust to his languid strokes “That’s it.” His gentle pace only lasts another second or two before he starts getting more reckless. He brings his hand up to his mouth and bites on his bent finger while your mouth hangs open in a silent scream. 

“Oh what the fuck, Jin. What the fuck.” The moan that escapes you is desperate and nearly has a primal ring to it. The pressure on your clit for your legs being crossed mixed with him feeling as deep as he does is a recipe to blinding orgasm. 

“You’re so fucking - Oh my god, you’re the only person I ever wanna fuck. This cunt is mine, can it be mine Princess?” He settles into an unrelenting tempo, he grips your thighs with both hands to steady himself while his desperation sets in. “Tell me it’s mine please, please please.”

“Y-yours, all yours, fuck me like I’m all yours.” A deep groan rumbles through him, That’s exactly what he wanted to hear. He wants to be yours and he wants you to be his. He wants to be the only one who gets to feel like this. The only one who makes you cream on their cock. You look so pretty, you sound so pretty, fuck you’re so pretty. 

You turn your face towards the camera so that they can get a better look at you, eyes crossed and drooling onto the sofa.

“My brainless baby is drooling?” A broken moan interrupts him.  “My cock really got you fucking dumb, huh?” 

“I wan’ your cum, Jinnie, please. Need it. Need it inside.”

“You want it? Baby’s gonna milk my cock, huh? Gonna make me creampie that cunt. Shit - I’m close.” You clench around him and he swears that he can feel his soul leaving his body. He pushes all the way in, hitting spots that you could never reach alone. Your orgasm comes into sight when he hits your cervix just right. “You gonna take it, baby? Gonna take all my - fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

 “Don’t.” He groans, slowing down a bit but you whimper in protest. “Keep fucking me like that, p-please please. Deep like that, you’re so deep like that, fuck - please.”

“Pri-princess, I can’t - fuck, I can’t”  He whines and buries himself deep into you, hips stuttering as he gets closer and closer to losing control. 

“Don’t you d-dare cum, Jinnie. Don’t.” You press your thighs together in a desperate attempt at reigning in your orgasm. The pleasure build inside you, slowly creeping up your spine before it hits you all at once. Your body tenses as shockwaves rush over you and your walls spasm and contract around him.

“Holy shit, baby I can’t fucking take it.” His movements become erratic as he tries to help you ride out your high but the feeling of you flooding his cock throws him over the edge. His orgasm hits him like a freight train and he throws his head back and practically screams above you. He bites his lip in a desperate attempt to quiet himself but his efforts are not enough to keep his moans of euphoria at bay.

 He empties himself inside of you until his seed is spilling out in a helpless attempt to escape your plugged pussy. You uncross your legs from his chest and let them plop against the sofa once he releases his death grip on your thighs. With the lack of support Hyunjin falls forward but he catches himself before he collapses on top of you, his hips shake as he comes down from his high. Sweat drips down and runs along the valley of your breasts as he hovers above you and tries to catch his breath. You stay still, your body still trembling as the aftershocks of pleasure course through you. You stay like that until he finally pulls himself out and collapses next to you. 

Only your labored breaths can be heard throughout the room as you try to fill your lungs but that’s easily drowned out by the sounds of your hammering heart pulsing in your ears when you feel Hyunjin move next to you. 

He’s holding your hand.

His fingers intertwine with yours, giving you a light squeeze and you smile at the gesture, the butterflies in your stomach erupt into a clumsy swarm as the two of you lie in silence for a while longer.. 

“So.” Hyunjin breaths out, propping himself up onto his elbow so that he can look down at you. “Are you impressed?” You push him down with a laugh and roll over on top of him.

“I am impressed.” You lean down and catch his smiling lips in a slow and soft kiss. You both sigh into it, his hands tracing up your sides as yours run down his chest. You break the kiss with a smile and whisper. “Your majesty.”

“If you’re the Princess what does that make me?” Hyunjin teases with a smile and you stare down at him with a surprised blush. You attempt to hide your face in his neck and roll off of him but he pulls you in for another kiss before you can make your escape. The two of you melt into the exchange, getting so lost in each other that you don’t hear Felix’s text tone going off. Actually, you haven’t heard it go off for the past ten minutes that he’s been texting you. Changbin has been texting Hyunjin for the same amount of time if not a bit longer but the two of you have been so deep in your own world. Right now nothing and no one but the two of you exist. You’re both completely and totally enamored with each other and you have no problem with everyone knowing that…Except no one will know that. Why?

Because the livestream disconnected twenty minutes ago.

Thank you reading! Please like and share, it makes my day!

ASLO, please follow my back-up acct. @minniee-verse ❣️

[writingquestionsanswered]

Not to be a downer, but I actually finished my novel and now I’m confused because I don’t want to publish it. I don’t even particularly want anyone other than maybe my two close friends to even read it. What on Earth did I write 40k words (which I know is not really long enough for a novel, but it’s still far and away the longest thing I’ve ever written) for? I know people say “write for yourself” but like… am I just wasting my time? Help?

(p.s. you can leave this off anon)

(p.p.s your blog is really great 👍)

There's No Such Thing as Wasted Writing

I'm going to tackle this two ways...

#1 - "Write For Yourself" - there's a reason this common phrase has echoed through the Hall of Writers since time immemorial. It's because it's true! Writing doesn't have to be anything more than a pastime. It doesn't have to be anything more than something you do for your own benefit and enjoyment.

I have an in-joke with family members about how any time one of us does something the least bit crafty, DIY, skilled, whatever, a particular family member will always say, "You did a great job! You should do it for a living!" Like, someone can't even crochet a Kawaii mushroom without being pressured to turn it into an Etsy dynasty, or paint a cabinet without being pressured to become the next Property Brothers. And that's such a BANANAS capitalistic mindset, isn't it? This idea that nothing can be done purely for our own enjoyment. That you can't just write a novel because you want to... you can only write it if you plan to share it or publish it? It's just so silly.

And, the thing is, we don't even apply that mentality to a lot of other things people do purely for enjoyment. No one is streaming all of Bridgerton in two nights and saying, "I enjoyed every second of that, but why did I do that? Such a waste of time!" No one spends an hour strumming their guitar under the stars on a beach, and then says, "That was so relaxing and fun, but I didn't charge for that performance and I didn't record it to sell it, so that was obviously a waste of time."

You know what I mean?

#2 - And Anyway, Practice Makes Perfect - And if you keep writing--even if you continue not to share or publish--you'll get better and better with each story you write. Which, maybe all that means is you get to appreciate your own improvement, but also, should you ever change your mind and decide to write something to share or publish, you've now spent time honing your skills. Even if those other stories never see the light of day, they're still an important foundation of the writer you become. Do you know how many unpublished novellas, novels, and short stories I have? Too many to count. Hundreds of fan-fiction and original fiction short stories I've only shared with one or two other people, if anyone. A dozen or so novels and novellas that have only been read by a few people, and some haven't been read by anyone else or have only been read by my CPs. I would never consider those stories and novels and novellas to be a waste of time, because I know every single one made me a better writer. My published work is better because I wrote those other things.

So, I hope that makes you feel better. At the very least you hopefully enjoyed writing your novel--or at least got something out of it--and you definitely honed your writing skills, which matters! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[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!

[tavolgisvist]

'Just call him on the phone'

Q: Aside from the millions you’ve been offered for a reunion concert, how did you feel about producer Lorne Michaels’s generous offer of thirty-two hundred dollars for appearing together on Saturday Night Live a few years ago?* A: Oh, yeah, Paul and I were together watching that show. He was visiting us at our place in the Dakota. We were watching it and almost went down to the studio, just as a gag. We nearly got into a cab, but we were actually too tired. Q: How did you and Paul happen to be watching TV together? A: That was a period when Paul just kept turning up at our door with a guitar. I would let him in, but finally I said to him**, “Please call before you come over. It’s not 1956, and turning up at the door isn’t the same anymore. You know, just give me a ring.” He was upset by that, but I didn’t mean it badly. I just meant that I was taking care of a baby all day, and some guy turns up at the door … But anyway, back on that night he and Linda walked in and he and I were just sitting there watching the show, and we went, Ha-ha, wouldn’t it be funny if we went down, but we didn’t. Q: Is that the last time you’ve seen Paul? A: Yes, but I didn’t mean it like that.

<...> Q: You say you haven’t really listened to Paul’s work and haven’t really talked to him since that night in your apartment— A: Really talked to him, no, that’s the operative word. I haven’t really talked to him in ten years. Because I haven’t spent time with him. I’ve been doing other things and so has he. You know, he’s got twenty five kids and about twenty million records out — how can he spend time talking? He’s always working.

(John Lennon, 1980, All We Are Saying, David Sheff)

*It was in 25 April 1976 **it was in 26 April 1976

Well, when I, when I was Just a little baby boy, Every night, every night I would call, Because your number, you know, Brought me such sweet joy. I've called your name, John, Every night since then But I ain't never, no, no, never Heard you calling me, My sweet, sweet babe, So, you know, you better call me back again, I call your operator but I still can't get through to you, Call me back again

(Call Me Back Again, presumably, 10 June 1976, Seattle)

Tell me, is she everything i see Or is she really not the one for me? We know, and though some may disagree But do they know the way we want to be? <…> Building something One thing made to last And holding something Special from the past And do I still believe in stories we've been told***? Are all the things she brings me worth their weight in gold? Oh yeah, (oh yeah) pure gold

(Pure Gold, Paul for Ringo, 1976)

***I remember when John and I were first hanging out together, I had a dream about digging in the garden with my hands. I’d dreamt that before but I’d never found anything other than an old tin can. But in this dream I found a gold coin. I kept digging and I found another. And another.The next day I told John about this amazing dream I’d had and he said, ‘That’s funny, I had the same dream’. So both of us had this dream of finding this treasure. And I suppose you could say it came true. I remember years later talking about it – ‘Remember that dream we had?’; ‘Yeah, that was far out’. So the message of that dream was: keep digging lads.'

(Paul McCartney to The Big Issue, Feb. 2012)

After you've gone And left me crying After you've gone Ain't no deny You'll feel blue You'll feel sad You'll miss the dearest pal that you ever had

There'll come a time And don't you forget it There'll come a time When you'll regret it****

Someday when you grow lonely Your heart will break like mine You want me only After you've gone After you've gone away

(After You've Gone, 1977, Paul's version - 'just for fun' as he said - of a 1918 popular song written by Turner Layton and Henry Creamer, and it's Frank Sinatra's (and Sophie Tucker!) version.

****the line 'Don't you forget it/When you'll regret it' reminds another old (not as old like After You've Gone but old) song -  I Love You And Don't You Forget It by Perry Como. The song, what our lads were singing in their early years so playfully:

Klas Burling: Tell us something about how you find a song… how you get the idea about a song, to write it down. John: Well, sometimes it's the words first, and then the music after. Klas Burling: Very often you've got a title, you know… Me and you, and everything like that? Paul: Yeah. We try to do that, to make it personal so it's… so we really mean it. When we sing a thing about 'I love you,' it's easier. John: (singing) 'And don't you forget it!' John & Paul: (singing together, jokingly) 'I love you and don't you forget it!' Paul: Well, you see, it's easier than singing something about the cat that lives on the hill, man. (laughter) Paul: It's a lot easier just to sing about what you feel yourself.

(August 23 1963, interview with Klas Burling)

Was I just dreaming or was it only yesterday I used to hold you in my arms And now a baby, and a another on the way [Indescernable] in a farm Now must we be alone? If it don’t feel right, don’t do it If it don’t look right, look right through it If it don’t feel right, don’t do it Just call him on the phone

(John Lennon, Real Life, Feb 1977)

We'd had a bread strike over here***** and I rang him and I was saying, What are you doing? He says. I'm baking some bread.' 'Oh! Me too.' Imagine, with the stereotypes, John and Paul talking about baking bread.

(Paul McCartney, May 2001, interview for Mojo magazine)

*****a bread strike in England was in Nov 1978

Q: Do you regret that your life has become so public? A: I realized that a good fifteen years ago. I remember actually thinking when I went on holiday somewhere, ‘God I’d really better start thinking now about keeping a few countries aside where we don’t sell records. I won’t be able to go anywhere without being recognized.’ But now I think, ‘Really, I’ve reached the point of no return. There’s no going back.’ Even if I didn’t want to sing anymore, I’d just be like Greta Garbo or Brigitte Bardot. They both retired but you’d never know it. John said this to me a year before he died. He said, ‘Be careful what you wish for, it might just come true.’ That’s the way I look at it. I wished for all this and I got it. To regret it would mean I’d have to sit here and live with negative thoughts about it. I know that would only sink me. Even if I had feelings of regret my personality would not really let them out. ‘Look mate, you don’t regret it. Look on the other side,’ that’s me. Not to sink. I always used to do that instinctively, and not allow too many negative thoughts to surface.

(Paul McCartney, April/May 1982, interview for Music Express)

The couple of years after the Beatles broke up it was very touchy because I think we suspected each other of business manoeuvres. So anyone would ring up, it would be like, “Why is he ringing?” And when you put up the defensive like that it’s very difficult to say, “I’m not! Honest!” You just don’t know where to put yourself. So we had a lot of those ups and downs for quite a few years. But the favourite thing was that if ever we talked not business – and what we ended doing, actually, was make a rule not to talk business on the phone – and on those occasions, we had really good vibes, man. And it was great; we just talked kids, we talked family, we talked cats, we talked life, rather than, “oh, what songs are doing with x business affair?” And one of the great things for me, one of the consolation prizes after John was killed, the only thing– you know, you find yourself holding on to little bits of wreckage to keep yourself afloat. And with me it was the fact that our last phonecall was really one of the best we ever had together; it was really warm, we were really friends again.

(Paul McCartney, 1984, interview for CBS Morning News)

Q: Do you remember your last conversation with John? A: Yes. That is a nice thing, a consoling factor for me, because I do feel it was sad that we never actually sat down and straightened our differences out. But fortunately for me, the last phone conversation I ever had with him was really great, and we didn’t have any kind of blowup. It could have easily been one of the other phone calls, when we blew up at each other and slammed the phone down. Q: Do you remember what you talked about? A: It was just a very happy conversation about his family, my family. Enjoying his life very much; Sean was a very big part of it. And thining about getting on with his career. I remember he said, “Oh, God, I’m like Aunt Mimi, padding round here in me dressing gown”– robe, as he called it, ’cause he was picking up the American vernacular –“feeding the cats in me robe and cooking and putting a cup of tea on. This housewife wants a career!” It was that time for him. He was about to launch Double Fantasy.******

(Paul McCartney, Dec 1984, interview for Playboy)

******Double Fantasy released 17 November 1980

I was lucky. The last few wee... months that he was alive, we’d managed to get our relationship back on track. And we were talking and having real good conversations. Real nice and friendly.

(Paul McCartney about This One, interview with Bernard Goldberg for the TV series 48 Hours, 1989)

[anneapocalypse]

On the Former Scions and Leadership

Something that's kind of interesting to me about the Warrior of Light, which has always been there but which Dawntrail has me thinking about in a new way, is that the WoL really isn't a leader.

(Disclaimer: Obviously everyone has their own version of the Warrior of Light and is free to headcanon over and rewrite parts of the story to suit their character, and so what I'm saying here may not apply to everyone's character! For our purposes here, I'm just talking about The Warrior of Light as written.)

(Further note: I understand that there are a variety of feelings out there about the new characters and everyone is entitled to their own opinions about that; however this post is not an invitation to trash those characters in the notes so please refrain from that here; thank you.)

The Warrior of Light is a hero, but not a leader. Thanks to the linear nature of FFXIV's storyline, the game can't really offer us the conceit of making real choices, and so pretty much everything the WoL does is a result of someone else asking them to do it. So many of our major relationships with NPCs are with leaders: Minfilia, Nanamo, Kan-E-Senna, Merlwyb, Aymeric, Raubahn, Hien, the Exarch, Vrtra, Fourchenault, Wuk Lamat and Koana, every guild leader in our job quests. The WoL is someone called upon by leaders rather than being a leader themselves.

The Scions themselves have an interesting relationship to leadership in general. I've written before about how much the Scions feel like they're living in the shadow of Louisoix, especially in ARR, and how this affects their actions. As the leader of the former Circle of Knowing, Minfilia steps into the leadership position in his absence. I love Minfilia dearly; I think she has a true gift for bringing people together, making people feel welcomed and not alone, and helping them find purpose. I think all those skills probably availed her well as the leader of her Echo support group. It's when the Scions suddenly find themselves in the spotlight on an international scale following the defeat of the Ultima Weapon that I think the cracks start to show. I think that, very understandably, Minfilia is not prepared for the weight of that situation, and that's part of the reason she allows Alphinaud to step into such a leadership role himself (and also, and I say this with all the love in the world for both Alphinaud and Minfilia, why she even kind of lets him push her around at times). For Alphinaud himself, his experience of leadership with the Scions is disastrous, for which I think some responsibility also has to be laid upon the adults around him, who might have seen the red flags but didn't stop that train.

When Minfilia disappears, I think it's so telling that no one else steps up to fill the role of the Antecedent. Alphinaud is no longer so eager to take on that burden, and no one else is jumping at it either. Certainly the Warrior of Light isn't going to do it. (They're the boots on the ground, and the Antecedent is largely an administrative job.) The Scions instead just kind of agree to keep carrying on doing what they each do best, without an official leader. If anything, the glue holding the Scions together at this point is Tataru, who keeps the books and manages the budget and does her damnedest to keep certain people from putting overpriced purchases on the company card.

And that's not to say that none of the others have leadership skills! But it's interesting how, for those who do take on leadership positions, it's generally away from the Scions. After years of hiding under her sister's identity and "Papalymo's little shadow," Lyse takes an active role in the Ala Mhigan resistance, and helps to lead her people to freedom--a journey which ultimately takes her out of the Scions as she decides to stay in Ala Mhigo.

I'm counting G'raha as a Scion here since he does become one eventually, though not until after his hundred-year stint as the Exarch. It's clear both from the community that has grown up around the Crystal Tower, and from some really great G'raha moments in Endwalker, that he has real skills both at bringing people together for a common cause, and at taking charge in a crisis to protect the vulnerable. For the most part, though, he seems quite happy to take on a sidekick role after he returns to the Source. After a hundred years, I imagine anyone might be ready for a break from being in charge.

Y'shtola is harder to analyze because she's gotten less direct character development than most of the surviving Scions, and has remained largely in a supporting role thus far (though she remains a very interesting character to me, and I am hoping for a bit more of her in the Dawntrail patches given the setup for a cross-rift-travel solution). Y'shtola has always seemed reserved and a bit of a loner, and never seemed particularly interested in leadership until she threw in her lot with the Night's Blessed in the First. By the time we meet her again, she's become a trusted figure among the Blessed and the others clearly look to her for guidance and leadership. (It's also kind of interesting to me how both of the characters who wind up in leadership positions in the First are Seeker Miqo'te, and it probably was just a coincidence, but it'd be interesting to analyze how Seeker culture might prime a capable person to be willing to rise to the occasion where they see a group of people need.) Yet Y'shtola too seems perfectly content to settle back into a support role when she returns to the Source.

Endwalker is all about standing together, working together, the necessity of hope to overcome despair not merely individually but as a collective effort. The Scions all rally, each bringing what they have to offer, and they do so without ever appointing a new leader. They go where they see a need, like Urianger choosing to stay on the moon, or Thancred watching over the Warrior of Light and the twins when things go south on the relief mission to Garlemald, or the twins later taking a personal interest in the rebuilding efforts there. They also defer to leaders within the Eorzean Alliance where appropriate, happy at this point to work alongside the nations' armies rather than attempting to command one.

And the more I look at the Scions' history this way, the more their disbanding at the end of Endwalker seems inevitable and the logical end to the organization. In a very real sense they have completed the work that Louisoix and Minfilia set out to do. They've been leaderless for some time now already and it has not stopped them from doing good where needed. They are not leaders. Their goal was never to steer the course of world events indefinitely. They've all learned a lot about applying their individual talents for the greater good and having faith in one another to do the same, without having to be directed by one charismatic leader every step of the way--a major point of growth from where they were in ARR.

And all of this makes our role in Dawntrail really interesting to me, because it's all about leadership! And the Warrior of Light and their companions are, as characters, perfectly primed to take a supporting role and take initiative in that role where needed (see: Thancred and Urianger doing what needs to be done behind the scenes during the second act crisis). What the former Scions aren't, as a whole, at this point in their story, is people inclined to step up and take over. And this is a good thing for this story. Both Wuk Lamat and Koana need to learn and grow on their own, and in the context of their own cultures. The former Scions can help, they can support, and they do, but they aren't going to take over. Sure, they have opinions! At various points, we see characters on both teams (including the Warrior of Light) make some pointed faces at one another indicating that they have some doubts about the direction in which their candidates are taking things. But they withhold direct judgment or criticism for the most part and I think that makes sense both for their characters, and for the nature of the story.

I also think it was probably intentional that the former Scion with the most extensive leadership experience, G'raha, is not one of the characters hired by the claimants and doesn't come back to the plot until later. While I love G'raha and I did miss him, I understand story-wise why he couldn't be here; his unique circumstances mean that he has had more leadership experience than most people could ever have in a single lifetime, and it's probably for the best that that doesn't overpower the experiences of our young claimants who need to learn their own lessons on their own terms.

The support role of the former Scions also makes sense in other ways, I think, in terms of allowing the Turali characters and especially Wuk Lamat, as the main character, to shine in their own right and to avoid what could otherwise have been some problematic tropes. But I also think it works pretty well as a natural outgrowth of who these characters are and have grown into over multiple expansions, the Warrior of Light included.

[some-triangles]

I've been on tumblr since 2011, and this is technically a sideblog. My creative focus shifted over here, to - I guess what could loosely be referred to as fandom space? It was Homestuck's fault - many years ago, and I more or less consciously decided to shift the original blog's purpose from writing little bits of poetry about weird birds to finding bird videos on other platforms that I thought could go viral and reposting (stealing) them. (Always credited, of course. I'm not a monster.) This worked pretty well, and now I have 6000+ followers over there. Since I never use it to promote anything or for any purpose beyond birdposting I feel OK about this as an experiment. I mostly use it to people-watch.

The latest video I have gaining traction over there is one my friend Rat sent me (one of many friends who either found me through birds or Homestuck and each is equally plausible) in which a pelican at a petting zoo is forced to cough up the gosling it was attempting to swallow by a handler who has clearly had to deal with this many times before. She then frogmarches (birdmarches?) it away by its beak. Good stuff, and very on brand, as I've been warning people about the horrors of pelican vore for ages. (I even got my very own pervert for a while, an anon who kept badgering various bird blogs to write about what it might be like to be swallowed.) When something I post starts doing numbers I like to watch the notes and tags, because it fascinates me how people like to make the same jokes, over and over and over. Not even their own jokes. I have never fully understood this but it's undeniably foundational to the way the internet works. Like, I get dropping References in conversation - social glue and all that, fun and funny - but in a public forum? Where you could literally check and see how many people have said the same thing before you got to it? Baffling. Universal.

Anyway. We started slow with this one, and we had some discerning folks doing Democracy Manifest bits - succulent avian meal, and all that. As references go it's a pretty good one, as it has its own wikipedia page and everything, and it's timely with Jack Karlson's recent passing. There were a few I am Forcibly Escorted From tags, which is nice, since you don't hear that one much these days. A bunch of quotidian "she's so done" or "like a toddler being dragged by his ear" observations, mostly uninspiring, although the specificity of one person's "my mom dragging me into the church bathroom to whoop my ass" was worth sharing. A little bit of the classic concern trolling you get with any animal video - why indeed is this bird being kept in the same place as all these edible little guys? But, inevitably, because it is the perfect time to use it, most people went with "put baby in pelican mouth."

And the thing about this is that I know the person who wrote the original "put baby in pelican mouth" post. We met through tumblr. She was absolutely inspired by my pelican posting to write that piece, and I know that because we ended up dating. It ended badly, and I still have regrets about it, and now, every time I make a pelican post, I am treated to a choir of strangers - literally hundreds of them - repeating a joke which was written by my ex-girlfriend. It's straight from the ironic punishment division, really. But birdpost I must, and tagwatch I must.

Anyway, Nikki, if you're out there, hope you're doing well.

[thesparklingwriter]

taking fate into one's own hands

08—improvement

Word count: 2.5k

navi | taglist | masterlist

“Could you teach me?” you ask quietly, and Morax lets out a surprised hum. He seems to have a chivalrous nature you hadn’t earlier noticed—he walks you to your room. You returned form the harbour with nothing to show for the depletion in his own personal fund—apparently items made for the king are delivered directly to him.

“Certainly.” he says quickly. “Though I am not sure why you would ask for me.”

You sigh quietly. You had spent some time thinking, and your parents had never made a second attempt to contact you. It seemed like the situation was dire, and since going back is an option they will never suggest or accept, you want to be able to act alone and get the information you need about what’s going on. It may take years to become conversational, but a start is a start. And even further than that, any further separation from him now might lead to a regression in the peaceful truce you seem to have created.

“You should send a response to your parents. I will see to it that it is delivered and replied to immediately.”

You glance up at Morax, wondering how he knew what you were thinking. But he won’t meet your eyes, sensing your question. “The expression on your face is one I know I've made a hundred times. Do not act in a way that will breed regret. It is an ugly thing.”

“I will think about it.”

“Good. we can start your language lessons tomorrow, if you wish.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” he says, as you reach your room. “Shuì gè hǎo jiào.” you look at him in confusion, and the small smile on his face quirks a little. “An advance on your first lesson. It means ‘sleep well.”

You smile as you open the door to your room. “Shui ge hao jue.” you say back. Your tones are wrong, but Morax notes that even a stranger on the streets would have been able to understand what you're saying. He smiles at your closed door, and turns to retire to his room for the night.

~~~

“No abyssal movement?” Morax asks Xiao. Through Xiao’s reconnaissance and the little he noticed while in your kingdom, he has concluded that the crop death and freak weather conditions that lead to the decline of your kingdoms prosperity is abyss related. But he just can’t figure out why.

Xiao shakes his head. “Not from their entities. I am unable to locate the source of the issue.”

“The spread of the population is further out from the palace?”

“Yes, the crops on the outskirts seem to do better there, but the weather conditions aren’t exactly ideal. If the people can avoid famine, they will struggle with maintaining a safe place to live.” Xiao reports. His words confirm his suspicions entirely. You weren’t sent away because your kingdom wanted just the trade support from Liyue, but because the threat was from inside the palace. You were sent away for your own protection. But that begs the question: if your parents know the issue, why aren’t they doing anything about it?

“Work on getting closer to the palace. The quicker we understand what is happening, the sooner I can explain it to her.” Morax says, letting out a resolute sigh. “In the meantime, if you could aid in informing the traders that any excess produce can be sold to us for 3 times the standard price, that would be appreciated. I fear her kingdom is going to need more supplies than they think.”

~~~

Morax had agreed to teach you, just as you’d hoped, but you couldn’t sit around all day, waiting for him to find you. You were going to catch a headstart. You’d written a reply to you parents, asking them why they decided to send you away instead of telling you the truth, or how the abyss order came to the palace and your kingdom in the first place. You didn’t expect an honest reply, but it was worth a try.

The library is a grand and imposing room—floor to ceiling shelves full of books, with a dark wooden decor. You’re greeted by a slight middle aged woman as soon as you enter. Her dark hair and clothing matches the library’s interior, and her glasses shimmer with the warm glint of candlelight.

“Ah. Deus Auri told me I might be expecting you. I am Zhi. It is lovely to meet you.” She inclines her head towards you, and you return the gesture, bowing fully. She chuckles lightly.

“The pleasure is mine.” you pause. Deus Auri? Yet another name? “If you don't mind me asking, why does the king have so many names?”

Zhi smiles. “That is something he should tell you himself.” she smooths her slick black ponytail and smiles. “Here.” she hands you something that looks like a child’s book. “The mechanism on the back will play the audio. Try to recognise the characters from the sound.”

You gape at her. To be handed a child’s book in earnest was not on your list today, but you request a sheet of paper and something to write with, and you do as she asks. You tear through the first, having picked up some recurring characters and their sounds, as well as noting down some guesses. While you’re deep in focus, Zhi brings you more books, and you solidify your guesses. It's as you’re buried in a growing pile of books, and Zhi is in the process of adding more that Morax comes to find you.

“I see you have started without me.” he smiles.

“I have no other way to spend my time. I prefer to engage in fruitful endeavours wherever possible.” You don’t look up from your paper and charcoal.

“What have you discovered thus far?”

You clear your throat and look up at him. Once again, you find yourself staring at him in what must be his casual wear, his impossibly long hair tied back, but not in the usual intricate braids. He seems to glow in the warm lighting of the library.

“‘Shénme’ seems to mean ‘what’.” you say quietly, glancing at the scribbles on your paper.

“Correct. This method of learning is frustrating, no?” he says, pulling up the chair next to you. You’re quick to move your paper out of the way, more out of embarrassment than anything else. He's so close, too close even. If you moved slightly, your arms would be touching. He seems to be unbothered by the proximity, sneaking a glance at the paper you so unsubtly stashed away.

“Perhaps a little.” you reply. “There is a more pressing matter at hand. Why do you have so many names?”

Morax laughs at that, a deep, velvety sound you are certain you have never heard. But now you have, you fear you might spend every day trying to coax it out of him whenever possible. 

“I was of the impression we had closed this discussion.”

“We have not.” you scowl. “Deus Auri, Zhongli, Morax, Rex Lapis.. Your arguments do not work on me. How does one man find himself with this many…” Morax knew that at one point, your stubbornness would be directed at him more intentionally than you refusing to look or speak to him. He did not expect it to be like this, but he finds that he does not begrudge it. To see fire in your eyes again, not to preserve yourself but out of real curiosity, to see you comfortable enough to question him, to spend time in the library by yourself… The wilting flower that was delivered to his doorstep has somehow found a way to bloom, and he is grateful. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, blinking at him.

“A man who has lived thousands of years must have the appropriate amount of names.”

“You said you’re only 3 years my senior.”

“In this particular lifetime, yes.” Morax smiles. He was not expecting to explain this to you today.

“You don’t mean to imply—”

“Reincarnation. Yes. before being the humble ruler of Liyue, I was their god—Morax. And then I was their sovereign—Rex lapis, and before all of that, when Liyue itself wasn’t a nation, and the first inklings of culture began to form, to the first ones, I was Deus Auri.”

You stare at him slack mouthed.

“So you mean to tell me that you saw the creation of Liyue?”

Morax sits back in his seat, his slightly relaxed posture so foreign to you that you resist the urge to gawk at him even more. “How else would you expect Liyue to be so connected to its roots?”

“Is reincarnation a gift only afforded to the gods, or are we mere mortals afforded the same fate?” you ask drily, and Morax chuckles again.

“Reincarnation cycles are typically shorter for those favoured by Celestia. Not only do we find ourselves living longer, but we also find ourselves reincarnated as few as years after our deaths. For mortals, like your parents or Alanna, for example, they might find it takes decades, or even centuries. By then, so much time has passed that it is unlikely they will be able to be identified by the family of those they loved. It is easier for those like us to identify mortals we have known and loved in the past—knowing life is ephemeral makes it easier for us to pay attention to the smaller things.”

You notice that Morax pointedly does not include you in his description of ‘mortals’ but you let it slide—you are edging closer to the information you seek, and it’s best not to get caught on tangents.

“Reincarnation stays within families, I assume?” you ask. Zhongli nods. “So if you were to find yourself reincarnated into a member of your extended family, how would you find yourself back on your throne?”

He clears his throat. “An insightful question. It can be a difficult process. One that can tear families apart.” Morax sits up, adjusting his billowing sleeves in an action you can only assume is his version of fidgeting. 

“You said earlier that you were fine with whatever I wanted to call you, but I have to insist. What do you want me to call you? I won’t take no for an answer.”

Morax meets your determined stare and sighs a little. “Let us make an arrangement. If you can make it through this lesson I will teach you to read the characters for my name.” 

You grin. You’ve made headway with him.

Morax, you learn, may be somewhat lenient with you in day to day life, however, when it comes to lessons, he is a force to be reckoned with. He is not loud or abusive, but he is firm, and if you believed you were stubborn, he has proved you otherwise.

“They sound the same to me.” you complain after Morax attempts to explain tones to you once again.

“You will learn to differentiate them, but you have to train your ears from the start.” he fires off another set of words that sound the same, and you shut off, refusing to listen any further. 

“I can’t bear any more today. I forfeit my prize. I give up.”

Morax sighs, taking the charcoal from your hands and neatly writing out two characters. He writes the phonetic pronunciation underneath each character, and turns it towards you.

“If you can pronounce this correctly, we can resume practising tomorrow. If not, Zhi and Xiao will teach you.”

You scowl at him, and the smile he sends back to you is placid, but if you’d paid closer attention, you might have noticed a hint of concern in his eyes. Has he pushed you too far? Is this a fair test? Tones are difficult for all learners, and had he not aided the development of this language himself, he might not have been able to grasp them. Your brow furrows as you try to match the tones to the sounds, and he watches you go back and forth between what you’re reading, and the sound you want to make.

“Zhōnglì.” You say quietly, and his smile deepens. “Am I right?”

“Perfect.” he replies quickly. You try your best to hide your pleased smile, but it’s impossible. Zhongli smiles, but for a different reason. You had gotten his name right, but he’d written the phonetics incorrectly. Either you remembered from the very first meeting you’d had all those days ago, or you knew his name from elsewhere. And considering that all those who used to call him Zhongli died before he was seated on the throne, he’s inclined to believe you know his name from somewhere else.

“So I’ll see you back here tommorrow?”

“Of course.” Zhongli smiles. “I wouldn't dream of ever abandoning my best student.”

~~~

“Zhōnglì.” You whisper to yourself, in the privacy of your own room, staring at the paper. His handwriting is immaculate—so calculated that you could have believed it was printed. But it doesn’t match the sound of his name. He says, you're right, and you flip through your memories to try and remember the sound of his name when he introduced himself all that time ago, but you just can't grasp it. 

You have nothing else to do, so you rewrite your notes from the day and stare at the reply to your parent's letyer. And stare some more. In fact, you stare at it so much so that you are sure the desperate pleas for more information are burned onto your retinas.

Alanna is quiet, busy reorganising your wardrobe and jewellery. Small tasks like this keep her occupied—until she picks up a teal blue necklace, and her thoughts start spiralling again. She scowls. Her focus is on you and making sure you’re happy, and she can’t do that if her mind is elsewhere.

“I’m bored.” she smiles. “Fancy getting dressed up for dinner?”

“Why would I do that?”

“For your dear assistant who cannot layer traditional wear and needs practice.” she smiles. “You know. Just in case.”

You sigh. You have never once been able to resist her smile, and the thought that she should have been the princess passes your mind again. “Of course. I shall be your doll for the day.”

Your meeting with Alanna’s comb is delayed as a knock on the door rings out. Perhaps it's delusion, but you’ve begun to recognise Zhongli’s knocks. Firm and resonant, you seem to hear them long after his fist has left the door.

“The king seems to believe that I have nothing to do with my time.” you tease as you open your door. He chuckles lightly as you register the piles of silk in his hands.

“The pieces you requested are ready. It seems the modiste likes you more than he likes me—last time I requested his aid for a festival he cut it rather fine with the delivery.” This is partially a lie. Zhongli requested that your pieces be finished faster.

“You should think of a name for this delivery service of yours.” You take the fabric from his hands and turn to place it on your bed. He makes no moves to follow you, standing at the threshold as if there is an invisible barrier. Alanna, once again, is nowhere to be found.

“Perhaps I should.” He smiles ever so slightly. Maybe it is more accurate to call it a twitch of the lips. “Will you be joining me for dinner?”

“Alanna believes I shall. She is insisting on using me as her mannequin for the evening, wherever she is. If I arrive with half finished makeup as evidence of my impatience you are not to laugh at me.”

“I would never dream of such a thing.” And the king of Liyue, leans ever so slightly against your doorframe as he crosses his arms.

notes: why is celeste even giving you the poll feature anymore when she knows you cannot be trusted.

Taglist: @tartigglez @ainescribe @blue-sapphire-ink @mikashisus @local-lover-boy @osmanthus-wine-addiction

[shinestarhwaa]

So I can't stop thinking about Ateez incubi-

But like...you're a nympho and they show up all "HA IMA SEX YOU"

and you're all "OH FUK YEAH" and they don't know what they are in for.

I keep wondering how each one would react to the tables being turned and the utter panic or if they'd love it.

I'm crazy and I've been on here too long.

An OT8 Incubus fic? Lord. I have never written anything like this before so pls bare with me and forgive me for any mistakes. I'm not too familiar with fantasy stuff but the incubi themes have caught my attention a few times before so I thought I'd give it a go. It has been weeks or months since you've asked this so I'm sorry for the long wait, but it's here. <3

SAY MY NAME | OT8

Genre: Smut

@anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @star1117-archives @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main

Pairing: OT8 Ateez x Fem reader

Word count: 4.1K (of 100% smut)

Warnings/tags: Incubus!Ateez (sexdemons), vulgarity, pure filth, unprotected sex, oral sex, anal sex, face/throatfucking, dirty talk, reader is such a menace and a brat like man Wooyoung seriously found his match, degrading, choking, namecalling (whore, slut), fingering, some m x m action, huge dicks fr, they're all hundreds of years old (and San and Hongjoong are kind of their leaders), Yunho is a rookie incubus lol, SO many orgasms, overstimulation, nipple play ig, cum eating, hairpulling, squirting

Let me know if you wanna be on my taglist❣️

This will be absolute pure smut so read at your own risk lol

ENJOY!

When you woke up in the middle of the night, you could feel something was up. The atmosphere was uneasy, yet you were unsure why. You sat up straight, rubbing your eyes, trying to focus.

''Look at that, guys, she's already showing off her beautiful tits,'' a voice suddenly called. You frowned, scanning the room until you saw shadows, eight to be exact. You looked at the shadows, back to yourself, noticing the blanket that pooled around your legs, breasts left uncovered. You had the tendency to sleep naked as it felt like freedom to you.

''Look at those... Nipples already hard.''

The shadows came closer, revealing eight men - were they men? They were bare chested, muscular, cloaks around their shoulders what seemed to be gorgeous red and black wings. Their legs were muscular, showing through the leathery-latex fabric of their pants. One of the shorter ones stepped forward, the buckles on his boots making a little noise with every step.

''Hello there, little one,'' he said, running his hand through his bright blue hair. ''Who... Or what are you?'' you asked, although you kinda had a feeling that you knew what was coming. ''Me? I'm an incubus, my dear, and you can call me Hongjoong, you'll need to know what when you'll be screaming my name,'' he smirked. You swallowed thickly, feeling the arousal pool between your legs.

One of the taller ones took a deep breath, gasping. ''Can you smell that, boys? How horny she already is? She barely met us and already cannot help herself,'' he smirked. You bit your lip. ''So you boys just- sorry... You incubi... just came into my room to fuck me?'' The second incubi stepped forward, coming closer to your bed. ''We sure are. And you have no other option than to fucking take it, take our cocks... I can't wait for you to take mine baby, you'll be screaming my name... Seonghwa, until you cry...,'' he spat, leaning into you.

''Who said I didn't wanna take it? Having eight little guys fight for me and wanting me on their little cocks sounds pretty good actually,'' you teased. You couldn't care less about them being incubi, being a brat was in your blood. ''I'm fucking ready,'' you said as you threw the blanket off yourself, revealing your naked body. ''Come and get it,'' you winked at them, noticing they were already hardening in their pants.

''Oh? A little girl who thinks she can handle eight incubi at once? You don't know what you are doing, little one,'' the tallest one said, stepping forward. ''Well, puppy boy, you don't know what you are in for,'' you smirked, crawling over to the foot of the bed, where he was standing. Your fingertips travelled up and down his chest and abs, making his breath hitch in his throat.

''Earth to Yunho? What do you think you're doing? You're such an idiot, you're a newbie and it shows,'' another one complained, rolling his eyes. He was much smaller, but he was muscular and feisty, making you curious. ''Wooyoung shutup, I'm only 139 years old!'' Yunho grunted, making Wooyoung laugh.

''139 huh? You'd be the oldest person I've ever had,'' you smirked, teasing him more. ''No, I will be the oldest you've ever had, and we are not so called persons, we're fucking incubi. I'm 456 years old so you better respect me, hm?'' another one said, lifting your chin up with his thick fingers. ''Mhm, alright daddy,'' you winked. The cat-like incubi rolled his eyes. ''It's San.''

''San... Sannie? Is your cock as big as a mountain?'' you giggled, teasing him as well. ''You must've been a cat in your previous life, you look like you could meow any second now.'' San grabbed you by your throat, grunting as you palmed his hardened cock. ''Who do you think you are, little one? That's none of your business. I'll fuck this brattiness right out of your little ass,'' he said as he threw you back on the bed. You got him right where you wanted, not caring that you were actually playing with evil, not caring about being careful.

San stripped himself from his black pants, revealing his big, hard cock. ''Oh? No underwear? That's kinky. Do none of you wear underwear under that?'' ''I'll fucking show you kinky,'' San said as he wrapped his hand around your throat. You whined when you felt the restriction on your throat combinated with San's thick fingers sliding through your wet folds.

''Gosh, how are you this fucking wet,'' the demon called Wooyoung breathed out, palming his own cock through his pants. San rubbed your sensitive clit, causing you to whine out. ''You act so tough, Y/N, but we are so much more powerful,'' he cooed, ''you act as if we're people... But we are incubi, my love, we are meant to sex you the fuck up... Fuck you endlessly, fill you up with our devilish seeds... bet you'd be into that huh? Wanna get fucked by a couple demons like the whore you are? Hm? We know all about it princess, we know all about how much of a whore you are for a little dick,'' San grunted, pumping one finger inside your cunt, causing you to moan out.

The sensation was so much more intense with a demon compared to a human being, you noticed. Only one finger left you completely needy and in desire for the eight of their cocks. San pumped two of his fingers inside you, making your arousal flow through you and dripping down your pussy.

''Look at you, such a pathetic little slut,'' another incubus smirked, walking forward. He was fully undressed and you couldn't help but be surprised and impressed by his thighs and thick, proud cock. ''You just love being used, isn't that right?'' ''Yes... uhm...'' you breathed out. ''Jongho, is my name, darling.'' You nodded, ''Yes, Jongho.''

''I believe you need all your holes filled, so why don't you open up your mouth babygirl,'' Jongho smirked, hovering above your face. He faced San instead of the wall so he could be in charge of shoving his dick down your throat, which he did, making you gulp around his cock.

San smirked, pumping his two fingers in and out of your sopping cunt at a rapid pace. You moaned around Jongho's large cock as he fucked your throat. With his heavy balls covered your face you couldn't help but lift your hands up and squeeze them, play with them and fondle them. Jongho moaned out loud, surprising the other demons.

''Look at that little girl, she's taking them so well, I wonder how she takes cock in her little cunt,'' a very pretty demon said. ''I know right, Yeosang, she's swallowing my fingers so well, so eager,'' San replied, putting a third finger inside you. You felt intoxicated by the feeling and the sexual tension lingering in the air. You couldn't help but moan loudly, even with Jongho's cock in your mouth.

''God, you, moaning around my cock like that... Is it that good huh? Is Sannie making you feel that good?'' Jongho cooed. You whined loudly as you felt San hit all the right spots inside you. Jongho started groaning and pulled out of your throat. You gasped loudly, barely adjusting before it was filled with a new cock. You had barely seen the face of the demon, but it was quick to tell you his name.

''I'm Mingi, nice to meet you,'' he said as he started fucking your mouth. He was even girthier than Jongho was. He pounded your throat hard and quick and you were nearly choking and tears streamed down your cheeks as his groans got louder gradually. He came across as a bit of a goofy one before when you saw him, but the way he made you gag around his dick made you nearly cum on San's fingers, who quickly withdrew them as Mingi orgasmed, spilling inside your mouth without a warning.

San gestured Wooyoung to come closer, making him open his mouth. The oldest slid his slick fingers into Wooyoungs mouth, smirking. ''How does she taste, baby?'' Baby? ''Like fucking hell, Sannie,'' Wooyoung smirked. You looked worried for a second. ''Oh no, that's a compliment!'' Wooyoung quickly explained, ''Hell is the place to be, my love, you don't need heaven,'' he smirked.

Of course he wouldn't say it's heaven, he's a demon, duh.

''Did you just call him baby?'' you dared to ask, eyeing San and Wooyoung. ''Oh we are kind of a thing,'' Wooyoung bluntly said. You gasped, ''And you're okay with just... fucking other people?'' Wooyoung laughed. ''We're not people, my love, we're incubi, we need sex, we are meant to have sex over and over. We don't feel love like you do, but I suppose he's Clyde and I'm Bonnie as you humans say,'' he explained. ''So partners in crime then? You fuck people together?'' you asked.

''Hey, you know, I didn't plan on making this some kind of tea party, can we get on with the sex please?'' Yunho complained. San grinned lightly. ''Newbie,'' he scoffed, ''Fine, go over to her then, show her what you can do, you might get promoted.''

''You guys get promotions?'' you asked curiously. ''Well, not in money, but other things. Better accomodations, better clients, like prettier clients, bigger and stronger wings, extra stamina, bigger cocks, whatever,'' San explained as he took off his pants last, revealing his absolute monstercock, reminding you he's the oldest of all of them.

You swallowed thickly as you scanned all of their bodies, which were definitely all better than anyone's you've ever had sex with. Yunho laid on the bed and pulled you on top of him. He lifted you up with ease, realizing his strength was definitely part of his forte. He slid his cock inside your slick cunt, stretching your hole out completely, causing you to whine loudly. ''H-Holy shit!'' you moaned.

''Don't forget lesson one, Yunho, she's not used to demon cocks so give her a minute, but don't give her too much control. We are here to use her,'' Hongjoong reminded him. Yunho nodded, placing his large hands on your hips. You panted out, feeling your entire body tingle. He gently played with your tits, rubbing your nipples softly.

You moaned as you started to bounce on Yunho's cock, surprising the eight demons. ''Oh she's crazy,'' Mingi muttered. ''She's so perfect... Like a real... proper slut, clenching on my dick,'' Yunho smirked. ''Yes! Oh god, say that again,'' you moaned out, bouncing harder. It didn't happen often that the demon's preys were so into it and even were doing the work voluntarily.

''Yeah? You like being called a slut? Look at you... bouncing on my cock like that...'' Yunho moaned out. ''Y-Yes, oh I love it! L-Love being stretched out by your big, big cock,'' you whined, throwing in an ego-boost for the incubus who started smirking, eyeing his fellow demons. ''Look at him getting cocky,'' Mingi grinned as he watched Yunho hold onto your hips tightly, pounding up into you.

''Yunho! O-oh my God, Yunho, I'm gonna cum!'' you whined out as you felt the familiar warmth in your abdomen. ''C-can I cum? Please, please, please?'' ''Yes, baby, cum, cum all over my fucking cock,'' Yunho grunted as he fucked you harder. You felt a sensation you had never felt before in your life as he bounced you on his length. You came undone so hard you nearly saw stars, letting out the most sinful, pornographic moans you ever made.

The large demon came right after you, spilling his devilish seed inside your wet pussy. You moaned at the feeling, collapsing on his large chest. Before you could regain your breath Yunho had already laid you down, making you whine at the empty feeling in your pussy.

''Looks like our whore wants something more,'' Hongjoong said, ''Do you want my cock, little one?'' The smaller one slowly walked over to you, intimidating you with his demonic eyes. He crawled over you and lifted up your chin. ''Yes, Hongjoong, I want you, want to be filled up,'' you whined.

Hongjoong didn't waste another second and plunged his length inside your wet hole, pounding into it so hard and fast you swore you'd pass out from the pleasure. You moaned out, grabbing the sheets when you felt Mingi's mouth on your breasts, licking and flicking your nipples with his tongue.

''Look at those fucking delicious tits, so pretty,'' Mingi grunted, lightly biting your nipple, causing you to arch your back. You swore you'd lose your mind as Hongjoong was fucking you into oblivion. His cock wasn't as huge as Yunho's but he made up for it in pace and stamina, showing no signs of exhaustion whatsoever.

''Fuck me, yes, fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME!'' you screamed, totally submitting to the demon taking over your body. ''You're fucking ours now, understood? You belong to us,'' Hongjoong growled, fucking you so hard you saw stars.

You moaned over and over, feeling your body start shaking as you couldn't help but cum all over Hongjoong's cock when Mingi slipped his fingers between the two of you and started rubbing your sensitive clit. ''O-oh yes! Y-yes!'' you moaned out. ''Yeah? Want my cum? Want my fucking cum? You're gonna fucking get it, Y/N, say my fucking name'' Hongjoong moaned out, letting go and climaxing inside your cunt. You clenched hard around him, milking him dry completely, whining out his name

He pulled out of you, a string of your combined cum connecting him to your messy cunt. Seonghwa didn't hesitate to crawl onto the bed, darting his tongue out like a hungry dog, lapping the cum from Hongjoong's cock and your pussy, making the two of you groan.

Seonghwa started licking your pussy, eating you out and swallowing all the cum and arousal like a starved man. ''O-Oh yes, Seonghwa!'' you whined, running your hands through his raven hair, pulling it slightly. The demon moaned at the feeling as he fucked his long tongue into your easy hole. Drool was dripping on his chin, but nothing could stop the hungry demon. ''O-Oh my God that feels so good!''

''Seonghwa likes to feast on horny girls' pussies,'' Hongjoong smirked. ''I-I can tell,'' you breathed out, pulling his hair once more as he sucked your clit. ''I-I'm so close, Hwa!'' you moaned out. Seonghwa smirked at the new nickname. He sucked your clit hard, using the force of his strong tongue. You quickly came undone on his tongue, climaxing for the third time already, but he wouldn't stop.

''T-Too much, O-oh, OH!'' you nearly screamed out, squirming underneath his touch. ''Yeah? Is it too much for you? Little whore... You were begging for it, and now it's too much?'' Yeosang said, the pretty demon. ''Y-Yes, too much, please!'' you whined out, tears rolling down your cheeks. ''Well, guess what, we don't give a fuck that your pleasure is too much for you, cause you're just gonna take what we fucking give to you.''

Your eyes widened and you nodded. You couldn't help how horny that made you, completely being at their mercy. ''Yes, fuck, I-I'm sorry!'' you cried out. Seonghwa slobbered at your pussy like a dog, moaning against it as Yeosang stood behind him, gently cupping his balls and fondling them.

''You're so good Seonghwa, you definitely discarded the Rookie title,'' he praised the other, making you assume Seonghwa hadn't been an incubus for that long either. Seonghwa pulled away from your cunt and laid down as he pulled you on top of him, gesturing Yeosang to get on the bed behind you.

Seonghwa slid his cock inside you with ease, making you moan as he filled you up. ''Come on, Yeosang, get inside her too,'' Seonghwa grunted. Your eyes widened and you yelped as Yeosang's cock slid in your pussy, along with Seonghwa's.

You screamed out when Yeosang started moving his cock in and out at a rapid pace, sharp nails digging in the silky flesh of your thighs. ''AH! O-oh my god s-so big! S-so fucking big,'' you whined out. You had never felt this full before. Jongho stood up and got on the bed, holding your head still as he entered your mouth with his cock once again.

''You didn't make me cum the last time, princess, and fuck, you're gonna take three cocks at ones now. Understood? You'll take my fucking cum down your throat,'' he threathened. You nodded quickly and opened up your mouth further so you'd be able to take more of him in your mouth.

The remaining five men were all surrounding you, standing next to the bed, either pumping their own cocks or touching each other's. ''Look how much of a slut she is, she's even taking three cocks at once... Never have I ever witnessed that before,'' Mingi breathed out. ''I knew it, I told you she'd be a real whore when we entered the room and I was right. Her tits were already in the game before she even knew,'' Wooyoung smirked.

You gagged on Jongho's cock, looking up at him with teary eyes, face and hair a complete mess. Seonghwa played with your nipples as he bucked up into your cunt. Yeosang moaned out as he slid his cock along with Seonghwa's, reaching and touching places no one ever had before.

''I feel you clenching again, princess, are you cumming again? Are you gonna cum on our cocks? Such a good fucking girl, taking us like a real whore, best fucking client we've ever had baby,'' Yeosang growled as he pounded you harder and harder. You moaned loudly around Jongho's cock, drool, spit and tears coating your pleading face.

''Go ahead princess, cum on their dicks as you take my fucking cum in your throat,'' Jongho ordered. It only took two more thrusts before you came undone on Yeosang and Seonghwa. Jongho spurted his white liquid in your mouth, some dripping out of your mouth near the corners.

''Good girl... Such a good girl,'' Jongho cooed, licking his own cum and spit off your cheek and chin before getting off the bed. ''Fuck, I'm gonna cum, gonna fuck you so full of cum,'' Seonghwa moaned out. ''Y-Yes, give me your cum!'' you moaned loudly.

Yeosang pulled out his cock and you were suddenly filled up by an insane amount of cum Seonghwa sho into you, he kept cumming and cumming, making you go crazy and cum once again on his length, squirting all over his body and the sheets, screaming out his name. The pretty demon spat on his fingers and entered your ass, scissoring you open, making you whine loudly. ''You even like that hm? You really are a slut,'' he smirked, as if he didn't have control over your pleasure.

It was what they did. They could do anything they wanted to you, there was barely anything they did that didn't give pleasure. They made their preys feel ten times more sensitive as they had them under their spell.

Yeosang pumped his cock so quickly, cumming all over your ass, making sure you were coated inside and out. ''Fuck,'' he moaned, milking himself over your ass, patting it lightly. ''Good girl.''

You panted loudly as you rolled of Seonghwa's cock. San crawled over to you and spread your legs, looking at your full pussy, painted white with cum. ''What do you think, babygirl, can you take some more?'' he asked. You nearly passed out from the pleasure, but you nodded either way, wanting to have had every member of their little demon gang.

San slid his fingers through your folds and spat on his cock, coating his length. ''Sannie, I wanted to go next,'' Wooyoung sighed. ''Well, you'll have to wait because I am about to split her ass open,'' he smirked. ''Oh yeah, sure, come on she just had Seonghwa, how can she take the other sperm-tank of the group?'' ''Oh well, she'll take it, don't worry.''

The oldest incubus got you on all fours in no time, shoving his cock inside your ass without any warning. You screamed out his name and your arms nearly immediately gave in. ''Gotta have had all your holes filled and coated with cum precious, so I am the one taking care of this one. F-Fucking love your ass,'' he grunted as he pistoned his wet cock in and out of you.

He fucked you hard and deep, pressing you into the matrass right on the spot you had squirted. ''Fucking whore... You love it so much don't you? Having the biggest fucking cock you've ever fucked in your little ass? You'll never fucking forget this, baby, you'll never forget my cock,'' he growled in a raspier voice than earlier.

''Yes, San, San, O-Oh yes fuck me, fill me up, please fill me up, cum inside me!'' you moaned loudly, voice muffled by the soaky matrass. ''Yeah? Want my cum in your ass? Okay, baby, fucking take it then,'' San moaned out before cumming in you, coating your insides with his cum. His cum was just like Seonghwa's; it was so creamy and it was so, so much, you felt completely full and fucked out when he pulled out of you, letting you lay there completely ruined.

Wooyoung turned you over so you laid on your back and hovered his cock above your face and you immediately let out your tongue, giving the tip little kitten licks, making him smirk. ''Can I fuck you, precious?'' he asked. There was something about him that felt familiar and comforting, and for a second you saw it in Wooyoung's eyes as well.

He slowly entered you, much gentler than the rest, making you gasp as you held onto him. He teased you, slowly grinding his cock in and out of you, looking you straight in your eyes.

''W-Wooyoung, Wooyoung!'' you moaned out as he rubbed your clit in little circles, going faster and faster. Wooyoung's dick felt so magical inside you, it wasn't as long but it was insanely thick and girthy, feeling the blood-pumping veins against your cum-coated walls.

''Yes baby, say my fucking name, say my name, I got you, I fucking got you,'' he moaned out, growing needier and needier, fucking you harder and moaning louder. You groaned and whined over and over, moans aligned with his hard thrusts.

''W-Wooyoung, W-Woo, Oh, Wooyoung!'' you cried out as he rubbed your clit quickly. ''Cum for me, squirt all over my fucking cock, okay baby? Just let go,'' he panted. It took one, two, three more thrusts before you screamed his name out loud, body shaking as you climaxed on his cock, squirting all over him, receiving a few 'oh's from his fellow incubi.

He came with a low, long groan, filling your entrance up to the brim until it spilled out. ''Fuck, baby, such a pretty little girl,'' he said as he kissed your head, showing a gentler side you hadn't seen of any of the incubi.

He pulled out of you and the remaining seven demons stepped closer, surrounding you on the bed. For a minute you were worried with was gonna happen, until you noticed each one of them had their large cocks in their hands, jerking off at their own paces, some slower than others.

You spread your legs, opened your mouth and closed your eyes as you saw their furrowed brows and heard their mutters and grunts, noticing they were gonna paint you with cum.

After Hongjoong was the first to cum over your thighs, the rest followed. Mingi and Yunho covered your breasts in cum, Jongho and Yeosang came over your pussy and abdomen, San an Seonghwa unloaded on your chest and Wooyoung was last to whine out your name, cumming over your face.

You panted loudly, breathed heavily, not being able to get up anymore, although you weren't sure if you were gonna pass out or it was their doing.

''Good girl,'' Mingi cooed, patting your hair. ''Sleep tight, we might show up again, princess,'' Jongho said. You heard them shuffling away from you, but you felt one's breath on your lips.

You recognized Wooyoung, who gently pecked you, and kissed your head. ''Are you coming, Woo?'' San asked. ''Yes, I'm coming...'' he said, sighing, kissing you one last time only to leave with the other demons. Then it all got quiet.

-

You woke up the next morning, your entire body sore and stiff, sticky with cum. You gasped as you recalled the memories with the demons, giggling to yourself as you thought about your little secret. You noticed a little note scribbled on the mirror with black letters that made you smile and think.

'I'll be thinking about you

-Wooyoung'

[literatureloverx]

To frame this analysis, I want to first point out a letter written by fyodor. For a letter most don't have access to, it puts into perspective a LOT about fyodor's character that was previously only speculated through analysis. It was given out during the manga's 10 year anniversary, you can search it up by typing 'fyodor letter bsd'.

But I will copy it here: "I have nothing to say. There is no one who supported me anyway. That's why there is no word I have to say. To anyone at all. Let alone words of celebration. It is impossible. I have always been alone. And that is fine by me. Has been, and always will be. Well... I felt a little less bored when I was playing chess with Dazai-kun. But that's it."

Now this points out something especially interesting, that out of all the people that served him, all the people who worshipped him through his manipulation, for hundreds and hundreds of his years of living, Fyodor found no substance through any of it. Fyodor is lonely, inevitably lonely not only because he has never let anyone into his mind (and uh. Not many people want to hang out with the guy who straps bombs onto kids), but because near nobody can understand him because, as pretentious as it sounds, he lives in a realm of "genius".

Fyodor lives in a world of sin that he sees himself as above, and wishes to find the book and write a "correct" world under God where there is no sin. And he also lives in a world he is bored of because nobody can challenge him. He explicitly uses the word "bored" in his letter. He is never shown to "like" his servants being completely submissive for pleasure, he just does it because he cannot trust anything straying. Now does this mean Fyodor wants to control those around him? Yes. Does this show that Fyodor finds this obedience engaging? No.

The only person he has shown interest in (not in a romantic way) is Dazai, who is the only one who can level at his playing field. This makes me wonder, is Fyodor's "type" someone far from who he would actually fall for? I feel that to grow interested in someone, Fyodor needs someone who can challenge him. Someone out of his control because they understand him on a level that others cannot, because they are on his equal. Fyodor left his life of boredom through one-sided "companionship" with Dazai.

Note: I find it kinda pathetic of Fyodor to seem so eager about their meet-ups too, since Dazai seems to hate it LMAO

Now I can see Fyodor WANTING to control someone for that safety net and I definitely can't see him going out of his way to get with someone if they're in the way of what he's after, no matter how much he loves them. Bro straight up tries to kill his favorite "chess partner". But it seems that if Fyodor ever wants to pursue a GENUINE relationship, he needs to leave his comfort zone because the only ones who will give him substance will be far outside.

This wasn't meaning any hate or anything, I just wanted to point out traits about Fyodor's character that i've observed, but also to hear your thoughts :D

(Also I can see Fyodor falling for not only someone who can challenge him but someone with a great love for humanity and empathy)

Wow, this was so detailed and awesome to read! Thank you very much for writing this. ❤️

I will break down my perspective on this analysis as you asked me to, but I can say that I agree with most of your points. ❤️

First of all, I know the letter you’re talking about. It actually made me sob for a while when I first read it. I felt the loneliness almost in my own body—the situation he’s in must be so dehumanizing for him.

That being said, I considered many of Asagiri’s explanations about the characters (the letter you cited, the one about White Day, their ideal types, etc.) and formed my interpretation of Fyodor this way.

I absolutely agree with the point that Fyodor is bothered by boredom and that he needs someone who can challenge him.

The question here is, what kind of challenge?

In this case, my point was: someone who can challenge him emotionally (as this is an underdeveloped aspect of his, since he really doesn’t have much opportunity to form meaningful connections with others). Not someone who matches his own mastermind (like Dazai, for example). He values Dazai's ability to read his mind but is not particularly invested in any kind of connection besides that of rivals since he can’t trust him. There is no longing for friendship (a meaningful connection) there. Just Do, Do, Do, and win.

Now, I also believe, like you said, since his motives are not bound to himself but rather the greater good of humanity, the most important thing for him to do is indeed—to win. How is he supposed to cleanse humanity of their sins otherwise?

Where my interpretation differs from yours is that I genuinely think he is very comfortable with being the lead in any kind of situation. What he is uncomfortable with is—guess what? Vulnerability, in general. Just like Dazai. And the most challenging vulnerability to overcome, in my interpretation, would be emotional vulnerability.

In my opinion, he would be interested in someone who can challenge him mentally but not strategically. He knows that feeling. It is true that Dazai quenches his thirst for competence and competition in that sense, but is such a person truly fit for Fyodor?

My main issue with a strategically competent partner is the high possibility of Fyodor never being able to fully trust her. I’ve read many headcanons and fanfictions about him and such a partner, but it never really clicked in my mind.

The aspect of him preferring an intelligent individual over a shallow one is, I think, a very common perception of his character in the fandom, which I wholeheartedly agree with.

But: emotional intelligence is a very powerful aspect of intelligence, as well.

Him wanting to control her for security reasons is absolutely valid in my opinion and interpretation too, since it was what I meant in the first place anyway. He wouldn’t manipulate his partner just for the sake of it—he is too deep of a character for that.

Overall, I hope I haven’t missed any of the aspects you were referring to. I’ll gladly edit my post if anything is missing! ❤️

In conclusion, I LOVED your analysis. I’m very glad when someone makes me think deeper about my own thought process and interpretations. Anything of that kind is deeply welcomed and appreciated! ❤️

To read my other works => MASTERLIST

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for refusing to make my grandmother a piece of art?

I (17x, they/them) graduated high school about a year ago, and as a graduation gift, my grandmother (70s) bought me a $400 art tablet, since I'm well known in the family to be an artist. I had mentioned it to her as something that I wanted, but since her and I are not that close, I had expected her and a few other family members to all pitch in. My grandmother has quite a lot of money, though, and frequently spends hundreds of dollars on her grandkids (for example, she bought each of my sisters (8 + 12) 200+ dollars worth of LEGO sets a few months prior to my graduation party, and spends even more money on my cousins, who ask for things more than me and my sisters.), so she just bought it and some accessories for it.

I had thanked her profusely for the art tablet several times, as it was something I really wanted. I use it all of the time, it's very good quality, and I enjoy making art.

I make art entirely for myself; I don't do commissions, and I rarely make art pieces for other people. If I do, it's as a birthday/Christmas gift. I do not share art that I make for myself with other people, partly because I get nervous about criticism, and partly because my family generally reacts negatively to anything that they perceive as "weird" (i.e. elves, OCs with non-human features, religious imagery, etc, all things that I draw regularly.)

My mom (44) told me that I should make a piece of art for my grandmother, using the tablet. I told her I did not want to do that, as I don't enjoy making art for other people, especially if I am told to.

She says that it would a nice thing to do, and while I agree that it would be nice, I don't draw things would appeal to my parents, much less my grandparents.

I have attempted a couple of times to sit down and make a nice piece of art for my grandmother, but my art style tends to be very contrasting to the sort of thing my grandmother likes, and I have no idea what I would draw for her. And again, I don't like sharing my art that much, so I just decided not to do it.

I've written my grandmother a thank you card, and thanked her in person several times. When she asks about it, I tell her enthusiastically that I enjoy it, and appreciate it, telling her about some things that I've drawn.

I think that this is good enough, and my grandmother has never asked for an art piece, but my mom still makes comments about it almost a full year after the party-- "You'll draw an elf lady, but you won't draw something for Grandma?". It's been getting increasingly annoying, so I finally just told my mom that no, I don't plan on drawing something for her.

My mom said that I was being rude, and that I should consider "how happy Grandma would be" if I made something for her.

So, am I the asshole for saying I wouldn't draw something for her?

What are these acronyms?

[puffskeeter]

Hey I’m such a big fan of your art and I very much enjoy watching your YouTube channel 🤍🤍

And I want to ask you why you don’t ship the ppgxrrb and I want to hear your opinion about it which I can very much respect.

Plus another question that what type of fashion you think your au of the Powerpuff, Rowdyruff, and your Original Characters fall into between I really love how you draw them?

OMG TYSM!! I think i've seen your comments on my videos and TYSM for those too!! :D

I'll make a seperate post for my fashions/aesthetics for RRBORN characters! this one is pretty long even though i wanted it to be short lolz

Why i dont actively ship PPGxRRB:

I'm scrapping my drafted essay post about this for now because its really uncalled for and unnecessary. IDK sorry to anyone who looked forwards 2 it, but i just dont think i illustrate my point very well and more than half of it is lowkey a biased vent post and pure rambling. Either way this is the TLDR for the post you'll never see LOL.

But actually, I do ship PPGxRRB, i've just drifted away from it over the years. I think one of the biggest 'problems' i have with PPG x RRB is mainly with the portrayal of it. My main issue is with how a lot of people mischaracterize the RRB/PPG and completely deconstruct them as characters so that they can be love interests for the eachother and nothing more. One of my points in my scrapped post was that; I have no idea how an entire fandom managed to gender-bend the Bechdel test, but it is rare that i find PPGxRRB media where the RRB have actual lives, interests, hobbies, and friends that have nothing to do with the PPG. Half the time they can barely have a thought if it isn't about the PPG. As i said, Gender-bent Bechdel test.

Another point was that: ppgxrrb has gained a horrible reputation for itself over the years. Back in its "Glory" days, Toxic fans of the ships had bulldozed anything that differs from their favorite empty dynamics. Those usually being The Reds, Blues, and Greens. Nowadays i still see almost nothing in the realms of variety between creators interpretations of the ships. Almost every time i see a PPGxRRB post, it can fit into a set dynamic that the ship is already infamous for.

I want to be able to see the creators love and passion for their ships. I want to know how and why these characters ended up together. If a story is to be told, i want to hear it. I know that the majority of PPGxRRB creators are, by default, amateurs (they dont get paid and its not on a professional scale), but after seeing the exact same badly written love story hundreds , maybe even thousands of times with little-to-no variety, I've gotten bored and tired of people devaluing my favorite characters to be nothing more than overplayed dynamics and shipping fuel.

A lot of people like shipping because of the dynamics, but ship dynamics don't hook me in, and ive noticed that most PPGxRRB stuff is purely ship dynamics and nothing more. Theres nothing wrong with loving ship dynamics or being drawn to ships for their specific dynamics! I just dont care about dynamics, i care about chemistry and story. But most amateurs cant effectively show the chemistry or write the story, a lot of them can barely characterize the 2 characters in their ships.

FYI this isnt about anyone specific or even many recent fans of PPGxRRB. I've been in/around the online PPG fandom since before 2016, and a lot of my thoughts/feelings on the matter have a lot to do with stuff that happened over the years i've loved this series, and more specifically, The RowdyRuff Boys.

To be clear: When i say that they are mischaracterized, i'm not talking about HC's. I'm just tired of seeing the PPG and RRB dulled down into one-note personalities with stereotypical characterization and almost always no tangible character development. A love story is still a story, and a lot of shippers seem to half ass the "story" for favor of the "love".

I dont hate or even dislike PPG x RRB. I'm just really tired of rarely seeing people do the RRB justice, and i want these characters to be treated with the full respect that i think they deserve.

WOW this post is way to long already... still a lot shorter than my OG post. Sorry for being insane about the RRB. it will happen again.

[itneedsmoregays]

Johnny and Nooshy being British

Well, a sequel to this was long overdue.

---

Rosita: Thanks for helping me with the grocery shopping, Johnny.

Johnny: Ah, it's no trouble at all, Rosita.

Rosita: Okay, next stop is the produce section. We just need clementines, zucchinis, beets, eggplants, scallions and arugula.

Johnny: Got it. Satsumas, courgettes, beetroot, aubergines, spring onions and rocket.

Rosita: (sighs) Being a mom to a British kid is certainly... educational.

---

Steff: You know, Nooshy, maybe I should get bangs. I've been thinking about it for a while.

Nooshy: (smirks) I'm sure Ash can help you with that. (takes a sip of her smoothie)

Steff: She has quills. Why would she know anything about cutting hair?

Nooshy: ...Wait, what?

Steff: I just said I was thinking about redoing my hair and getting bangs. How would Ash be able to help with that?

Nooshy: Ohhh, you mean you were thinking of getting a fringe.

Steff: What did you think I meant?

Nooshy: I thought you said you wanted to get...

(Steff thinks for a moment before spitting out her smoothie)

Steff: (blushing hard) What me and my girlfriend do in our apartment is NONE of your business!

---

Johnny: That zebra in the front row really enjoyed last night's show.

Ash: "That ZEH-bra"?

Johnny: Yeah, zebra.

Ash: You mean ZEE-bra.

Johnny: That's what I said. Zebra.

Ash: Where are you getting "ZEH-bra" from?

Johnny: That's how it's said. Z-E-B-R-A.

Ash: I'm sorry, did you just say "zed"?

Johnny: Yeah, Z.

Ash: It's "ZEE"! "Zed" just messes up the whole rhyme scheme of the alphabet song!

Johnny: Why are you getting upset? I'm just saying it, Z for zebra.

Ash: (pulls out two quills) Johnny Margeson, you are just begging to get jabbed in your British butt!

Johnny: ...Do you mean "bum"? (makes a break for it)

---

Porsha: You didn't mean it when you said "If you all haven't learnt these dance steps by next week's lesson, I may call in Klaus Kickenklober", right?

Nooshy: Nah, don't worry, Porsh. I was just taking the mick.

Porsha: Who's Mick? And where are you taking him?

Nooshy: No, I mean I was taking the piss.

Porsha: EWW! Why didn't you go to the bathroom to do that?!

Nooshy: No, no, it means I was having a laugh!

Porsha: What, you mean... you were kidding?

Nooshy: Yes!

Porsha: Well why didn't you say that then?

Nooshy: I just did!

Porsha: Okay, now I know you're taking Mick.

Nooshy: THE mick.

Porsha: Oh, shut up!

---

Buster: Ah, don't mind me, Johnny. Just filling out some papers for the bank.

Johnny: (looks over his shoulder) Mr. Moon, since when are there 15 months in a year?

Buster: Say what now?

Johnny: You're writing the 4th of the 15th on that form. What's that all about?

Buster: ...Because that's how dates are written. Month first, then the day, then the year.

Johnny: No, no, it's day first, then month, then year.

Buster: Well that's just nuts! (sees Gunter walking past with Miss Crawly) Guys, back me up here. Have I written the date correctly on this paperwork?

Gunter: (looks closely) I think you're, like, totally confused. There's only twelve months in a year.

Miss Crawly: Oh, have I been writing the dates wrong all these years?

Buster: (facedesk)

---

Meena: (handing Nooshy an ice cream) And here's your raspberry with chocolate sauce.

Nooshy: Cheers, Meena. Your boyfriend makes some wicked ice cream.

Meena: (licking her own) Oh, yeah, I can't not stop by Alfonso's ice cream truck when I visit Redshore City.

Nooshy: Oh, and you got hundreds and thousands. Good choice.

Meena: ...What? I only bought one for myself.

Nooshy: No, I meant you got hundreds and thousands with your ice cream.

Meena: Huh?

Nooshy: Hundreds and thousands.

Meena: Okay, repeating it isn't gonna make me know what you're talking about.

Nooshy: The tiny rainbow-coloured sweets on top of your ice cream.

Meena: ...You mean sprinkles?

Nooshy: Yeah. Hundreds and thousands.

Meena: (sighs) Can't you and Johnny ever just talk normally?

Nooshy: (grinning) Where's the fun in that?

[a-student-out-of-time]

5 Years Later

So...I admit I didn't really have anything big planned for today ^^;

But today- September 12th, 2024- is the 5th Anniversary of when A Student Out Of Time began. I started this blog based on a simple whim, after I'd completed playing 999 with a friend and read H.P. Lovecraft's The Shadow Out Of Time. I asked myself "Hey, what if Hajime went back in time and tried to prevent the Tragedy?"

Now, this wasn't the first story blog I'd ever written. I had a couple early ones that I'm a little too embarrassed to share or discuss, but my biggest one was The Starship Hope, which also began on a whim all the way back in 2018. I was on a walk through the second neighborhood I lived in back in California, and I asked myself "What if the V3 Cast were actually in space?"

While I still have some fondness for that one, I don't believe I really found my footing as a writer until we got deep into this one. I had a tendency to just write whatever sounded cool or I got a little too shippy about some things. Then I really sat down and started planning out arcs, and we built things up from there...

...And now here we are, five years later, and I'm still doing this. Not only that, it's become so much bigger than I ever thought it would. Early on, I had one anon tell me that they weren't convinced that this blog would never last, because story blogs like this never do. I still think about that person now, and I really have to thank them because that was when I decided I'd commit to it.

Thanks to that, I've met so many new friends, been introduced to great things, inspired others to pursue their own stories and creative ambitions, and we even have a whole set of pages on TV Tropes. Almost 1,200 have decided to follow me, and that's not even counting how many have read this story and simply not made their presence known. In short, it really has helped change my life.

It hasn't been easy, and there have been times where I've thought about quitting or deleting the whole thing. There have been some dark moments, some bad arcs, some ideas that didn't pan out as I'd hoped. But even so, I always took them as learning experiences and chose not to quit.

More importantly, I've helped inspire people to check out one of my favorite series of all time, I've given them a work they can enjoy, and all this has in turn helped me refine my own writing skills and figure out the sort of writer I hope to become one day. Seeing people enjoy what I do or just curious to hear what my thoughts are, it really does inspire me to keep going.

It's also so wild to see how much Danganronpa has evolved as a series in time since I started all this. I got involved in the DR Tumblr fandom back in early 2016, before Danganronpa 3 was even out yet. I remember how much we were clamoring for it and V3, how controversial their story decisions were, and how many people didn't want it to end. They wanted to tell their own stories and do their own spins on the concept, and that's how we got so many different fangans in so many mediums- other games, videos, instagram, fanfics, and some here on Tumblr.

Danganronpa Another, SDRA2, DR: Rebirth, Despair Time, Blowback, TheAfter, Rocky Restarts, DR Mauve, DR Lapse, Brave DR: Coward's Paradise, Eternal Endings, Shattered Hope, Heartless Deceit, Eden's Garden, Antebellum, and so many others.

I got into both Zero Escape and AI: The Somnium Files, both great series in their own right. And now we have another SC game on the way, The Hundred Line- Last Defense Academy, which looks pretty interesting too.

In short, it's been a long 5 years.

Do I plan to keep going? Uh, yeah. We're nearing the conclusion of Season 2, and I have many ideas for Season 3. I intend to keep doing this as long as I'm able and as long as people want me to, and I don't see that changing anytime soon.

More than anything, I'm just happy people enjoy the work I do. The support I've received over this last half a decade have been nothing short of inspiring, and I'm glad that people are always happy to see me update no matter how long it's been.

My life has had many ups and downs in the time I've been doing this, but being able to look at all this and say that I helped create a community and inspired people to pursue their own ambitions? It makes it all worth it ^^

What happens when it does all eventually conclude? I wouldn't worry about it. I do have an ending idea in mind, but we're nowhere near that yet. Season 2 has had some of our best arcs so far, and I think Season 3 could even turn out to be even better, but I won't get too ahead of myself.

I'm glad I'm still doing this, and I'm glad for every single person who decided that this silly little Danganronpa fanfiction blog was worth their time to get invested in. When I get things together a bit more and I start publishing my own original stories, I hope you'll follow me on my journey there as well.

Thank you guys for everything!

Here's to another 5 years ^^

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Interlude 4: A Valentine's Day Letter

Part 14 of Sometimes All You Need (A Getaway Car)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader

Description: You've never understood Valentine's Day. You're not a flashy person. You've never felt the need to flaunt your happy relationship in front of other people. Last year, you didn't celebrate Valentine's Day even though you were dating Jake. This year, your fiancé has been dropping hints, like he's planning something special. What you find waiting for you on Valentine's Day is far more special than you ever would have expected.

Disclaimers: None! This is the sappiest fic I've ever written

Warning: Female Reader

Word Count: 3185

Author Note: Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Here, have some Jake and Gorgeous Girl to celebrate the day! I had an absolute blast writing this fic and I hope you all adore it!

Thanks to @desert-fern for beta-reading this fic for me and catching all of my weird phrasing!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

You’ve never understood the thrall of Valentine’s Day. As far as you’re concerned, it’s another capitalist excuse for spending exorbitant amounts of money and parading a happy relationship around. God forbid you’re single on Valentine’s Day, too. You’d made the mistake once of going to eat at a restaurant alone on Valentine’s Day. Faced with so much pity, half-hidden and cloying from the waitstaff and the happy couples in the restaurant that day, you’d nearly given up reservations you’d made months before. Since then, you’ve sworn off going out on Valentine’s Day. In any case, you can get the best parts of the holiday, the candy, the next day, all half off.

Coming up on your first Valentine’s Day with Jake, you’re not sure what to expect. He was deployed on Valentine’s Day last year and then in the hospital. Given how stressful that time was for both of you, it makes sense that you never celebrated. It didn’t bother you then, and it doesn’t bother you now. You've never doubted Jake's love for you. He loves to show you how much he loves you, but he’s never overtly demonstrative about it - something that suits you just as much as it does him. Jake usually saves his flashy tricks for when he’s Hangman up in his jet. But you’re still worried. Your fiancé is the reason why.

Jake's been dropping hints for weeks, practically since you both got home from Texas. He’d started with a simple, “You’re not planning anything for Valentine’s Day, right?” At your nod no, he’d grinned, kissed you, and then drove to work like he hadn’t upended your whole day just by asking that question. Since then, you’ve been noticing these furtive, hidden conversations Jake has been having on the phone. He’s keeping secrets, and you know he is. 

You’ve never been good at rolling with the punches, is the thing. If something is happening around you, you’d much prefer to know. Jake knows this, which is why you’re standing in your short robe at five o’clock on Valentine’s Day, staring down at the envelope and rose on your bed. Jake always makes the bed in the morning, and it’s still crisp and pristine now, hospital corners and all. The only thing marring the cream-colored duvet is the bright red rose and the white envelope. You huff as you breathe in the scent of the fragrant bloom and open the envelope, pulling out sheets of paper. The letter, for that’s what it is, is written on creamy, thick paper scented with roses. Jake’s spiky hand peppers words across the sheets, and you slump carelessly on the bed to peruse his words.

My Gorgeous Girl, Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful.  I know, I know. You have a thing against Valentine’s Day. I can almost hear your voice rise up in complaint as I write my love letter to you. “Come on, Jay! You can’t tell me you want to spend hundreds of dollars just to show the world you love me when we both know how much we adore each other!” It’s true, Gorgeous. We don’t have to show the world how much we love each other. But I don’t think of Valentine’s Day as a reason to show you off. Let’s be honest. I don’t need an excuse to show my Gorgeous Girl off. Any day, any time, I’m ready to scream how amazing you are from the rooftops. But today? I want to show you how beautiful you are to me, and I guess that’s why I’m writing this letter. Do you remember that first night we met? When that idiot James had the prettiest girl in the entire place sitting across that small table from him, and he didn’t realize? I fell in love with you for the first time, that night. It feels like fate, looking back at that night. If you can believe it, I wasn’t supposed to be in that restaurant at all. I don’t think I’ve ever told you why I was there, but I was stood up that night. It was supposed to be a blind date, some girl who was a friend of a friend of Will’s. We were supposed to meet out by the fountain, and after an hour of waiting, I was in desperate need of a drink. It felt like a magic spell came over me when I walked through the doors of that restaurant.  You were the first thing I saw, believe it or not. You were wearing that gorgeous purple dress, sitting in that chair by the dance floor with your hair curling around your face and the prettiest smile. I nearly walked right up to you and asked if you’d like to dance when I realized you were on a date. So I convinced myself you wouldn’t want a stranger butting in and settled in to watch you. I promise I’m not as creepy as I sound, Gorgeous.

You have to gasp and giggle a little at this point because it makes you giddy, realizing that Jake was just as enraptured by you at first sight as you were by him. You can’t believe a man as wonderful as Jake could ever get stood up, but you can’t help but be thankful that he was. Because now he’s yours, and you are never going to let him go. You sniff at the rose again and pick up the page.

You were fiddling with the drink in your hand, and every time you took a sip, I was enraptured by the little grimace of disgust on your red lips as you sipped on it. By the time you left the table to get a drink, staring at your phone like you were praying for a savior, I was a couple of drinks in and ready to do anything to make you smile for me. So I muscled up to the counter next to you and tried to steal your drink. It’s not the most original of moves to get a girl’s attention, but well, it worked, didn’t it? Fuck. My Gorgeous Girl, if you took my breath away sitting in a crowded room, then you have no idea how hard I found it to breathe when you were standing right next to me. I pushed that Old Fashioned into your hand and begged you to tell me what was wrong. You didn’t know it, but I was already gone for you. One word in that pretty voice, apologizing for trying to take my drink, and I was half in love. I would have done anything for you then. If you’re not aware, beautiful, I’d do anything for you now, too. When you told me how terrible James made you feel, I was ready to march right over and deck him. But then you let go of my hand, and I ached for that contact again. So I asked you to dance. If I thought you were beautiful walking through that door and at the bar, I was lying to myself. Hearing your laugh as I said any outrageous thing that came to my mind as we twirled around that dance floor, I knew you could never be more beautiful than you were then. I was lying to myself again, but I’ll get to that soon. Neither of us was expecting the night to end like it did, with the two of us running out of the bar and James screaming at us as we peeled out of the parking lot. But I’m so glad it did end that way. Because it meant I got to kiss you that night, feel the heat of your perfect body pressed up against mine as you sat in my lap in my truck and made the prettiest noises. Baby doll, I had to summon up strength I wasn’t sure I had to keep from ravishing you that night. The second time I fell in love with you, it was that night on the beach. The one when you found out how I got my callsign. I told you that night that I’ve never had someone defend me as staunchly and openly as you did. It’s true. I fell in love with you all over again in that moment. You listened to me spill my heart out and kissed me after I was done. I’ve never told anyone else what happened, at least nobody other than my therapist. I half expected anyone I told to run away from me like I was a monster. There you go again, undermining my walls and tearing them down like they’re made of flimsy sheets of paper rather than bricks and mortar.  I told you that you brought me back to myself. I was shipped to Lemoore after my air-to-air kill on the behest of your dad, Gorgeous. I forgot about it until I sat down and thought about that night while I was writing this letter. I’m not sure you noticed, and it was probably a mere footnote at the end of your dad’s Navy career. But it changed my life. If my CO hadn’t listened to Admiral Kerner during those days, I’m not sure I’d be alive and here. All my family would likely have left of me is a medal in a box on a mantel. And I wouldn’t have you.

The words swim in front of your eyes as you cry. You don’t want to mar the letter, not when it’s the only love letter you’ve ever received, and you want to keep it for all eternity. You blot the tears away and pull the pages back towards you.

Can I just say how I’m so happy to have you, my Gorgeous Girl? Because I am. You give my life meaning.

We’ve been through some rough times since that night, and I hate that it made you cry. When I crashed that day on the aircraft carrier mere days before I was supposed to come home to you, you were the only thing on my mind. I regretted never telling you how much I loved you. You know something, baby doll? Before I met you, I thought I handled deployments well. I missed my family; of course I did. But it was easy enough to feel close to them when I got the care packages and letters as frequently as I did. But with you? Fuck, doll. You’ve spoiled me. That first time we talked on the phone when I was on the carrier, all I wanted was to wrap you up in my arms and never let you go again. As you can imagine, that’s a difficult feeling to be having when you’re miles away from the love of your life. It’s frowned upon to steal a jet for a joyride across the ocean for a reunion with your girl, though I would have risked it for you. I think I was a knife’s edge away from a dishonorable discharge for the entirety of that deployment. All I wanted was you. I thought about you, dreamed about you, and god, did I ache for your body next to mine in that horribly uncomfortable bunk at night.

So yeah, you were the last thing on my mind when I passed out because of the pain that day. I never wanted to hurt you, Gorgeous. I just wanted to come back home to you. Of course, when I woke up three weeks later and saw your pretty face, I knew I’d hurt you just as badly as if I’d stabbed you in the heart. Baby doll, did you sleep at all in those three weeks? And is it cheesy for me to say you’ve never looked as beautiful as you did when I opened my eyes again in that hospital bed? I promised myself then and there that if I recovered and if I could fly again, I’d beg you to marry me. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to stay with me, in all honesty. I know it must be stressful to have your significant other in danger for months at a time. I shudder to think how I’d act if it were you in a jet and me waiting for you back home, not knowing and praying that I’d see you again.

Of course, as I’m writing this now, I understand how scared you must have been when I told you I was going back to work early. I didn’t understand it then when everything seemed to blow up in our faces, and you told me to “Go back to base. Go back to killing yourself with workouts before you're ready. Go back to having a multi-million dollar missile strapped to your ass going faster than the speed of sound.” I have those words memorized because I think you broke my heart that night, Gorgeous. And you did it to save yourself more heartache. I spent a lot of the time I was drinking in that bar, thinking about you. It shouldn’t be surprising. I’m pretty sure I think about you more than I think about anything else. Some would say I’m just obsessed. But I think I’m just a fool in love with you. The bartender straightened me out with more than just a few strong pours of whiskey. He was talking to me the entire time I was sitting in that bar, feeling sorry for myself. By the time you came to pour me into my truck and take me home, I was ready to beg on my knees for you to take me back.

Instead, I just made you cry again. I always noticed, love. I knew every time you cried those months when I was in physical therapy and healing from that crash. You spent half the day with your pretty eyes rimmed red and your nose cherry red from blowing it. You’ve said so many times that you’re an ugly crier. You’re wrong. You’re beautiful no matter what you do. I don’t understand why you took me back. I still don’t. But I promised myself that I’d be careful when I’m up in the air again. And I have been. I have to be. Those rough few months taught me to care for myself. Because I’m not just keeping myself safe; I’m keeping your heart safe, too. Love, you tell Roos I wrote something this sappy, and I’m never going to do that thing with my tongue that makes you melt ever again. That was the third time I fell in love with you.

You snicker through your tears and re-read that paragraph again. This is why you chose to fight for your relationship with Jake that day. In spite of the Navy, you chose to fight for Jake because you can’t see yourself making a life with anyone but him. Not anymore.

The fourth time I fell in love with you wasn’t that long ago, honestly. It was on Christmas Day when I asked you to marry me, and you said yes. I still can’t believe it, you know? I can’t believe that you would want to marry me, especially after all the pain and heartache I’ve put you through. Really, I wasn’t sure you would want to keep the ring after realizing how horrible my dad is. I know I’ve got just as many of his bad personality traits as the good ones I’ve cultivated since I left home. How do I know I won’t be as terrible to our kids as he was to me? I hope that because I have you, it’ll be enough to keep me from turning into a monster of his making. Gorgeous, I so want to have that family with you. To wake you up in the morning with breakfast in bed and our kiddos toddling about on little feet screaming for their mama.

I know we’re a long way away from that right now and that neither of us is ready to have kiddos running around. But I want that with you, love. I want every bit of the heartbreak and pain and tears that life brings us. But I also want all of the happiness, all of the laughter, all of the joy.

I love you, Gorgeous.

Forever Yours,

Jake

When you set the pages carefully back into their envelope and turn around, you see Jake standing there.

“Did I make you cry again, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” You can feel your face crumple as Jake tugs you into his arms. “I love you so much, you ridiculous man.”

“Why’m I ridiculous, huh, beautiful?”

“Because you make me fall in love with you more and more every day.”

When his body shakes with laughter, you smack his arms with a pout on your face. “Hey, stop smacking me, baby doll! Come on, gorgeous. Wear your pretty purple sundress and come downstairs. I’ve got something special waiting for you.”

Before he walks away, you tug him down and kiss him, slow and sweet. His hands slide under your robe to squeeze your ass, and you moan into the kiss.

“Not yet, gorgeous. Get dressed.”

You’re pouting and grumbling as you tug the sundress on and braid your hair. But stepping into the kitchen and seeing candles lit, you’re melting again.

“What’s all this, huh?” You’re smiling at your fiancé as he hands you a glass of wine.

“We never got the chance to celebrate Valentine’s Day last year because I was hundreds of miles away.” He smiles and shrugs gently. “I wanted to celebrate you last year, but I wasn’t sure how much a bouquet of flowers and a gift would help when I wasn’t here to celebrate with you.”

“So I wanted to go all out this year.”

“And the letter?” You step into your fiancé until there’s barely an inch between the two of you. His eyes flutter closed as you slide your fingers down his cheek while sipping on your wine.

“The letter?” He chuckles, dipping down to kiss you teasingly, a barely-there brush of his lips against yours. “Step One in my master plan. Tell my girl how much I love her in the only way I know how. Without making a fool of myself, that is.”

“What’re the next steps in your plan then, Jay?” 

“What do you think of dinner and dessert?” He tugs you by the hand a leads you to the dinner he’s prepared for you, your favorite meal, and then grins.

“So I see dinner, cowboy,” You pout softly. “Where’s my dessert?”

“Baby doll, you’re looking at him!”

“What if I want my dessert before dinner, then?”

Jake’s eyes widen at your audacious words, and you laugh, the sound echoing through the house, as he takes the wine glass out of your slack hand and pulls you upstairs.

“I think that can be arranged, Gorgeous. Dinner can be reheated whenever you’re hungry.” He winks, “For actual food, not just me.”

As far as Valentine’s Days go, you can say this one is the best you’ve ever celebrated. All you needed was Jake.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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[tarnussy]

Something a bit more important than fandom, give it a read please. It is an issue that has been bothering me to the point of serious emotional distress for years.

Not related to ER but since I have hundreds of people following me here, I thought I'd share an article that is about the moral cost of cats in regards to birds. Much like other social media sites, tumblr also treats cats in a cult-like way, so I think reading something like this is essential for everyone. It is an excellently written article about a scientist and their fight against birds constantly going extinct BECAUSE of cats and irresponsible owners.

I am also sad about constantly seeing that every time someone brings this topic up, cat owners who can behave like they are part of a cult, immediately start acting vile and throwing death threats. So imagine thinking you, as a cat owner, are the victim when birds and small mammals are losing this fight every single day with a lot of species going extinct as we speak because of the very people who don't want to hear the truth. It baffles me that they say they like animals so much, especially cats, but at the same time, when other people who see the whole picture and are actually animal lovers who love more than just cats and dogs are suddenly their main enemies? How does that make sense? Once again I wish I could express myself better but English is not my mother tongue.

I can bring my own experience into this as well, I live in a country where cats outside are in such amounts that is is straight up just a pest issue - cats being the pests. I see how in the last 10 years, a booming blackbird population where I live went down to basically seeing one blackbird a year. I live next to a huge lake that is supposedly a national park type deal where birds are protected, and yet, on the street I live in that is right next to the lake, there are at least 3 outdoors cats per house, doing irreversible harm to the birds in the lake area. There is one person who owns 17 outdoors cats whose cats not only hunt for birds all day, but also baby chickens in neighbours' yards. When confronted, the owner said he doesn't care. Don't forget that cats kill for fun and sport! And there are no laws or anything to fight this, and I feel completely helpless because birds are essential.

I would make it mandatory for everyone to care for an injured bird that was hurt by a cat. And try to nurse them back to life, just to put things into perspective. I've been doing just that almost every summer in the past several years. It's heartbreaking. And I don't have options because the only bird hospital is across the country from where I live. So I have to rely on myself and the short training I had in bird emergency.

And knowing that a lot of cat (and dog) owning for the most part comes down to people being emotially stunted and refusing to see how harmful their pets are is just incredibly sad and also infuriating. Because that is the truth of it. The hypocrisy is wild. And it is a losing battle, especially since social media has been a thing for the past decade or so. It's much worse now. So if you like birds, please read the article. If you are a diehard cat owner who thinks everyone else is wrong, also read the article. Maybe you will see where the scientists and people who care for more animals than cats are coming from.

Also, I am really bad at confrontation and fights generally, so I will not tolerate any vile comment or addition on this post that will start to pick a fight. The energy you would use to fight me would have better use if use used it to keep yor outdoors cats inside. And maybe if it was used to actually help animals instead of hoarding them. This post for now is also for my followers only, so no reblogs. But even if 2 people read this post and the article, that's good news for me.

And also just to try to describe how I (and other people who love birds) feel: imagine this made-up scenario where the birds are the cats. You love cats more than anything, they have been going steadily extinct because of an animal that is a popular pet. You love cats but this other animal that is a popular pet is killing cats for fun. And the owners of this other popular pet think it is super cute how their pets are killing your favourite animals that are going extinct. And you can't bring up this topic ever, because the popular pet type that has been killing your fave animal is so so popular that people will gank you via comments and real life for it, no matter what. Now THAT is what fighting for birds and small mammals feels like when we try to bring this topic up with cat owners.

And if you unfollow me for this, good riddance. Just know that before you think you are the victim for people pointing out how harmful cats are, you are actively harming the environment and are responsible for birds and small mammals going extinct - because you are responsible for your cat. Cats by themselves wouldn't be an issue if it was a natural setting, without the human part, but it isn't. Humans are hoarding cats, so their ratio compared to birds is outlandishly big and unnatural. In no natural setting would cats be this rampant without the hoarding aspect. Humans hoarding cats and being irresponsible are the issue. And you can marinate in that after you unfollowed me.

For the rest of you who I reached with this post, thank you for reading. And I know this is not a fandom topic, but it is extremely important to me. And it should be extremely important to way more people. It is a global issue. It is always wild to see the lengths so called environmentalist go into to fight people about recycling and veganism, but hoarding killing machines somehow is acceptable to these very same people. Extend that cat (and dog) loving to other animals as well. Also, hoarding animals will not fix your emotional / psychological problems. It will only distract. There are less environmentally harmful ways for distraction.

[lemoncrushh]

Witchcraft

PART ONE NOW ON PATREON

Summary: Three hundred years after his twenty-first year on earth, Harry Styles awakens to realise his new fate, not one of a pop star, but that of a witch.

Part 1 Word Count: 5356

A/N: This is a story I started a while back. If you followed me here last year, you may remember it. I was going to wait til closer to October to repost it, but I've decided to put it on Patreon for now since I'm so behind with writing. A witchrry fic, written from his pov. Takes place in the future when Stevie Nicks is the leader of a coven.

Small sneak peek below...

Blackness. Pure dark midnight is all I see as I open my eyes. I know they’re open, though I can see nothing - no shapes or silhouettes of any kind. I’m not even sure if it’s my own bed underneath me, or if I’m actually lying on anything at all.

That’s when I hear it. It starts low, the faint muffled sounds of someone - or something. I try to lift myself, my hands grasping for whatever is beneath me, but it’s only then that I realise I’m no longer lying face down. Disoriented as I punch the air with my fist, I suddenly panic again, hoping for something to grab onto, or at least to see. Screaming into the silence, I find my voice is mute, no sound coming from my mouth, or even my chest.

The muffled sounds seem to get closer then, and I desperately reach out to where I think it’s coming from. A hand from nowhere suddenly touches mine, and forthwith my entire body begins to tremble.

Before I can protest and attempt to scream out again, the darkness slowly fades as though dawn has just broken. A golden light seems to shine up from beneath wherever it is I am lying, and two ebony eyes stare back into mine.

“It’s okay now,” a voice says, though I’m unsure if it belongs to the same figure from which the eyes belong. It sounds more like an echo from far away. “You’re safe.”

I attempt once more to make a sound, but all I can manage is a croak. I catch the red lips beneath the eyes curving up into a smile, and I’m suddenly affected by a warm sensation of contentment.

“You’re pretty,” she says.

“So are you,” I rasp, surprising myself.

She laughs, a lovely coo that excites me.

“Save your voice, love.”

I would say more despite her demand, if not for the three other figures entering the space. Turning my head - which is no doubt being cradled by the softest pillow known to man - I catch a glimpse of more lovely creatures. My heart skips a beat when it recognises the one in the center.

“Ooh, good choice, mum, he’s a dish!” exclaims the tall male figure on the right.

“Hush, Victor,” chides the middle one, a petite woman with a timeless face and hair like spun gold. “I didn’t choose him. I told you. He was already chosen.”

The woman with ebony eyes beside me, still holding my hand, gleefully chuckles once again.

“Yes,” she sings as her long fingernails graze my flesh. “Besides, he’s mine anyway. I already decided.”

“Isabel-” Victor snaps.

“Hush! The both of you!” demands the one in charge. The queen. Though my thoughts are still unintelligible, my brain still fuzzy, I know this to be true.

Her face softening quickly, leaving no trace of indignation, she steps forward. As if on cue, Isabel leaves her post, taking a new place next to Victor and the one who has yet to make a sound.

“Harry, my child,” smiles the queen as she leans forward, taking my hand. The feeling of deja vu comes over me as I hear her say my name, though I cannot quite place hers. “Welcome. We have been waiting for you.”

“Waiting…” I cough. “Where- where am I?”

“Home,” she replies, as if that was the most obvious answer.

Looking into her eyes, I study them. Though not as dark as Isabel’s, they are still a lovely chocolate shade. My gaze examining the rest of her face, I notice lines but not wrinkles. Her face is porcelain, her lips perfectly shaped. I know this face, I remind myself.

My eyes shift to her hand wrapped around mine, covered in a lace glove. Fingerless. Red fingertips. Again, familiar. Everything looks and feels recognisable about her, just as familiar as my own mother or the tattoos inked on my skin.

“I...I know you, don’t I?” I finally manage to ask, my throat incredibly wretched and sore.

“Of course, darling,” she beams at me. And almost instantaneously, I know, before she speaks it herself. “I’m Stevie Nicks.”

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