#unless his kids have canon ages?? but I don't think they do | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rottiens · 4 months ago

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✫ AUGURIO┊ You hear him before you feel him, like the flash of lightning that warns of the arrival of a furious thunderclap. His deep voice breaks the silence and it seems that everything, even the dust particles stop for an instant.

word count. 13K

tags. (18+) — explicit content. maid!reader, reader with female anatomy (she/her), toji calls the reader kid/kiddo several times (sorry, can't stop using it), toji is a gentleman (not really) (he tries to be, I swear), toji canonical story, age gap (reader is 25+, toji is in his mid 30s), cw violence, reader is/was harassed by the Zenin clan, reader has family trauma (ofc), references to Christian religion, slow burn, soft toji, angsty, mutual masturbation, dirty talk.

notes. i love toji but i had never written anything official for him, at least something not so long. i didn't expect to write so much, in fact the first scene i started it with the idea of making a drabble but... oops. i got carried away (i love him sm), i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i did because despite being long i enjoyed writing every scene heh. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✫ title inspired by the song augurio by rosalía. read on ao3.

You hear him before you feel him, like the flash of lightning that warns of the arrival of a furious thunderclap. His deep voice breaks the silence and it seems that everything, even the dust particles stop for an instant.

Your body jerks at being taken by surprise, shivers run down your lower back and stop behind the back of your neck, ruffling the hair in that area. Afraid to turn around you remain static for a long second, thinking that maybe that way he would go away and ignore your presence, though to your misfortune that never happened.

"Are you deaf or something?" he asks reluctantly.

You imagine him scratching the back of his neck as he says that, you wonder if he still has that habit.

"I'm fine," you say dryly, answering that and his previous question which had been 'Do you need help?' — Your hands are still frozen, stretched above your head with the edge of the heavy box barely touching your fingertips, pressing down.

Toji growls and ignoring your clear disinterest in his help, he takes a few short steps forward which send alerts to your head, putting you in a run or fight state. His footsteps are long and firm warning you that someone heavy is coming, and they stop right behind you where you can clearly feel the heat of his body burning through your clothes, the only sign that tells you along with a growl that he really was there and that this was not a figment of your vivid imagination.

Toji stretches his arms above your body taking advantage of his height to grab the box you are struggling so hard to reach and easily pulls it down from the cabinet, dropping it to the floor and the various cursed weapons inside slam against each other.

You don't know what to do or say, but you especially don't know what he wants. After having helped you against your will, in a task you were sure you could have completed alone, Toji adds nothing more. There is no sound, complaint or comment to let you know he is still there.

If it weren't for the warmth of his body you couldn't be sure there was another person next to you in that room. Toji, without his cursed energy to give him away was far worse than a ghost, there was no trace that he existed or ever existed unless you looked him in the face and made sure he was really there.

And after thinking about it and soaking in an awkward silence, you think you guess what he wants from you.

"Hm. Thank you." Though your words bounce off the walls with some degree of insecurity, you think you have pleased him, that he was looking for perhaps a bit of your gratitude, yet he says nothing until after an extended silence.

"Turn around."

You're used to following orders. "Pick that up." "Clean that up." "Shut your mouth." So the command doesn't surprise you; what does, instead, is who the words come from.

Toji Zenin left the clan years ago. Never officially, just one day you woke up and he wasn't there, there was one less dish to put on the table, there were fewer orders to follow and the same thing happened the next day and the next.

No one ever heard from him again, all you knew was from the rumors you heard from your masters. That the man had left the country, that he was now working for the mafia, that they found his body dumped in a dirty alley in Okinawa, so having him here, coming back to order you around as if he returned to the clan after so long fills you with uncertainty.

However you do it, you turn on your heels without making a single noise; credit to the years you have had to learn to be silent and go unnoticed all so as not to disturb and inconvenience the people you serve. You are in front of him and the first thing that strikes you is the sight of his chest, unlike how he used to dress when he lived here he wears a blue striped kimono which makes him look more formal and adult, which however baggy it is, shows how changed his body is now: more mature and bigger.

You raise your head a few inches to find his serious face staring back at you, his longer, somewhat disheveled hair partially covering his gaze and those blue eyes are as expressionless as ever.

You've never seen the scar on his lip so close, the memories of that day make you shudder but you swallow them in your throat like a hard pain pill.

You take the hem of your dress and raise the corners at the same time as you bend your knees in reverence, all this without moving too much because an unplanned movement would lead you straight to touch him.

"Sir. You’re back." You greet him, keeping a neutral tone in your voice. "Welcome home." It's the kindness you're forced to give to every single member of the clan, even if they're defectors who return without explanation. You were no one to ask questions, so you're left only to accept silently.

"I remember you," Toji says, maintaining eye contact. Confused, you frown and allow him to elaborate. "You were that girl."

There have been many girls, sir. That's what you want to say but you bite your tongue. Many of them ran away, many are gone and many were not strong enough to withstand the mistreatment.

"I'm afraid you're wrong..."

"Nah." Toji interrupts you by clicking his tongue, then he reaches out and seeing you squirm at the action, the attempt at a wicked smile peeks out of the corners of his mouth. "Easy there." His words accompany his thumb that lands on top of your eyebrow, caressing a small scar that you normally forget is there. His touch is rough, his skin is calloused, but the way he approaches you doesn't feel violent to you so you allow him to carve the skin some more. "You're that girl..., my cousin threw that crystal glass in your face."

His words trigger wild and violent memories that force you to turn your face away from him, Toji's hand hovering in the air as he slowly returns it to the sides of his legs. It was your first week serving the Zenin clan, you were around fifteen when your family sold you in exchange for your servitude. Painful memories come back to you, you remember how you fought, how you spat curses in front of the Zenin family and the more rebellious you were the worse they treated you, the scar on your eyebrow is just one of many.

You look at him again, unable to contain the rage that injects itself into your veins and ends up in your hands making you clench your fists tightly.

"I had wondered where all that anger had gone." Toji looks you up and down. "I guess it was just asleep."

"I have to take that box to the training room, I've already taken too long," you say, giving the box a sidelong glance.

All that anger you had swallowed until you became the good servant they wanted. That reduced the mistreatment, the yelling, the hitting, it served to make your stay here a less torturous one but seeing Toji back in front of you, with his inappropriate comments made that trunk full of pent up emotions open up.

Toji was the only one who treated you like another person. The only one who respected you and said Please and Thank you. The only one who stopped his cousin when he was not satisfied with the glass he had blown on your forehead, he took a glass to pounce on you, getting Toji a scar on his face that he shares with you.

He suffered almost the same fate as yours, only his family never sold him, on the contrary, they decided to keep him and use him as a pet to abuse and make fun of, until one day it stopped, until one day Toji never showed his face in his clan again until now.

You hated it.

You hated the fact that he could be free.

"So they finally broke you," Toji adds before you leave, just as your foot pushes on the door to help you open it.

"Why did you come back?" You ask without turning to look at him.

"I stopped by to borrow a couple of tools," he says with a teasing tone.

"Are you going to leave again?"

"Yes," he replies flatly. "Are you going to tell them I was here?"

Your fingers squeeze the box full of heavy weapons and you have to push it up closer to your chest so it doesn't slip.

"Have a good trip." That's all you say before you leave and venture out into the hallway.

The warm sun streams through the glass windows, dusk a few minutes away. Your feet grow heavier, you drag them under the floor, your fingers dig hard into the cardboard— You were jealous, irritated that Toji was lucky enough to come and go as he pleased, that no one knew when he was in or when he was leaving, that no one could guess what his next move was going to be. You envied his freedom.

The door to the training room bedroom hits the wall thanks to your kick, causing the three men in the center to scowl at you. The brunette one rushes at you to snatch the box from your hands, whispering a mumbled "Useless" that has your fingers clenching tighter.

"You may leave." Orders the older of them, but you don't move.

It was the first time you saw his face. He was a man of short stature and gray hair, he had wrinkles on his forehead, cheeks and neck and a long beard that reached to his collarbone. The other two were at least your age, you knew them well, they grew up with you but you had always been hidden under your fear that you never looked up beyond their bare feet or their shoes and now that you were soaking in their features and age difference, the idea that you could fight him for your freedom and beat him flashed in front of you.

"I-"

"Are you deaf? Leave the room."

The white-haired man walks towards you with the katana in one hand, his whole countenance indicating danger. His cursed energy spills all over the place making you feel insignificant. You have never taken a weapon in your hands before other than to clean them, you never fought, you didn't know what your limits or your strengths were but right now you are so high from the adrenaline rush buzzing in your bloodstream that you are sure you can stand up to him.

The old man stops in front of you with the tip of the sword grazing your throat.

"What will be one less maid?" He says and his apprentices laugh at a cruel and unfunny joke.

You laugh with them, filled with a numbing peace. The old man pushes the tip closer, breaking the skin, tearing flesh and the warm liquid spills down your neck staining your white uniform and the pain makes you smile even more. You want to run away but your knees tremble, your feet don't respond. You have never been so close to freedom before so you succumb to that desire closing your eyelids and waiting with your arms at the end of your destiny, when the old man pushes the blade of the sword a little more there is not even pain, only euphoria for tasting the freedom you have longed for so much.

"Hey." Your eyes snap open and turn shakily to God's voice coming from the hallway. He's leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and you hadn't realized you were crying until the salty taste numbs your tongue. "What are you guys doing?" He casually asks the men, though in reality his eyes are on you.

Your breathing becomes a whirlwind as you see him enter the room, you can't feel him, so it's as if it's all part of a vivid dream or a horrible nightmare.

"Oh, look who's back!" Laughs one man.

"You're not welcome here," the other shouts as he spits on the floor and Toji moves into the space as if he owns the place.

In the blink of an eye he knocks out the brown-haired man and leaves him spitting blood on the floor, then he pounces on the green-eyed blond and after an exchange of punches breaks his neck and drops his body on the floor with a crack of the wood that receives his body with a soft bounce.

Then he turns to the old man who, moving the katana away from you, wields it in Toji's direction. Without being able to blink you appreciate the difference in power between the men: between Toji, the younger ones and the old man, the latter being the one who gives Toji the most fight to defeat but after a while Toji leaves him lying on the ground, holding the wound that he had given the old man in the abdomen with his same sword.

When Toji approaches you you can't speak.

“Are you all right?" He questions you but you can't stop shaking. Toji tears a piece of cloth from his kimono to tie it around your neck to stop the bleeding, the piece of cloth despite getting soaked right away manages to do its job successfully. "It's not going to help much. But it should hold until you can put something better on.” Then he adds, "Good luck."

And how if he never came, he leaves the room at a slow pace, leaving you with a massacre in front of you, blood under your feet, on your neck and staining the carpet.

And in the midst of the mist that was your life at that moment, a ray of light illuminated it, giving you the answer. He was your Savior.

Still in a state of stupor you put your hand to your neck and the feeling that you are in the present and in real life returns little by little, the wound starts to hurt, it hurts to swallow, it hurts to open and close your jaw. You leave the room holding your throat, looking for the trace of the man who had played the hero without knowing what you would do after having him in front of you.

"Zenin!" you shout, but your voice is barely more than a whisper and his huge body had crossed the hallway and turned right.

You move in his direction, you run shortening the distance and joining your destinies. You find him again a little closer to the gate, where to your surprise there were no guards guarding the entrance. The gigantic doors of the entrance to the Clan were wide open, unlike how you had imagined so many times in your dreams, savoring your escape, there was no wind, no noise, on the contrary. There was a silence in the scene that was almost uncomfortable, something different from how you had imagined the scene would be when escaping from your hell.

Toji's loud footsteps on the stones is all you can hear.

"Zenin!" you shout again, reminding your feet that they should keep moving forward.

Thanks to the quietness of the scene, Toji manages to hear you, turning to face you.

"Don't follow me," he warns. And you decide to ignore him completely, taking another unsure step forward as your body lurches slightly forward.

"You saved me."

He scratches the back of his neck, indifferent to your words. "And I would have let you die there if I'd known you'd become a nuisance."

His cruel words provoke nothing in you, create no emotion in you. You don't stop, you don't stop looking at him as you feel the scar open up more each time you speak.

"But you didn't. Let me come with you." "That won't work. Go back inside."

"Zenin, please."

Toji looked like an angel. The colors around him blended into a beautiful watercolor of whites and shades of green. Around him gave off a heavenly aura, it was the first time you could see his cursed energy and it was beautiful, a smile full of hope is drawn on your face.

"I go by Fushiguro now."

It's the last thing you hear, your fingers reach out to touch him but your hand is suspended in the air, held in time and it's all you remember before Toji turns his back on you and walks away from you and everything around you shatters. The bright lights go out, your knees falter and a cold annoying sweat settles on your palms and the back of your neck.

You can't see anything when your body hits the ground, everything is dark but you can feel it. The floor is neither warm nor safe, so Toji must have held you once more before you collapsed on the stones.

— / / /

When you wake up it takes you a couple of extra minutes to open your eyes. Your whole body feels heavy like never before, you were used to physical labor but now it felt like you would collapse if you tried to stand up. The second thing you notice is that it is cold, but your body is warm so you drag your eyes until you notice the warm crimson red blanket tucking your body in a delicate way, it is at that moment that your eyes venture further to check where you are.

It was a room, you were in a bed that could hold at least two adults. With a soft blanket over you and a dim light coming from the left side.

"You're awake." You are startled by the voice coming from the right, your heart flutters at the stranger whom it doesn't take you long to recognize. His appearance had now changed, he has his wet hair slicked back giving you a glimpse of his forehead. He had also changed his clothes, now wearing a black sweater that matches his pants of the same color. Toji is sitting on the edge of the bed staring at you, holding his jaw in a fist as his lips form an involuntary half pout. "You need to leave." Then he says, taking you by surprise.

Your mouth opens but only a whimper of pain comes out of it, your fingers search for your wound but you stumble over a bandage that you assume he had placed while you slept and suddenly you were very aware of it, of its texture against your skin and how tightly it squeezed your neck, so much so that it was hard for you to swallow.

You look at him with wide eyes and he clicks his tongue.

"You didn't lose much blood but I did what I could." You tilt your face in his direction, close your eyes briefly trying to ignore the pain. "Don't talk for now. You were sleeping all day but I need you to get out of here tomorrow, you'll be well enough in the morning."

Your eyes expand at the statement, you try to speak, create sentences, but your throat hurts and you have no choice but to be silent as you stir in the sheets and watch him stand up without you being able to interfere, stretching his back and arms until his muscles groan and thunder in a grunt of exhaustion vibrates his throat.

Ignoring your gaze that begs for him to stay a little longer, Toji leaves the room, turning on a night light next to the bedside table. Soon the floor is illuminated with a navy blue halo that runs along the bottom of the wall and you realize you are alone again as soon as you hear the door close with a soft knock.

You are alone again. It's the thought that comes back into your head and rumbles against your skull. Of course this wasn't like when you were at the Zenin's house and were forced to sleep with other servants in a room smaller than this one, but even though the lighting gives you some peace of mind the darkness clings to your skin in a terrifying way. You are ten years old again when you believed there were monsters under your bed except this time you knew they were real but they were not fantasies, they were flesh and blood men who would probably be looking for you as they blamed you for slaughtering their men, even though they made sure you never had the strength to do it.

Suddenly it is all too much. The bandage on your neck seems to have hands and steals your oxygen squeezing against your throat, your lungs expand but don't bring air back with them and the light coming in from the street through the glass window gives way to shadows that form sinister figures on the wood of the floor. You bring your trembling fingers to your face and cover your eyes, your ears ringing from the blood that suddenly starts pumping your body uncontrollably, all this frenzy of panic drives you to push the blanket away from your body and makes you put your feet on the floor.

You're grateful to be on solid ground, to have something real under your feet. Crawling you flip the switch on and then fling open the door to face reality.

Outside you become a little more familiar with the place you are in. Your eyes quickly scanning the place you realize you are in an apartment, one that carries the same vibes of the room you came from (a wooden floor covered in a rare carpet, walls with minimalist decor and by minimalist you mean non-existent), there is a murmur coming from somewhere so you lean your face forward letting yourself be guided by the muffled conversation.

Your path is lit by the dull light of a lamp that is not bright enough to illuminate the whole room, and not to mention the conversation going on somewhere in the apartment which doesn't seem to fit the scene, everything is so quiet that you can hear your own heart pumping, it doesn't seem like Toji left you behind just a couple of minutes ago, it seems as if he has disappeared, as if he has never been there and this was all a nightmare.

You walk cautiously around the apartment, taking an overview of something you could take to defend yourself in case you need it. Near the couch you find an empty beer bottle and grab it from the tip in the direction away from your body, as if it were a baseball bat.

You are afraid to call his name and there is someone else lurking among the darkness. Questions such as, did someone come in and hurt Toji and then come for you are formulated one after another in your head, creating a dozen scenarios in which you could die at the hand of a clan member tonight.

Your ears guide you to a room in the background where you hear murmuring that is muffled by the noise of a television that as you step closer becomes clearer. Light escapes through a crack in a half-open door, you wet your lips before continuing and with your bare feet you push open the door, still holding the bottle and ready to strike.

"I can't have another person here!"

"She’ll be gone in the morning!"

The pair of men who seemed to be carrying on an angry conversation fall silent at the groan of the door. Eyes fall on you and how ridiculous you must look with a bottle as a weapon that would be useless if they really wanted to attack you. One of them is Toji, you recognize him instantly. The other is wearing a brown suit and has a lit cigarette trapped between his fingers, the same build (maybe a little thinner) and height as Toji.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Toji scolds you wrinkling his nose, paying little attention to his friend who seems to be mentally choking him.

"Fear," you reply hoarsely.

Toji exchanges glances with the man and then turns back to you with a sigh. His footsteps go in your direction and you cling to the bottle raising it higher in a trembling grip, ready to throw it if necessary, however, Toji disarms you in a matter of seconds, your fingers remaining raised at his chest as you blink in humiliation.

In a second Toji takes your body and throws it over his shoulders along with a grunt as if it were a simple sack of potatoes, and walks with you all the way you had to walk towards him back to the room where he told you to stay.

He closes the door behind you with one foot and drops your body unkindly onto the mattress which bounces gently with your weight.

"Just tell me if you want to go out on the street tonight and I'll carry you myself and throw you out." You stare at him silently with deer eyes, your heart pounding with the same intensity as one and wishing you could be recovered so you could talk and explain to him everything that's going through your head. Faced with your state he sighs, brushing a couple of wild locks from his face, and sits back down where he was before, on the edge of the mattress. "Listen, kid, don't get us both kicked out. Just be good, okay?"

You nod and realize his intentions as he is ready to leave as soon as he finishes speaking, but your hand comes forward and you stop him by clinging to his forearm.

"Stay," you beg. He shakes his head, turning away from your eyes. "Fear. Please."

There is desperation in your words, pain comes out of them followed by despair at not being able to speak as you normally would and advocate for your situation. Toji sighs resignedly and stands up to remove his shoes, then grabs the material of his sweater and pulls it off until his chest is exposed. Even with the little help from the light and battling the shadows you soak in his naked body, how worked his torso is and the few scars that the bluish hue of the lights reveal.

"Move aside," Toji says reluctantly and without complaint you do so, while burning with shame inside.

As soon as he settles in as best he can, you pull the covers back to cover you both. Toji holds his head with one hand and lets the other rest on his chest, you can't help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

"Man. Who?" you ask, seeking to hear him speak once more as Toji's voice brought you assurance.

"A friend." Toji responds dryly and reluctantly. You try to move closer to his warmth but he whines again, making the sound of a non-domestic animal. "No snuggling. Stay on your side."

After a while where no one says anything else and where you can't fall asleep because if you do you are sure you will wake up there again, inside those four walls, you mumble a, "Thank you." To which Toji doesn't respond.

At some point you could no longer fight against the exhausting sleep or the heaviness of your muscles and ended up losing the battle of the watch. Light particles get trapped in your eyelashes which makes you blink rapidly welcoming a new day. The first thing you notice is how dry your throat is, the second is a pair of strong arms holding you prisoner, adrenaline shoots through your body before you can process what was happening.

Memories come flashing back to you. You remember what had happened a couple of hours ago and remember Toji telling you to stay on the side of the bed, which you did! Yet somehow your bodies end up entangled with each other, his arms holding you very close to him preventing you from escaping. His grip is strong, he encircles your waist and holds you close to his chest, one hand on your abdomen and the other near your collarbones and chest, his lower body is very close to you, so much so that as soon as you realize you can feel how hard he is a hot steam starts on your cheeks and spreads all over your face.

You take a deep breath, then swallow saliva in a poor quest to hydrate your throat. Your fingers tap his arm near your neck.

"Zenin." You call out to him, something louder than a whisper, saying his name for some reason makes you feel warmer inside. "Toji?" you repeat his name and his face descends to your neck, his hot breath stumbles against your ear and a heavy sigh catches in your throat.

Toji lies there breathing, in a kind of trance that prevents him from waking up and his hand which was lying on your collarbone goes up to your neck where it takes hold of your throat and gently exerts pressure. You call his name again moaning from the pain, he grunts.

"What?" You never thought he could sound more morose than he already was, but apparently you were wrong. Morning Toji was a different being.

"No snuggling." You remind him with your eyes wide open, there was no way you could be asleep in the situation you were in. "You said." Your voice is still hurting, you sound hoarse.

"I said you couldn't cuddle me," Toji protests, clinging tighter to your body. "I didn't say anything about me not being able to." As soon as he finishes speaking his face scrunches against the side of your throat and the strands of his hair tickle you, your shoulders shrug instinctively and he laughs as your abdomen tightens. "How did you sleep?" he asks, still with his face hidden.

"Better."

"Good." That's all he says before suddenly walking away from you. You don't move from your spot, your eyes fixed on the rocking chair in the corner that keeps a teddy bear on it, your heart beating a mile a minute as you listen to him wander into the room behind you. "I was serious when I said you had to go." He reminds you, which causes you to sit up in bed slowly creating a misshapen arch with your back.

"I have nowhere to go." Your voice sounds broken, but you can form longer sentences than yesterday without feeling like the wound is going to open at any moment.

Toji already knows and probably doesn't care, he took a lot of trouble getting you out of that prison so now you were on your own. But the idea of surviving on your own in a world you barely had any knowledge of is terrifying, all you've worried about for years is that the food wouldn't get cold before it reached the table and indulging the whims of each of the clan members.

An idea suddenly strikes you, a light bulb would appear above your head if it were in a cartoon. "I can cook," you say, just as Toji is walking in the direction of the exit.

"We don't need a maid."

His words hit you with a stark reality check. Being a servant is all you knew how to do, if you no longer had someone to serve, then what was your purpose?

The door opens and you dart out of bed straight to Toji's feet, your arms do a bear hug around one of his legs and you look up at him from below with messy hair and pleading eyes.

"Please."

He groans, squeezing his eyes with his fingers, clearly frustrated with the situation, those same fingers cling to your forearms and help you to your feet.

"I don't want to see you on your knees begging anyone ever again, you are free now." With that, he drags you out of the room and your feet can barely keep up with his strength, in the same hallway you walked down earlier you see the man in the same suit from last night eating something in the kitchen and waving at you, a greeting you would return if you weren't too busy.

Toji stops in front of a door and with an open palm pushes it open to reveal a bathroom.

"Wait here." He leaves you in the middle of the small bathroom, as you stare confusedly at the tiles. Toji soon returns with things in his hand which he pushes into your chest and you are forced to hold them so you don't drop them. "Get changed and take a shower, we don't have warm water." That's all he says to then turn his back on you and leave you to your fate.

At the edge of the bathtub there were only two things: a three-in-one shampoo with a white label and a mint essence liquid soap and after checking what you had in your hands you realized that they were Toji's things: A purple t-shirt with the name of some brand on the chest that you were sure you were going to outgrow and some dark shorts along with a pair of boxers of the same shade, this was way more than you would have gotten on your own (and it's not like you really love the uniform you're wearing) so you feel grateful because this was his way of showing you kindness.

The very cold water washed away the sweat and dirt from the previous disastrous day. You also took the opportunity to remove the bandage and wash your hair with the shampoo you had appropriated without permission. The wound in your throat had begun to heal since it was not so deep after all, but you had to be very careful not to hurt it since it still hurt when you moved too much.

In the absence of a toothbrush you took two swigs of the mint mouthwash on top of the sink and walked out smelling like Toji which somehow filled you with tranquility. It doesn't take you long to find him, he was in the kitchen watching the news and spooning a spoonful of cereal into his mouth when he paused at the sight of you, a smile stretching his lips.

"You look weird." You didn't look weird. You looked like a female version of him but you decided to swallow the comment that would point this out and laugh softly instead. Toji pats the empty stool next to him which prompts you to move closer to him, a bowl of cereal was placed in front of the chair you now occupy of which you begin to eat from resting your eyes on the television and the grizzled gentleman reporting live on an accident that happened in the harbor.

All of this felt comforting but at the same time it was out of place. You? Eating cereal on a Sunday morning as if you were a normal young girl? You never had the chance to enjoy your teenage years or even have free time, you never knew what it was like to own a phone, go out to the park with friends, have a pet or even what it was like to have a crush on someone. All you have ever done is serve others, you dreamed of this day so much that one day you stopped wishing for it and accepted your destiny, you accepted that you would serve the Zenin clan until they didn't need you anymore, until your hair lost its color and they threw you out on the street.

But now you were here and you could go anywhere if you wanted to, although for some reason you were still there. And for some reason, Toji hadn't kicked you out.

Still in disbelief you stare at Toji, you see him chewing carelessly on his cereal while his eyes are fixed on the TV. His eyelashes are long, his lips thin and they were moist from the milk, dripping slightly, the scar moved every time he chewed. The features of his face were mature and indicative of how tired he is, dark circles under his eyes and a frown— all you saw was someone tired.

“What?" Toji wasn't looking at you, but of course he knew you were looking at him. You don't even stop to admire him the moment you answer him.

"What have you made of your life? Fushiguro? Is it official?"

"I got married, I had a son." Surprise is painted on your face, your eyelids twitch slowly but Toji doesn't give you time to speak. "She died some time later, I stuck to what I do best." His neck turns, leaving the gray-haired gentleman's voice as a way of softening what he will say next. "You want to know what I do for a living? I kill people… sorcerers." The last comes with intentions to scare you.

You don't move a muscle when he finishes his speech, on his face is drawn a macabre smile that tells you that you should be afraid of him but you are not.

"Your son?" you ask instead, spooning another spoonful of cereal into your mouth as you hold his gaze.

"He's fine." Toji replies simply, downplaying it, and you decide not to probe further for now, grateful that he's opened up a bit about his past with you.

Before you knew it you had finished eating, you had emptied your bowl almost completely, chewing and swallowing automatically.

Toji next to you leaves his stool to walk to the sink, undisguised you soak yourself in him cooling his face with the flow of water, running his wet hands through his hair and then with a towel that was nearby he dries his hands.

"I'm leaving."

"Work?"

"Yeah."

"Can I come with you?"

"Nope." You ignored him anyway and walked behind him. "Stop following me."

Still, you didn't. Because where else could you go? At least today would be the last day of your life where you could enjoy the present without worrying about what you have to do tomorrow.

Toji didn't do anything to stop you either, he let you down the stairs behind him and let you ride shotgun in an old blue car that was parked behind the building.

"This is your car?" your eyes examine the dashboard, your curious fingers didn't hold back from touching the radio and Toji tapped them gently getting your attention back to him.

"Don't touch." He was smiling, the scar was unbearably attractive. Your hands folded in your lap obediently. "Sometimes it is," he continued speaking, turning the steering wheel with one hand to take the corner.

For a couple of seconds all you hear on the radio is an annoying static noise, which from time to time quiets down to give way to a female voice that doesn't last long before it is shut off again by the annoying static.

The window pane is down and your face is outside the window, holding onto your own arms as the sun warms your face and the breeze ruffles your hair which is starting to dry. There are many people on the streets, some carrying ice cream in their hands and others walking their dogs which makes you smile once again as you contemplate every little detail in awe.

"Glass up and head in," complains Toji next to you. You move away from the window to examine him.

"Will you ever stop being so grumpy?"

"Ugh?" Toji genuinely looks offended, raising an eyebrow as he exchanges glances with you and the road. You laugh.

"I don't think you know the word fun."

"And you do?" For that moment he looked at you longer than someone behind the wheel should.

"Aren't you ashamed that a maid knows how to have more fun than you?"

"I can't believe I'm seeing with my own eyes the life of the party. What were you doing, falling asleep at ten and playing with brooms?" you laugh against your will, your lips stretching until it hurts.

"Oh! So you do know how to make jokes."

"Shut up."

"Sir get your feet off the table, don't take your head out of the window, get out of my house."

"I would never say take your feet off the table because I don't care."

“You don't clean?"

"Nah. That's Shiu's doing." So that was his name.

"That's why you need a maid," you tried to persuade him in a gentle tone.

"You're not going back to that house, kiddo. We'll only get in trouble," Toji warns earnestly as he drives around another of the city's numerous corners.

"Stop calling me that! I'm an adult, you know!" you protest, raising your voice.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Toji replies sarcastically as he parks under the shade of a leafy tree and you realize you were in front of a school. "I need you to do something for me."

"What do you want?"

Outside the school, children were walking out hand in hand with their parents as a teacher enthusiastically waved them off. You turned to face Toji, who peered through your window. You raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"No," you reply firmly, crossing your arms and sinking them into the breadth of your T-shirt.

"Huh?" Toji arches an eyebrow.

"Are you thinking of kidnapping a child?" you ask indignantly, full of question marks in your voice.

Toji burst out laughing, laughing at a joke that you didn't think was funny at all.

"What?" His eyes narrowed until they were barely visible, and dramatically, he wiped an imaginary tear from one of his eyes. "No. Do you see the boy over there?" he pointed a long finger out into the street, and you followed his gaze.

"The one in the green T-shirt?" you asked, watching a chubby blond boy picking his nose.

"The one next to him," Toji corrected, pointing to another boy who was looking at the blond boy with a frown, clutching his backpack. You turned your neck to Toji. .

"The grumpy one?" you asked. "Your son?" You don't need his confirmation when he falls silent at the accusation.

"Just go closer and make sure he’s okay," the man turned away from your curious gaze, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel, concentrating on the brown leaf-covered road.

"Okay?" you insisted.

"No bruises or anything like that," Toji mumbled through his teeth, downplaying it with a wave of his hand. However, you noticed a genuine concern in his words.

You looked again at the boy, who was still glaring in disgust at the others. The task you had been given made your heart beat fast.

"I'm sure he's fine," you say, still watching him.

"You wanted to come, so go. The car ride is not free, kid," Toji comments.

"Stop calling me that. I have a name," you demand, your jaw tense and your teeth clenched, wanting him to look at you with the same admiration and respect with which you looked at him.

"I will if you go," Toji says, staring at you.

If this was your way of saying thank you for what he had done for you so far, then so be it. Your bottom lip quivered and his blue gaze intimidated you. After all, a deal's a deal. You got out of the car carefully, checking both sides of the street before crossing and starting to walk towards the school. Before you took another step, a man approached the boy, seeming to know him by the familiarity with which they treated each other. He was a man about your own age, tall and with white hair.

Reluctantly, he took the boy's hand and led him in the opposite direction of the school. You trotted back toward the car.

"Who was that?" you questioned Toji before even closing the door.

"A friend," Toji replied laconically as he started the car again.

"So he's in good hands. If you're friends, why didn't you approach him?"

"Hmm," Toji muttered, dodging. "Lots of questions."

"Why don't you approach him?" you insisted once again.

Toji sighed before replying sincerely, "This is my way of taking care of him." Despite your initial misgivings, you gradually felt content with his explanation, crossing your arms in momentary acceptance.

The day progressed, and Toji drove you to a nearby pier. He left you in the car while he walked away to ask some questions of some people in the area. From the window, you watched the reflection of the sun on the water and in it the blurry image of Toji grabbing the man in the boat by the shirt threatening to throw him into the sea. You shivered in your seat, focusing your whole body and senses in the direction of the fight but you didn't dare get out because you didn't want to disobey him (besides there wasn't much you could do). It was some time before Toji returned to the car, with a frown on his face and an expression that told you he hadn't gotten clear answers but told you he wasn't going to answer any of the questions you never asked.

Finally, Toji took you to a cozy ramen restaurant. You ate together in a quiet corner of the place, sharing in bits and pieces stories of his work and your memories of when you were a slave. As the evening progressed, the initial tension between you began to dissipate. You realized that, despite his rough exterior, Toji had a kind and protective side in his own way.

After a long day together, you returned home, the sun had set and the city lights were beginning to glow. Although more questions than answers had arisen, you were beginning to feel closer to Toji and the world around him.

— / / /

"You're very quiet," Toji says after closing the apartment door behind you. He continues on his way without stopping to really check, straight to the switch where it allows the light bulb to chase away the gloomy shadows which you appreciate. "And I don't know if I like that or it scares me," he adds.

Toji is looking at you now at a safe distance for you because your thoughts became a mess when you had him close. A sudden chill fills you with shivers and you bring your hands up to your forearms to hug yourself, apparently you had forgotten to close a window.

"I've made a decision but I know you're going to laugh."

Toji licks his lips, the tip of his tongue brushing the scar erasing the birth of a smile, you look at him with raised eyebrows and unable to contain himself he lets out a snort followed by his hands raised to chest height in a sign of peace and surrender.

"Stop it," you ask.

"Please speak up," Toji encourages you, crossing his arms.

"I want you to train me." You pause, seeing no response from him you continue speaking with your throat strangely dry. "I want to learn from you and I want to kill the ringleaders of the Zenin clan.”

"You want revenge?" To your surprise his countenance was serious, with some muscle in his jaw clenched.

"Yes."

"Then I can't help you. Revenge is the worst emotion you can cling to in order to go on living."

You blink a couple of times in his direction, perplexed that as soon as he finished speaking he turned around and headed down the hallway to continue on his journey to wherever he was headed, your mouth opens and closes a couple of times until you perk up and take a step forward.

"What?!" you shout, confused.

"There is no point in seeking revenge."

Toji speaks without stopping walking, without raising his voice, moving to the direction where your room was. You chase after him with a vein throbbing in the sides of your head, you were so full of rage accumulated over so many years that your thoughts were clouded.

"You're going to give me moral lessons?”

"Listen." He turns, pointing an accusing finger at you and you force your feet to stop so fast you nearly collide with it. "I've lived under the shadow of revenge every day, it's one of the reasons I get up every morning and it's an emotion that consumes you, you don't want that for yourself."

"You don't know me. You can't know what I want," you point out.

"It doesn't take knowing you to read you like the back of my hand. You couldn't bear to kill a fly."

You clench your jaw hard until your teeth grind from the pressure, your back is tense and erect as if someone was pulling it up. You take a step forward and Toji seems to give you the same importance he would give a mosquito, he turns his back on you again and walks into your room.

He didn't know you, he had no idea what you were capable of doing, you had the ability to kill someone, you were sure of that.

You follow him through the door frame. With the little blue light bathing the place, you notice Toji with a naked torso, the black t-shirt was lying on the floor at his feet, you had caught him halfway through his fingers grabbing the loop of his pants to undo it and let it fall.

You gasp, covering your lips with one hand and your mouth fills with saliva. "What are you doing?" His skin looked smooth, marred by a scar near his left pec and another near the V that was blatantly marked above his pelvis, where a happy trail also began. "Get out of my room," you stammer, forcing yourself to focus on his eyes.

"This is my room." You lower your hand from your face slowly, at the revelation you can't help but take a wide look at the place, then up and down Toji. "And if you don't want to see me naked, I'd advise you to leave."

"We're not done talking."

"Yeah, we are," he replies. "I'm going to take a shower." Now you're the one crossing your arms.

"Train me," you demand.

"I won't."

Before you can speak again he is pulling down his pants, your body as automatically turns away from him, fleeing from the flash of bare skin.

"Are you crazy?!"

"Ow come on, sweetheart. It's just a little skin. This just proves you're not ready for my training."

"How does seeing you naked have anything to do with training me!" He was crazy. Insane. Unhinged. And you worried that instead of pushing you away it would push you more into him.

"If you can't see a fucking dick, how are you going to have the stomach to cut someone's head off?"

You don't remember the last time you had felt so embarrassed. You were trembling but you had to show Toji how important this was to you, so against all odds you turned to see him. Your eyes went to his dick —which hung heavy and thick under the bush of hair above his pelvis— drawn by a magnetism stronger than your willpower, you swallowed your embarrassment and looked him in the face, your pussy wetting in the vastness of his shorts. Toji had a half smile on his face and you weren't sure if it was your nerves or the sudden dizziness, but you could see a pale shade of red on his cheeks.

"Fushiguro, please." Your fists were clenched as a way of keeping you bound to this present moment, your nails digging red-hot into your flesh forcing you not to wander back into the middle of her thighs.

"Let me take a shower," he sighs, chewing on a chuckle. "I'll be back soon and we can talk."

Toji moves away from your point of view and you don't move a muscle until you hear him close the bathroom door. You run to open a window, sticking your head out until the wind cools the heat from your cheeks. You pat your face gently with trembling fingers, then scrunch your eyes and sink your face into the palms of your hands and for a long minute you sigh at the scent of liquid soap, the shampoo in your hair and the smell of food that clung to your shirt thanks to the ramen restaurant.

Underneath the baggy T-shirt your nipples are hard, aching every time they brush against the thick fabric begging for some kind of release.

There was a lot of traffic on the street, every now and then you could hear the horn of a vehicle in the distance. You linger in the safety that space afforded you until Toji's voice shocks you by calling your name from behind, followed by an apology if his behavior earlier had made you uncomfortable but he needed to make a point.

You turn on your heels to look at him. Toji has a white towel wrapped around his hips, his chest as well as his hair are soaked with hundreds of water droplets that you would like to lick (you cross out that thought immediately), he runs his hand through his jet hair and you forget how to breathe, the room that starts to give off an unbearable heat closes in on you.

"I hear you, you needed to prove a point and that's okay." You lick your lips.

Toji starts wandering in the room, opens the closet and takes out some pajama pants.

"Shiu would have to be convinced that you can do the job." Your eyebrows raise to the sky slightly but you don't say anything. "And have him take you into his apartment until you can be somewhere else safe," Toji says, slipping into his pants still wearing the towel.

Wonderful, he had no boxers underneath. Which made his penis stand out shamelessly when he removed the towel altogether, the garment falling dangerously below his sharp hip bones.

"I can do the job." You force yourself to keep the thread of conversation going, scratching a nonexistent itch on your forehead.

"Good." Toji leaves the room with the towel in his hand, so you think he probably went to put it in the bathroom and you take the opportunity to let your legs rest from shaking and sit on the bed. "But you are free to leave at any time. I'm not going to force you to be here, Shiu either," Toji shouts from the hallway and as he speaks his voice gets closer until he materializes in the doorway.

"Thank you." That's all you can say at this point as he looks down on you. Toji makes a sound with his tongue and points to the hallway with his head.

"Do you want something to eat? We have cereal and..." he pauses, trying to remember more food list and a smile appears on your lips.

"I'm fine," you gently confess to him.

"We can order ramen or Chinese food. I'm starving, I think Shiu left his wallet."

"I'm fine, Toji. Thank you," you repeat, still maintaining your smile.

Toji nods and leaves the room. You can breathe again, your chest feels squeezed by an invisible weight and you open and close your hand to make the sudden cramp go away.

You walk over to the window to take a last breath of the night air, the damp wind, the smell of smoke and the smell of freedom. Your lungs expand with the scent of street dirt.

You were free to go anywhere, to run away, to escape, to keep running, yet you decided to go back to Toji's bed. You lay your head on a pillow while hugging another to cheat the ghost of loneliness and pretend you were really with someone so it makes you feel safe— although you don't know how long it takes, but after trying to fall asleep watching the figures forming the light from the window on the floor mixed with the noise of the TV in the distance you realize you can't fall asleep, too scared and anxious to do so (if your savior wasn't around).

So you pull the warm sheet away from your body and leave the room in the direction of where the noise from the television was coming from, where you now realize that it is a baseball game.

"Hey," Toji greets as he notices you approaching him. He contemplates your figure silently as he watches you drop your weight beside him, wearing nothing but his big old t-shirt, your thighs were in full view. "Can't sleep?" Toji was watching you out of the corner of his eye, you shake your head.

"You?" you ask, watching the game.

"I was thinking of sleeping on the couch."

"No," you whine. "It's your room, it's your bed, we can share it."

Toji snorts. "You know how I sleep, I almost strangled you this morning."

"That’s not true." You tear your eyes away from the television to focus on him, blue and green lights dance across his features, across his cheekbones and sharp jaw. For a second your gazes stumble and he focuses on your lips for the duration of a blink. "I mean you did but I don't mind." You chuckle at a bad joke, Toji makes the attempt at a laugh. "You'd be doing me a favor anyway."

"Don't say that, kid— [Name]," he corrects himself at once, turning his focus back to the game, you pat his bare shoulder in a sign of 'congratulations'. "You still have a lot to live for, there's a lot you haven't seen or known yet. Even I don't want to die."

"Don't say it like that," you scold him with a frown, still looking at him... admiring him. "You have a lot to live for, too."

"Nah."

"Stop it. You have your son."

"He hates me, [Name]," he says with a tone of bitterness, you stay quiet for a moment, soaking in the noise of the match narrator, fumbling what to say. You hadn't comforted anyone before, not even your fellow maidservants, you didn't know exactly what to do or what to say so you loosened your tongue.

"I don't think he hates you, Toji." You said his name with such compassion, his jaw tensed focusing his vision to the ground. "Even if he hates you, you're alive, you have a chance to make things right, to change, to be better."

Toji looks at you, rather looks at your mouth, not wanting to pretend this time. "I don't want to change."

"I don't believe you." He looks into your eyes and you hold his gaze, one of your hands going up to his face and cradling his jaw. After a few seconds you feel the weight of his bones in your hand, indicating to you that he had dropped into it. "You know why I don't believe you?" your thumb goes to his lip and Toji parts them for you, the hardness of your hand meets his scar above his mouth and he flinches, pulling back a little. "Because you got this by protecting me."

Toji takes your hand between his fingers and slowly lowers your hand to his lap, for a while he stands still and you can't figure out what it is you see in his eyes because no one has ever looked at you like that before.

"I'm sure there are good things in you." Toji can feel the pulse in your wrist, he could even swear he can hear your heart. Pumping and beating, rumbling in your ribs.

"Stop," Toji begs, unable to look at you.

Enveloped in the frenzy that engulfs you, you let go and take his face in your hand again and Toji drops into it like a puppy in need of attention. His face looks beautiful under the lights on the television, those pretty blue eyes covered in a heavy layer of glitter. They were the same eyes that looked down on you from upstairs in the hallway when he helped you to your feet after his cousin abused you, eyes full of compassion.

"Have you ever left the country?" The question rolls off your tongue.

That look full of longing changes for a second to one of confusion, anyway he answers. "No."

"Have you ever seen a live band?"

"W- no," he chuckles.

"How long has it been since you've been to the sea?" This time he doesn't speak, you continue. "You still have many things to see, to live, don't take away the value of your life."

Toji gazes at you, closes his eyes for a moment trying to calm his inner storm but when he opens them again, long, heavy eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings— you were still here. He feels the warmth of your hand against his still in his lap, feels the firm touch of your palm on his cheek, his lungs filling with his fragrance permeating you. It was not a dream.

Toji leans forward and you don't move a muscle even though he sees something tighten in your neck and your breathing stops for just an instant.

"Please, stop me." He thinks he says to himself but his words actually reach the surface, fly to your ears in a whisper.

Toji holds you in the same way you hold him, his fingers, bigger than yours and any other maid you've ever known caresses your cheek in the same way a butterfly would kiss a flower. And this simple fact is enough to make your stomach flare, your eyelids give way to nerves and you swallow a breath.

"Please..." Toji begs again in a breath, but this time his lips are on yours, not touching you directly but just enough to let you feel his warm exhale. You could taste the milk on his lips from the cereal he had eaten and this made you lick your lips, wandering if you could discover the taste of milk on his tongue as well. "I thought you had died."

"You rescued me. That memory kept me alive."

At your confession Toji finally cuts the distance and presses his lips to yours. Just a brush, something too fast to be considered a kiss, so in search of more you pounce on him.

Your grip leaves his neck to hug the back of his neck and pull him further into you. As the baseball game is interrupted by commercials behind your back, Toji squeezes your thighs and drags you over his lap stealing a groan of surprise.

His kisses are no longer on your mouth, they go in search of your jaw and the jugular vein in your neck. Toji feels it throbbing fast against his mouth, he bites down, you moan, and he swipes his thick, hot tongue across the area soothing the burning.

"Please, stop me." You hear the request for the third time. The prayer is needy and hungry.

"I'm not going to stop you."

Toji suddenly interrupts his actions to look at you. His hands are shakily tangled inside your/his shirt.

"I can't love you." He lies, as a last resort to get you to stay away from him. You are too precious for someone like him, being around him would only ruin you.

"I don’t care," —you interrupt the intrusive train of thought in your head— “I have love enough for both of us."

If revenge was the worst emotion you can cling to in order to go on living, then you would cling to the love and admiration you feel for him.

Although you can't deny that it hurt to hear him say that, it hurt more to respond to him, it hurt when his fingers pulled hard on your nipples kneading your breasts roughly and it hurt when his teeth dug into your lip and forced his tongue into your mouth (and you were right, he tasted like milk and honey). It took courage to swallow your emotions and not run away to your/his room but you understood, you understood when he tugged off your shirt and took one of your nipples into his mouth.

You understood that both Toji and you needed this. No matter how long it took him to forget his wife, you were going to be by his side with him, as a friend, as a lover....

"Ah, ngh!"

Or as his murderous partner.

Because that's what you deserve. Finally make your own decisions, screw it up, damage it or start over.

But you were free to choose and now you chose to watch Toji from above suck on your nipples like a hungry man while your hips as with life could rub against the growing erection. His hands squeezed your breasts as he licked one to return with the other and do the same pattern while you could do nothing but gasp with parted lips.

"Fuck," he cursed, harshly carving a hard nipple with his flat tongue.

"More," you implored.

So Toji left your tits alone for a while, licking his lips with the same punishing tongue to wipe away the trace of saliva that had been left behind. Then he slipped a hand inside the boxers and his fingers met the puddle that was your pussy.

"Oh my… [Name]."

You wanted to run away, but instead you moved your hips and the friction of three fingers on your clitoris made you moan, made you repeat the action.

"I'm sorry." The apology came out of your mouth before you could understand what you were apologizing for.

It was like when you dropped a dish, when you were late in returning a weapon, when your clothes were not spotless. They were the words your mouth was most familiar with.

"Why?" Toji questions you, forcing you to speak despite your condition.

Condition: three of his fingers oscillating in circles over your over-stimulated clit.

"I asked.. why are you apologizing." With every word his fingers tap your sticky pussy, his words hot on top of your throbbing temple.

You swallow dryly. "I'm sorry," you repeat.

"Stop apologizing," Toji growls, moving to your ear, gently biting the gristle. "Are you a virgin?" The question feels like a concern, not for him but for you, it sounded like Toji needed to know whether or not you'd had sex before to know how to proceed.

"No." You reply dryly.

'No, I had sex with a member of the Zenin clan once, twice who turned out to be an asshole’ — is the answer you cut off halfway, perhaps an explanation you would —or would not— give Toji later when his fingers weren't pushing inside you.

Thanks to your lubricated pussy one finger was able to enter without difficulty, then another until you felt so full inside that you clung to Toji's shoulders for stability, hugging your body to his body as he waits for you to adjust to the size.

"Are you okay?" he asks, depositing small kisses on your shoulder.

"Hm hm!" you respond positively with your lip between your teeth.

Then his fingers push in and you groan, then out and soon you miss them and again that word Toji could get used to hearing all night comes from your lips.

"More." And he laughs, wrapped in the pleasure he gets from giving you pleasure.

Toji starts a specific rhythm, fucking you open with his big fingers as his fat thumb entertains your clit and his own cock throbs in the confines of his pajama pants, staining the fabric in a matter of seconds. You feel it resting heavy on his thigh, the thickness and size making you scratch his back wishing you had the courage to do something about it, that you had the courage to pull it out and do something else, yet you don't find the courage, it hides deep inside you as Toji pumps your pussy, in and out and faster and faster in rhythm with his moans. You are sure that if the TV were off the sticky sounds would be filling your ears in a way too embarrassing to process.

In that same rhythm Toji makes you have your first orgasm, it tears you apart and leaves you dizzy sinking your teeth into his flesh after he told you it was okay, that you could drown your screams on his shoulder, so you did, so much so that you are sure it will leave a mark. You think about apologizing but your brain mimics his raspy voice asking you not to apologize again.

For a moment you think you're going to pass out, your whole body is sore especially your thighs but it's a pain, satisfying? You wouldn't know exactly what words to put it in. You mumble his name a hundred times and he pulls you by your collar to have you facing him, your hair is tousled, your gaze confused and your lips slightly red, his cock is throbbing and in that moment he promises something to himself: he needs to make you cum again.

Above the noise of the sloppy kiss in which Toji grabs you and the narrator of the game shouting excitedly for a home run Toji hears keys in the door. Shiu, he concludes. So he grabs you by the thighs and walks with you to the room you share, no matter how much you complain about your weight or scream that you're going to fall. He doesn't release you from his grip until he throws you onto the mattress and he locks the door.

Toji takes a moment to admire your half naked body, his fingers are still soaked with you and he brings them to his mouth covering them with his drool as he walks towards you.

"There are so many things I want to show you," he says, crawling on the bed. "So many things I want to do to you." His scar rises along with the half-smile. His fingers hook into the elastic of your boxers and you moan as you stand completely naked in front of him, under the blue lights and moonlight.

You open your lips to complain but Toji places a finger over his: 'Shh' he makes a sound, then touches his ear, indicating you to pay attention to the footsteps outside which makes you keep quiet again.

Toji pounces on you, caging your body under his. Without breaking the connection of your lips together with one hand he helps your legs spread, one knee far apart from the other and he improves his position in the center. His covered cock is above your core, throbbing and begging for real attention, your fingers slide to the nape of his neck.

"Toji," you breathe. You don't remember the last time you had done so.

However, "Sh." He shushes you again by sucking the salty skin on your neck.

Each time his hips rotated over you you had to roll your eyes, so overwhelmed with pleasure. Toji then slides his fingers through your navel and reaches your sensitive clit again, the touch is as soft as a feather and at the same time he unloads on you static that fills you with shivers.

Toji wonders if he could make you cum like this, him rubbing shamelessly over your folds while at the same time stimulating your most sensitive spot. His fingers go faster and your back arches, trying to run away from the pleasure, from how raw his rough touch feels on your vulnerable flesh.

Your fingers tangle around his wrist and between dry-mouthed stutters you ask him to stop for a while. And he does so reluctantly, kissing your sweaty temple and dropping his heavy body next to you with a creak of the mattress, his chest rising and falling and the sound of the city making itself present again.

Adrenaline begins to leave your bloodstream bringing with it guilt and shame, you wonder what Toji who hasn't said another word in the last five minutes is thinking so you turn to your side to get a better look at him. He has his eyes wide open, focused somewhere on the ceiling as he sucks in his own lower lip, you move your eyes over every inch of his body until you are on his hips and the obvious bulge between his thighs, after a while of watching you realize you can see it trembling.

"Does it hurt?" you ask him after licking the sweat off your upper lip. Toji seems to have been forcibly brought out of his trance.

"What thing?" He asks, looking at you.

"Your... hmph, your penis."

He laughs, "Yeah," he replies quietly.

"I want to make you feel good."

Toji turns his head to soak you in, his eyes going to every corner of your face, then to your breasts for a moment.

"You don't have to," he speaks hoarsely, turning to your eyes.

Wordlessly, you reach down to his crotch, your fingers mimic a playful spider dancing over his navel and tangling in the trail of short hairs but Toji stops you, the grip is insecure and you stare at each other for what feels like a heavy eternity but finally he gives you the freedom to continue exploring while at the same time exhaling through his nose just like a raging bull.

You touch him through his pants and the muscles in his legs tighten, he pushes his hips up in an animal instinct to reach for more. You size it up and rub it as you watch him grow amidst the darkness, finally you get up the courage to reach into his pants and Toji helps you by pulling it down just enough so it doesn't bother you.

Half naked under your nose you breathe in the raw scent of sex that collects in a cloud-like form in the room. Toji is so hard and you take him between a weak fist, somewhat unsure, as if it’s going to bite you. Inexperienced you give a downward tug and Toji throws his head back with a curse and a choked grunt.

"More. Squeeze your hand just a little tighter," Toji says, encouraging himself to raise his head again to look at you giving him pleasure.

"Like this?"

"Yeah. The tip, just... God— fuck the tip with your hand, I'm so sensitive."

It takes you little time to learn what he likes, you learn quickly and he is pleased. Toji asks you to cradle his balls and you do so obediently, then spit on the shaft as he commands, saliva runs down the swollen pink head and slides easily to reach his full balls. Toji hunches his back and turns sideways to pay attention to you— now in front of him you had nowhere to escape.

Toji breathes on your open mouth, his fingers squeeze your ass, caress your thighs longingly and end up on your pussy, pressing on the soaked folds. For a while he stays still, just feeling your clit throbbing, it's as if he was waiting for you to stop him again, he wanted to be sure. He tentatively slips a finger in the middle of your labia and you mewl.

"You're so wet," he admits with bated breath as you continue to masturbate him. "I wanna fuck you so bad," he says, biting your lip and you close your eyes, a little dizzy now that your clit was being stimulated again. "My whole body needs it, I need to put my heavy cock in that pretty pussy of yours, [Name]. I want to— fuck me. I want to slap it with my cock, I'm sure I could make you cum with just that."

"Toji!" you scream the instant two fingers go inside you without warning, quickly assaulting your pussy, pumping it in and out. "F-fuck me, do it."

"What was that?" with a sinister smile breaking the darkness along with his scar, he longed to hear you speak again.

"Please." You respond assigned, your stomach clenching.

"Next time, baby." He deposits a fleeting kiss on your lips. "When I get condoms I'm gonna pound that pussy so good that all you're gonna remember is my name. Now..., fucking cum for me."

You couldn't breathe or respond because his mouth was on yours, stealing your breath and what little strength your limbs had left. Your whole body ached, you felt so full with those two fingers plus thumb rubbing your clit back and forth, your fist squeezes just a little on the head of his cock, your thumb slides over the cleft of the cockhead and Toji growls on your tongue, you swallow the vibrations and squeeze your eyes tightly shut letting yourself sink into the liquid stream that tucks your body, for a second you stop breathing but you open your eyes suddenly screaming his name and he shushes you again kissing you deeply, soon after Toji cums in your fist and on his own stomach, drops of cum fall on the mattress and Toji moves away to find a t-shirt of his to clean it and help you clean yourself.

"Come here," he says, but he doesn't really give you a choice because his arms were wrapped around your body, dragging you on top of him.

You sigh. Your face was crushed into his chest, his big hand playing with your hair. You didn't know what to say, you could hear his heart beating as fast as yours, you were tired and sore but never before had you felt happier than at this moment.

"Rest up, tomorrow will be your first day of training." Toji kisses the crown of your head and that's all you hear before you sink into a thick froth of dreams, where all you can appreciate is Toji's warm, naked body against yours and the soft sheets beneath your bodies.

#wr #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #jjk x reader

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chiocchi · 10 months ago

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If you don't mind answering, why do you ship Tom Riddle and Harry Potter? Besides the whole issue that they are enemies, and the age difference, both characters are heterosexual. It's canonical fact. If it's the dynamic you like... Have you thought about Tomione's ship? They have a lot of potential together. And in the right direction, they would be a couple that could make it in the books.

JDKLJKLFJSDLKFJA This kinda feels like people knocking on your door and trying to get you to believe in their religion. It's pretty funny.

I don't know why are you calling issues to a part of the pairing's appeal lkajdsjfs (And Hermione is Harry's age and they are on the same side too?). And not sure about that canonical fact. Harry can be read as bisexual quite easily and Voldemort|Tom... idk he seems more obsessed with power, immortality, and Harry. But even if that's the case, I don't see why it should matter. We're in fandom after all.

I don't know if I'll be able to convey why I like this ship so much. For starters, I'm really into the unique connection they share. There was a piece of Voldemort's soul inside Harry's; they had a mental link; a whole language they're the only ones to speak (for the most part); Voldemort chose him and marked him; and there's even a prophecy that linked them together. There aren't two people more connected than them. They're soulmates, and the fact that Voldemort didn't intend it and Harry hates it adds another layer of complexity.

But not only that, they're like a broken reflection of each other, which I find fascinating. In his second year, Harry was worried about the similarities between them. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles, they both considered Hogwarts their first real home. I feel like they would have really understood each other in other circumstances. They would have been friends. Because one of their key differences is that Harry found friends and adults that loved him while Tom was probably bullied and, y'know, the whole Dumbledore thing.

Not to mention that Harry would die for everyone whereas Tom would kill everyone. They're insane in their own way. I love their similarities and differences, but more than anything else, I love when they're together. The fanfics and fanarts are awesome.

And the whole thing of being enemies feels quite gay sometimes klafjdlskfja. Harry can't help but think Tom is handsome and, despite everything Voldemort did, Harry wanted to give him one last chance to show remorse. I have no doubt Harry is crazy enough to actually forgive him.

I've thought about Tomione and I've come to the conclusion that I don't like it. pinktom has a really good post about it and I agree with it. Besides, Hermione liked Ron and had something with Krum, and they're nothing like Tom. Just because she's heterosexual doesn't mean she's attracted to any man, y'know? klajdlfkdjs I don't think they would have been a couple in the books, no matter the direction. If it's the dynamic you like, have you thought about Tomarry? More believable, more intense, and a wider range of wholesomeness to fucked up in the fics. It's really interesting. Unless you don't like men being together? Hmm? Suspicious (just kidding. To each their own. So no need to go to other people's asks to try to change their minds :kek:).

Also Harry is my favorite character and he's not replaceable. I kinda don't care about any other character tbh. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

#weird asks

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yandere-swallowtailcherry · 10 months ago

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☀️Yandere!Apollo with a Female!Gojo!Reader☀️

This is from a poll I made. This was the most voted on that poll (God's School Aphrodite!Reader and Mitsuri!Reader both tied for second, but I'll do those as well.)

The first part is told in the narrator's pov, then it's in your pov.

This won't follow the original plot, so in this, Geto is on Gojo!reader's side!

Reader is 28, which is Gojo's canon age in the series (This won't contain spoilers from the manga, so don't worry!)

Also, thank you @forbidden-sunlight for helping me think of a plot for this!! Appreciate it! 👍

Hades hasn't felt this stressed out over anything in his life.

Multiple reports stated that these creatures called Curses have been the source of his stress. Not only were they killing thousands of humans, but they were also destroying the bifrost, the gate that only the chief gods can access, himself included.

He's tried to take care of them himself, but he couldn't exactly get rid of them. So he resorted to letting sorcerers kill them since they were one of the only ones who can effectively take them on.

(Y/n) Gojo is one of the strongest sorcerers he has, so she was the one who was constantly working. She's one of the only sorcerers who can take down even the strongest curses with ease.

She refused to do so, unless he lets her three students go with her so they can grow. He was against it at first, seeing how they were teenagers, practically kids! But (Y/n) wouldn't have it any other way. Hades reluctantly let her three students go with her.

Yuuji Itadori, a 15 year old boy who was the host of the king of curses, Ryomen Sukuna, Megumi Fushiguro, another 15 year old boy who seemed to be Sukuna's interest and Nobara Kugisaki, a teenage girl.

During the three months of eliminating curses, her students have continued to grow stronger.

They were her precious students, and she won't allow anyone to separate them from her....

"How long until we find this curse?" Nobara complained, already feeling bored from the long walking. Megumi rolled his eyes and continued looking around. Yuuji didn't complain at all and was helping Megumi.

"Relax, we'll find that curse!" Yuuji said, smiling at Nobara.

"He's so handsome." A female said to herself, catching the three teenager's attention, as well as yours. The female revealed herself to be a nymph, but as soon as she was visible, the curse had appeared and brutally murdered the nymph. Megumi immediately summoned his wolves, the black and white ones ready to fight the curse.

A certain god with long, pink hair was nearby, wanting to take a break from the nymphs. Apollo had heard the commotion and went over to see what was going on. The god saw three teenage kids fighting a curse along with a grown woman with a blindfold over her eyes.

But this curse proved to be too much for the three teenagers and you had to finish it off, which you did with ease using black flash.

"I've never seen a human perform such a technique. It's.... Amazing."

Unbeknownst to the four of them, the same god had watched the whole fight, more focused on you. You're very beautiful, and he knew it.

A man your age with long black hair with parts of it tied up came over, asking you to go relax, even for just a bit. At first, you refused because you didn't want to be separated from your students, but they managed to convince you.

You lifted your blindfold up, revealing one of the most beautiful eyes Apollo has ever seen in his immortal life. Multiple sparkles of lights reflected brightly in your sky blue eyes, layered by white eyelashes.

"Her eyes.... They're like the blue skies themselves...." Apollo thought.

"Sure. I can also take a load off for a bit." You replied, putting the blindfold over your eyes. You urged them to go ahead, while you follow behind. When they were far enough, Apollo decided now was the time to get the woman's attention.

"Hey!"

You turned your head, seeing the pink haired God approach you with a smirk on his face. You now looked slightly disinterested, though it was hard to tell.

"I assume you're Apollo?~" You asked, folding your arms. Apollo felt his confidence grow from your acknowledgement of him.

"I am. But that's not why I'm here." Apollo replied, flipping some of his hair back.

"Make it quick then." You said.

"I've seen your beautiful techniques and-"

"Not interested. I've already did what I needed to do for now, and I'd like to relax." (Y/n) replied, turning back around and started walking away. Apollo was surprised at her answer, just watching her leave.

"What?- You-"

"Besides... You're too weak~" You finally spoke, looking back with a grin and looking forward. Apollo knows he should be angry at the audacity of this woman. But he couldn't. Instead...

He was more attracted to her.

And so began his little quest to win your heart. Ever since then, he's been watching your every step, figuring out your likes and dislikes and more effective ways to get closer to you.

Whenever he meets you in person, he later found out that you were oddly playful and nonchalant, despite your cruelty towards curses. Your interactions slowly grew, even if Apollo had to do it first. At first, you didn't want anything to do with Apollo, but he keeps coming to you, so you just let him do whatever.

But doing that only increased his love for you.

Apollo has always seen you with the man with long black hair, whose name is Geto Suguru. From your interactions with him, he has a strong connection with you, and it enrages him. He hates the way Suguru gets close to you. He didn't like the attention you give Geto. You always greeted with a playful smile, and he wishes he was the one you smile at.

He has to get rid of him, so you can only give him the attention you give Geto. Geto Suguru.... Has to go.

So that you'll have no choice but to love him and him only~

#yandere record of ragnarok #yandere record of ragnarok x reader #yandere apollo x reader #gojo!reader #finally i finished this!#hopefully it's good enough

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seiwas · 19 days ago

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sellie bee! for your game > touya + flicker?? (if you feel comfortable writing for him again, your touya from the shoto fic was so beloved to me) 💕

amber!! thanks for sending in a lil prompty 🥺 ofc i would write him again!! for you!! anything!!! 🥺 my touya from that fic is also so dear to me 🥺 i'm glad you like that little guy 🥺

help me get back into the writing groove! send me a character + any word and i'll write a short blurb about it!

contains: non-canon au, childhood friends

touya + flicker

there's a light by your bedside, one that flickers when its loose wire finds itself tangled around the leg of your bed frame. it doesn't happen all the time, but it's always bothered touya, ever since you were kids.

"fuyumi says that when lights go on and off like that they can go boom," he mimics an explosion with his hands, not quite knowing the term for it yet at 5.

(when you recall the memory, you realize that he must have meant a spark, not the flickering of lights.)

it bothers him so much that he figures out a way to fix it by age 10. he uses a small claw clip, a translucent gray plastic you've seen on his mother many times before. he clips the wire to your bed frame that way, keeping it in place.

it's a bandaid solution, because time creates cracks on the plastic, the metal spring falling apart despite being fused at the hinges.

(and again, looking back, you should have noticed that time had left its mark on touya the same way.)

the light flickers again.

"you'll have shitty eyes if you don't change it," he moves the wire aside until it stops. at 15, touya's become jaded. what once was a twinkling set of aquamarine is now a dull pair of teal, staring straight at you as he speaks.

you know it has something to do with his family, but you don't ask unless he talks about it.

(in hindsight, maybe you should've. because when touya runs away from home the following year, you only catch glimpses of him in the next ten years.)

he visits you at 17, taller and dressed darker than what you're used to. his hair is dyed a jet black, a few cuts and bruises scattering the expanse of his arms. he sees that your light is still flickering and fixes it like muscle memory, not once acknowledging the fact that it's been two years since he's seen you last.

"you can stay with me," you offer him, desperately.

he gives you a wry smile, "can i?"

and you know it's not really a question. you'll be heading off to college soon; there's no real place where you can keep him.

when you move into your dorm in the first year of uni, you leave your lamp behind but find that the lights in your shared bathroom flicker just as bad. it makes you think of him, in the lonely hours especially.

you're surprised when you bump into him at age 20, near campus, barely recognizing him at all. for a brief moment, you see the same shock mirrored on his face, but it disappears when you blink, and when you say his name, "touya—"

"dabi," he corrects you.

it's at 22, when you move into your own apartment and bring the same light from your childhood bedroom, that you find your thoughts floating back to him once more.

you offered right before graduating, the last time you saw him―told him you'd be moving into a new place and he could stay with you there. no one would know about it, no one would bother him.

but touya is a flight risk, appearing in and out of your life like the flickering of your bedside light. you outstretch your hand and he bats it away instinctively, withdrawing from you until he feels like you won't bring it up again.

you do though, every time. the next year, the year after that, when you're both 25. you look for him more consciously now, finding that he's always somehow nearby―by the potted flowers on your windowsill that remain alive despite week-long work trips; by paid for cups of coffee in cafes, the doors whooshing shut as you look for who it could possibly be from.

you've known touya for almost all of your life, and giving up on him isn't an option at all. your heart can't take it, the same way you can't bring yourself to fix your bedside light, its flickering an odd source of hope that he might one day be so fed up, he'll have to come and fix it himself.

and then he'd have to stay―to keep the flickering at bay. to keep the light working. one day.

#touya x reader #dabi x reader #bnha x reader #shotorus.workbook #omg i hope you like it amber 🥺 i rlly did think for a moment bc. i know how to write touya as shouto's brother but just him alone #ive never done it before ! so this was an exciting challenge 🥹 i hope i got him right #i def exceeded 20 mins writing this but i wanted it to come out at least kind of complete for you 🥺#ask #rep #amber.🐻#amburdarling #ask game answered

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om-nom-snom · 5 months ago

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do you do rival hcs/drabbles/what have you? would love some Hop, Bede, & Marnie ones plz!! (also if specified gender is alright could it be fem, masc, fem? ty if you do or np if you dont!)

[Dating Headcanons]

Adult!Hop x reader, Adult!Bede x reader, Adult!Marnie x reader

Hop <3

Dating Hop sure is an adventure at times

Our loveable Pokémon professor in training is just as excitable about dating as he is about... Well, just about everything

Right from the first date you have him hook, line, and sinker

As soon as you're comfortable he's introducing you to his family, he's particularly keen to have you meet Leon

Don't worry, Leon loves you

Hop isn't scared of PDA, including in front of his family, and he's happy to follow your lead on it

Expect plenty of very entertaining family barbecues with Hop always keeping an arm around you

He loves when you visit him at work too

It's so easy for him to get wrapped up in all his work and research that sometimes you need to drag him away for a break

Often the promise of kisses and a fresh cup of tea is all the convincing he needs

Hop brings you on fieldwork too, he likes getting to combine two of his favourite things

I feel like he confessed his feelings originally after being away on fieldwork, he came back and gave you an applin as a confession

Dating Hop is definitely exciting, but he's also a very devoted and affectionate partner

Bede <3

The fact Bede managed to get a boyfriend is a literal miracle

Hop thought you both were kidding at first

Bede was super sweet when asking you out though, all embarrassed and blushing while asking if you were free for dinner

He's usually not the most open with his affections in public, generally he prefers to keep things private

That is, unless he's jealous

Then all bets are off and you have a new appendage with an amazing pink jacket

In private Bede is fond of small shows of affection, caressing your cheeks and kissing your hands are some of his favourites

He takes you out on plenty of dates too

Cute cafes in Ballonlea, nice restaurants in Wyndon, nature walks through the wild area

He's surprisingly doting and makes sure to protect you from any potential league drama you might be exposed to as the partner of Ballonleas gym leader

Speaking of him as gym leader, he keeps a private box at his stadium for you and Opal so the two of you can spectate his matches in comfort

Opal spends most of the time gossiping with you, and sharing the odd embarrassing story involving Bede

He always goes bright red when either of you mention anything but he's secretly glad you two get on so well

Marnie <3

Okay, so I feel like Piers and Team Yell would be so preoccupied keeping boys away from Marnie that they wouldn't think twice about female friends of hers

After a couple years of knowing her and being close friends you two start officially dating

Though she definitely kissed you before ever taking you on a date

You're the first person she's ever actually dated so she takes a little while to feel things out

Piers is the first to know and that's after well over half a year of you two dating

Marnie would definitely be happy if you had something in common with Piers that the two of you could bond over

She wants the two most important people in her life to like each other

Despite her reserved nature she can be quite forward in her affections

Expect her to take charge in turning you to face her for kisses or even pulling you into her lap in private

She loves physical contact, feeling you against her in any way is just so comforting

Marnie also loves to hold your hand, even in public, and she'll tell off anyone that comments negatively on it

Expect to be treated like absolute royalty by the new Spikemuth gym leader, including your own mini protection squad

Thank you for the request Anon! I hope you don't mind me aging up the characters a little, I love these guys and their canon careers post game so much that I couldn't help myself :)

#pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #pokemon x reader #pokemon sword and shield x reader #pokemon swsh x reader #pokemon hop #pokemon bede #pokemon marnie #hop x reader #bede x reader #marnie x reader

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bestangelofall · 1 month ago

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(inspired by that post you were talking about + other comments I’ve noticed around recently) I think it’s funny how people will conflate the word “abuse” with “assault” to make Jason look extra bad (he did not abuse Mia or Tim. He is not in an intimate relationship with them. He’s an enemy that attacked them, these are superhero comics you would not call Two Face Dick’s “abuser” be serious for one moment), but when it comes to situations where there is a relationship with an ingrained power imbalance (Bruce and his children for example), nobody knows how to use the word “abuse” anymore

People can't simply say they dislike a character because they don't vibe with them and that's it anymore. I just can't get behind that, personally. (But then again, for me, the worst sin a character can "committ" is being boring and uninteresting...)

Everything has to be dressed up in therapy speak and words that don't mean exactly what people think they mean... such as abuse, like you said, which would imply a power imbalance which does not exist between Jason and Mia or Jason and Tim (of course, though, if you want to write an *AU* where he gets into a relationship with either of those characters (or any other character), and abuses them due to the dynamic you're going to develop, I say go for it, you do you.)

Although *personally* I think it's kinda a bit out there to put Jason in the role of an abuser, tbh... he doesn't really have that kind of power over anyone (arguably he has over Bruce, but does he really? I think you could write him that way in fic and it would be reasonable depending on how you write it, because Bruce is (very) susceptible to some kinds of moralistic manipulation, but in canon, of course, we only see the opposite where the dynamic of Jason and Bruce is concerned (or Bruce any of the other "batkids").

The damage to fandom's perception of Jason simply because in a lot of his official art he looks like a forty year old is so bad (though I don't particularly think he looked that old in the GA issues in particular, from what I remember). (Or because he's ugly too, let's not forget that DC (well, actually, not exclusive to DC by any means) is always pushing the ugliness = evilness thing. And like, Jason is so ugly in a lot of his comics, including UTH).

And the damage that Teen Titans Vol 3 29 caused for the experience of being a Jason fan is... [redacted]

Also, let me take the opportunity to say that I don't think either of those situations were OOC for Jason. I mean, not that I've heard that many opinions that the GA issues were OOC for him, but I definitely have seen a lot of "Titans Tower was OOC, Jason would never." (that difference is, of course, due to the fact that a lot more people care about Tim Drake than about Mia Dearden, because both situations are quite similar).

*CANON* Titans Tower, as it happened (i.e. Jason beat Tim, skill issue, Tim was sassing Jason *while* being beaten) was not OOC.

Going back to the "abuse" thing, and also to the age-difference that people love to stretch - Jason was treating both Mia and Tim as equals when going after them like that... there wasn't in any way a vibe of "going after kids because they are easy" (and of course, if we analyse these events from the standpoint of Jason having been dead + catatonic for a long period, in the meta we could propose that that sort of idea would've never even crossed his mind).

*ALSO* you do you, and you write anything you want in fanfic. Believe me, I'm not a stickler to canon in the fanfic I read/write in most fandoms I'm in (and even if I were, the "you write whatever you want" still stands). And fandom is fandom, so of course a thing like Teen Titans Vol 3 29 would be explored to hell and back in fanfic. I just complain a lot about it because, mind you, I nowadays filter out Tim's character tag (unless I'm in the mood to maybe look for a Jaytim fic that I can read, since, on average, the Tim/Jason fics are better characterized than Tim & Jason ones), and I still get sooooo many fics where Jason is angsting about "the horrors he committed" there. I guess that made me bitter. But oh well... it is what it is.

Thank you for the ask! And sorry for derailing lol

#asks answered #jason todd #anti-fanon #anti tim drake

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echooefrost · 4 months ago

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LANYON LORE TIME (YIPEEE)

I wanted to post some lanyon Lore for my Medieval Au because he's probably the most different to Canon-Lanyon. Jekyll/hyde stay pretty much the same, and they don't need much explanation, however lanyon does. so here it is.

EARLY LANYON

Growing up as a prince, meant that Lanyon was constricted to many duties and couldn't really live a normal life as a kid, this caused him to build up much resentment towards his father and in turn, made him a very reckless and rule-breaking, rebellious teenager. His name like Tgs (and novella) is also Hastie. Its very common for medieval royalty to pass down names [eg. Henry VIII] So robert would've been 'Hastie II' however little Babyon wanted to be nothing like his father and started going by 'Robert'. Lanyon never wanted to be King. Ever. He holds contemptment for his Royal duties and often dreams of running away from it all (but ever since a certain someone entered his life, he's found it awfully hard to leave...)

YOUNG-ADULT LANYON [PRE-HENRY]

Due to his rebellious nature, Young Lanyon would often end up sneaking out late at night go to the local pub, and let loose. He often wears a cloak so others don't recognise him. Lanyon likes to get very drunk and forget about all his responsibilities, (he's not one bit responsible) His Father disapproves and often reminds Lanyon that he is a 'disappointment to his family' (FUN!! SELF HATE?? ikr??) SO to address, Tgs Lanyon's playboi era, that doesn't really happen here, IN the Au as a part of finding his own freedom, he sleeps around alot, and has multiple one night stands but those involve both parties not expecting any strings attached. Lanyon still gets to be a slut but he also isn't a massive dick. He can also play the fiddle, he secretly enjoys this (but shh don't let his father know) and occasionally brings it to the pub. I headcanon that Lanyon has a really nice Singing voice, so in this Au Lanyon can sing, but he gets very embarrassed about it and never does it in public (unless incredibly drunk)

PRESENT LANYON

Present lanyon in the Au is in his early 20's (same with Jekyll) As part of His Duties as Prince, he must also be Knight and Fight in battles, this entail lots of training, Lanyon's been training since a young age, but ever sine Jekyll arrived, he always watches him practice so he can 'observe how to defend himself' and definitely NOT to see his cute crush/bff wear dashing armour, no.... Lanyon actually doesn't mind being a Knight that much but he doesn't Like Violence all that much and thinks there are better ways at solving disputes, however this does not mean he won't try to kill you if you threaten those dear to him (you can guess who)

In the AU, Robert is a bit more awkward around Henry, as they both are enamoured and always in Gay panic mode around each other, so there dynamic is a bit more 'cute' per-se compared to Tgs where Lanyon is Dom and Jekyll is Flustered mess. Lanyon gets to be a bit more a flustered mess in this Au too.

Yes, I know it's been a while, but no, the Au is not dead. I am going to do things with it I just haven't had a lot of time. Anyway thanks for reading, it means alot to me that people care about this, as always; if you have no idea what 'Au' I'm yapping about go to the Og post here (wow its kinda old... oooh old art) ...I think I'll do one of these with Frankenstein.

#the glass scientists #tgs #tgs medieval au #echo's au's #tgs lanyon #tgs robert lanyon #robert lanyon #tgs jekyll #tgs au

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sixhours · 3 months ago

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who knows where the time goes

It's New Year's 2027 and the dads are going through it. An i know you by heart one-shot.

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut. Words: 11k Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), fluff for once, canon-compliant with season 1, SMUT, smut right off the bat, don't say I didn't warn you, gay sex, anal fingering, blowjobs, bisexual!Joel, gay!Ezra, homophobia and use of homophobic slurs, romance, age gap (~10ish years so barely a thing), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Notes: Look Ma, no angst! The boys are back and they're stupid in love and their kids are growing up even if that's hard to accept.

You can also read who knows where the time goes on AO3

Joel is beginning to wonder why the hell he agreed to this.

Ezra came what could have been minutes or hours or days ago. He’s in no rush to finish the job they’d started in the shower, and now Joel is hard as a rock and trussed up with a belt securing his wrists to the headboard, and his partner seems intent on edging him to the point of delirium.

Ezra releases his cock from between kiss-swollen lips and Joel looks down, gritting his teeth in frustration. This is the third time he’s come so close to release he could almost taste it, and now Ezra is smirking that coy little smirk and crawling up the bed in the wrong fuckin’ direction. He kisses his way back up Joel’s body, lingering on his stomach, nipping at the softness there, dipping his tongue into Joel’s navel, then coming up to tease a nipple with the flat of his tongue until he arches.

“Hello, songbird,” he whispers, nuzzling at Joel’s lips with the tip of his prominent nose.

“I hate you,” Joel growls, an errant tear of frustration drawing a wet trail down to his temple.

“You don’t mean that, cher ,” he says, eyes flashing. “You know the safeword. Use it at your leisure, mon coeur , unless…you think you can take a little more…”

Joel groans as Ezra purposefully lays his weight along him, thigh pressed firmly along his leaking cock, offering barely enough friction to satisfy. He wriggles against him anyway, seeking any kind of release at this point, reduced to humping his goddamned leg like a dog.

Oh, the things he’s going to do to that man when he gets his hands free.

Ezra seems preoccupied with his neck, the line of his jaw, stubble scraping against stubble that he wishes was scraping somewhere else. Like between his thighs. There’s the brush of his lips at the hollow of Joel’s throat, the bite of teeth testing the tender flesh. Then he’s being kissed soundly, hungrily, lower lip sucked greedily into Ezra’s hot mouth, tongues slipping over one another in a lush dance that does little to cool the roaring fire in his lower belly or soothe the heaviness between his legs.

And then he’s left gasping, no more friction, no more warmth or weight, and he growls a protest and tugs at the restraint. His eyes roll in his head at Ezra’s gentle huff of laughter, and he’s halfway to slipping his hands out of the belt loops–they’re not that tight–when Ezra’s mouth finds his cock again.

“Ohhh oh oh fuck,” he manages, a strangled cry of surrender.

His breath comes in hot, frantic pants as Ezra’s tongue swirls a brand just inside the tip of his foreskin, and an errant flick against the slit elicits an involuntary whimper from Joel’s lips. Then he’s wrapped in the hot wet silk of Ezra’s mouth, his tongue sliding and slicking every inch, grunting when his cheeks hollow and he sucks, a rough tug upward that sends sparks of molten ecstasy up Joel’s spine. He’s so worked up at this point, it takes almost nothing to bring him to the edge, hips bucking and straining to follow the source of his pleasure.

“Baby…oh, god, Ez, please…I’m gonna…gonna come,” he grits out.

Ezra chooses that moment to pull away, deep brown eyes wide and feigning innocence.

“I do believe that’s the point of this little exercise, mon cœur .”

“Fuck!” Joel roars as his orgasm slips quietly out of reach. Again.

“Mmmhmm,” Ezra coos, drawing it out in a self-satisfied hum as he plants a kiss on Joel’s hip, rubs his scruff against the tender skin of his inner thigh, levers his legs apart with broad shoulders and draws lazy circles along his sac with his tongue. “Yes, that is the idea here.”

“Is it?” Joel pants, bucking his hips in a vain effort to get Ezra’s attention back where it needs to be. “Because that’s not…not what…oh, fuck, Ez, don’t stop…ah, fuck.”

He loses his train of thought as Ezra adeptly sucks one of his balls into his mouth, holds it, runs the soft wet muscle of his tongue around it.

“I think you like it,” Ezra murmurs, muffled by the vee of his legs as his tongue dips and licks and sucks lower, tasting his own sticky release between Joel’s legs. Then one thick finger slides in easily, followed by another.

Joel squirms as he begins petting that spot inside with the tips of his fingers, stoking the throbbing heat in his gut. He’s leaking precum in a steady stream, cock twitching whenever Ezra pushes in and hooks his fingers at just the right angle. Rubbing and rubbing and stroking until Joel fairly keens.

“Please,” he whimpers. “Oh, fuck, please Ez, please I need…I need–”

“What do you need, cher ?”

“You,” Joel growls, the word rumbling up from somewhere deep in his chest, reduced to the throbbing between his legs, the heat boiling at the base of his spine, the persistent aching want of it.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Ezra murmurs.

Ezra lifts his head, securing his fingers and taking Joel’s cock so deep his nose brushes the soft thatch of hair at the root. He can’t look away when Ezra’s eyes meet his own, anchoring him, even as his body arcs and twitches like a live wire, heels digging into the mattress when his sensitive head hits the back of his throat. And when he finally begins to move with purpose, when it’s clear he has no intention of slowing or stopping or delaying the inevitable, Joel thinks he might black out from the intensity, head slamming back to the pillow with a cry that is as much relief as pleasure.

please, please, baby, please, ezra, love, please

He’s not even sure if he’s saying the words aloud. His mouth is moving, sounds of pleasure bubbling forth as Ezra devours him with firm strokes of his mouth, over and over and over, fingers tapping a heartbeat rhythm inside him. He’s nothing but heat and throb and pulse and so full and wet and–

oh oh oh yes there right there right oh god ezra yes please

Joel finally comes, and comes, and comes, orgasm drawn out for what feels like eternity. Arms aching and taut, shoulders on fire, body jerking and arching until he’s drained and limp with it. And Ezra doesn’t stop, just continues his ministrations, softer swipes of his tongue, gentle suckles, licking him and lapping at him like a fucking ice cream cone until even the slightest movement sends his body into a fit of overstimulated shivers and the safeword is dancing on the tip of Joel’s tongue.

When he’s completely soft, Ezra finally releases him, carefully straddling his hips. Joel doesn’t have a single muscle left at his command. He tries to move and his body just…doesn’t.

And Ezra, the smug bastard, seems really fucking pleased with himself.

“Did so good for me, love,” he murmurs, tugging at the strap securing Joel’s wrists to free him from the headboard, guiding his arms down to rest against his chest. He’s far too adept given his lack of a second hand, and if Joel weren’t so fucked out, he might think to question Ezra��s skill with restraints.

Ezra takes one of Joel’s wrists in hand, examining it with soft eyes. He kisses the pink stripe of skin where the belt etched a mark, soothes it with his tongue, then kisses the tip of each knuckle before gently lowering the arm, repeating the ritual with his other wrist. Joel winces; his shoulders are gonna feel it tomorrow. Hell, his whole body is going to feel it tomorrow.

“Sore?” Ezra murmurs as if reading his mind.

Joel doesn’t have the energy to do much more than blink in response. He’s coated in a fine sheet of sweat, the sheets beneath them soaked. His heart throbs in his throat.

When he finally finds his voice, all he can utter is, “You’re a fuckin’ menace.”

Ezra grins then, the boyish, cocky smile that made Joel fall in love with him. He slides down until he’s resting against Joel’s side, lets their lips meet and parts them easily with the deft swipe of his tongue. He tastes himself, lets Ezra lick into his mouth with a shuddering whimper. Even now, overstimulated as he is, he lets Ezra take what he needs, take and take and take, deepening the kiss until his head swims, until they’re both breathless from sharing each others’ air. Ezra is somehow more needy after sex, nuzzling and nipping like he can’t get close enough, only satisfied when Joel finds the strength to roll to his side and wrap an arm and a leg around him, caging him with his body and pressing him firmly into the mattress.

“Let me take my reprieve for a moment, then I’ll draw us a bath,” Ezra rumbles against Joel’s throat.

“Ain’t movin’,” Joel says.

“You are,” Ezra says easily, kissing his nose. “I cannot abide the night in this sweaty, soiled bedding.”

“Shower, then,” he mutters. “You put me in the bath and I’m stayin’ there ‘til next week.”

“Fair enough.”

And they do eventually work up the energy to shower, a perfunctory wash that has Joel leaning against the wall with exhaustion and Ezra doing most of the work to clean them both. He leaves to let Joel finish up, and by the time he’s dried off and pulled on his boxers, Ezra has already changed the sheets and is sitting up in bed, reading glasses perched on his nose as he frowns at some psychology text, damp hair curling around his ears.

The sight of him like this, so domestic, still flushed from sex and the shower, stirs a primal feeling in Joel’s gut, something new and unexplored. It’s the same feeling that led him to stash a small blue box in the back of his nightstand drawer, a box he hasn’t worked up the courage to think about since he put it there a few months ago.

But he’s too damn tired to ponder that right now.

He slides between clean sheets and pulls the quilt up to his chin and plants a kiss on the side of Ezra’s thigh because it’s the only part of him within reach. He’s already half asleep when Ezra pauses his reading to curl over him, whispering a soft goodnight into his ear.

~*~

Joel wakes with a groan several hours later. He’d barely moved in the night, hadn’t even turned over once, and now he’s paying for it, every muscle stiff with the pleasant ache of overuse.

“Songbird,” Ezra rumbles in his ear.

A slow kiss good morning turns into something more, something unhurried and deep and languid with no ulterior aim. Just the thought of trying to get it up again makes Joel’s groin ache, anyway.

“Mmm, mornin’,” he murmurs into Ezra’s mouth, not quite breaking the kiss, not quite ready to leave their warm cocoon. His lips wander, nipping at Ezra’s chin, his neck, suckling at the freckle just behind his left ear, that hidden spot that makes him shudder.

Downstairs, the door slams.

“Joel?”

Ellie’s voice echoes up the stairs. She moved into the garage over the summer, after she turned seventeen, right about the time Ezra started sleeping over on a more permanent basis. The extra space seems to have done their relationship some good and given them all some necessary privacy, but usually she’s the one joining them for breakfast and not the other way around.

“Jesus, what time is it?” Joel mutters.

Ezra rolls over and squints at the clock. “Eight-thirty.”

“Joel? Ezra?”

“We’re comin’,” Joel calls, stealing one more kiss before he slips reluctantly out of bed. “Hold your damn horses.”

By the time he makes it downstairs, a pot of coffee is bubbling on the stove and Ellie is frying eggs in the large cast iron skillet.

“Wild night?” she asks, not looking up from the pan. “Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know.”

Joel snorts, headed straight for the coffee, dropping a kiss on the back of her head.

“This the good stuff?” he asks, peering over her shoulder.

“Mmhm. Leftover from Christmas,” Ellie says, flipping an egg, yolk breaking all over the pan. “Damnit.”

He groans in wordless appreciation and pours himself a cup. The first sip is almost as orgasmic as…well. He sighs a deep, rumbling sigh and carries his mug to the table, holding it in both hands with reverence.

“Should I leave you two alone?” she snarks, just as Ezra joins them.

“Morning, gem,” Ezra says, eyes brightening. “Ooh, is that real coffee I smell?”

“The finest shitwater this side of the Mississippi,” Ellie drawls. “100% pure, uncut shit.”

This does nothing to dissuade Ezra from pouring himself a cup and indulging with the same reverence as his partner. Ellie pours herself some apple juice and slides the eggs onto three plates, carrying all of it to the kitchen table.

“Are you two going to the bonfire tonight?” she asks, sitting down and forking half an egg into her mouth in one swift motion.

“Wouldn’t miss it, gem,” Ezra says, just as Joel mutters, “Don’t think so.”

Ellie smirks as they exchange a look.

“S’the same thing as last year,” Joel grumbles. “New year, new flag, someone gets drunk and tries to set themselves on fire by fallin’ into the pit. Not a whole helluva lot to miss.”

“Come, songbird, you can’t tell us there isn’t a certain hopeful, buoyant energy about the time. Is there nothing more sacred than the ritual of a community overcoming all odds, welcoming the year with fresh spirits?”

“At least it’s not a stupid dance,” Ellie supplies. “And there’ll be marshmallows. Talia made loads.”

“See? Marshmallows!” Ezra nudges Joel, who grumbles a non-answer and returns his attention to his coffee.

“And I heard Marnie Jacobs designed the flag this year,” Ellie continues. “So you know it’ll be weird.”

The town flag has become a Jackson New Year’s tradition. Instead of a ball drop, the final ten seconds of the year are celebrated by raising a new flag in the town square. The design is kept secret by the council and its creator until its reveal, and at this time of year, speculation runs rampant. Joel figures this is what passes for entertainment in a world without reality TV.

“Ellie,” he scolds mildly.

“What? It’s true, Marnie’s a fuckin’ weirdo. Didn’t say it was a bad thing. Anyway, I’m going to be with Cat and Dina and Jesse so feel free to pretend you don’t know me.”

“Won’t Cee be joining you?” Ezra asks.

“No, she’s going with Luke.”

There’s a heavy pause as Ezra narrows his eyes. “I see.”

“You don’t like him very much, do you?” Ellie says nonchalantly, taking a sip of her juice. Joel gives her a light kick under the table and shoots her a look.

Ezra scowls, grabbing his plate and taking it to the sink. “I have no reason to dislike the boy.”

He spits out the word boy with clear disdain. Cee and Luke have been an ongoing topic of contention since they started dating last summer. Ezra seems to have abandoned his usual easy-going attitude with regards to this particular part of Cee’s life in favor of watching the two like a hawk and griping about how close they’ve become, both literally and figuratively. There’s nothing inherently wrong with the relationship that Joel can see–just that Cee is one of the two people involved.

“However–” Ezra begins, clearly about to hold forth. Again.

“Annnnd that’s my cue,” Ellie says, hopping up from the table with a mouthful of food, gulping down the rest of her juice, and tossing her plate in the sink.

“Deserter,” Joel hisses under his breath as his kid abandons him to Ezra’s monologue, practically frolicking out the door.

“Cee is too young to be tying herself down, she’s barely old enough to know what she wants, what’s good for her–”

“Uh-huh,” Joel says, sipping his coffee, knowing it’s better to let Ezra wear himself out than try to interject. But he’s still going when the dishes are done and they’re walking to their respective assignments; Ezra to his office, still at his old house, and Joel to a remodeling project on the north end of town.

“I know you see her as a kid, but she’s twenty years old, Ez,” Joel tries, when it’s clear his partner is not going to be subdued.

“He’s older,” Ezra counters.

“By six months,” Joel says, quirking his lips.

“Still, I am loath to see birdie’s impressionable young mind corrupted by–”

“She’s a smart kid. She ain’t gettin’ corrupted.”

“They’re always together, always on top of each other–”

“Most I’ve ever seen ‘em do is hold hands.”

“The autumn dance?” he says insistently. “Remember? One couldn’t have pried the two apart with a crowbar.”

“He was nothin’ but respectful, hands never went south of her waist. I know, because you made us watch ‘em all damn night,” he grumbles. “Luke’s a good patroller, hard worker, got a good head on his shoulders. He’s polite, does his job. Mom’s on the council–”

“None of which means he isn’t harboring sinister motives, songbird.”

“They seem happy enough. They’re young, sure, but…Cee could do a lot worse.”

“Well, I don’t trust him. You and I are far too familiar with the habits of young men of a certain age.”

Joel snorts. “You’re preachin’ to the choir. But the clinic’s got birth control.”

“She’s on it, I made sure of that,” he says, frowning. “But there are worse things than pregnancy. She has that whole house to herself, and I can’t help but think they have a bit too much freedom, too much space in which to make trouble.”

“Don’t think ‘trouble’ is the word you’re lookin’ for,” he smirks, eliciting a scowl from Ezra. “You could sleep at your place more often.”

He hates the idea as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

“Don't doubt I have considered it. I recognize the need for some independence on her part. I just…I can’t help but feel incredibly protective of her.”

“Congratulations, dad ,” he says wryly. “Welcome to the club.”

“I know where we come from, songbird,” he says, shoulders sagging a little. “I know what she…what we…went through. I fear she doesn't have a solid grounding in intimate relationships and therefore lacks the experience and…and foresight to fully grasp the consequences.”

“You fared alright,” Joel counters softly.

“Yes, well, I’ve had years to draw my own conclusions. She’s–she’s…”

For once, Ezra seems to find himself at a loss for words.

“She’s gonna figure it out the way the rest of us did,” Joel finishes for him. “Trial an’ error, an’ a little bit of heartbreak.”

They’ve reached his office. They linger outside while Ezra frowns, thoughtful.

“Would you be so cavalier if it were our…your young prodigy?”

Joel can’t help but notice the our , but he bites his lip on that.

“Y’know…I think I would,” Joel says. “‘Sides, Ellie’s not into that stuff yet. She’s got her friends…her patrols. Doesn’t seem all that taken by anyone.”

Thank fuck , he doesn’t say. He tries to imagine Ellie in a romantic relationship but can’t quite manage it. That Jesse kid seems to have taken a liking to her, but then he’s always hanging around with the girls…to the point where Joel wonders if he’s a little more like Ezra than Joel.

“Well, when she is, perhaps you’ll see it from my point of view,” Ezra sighs.

“Maybe so,” Joel says agreeably, placing his hands on Ezra’s shoulders until they’re standing face to face. “What was it you said? ‘Hopeful, buoyant energy?’ New year, new start? It’ll work out.”

He brightens. “Does that mean I’ll see you at the bonfire tonight?”

Joel huffs a breath into the cold. “Yeah…fine. I’ll be there.”

“Perhaps we’ll share a New Year’s kiss?” Ezra grins, moving closer. “We could practice…”

Joel lets himself be pulled into a one-armed embrace, lets Ezra’s mouth slant over his in a kiss reminiscent of their morning explorations, something on the edge of indecent for standing in the middle of the street.

“Yeah, yeah, go on,” Joel mutters when he finally pulls away, a blush creeping from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears. But he walks the rest of the way to work with a lightness in his step, thinking of the small blue box in his nightstand drawer.

~*~

The evening of the bonfire settles over Jackson crisp and clear. Joel goes home after work to wash up, finding a note on the table from Ezra–he got roped into helping set up in town. Ellie is nowhere to be found, probably finishing up with her work shift or off somewhere with her friends, so he eats a supper of leftover chicken and potatoes standing at the counter, alone. There was a time in his life here when this was the norm, and he doesn’t miss it.

He heads to the party around nine, drawn to the north field by plumes of fragrant woodsmoke and the sound of live music. They’re far away enough from town not to cause concern but still in sight of the square, and close to the creek so they have ready access to water, but there’s no wind tonight and no reason to think there will be trouble. There’s already a crowd around the roaring fire. Cold as it is, the intense warmth radiating from the central pyre is welcome.

Joel helps himself to a bottle of hard cider–it’s the closest thing they have to champagne–and finds Ezra at the edge of the crowd, chatting animatedly with Marnie. She’s eccentric, he’ll give Ellie that–bushy red hair, Coke-bottle glasses, neon pink ski jacket decorated with patches and buttons, but she’s friendly and talented with a sewing machine. She’s made clothes for half the town, and Joel is pretty sure the flannel he’s wearing under his jacket is one of hers.

He lingers in the background, content to watch his people enjoying the celebration. He glimpses Ellie and her friends off to one side, huddled together in that secretive way of teenagers, wanting to be in the middle of the action while still appearing aloof. Tommy is wrangling Isabel, the toddler doing her best to keep her father on his toes, drawn like a moth to a literal flame; Joel can’t help but think of Sarah at that age, the constant need for distraction and redirection. Maria is chatting with one of their neighbors, looking more relaxed than he’s seen her in a while. Izzy must finally be sleeping through the night.

Then he catches sight of Cee sitting on a log on the other side of the fire with Luke. They’re close, heads bowed together as they strain to hear one another over the crackling, popping fire and the crowd, lost in their own little world. Ezra sidles up to Joel with a frown.

“Perhaps I should check in, ensure our little birdie is–”

“Leave it,” Joel says, threading their fingers together. “And hello, by the way.”

“I just–”

“Ez, c’mon,” he murmurs, tugging him back, wrapping an arm around his waist. He’s not usually so affectionate in public but Ezra is pliant enough. He settles against his side, still eyeing the oblivious young couple with suspicion, and Joel not so subtly turns them and marches them in a different direction.

“C’mon, let ‘em enjoy the party without us old guys hangin’ around.”

“Their ‘enjoyment’ is exactly what I’m afraid of,” he grumbles, glancing over his shoulder as Joel practically drags Ezra to the cider table and forces a bottle into his hands.

“Never developed a taste for this stuff,” Ezra says, wrinkling his nose.

“Well, develop one,” Joel says drily. “You need to relax.”

“I am perfectly relaxed,” he mutters sourly, but he takes a large swig from the bottle.

At some point Ellie flits by, licking her fingers clean of what is probably her fifth toasted marshmallow, if Joel had to guess. She’s talking excitedly with Cat through a mouthful of white fluff when she notices them, waving with a grin and wandering their way. Cat is the most reserved of Ellie’s friends. Like Dina, she lives with her older sister, but Joel gets the sense she’s not looked after closely.

“Dude! You actually came,” Ellie says, punching Joel on the arm in greeting.

“Seems that way,” he agrees mildly, keeping what he hopes is a not-embarrassing distance. It takes all his self-restraint not to pull her into a hug and give her a noogie.

“What a pleasant surprise, you’ve decided to acknowledge our presence,” Ezra quips.

“Don’t worry, it’s temporary,” she smiles, eyes shining. “We heard Marcello found a bunch of those sparkler things on a scavenging run. We’re gonna go see if twenty-year-old fireworks still light.”

“What could go wrong?” Ezra says at the same time Joel opens his mouth to protest. But someone taps him on the back–Tommy with Isabel in tow–and Ellie and Cat and their plans are lost to the crowd. He sends up a silent wish for his kid to survive the night with all her fingers and toes intact before accepting his niece, bundled up against the cold in her winter snow suit.

“Someone wanted to see her uncles,” Tommy says, looking a bit rough around the edges.

“Unca Jojo! Unca Ra!”

“Sure she did,” he smirks. “More like daddy just needed a break from chasin’ her around all night, huh bug?”

“Biiiiiig fow,” she agrees. “Big fow owie.”

“You bet, kid. What’re you doin’ up this late, anyway?” he asks, and she launches into an explanation in toddlerspeak that Joel just barely understands.

“Mama n’ Dada bing Izzy wiff. Big fow! No ni-ni.”

“Everyone an’ their great aunt is here tonight,” Tommy shrugs. “Couldn’t find a sitter so bedtime is canceled. Don’t think we’re gonna make it to midnight, though.”

“Didn’t ask me,” Joel says. “Would’ve loved to have an excuse to get outta this.”

“I beg your pardon,” Ezra says, feigning offense, sticking out his tongue at Izzy, who giggles shyly. Babies aren’t Ezra’s thing, but he and Izzy have developed a tentative friendship based on a regular exchange of funny faces.

Conversation turns to the usual subjects; the weather, the never-ending list of community construction projects, council business, Izzy’s sleep habits, Ellie’s misadventures. At some point, Ezra quietly excuses himself and Joel loses track of him, focused instead on talking to Tommy and keeping Izzy from wiggling her way out of his arms.

When Joel thinks to look for him, searching the crowd of familiar faces, he finds his partner hovering over Cee and Luke. The kids look less than pleased. Joel is debating whether to intervene when Cee stands and leaves in a huff, and Ezra takes her place on the log next to a very uncomfortable looking Luke.

“Shiiiii–shoot,” he mutters, interrupting his brother and handing the baby back. “I gotta go.”

Tommy arches a brow. “Everythin’ okay?”

“Dunno yet,” he mutters before striding over to the other side of the bonfire.

“‘Scuse us,” he says to Luke, pulling Ezra up by the hand before he can protest and steering them away from the poor kid. Joel remembers when Sarah was little, how he and Tommy would joke about sitting on the porch, cleaning their guns if she brought a boy home. He’s pretty sure he just saw Ezra’s version of that in action.

“The hell did you say to them?” he growls when they’re away from the crowd.

“ Moi ? Nothing untoward. I simply asked after Luke’s intentions toward our…my…toward Cee.”

“Uh-huh,” Joel says, unconvinced.

“And then I had a…chat…with this Luke boy.”

“Worse than the damn toddler,” Joel grumbles. “Gotta follow you everywhere just to keep you from gettin’ in trouble.”

Ezra sulks, but he promises to leave the kids alone for the rest of the evening—an easy promise to make now that Cee appears to have abandoned the party.

The last of New Year’s Eve passes with conversation and music and the heat of the fire on their faces. Joel nurses his bottle of cider and keeps to the edges while Ezra wanders and returns to his side every so often. At some point, glittering trails of light appear in the distance, writing nonsense patterns against the dark. Apparently, twenty-year-old sparklers do still light.

Eventually, Ezra returns and tucks into Joel’s side for warmth, wrinkling his nose as someone on the music crew strums an off-key rendition of Prince’s 1999 .

“You should be up there,” Ezra nudges him, nodding toward the makeshift band.

“Hell’s gotta freeze over first,” Joel says.

“If hell were going to freeze over, Jackson would be the place to do it,” Ezra mutters, shivering a little despite the heat of the fire.

“S’nice, though,” Joel murmurs, low enough for only Ezra to hear. “Glad you talked me into it.”

The countdown begins at ten seconds to midnight. The crowd watches as the new flag ascends to its place in the square and the design is pretty tame for Marnie’s work. The silhouette of a bison stitched onto a canvas backdrop, quilted from dozens of scraps of fabric representing the town’s diverse citizenry. Tomorrow they’ll examine it up close and see remnants from blankets, shirts, and even a scrap from last year’s flag—pieces of cloth that have likely touched every single resident at one point or another. It reaches the top of the pole just as they welcome in the new year with raucous cheers and the ringing of bells and a chorus of Auld Lang Syne .

But Joel has stopped watching the flag ceremony, unmoved by the din, head turned instead to watch his partner in the firelight. And when the final cheer rises up, he’s waiting and ready to take his kiss. More chaste than their exchange this morning, but still a balm to Joel’s heart.

“Happy New Year, songbird,” Ezra murmurs when they pull apart, and Joel thinks there might be something to his words of hope earlier, because his eyes are the slightest bit wet. He’ll blame the smoke from the fire and the single cider he finished an hour ago.

Then Ellie’s voice rises above the din, the shrill, angry note turning Joel’s stomach and tightening his jaw before he can spot her.

“Say it again, motherfucker!”

She’s squared off with someone on the other side of the fire, blurred by the heat haze. Joel is moving toward them without thought, following the sound of Seth McLeland and his big drunk mouth. Ellie is still tiny for her age, barely coming up to Seth’s shoulder, but she’s solid on her feet and her opponent sways like a tree in the wind.

“I said,” Seth spits, slurring his words, “m’surrounded by a buncha fuckin’ faggots.”

“Ellie, c’mon–” Dina is coming over, but Joel gets there first.

“You piece of sh–”

“C’mon, kid, he ain’t worth it,” Joel grits out, grabbing Ellie by the arm just as she’s winding up to take a swing.

“Joel,” she hisses, turning on him. “He said–”

“I heard what he said, but he’s drunk as a fuckin’ skunk and he’ll get what’s comin’ to him. Ain’t worth your time or mine.”

Seth snarls. “Used to be this was a decent town. Can’t go ten feet without seein’ this…this rainbow gay shit all over the fuckin’ place.”

“Perhaps I can help mediate?” Ezra pipes up, and Joel glares at him, still hoping to stave off a Miller family brawl with the town’s notoriously homophobic jackass. Ignoring Joel’s silent plea, Ezra steps up to Seth with a smile that’s more predatory than friendly, leans in, and whispers something into the other man’s ear. Joel waits, still holding Ellie by the arm, watching closely. Seth’s face twists in a sneer, then he ducks his head with the air of someone shamed.

“What do you say, my good man?” Ezra says, still smiling his shark-tooth smile, clapping Seth roughly on the shoulder. “Let’s say you call it a night and we all forget this ever happened, hmm?”

And whatever he said, it looks like that might have done the trick. Seth grunts a wordless response, and Ezra turns away.

But then Seth sneers under his breath, the slur unmistakeable. “Turn tail and run, fag.”

The crunch of the man’s nose breaking under Joel’s fist is the most satisfying thing he’s felt all damn day.

~*~

“My hero,” Ezra says drily, when they’re back at home and he's tending to Joel’s bruised knuckles at the kitchen table. He definitely aggravated the old hairline fracture; his hand is going to ache for weeks. Thankfully Maria and two others intervened before Seth could throw a punch, so that’s the worst of the damage.

Worth it , Joel thinks.

“Wish you’d let me hit him first,” Ellie sulks from her perch on the counter.

“Better me than you if someone’s gonna get in trouble for fightin’,” Joel says. “‘Sides, I’m stronger. He ain’t gonna be able to breathe out his nose for a month.”

“Rude,” Ellie says, but a smirk pulls at the corner of her lips.

“I had hoped we might extract ourselves without it coming to fisticuffs,” Ezra says pointedly. “But your Joel here couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie.”

“He’s only mine when he’s behaving,” Ellie supplies, hopping off the counter with a yawn. “He’s all yours tonight, Ez.”

Joel gives her a look, but she just pats him on the shoulder on her way out the door. “Great start to the year, dudes.”

“Fucker was overdue,” Joel grumbles when she’s gone, then remembers Ezra’s failed intervention. “The hell’d you say to him, anyway?”

“Oh, I know all sorts of dirty little secrets about the people in this town, songbird,” he says, eyes glittering. “Just went through my mental rolodex of contenders with regards to our dear friend Seth and found the sweet spot. The one thing that might ruin him should it get out.”

“And what might that be?”

“It’d be unethical to share, I’m afraid,” Ezra says, feigning a pout.

“And blackmail ain’t?”

“Mmm, I am not aware of any such laws on the books regarding blackmail. And in the case of blatant hate speech at a family function? I don’t think the fine members of the Jackson council will revoke my license in this particular situation.”

“You don’t have a license,” Joel grumbles.

“My point exactly,” he grins, finishing the wrap on Joel’s hand. “There, that should hold. The next time you feel the need to defend my honor, try to use the un broken fist. I can give you some tips on throwing a punch with your left. I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“Wasn’t just about you,” Joel says, flexing his busted hand with a grimace. “We’re not the only ones. Kids shouldn’t have to hear that shit.”

“Yes,” Ezra sighs, rubbing the back of Joel’s hand with his thumb. “I can’t argue with your logic or your sense of common decency, cher , it’s perfectly sound. I just wish you didn’t need to come to physical harm in the process.”

“I can take it,” he says, standing and stretching, heading for the stairs. “Did you find out what happened with Cee?”

“I…no. What with all the evening’s drama, I didn’t catch up with her. I suspect she went home.”

“Hmm.”

They leave it at that while they get ready for bed, the kind of mundane routines that still surprise Joel despite having lived together for most of the year. Two toothbrushes by the sink, two razors, and the mouthwash Ezra likes. A stack of books on each nightstand, half a closetful of clothes, and a slew of record albums on the dresser. Joel isn’t sure when he started thinking of it as their home, not his home, but it probably has something to do with the little box in his nightstand drawer.

“Do you think I’ve been too harsh with her, songbird?” Ezra asks as they’re getting into bed. For all his earlier bravado and posturing, he seems deflated now.

“No,” Joel sighs. “Think you’re tryin’ your best, same as the rest of us. Prob’ly been a bit hard on that Luke kid, though.”

“I admit, I’m…I’m probably not at my most objective when it comes to Cee,” he frowns.

“She’s on the patrol roster,” he says, flicking off the lamp. “Maybe I can pair up with her next time we’re on the same shift, see if we can talk it out.”

“You would do that?” Ezra brightens. “Perhaps she’d listen to you. Or…talk to you, at least. I’m not always her first choice.”

“Chasin’ her off tonight prob’ly didn’t do you any favors,” he sighs. “But yeah…I can try.”

“Thank you,” Ezra murmurs, slipping his arm around Joel’s waist.

“‘Course,” he says. They stay like that for a while, Ezra’s head on Joel’s shoulder, fingers tracing the scars that litter his chest and stomach.

“You know,” Ezra murmurs into Joel’s ear. “I hesitate to say anything in the interests of preventing future encounters, songbird, but…there is a certain… je ne sais quoi to watching the man you love brutalize a raging homophobe.”

“Yeah?” Joel snorts. “That do it for ya?”

“Mmm.”

And Joel can feel exactly what it does for him, a certain familiar insistence at his hip. He turns over, met with those dark brown eyes, remembers them lit by firelight, and presses his lips to Ezra’s. Soon they’re panting, Ezra breaking the kiss to huff the words into Joel’s mouth between kisses.

“I…presume you’re still a bit…sore…after yesterday’s…endeavors…”

“I think we can figure somethin’ out.”

And they do.

~*~

A few days later, Joel goes to the stables early to check the patrol schedule. Cee did her training over the spring and summer so she was still considered a junior patroller, but winter patrols were perfect for that. The cold and snow made it difficult for humans and infected alike, making for shorter, less eventful runs and good practice for those with less experience. Joel re-jigs the schedule to put himself with Cee that morning, figuring a few hours on horseback might give them a chance to talk.

If Ellie arrived in Jackson like a feral cat ready to scratch and bite, Cee was more the type to hide in the back of a closet. She was skittish and less inclined to socialize, not unlike Joel himself. They both liked their space, but that meant he and Cee didn’t have Ezra and Ellie’s easy friendship. They’d shared a few conversations here and there, usually over family meals, but little else.

The weather is clear, and the ride to the north ridge passes in comfortable quiet. Joel doesn’t broach the subject until they’re close to returning to Jackson. At least if it goes bad, they’ll only have to suffer for a few miles.

“Hey, so, uh…how’re things goin’ with that guy you’re seein’? Luke, right?”

Cee glares at him. “Did Ezra put you up to this?”

“He didn’t, I swear,” Joel says. “This…this was my idea. I think he’s bein’ a little overprotective, myself.”

“A little?” she huffs.

Joel bites his lip on a smile. “Alright…maybe more than a little.”

“To answer your question, things are fine with Luke,” she says tersely. “They would be better if Ezra wasn’t intent on making a complete ass of himself every time he sees us together. But I can’t seem to get that through his thick skull.”

“Yeah, I…I noticed.”

“I don’t get why he’s being such a dick about it,” she says after they’ve ridden a little further. “I’m almost twenty-one. It’s like…it’s like he still sees me as this little kid.”

Joel clucks his tongue. “You spend long enough protectin’ someone…that’s a hard habit to break. He’s lookin’ out for you the best way he knows how.”

“I don’t need looking after, though.”

“I know. An’ I think he does, too, even if he won’t admit it,” he says. “It’s more about him than you, kiddo. He…he worries he’s not doin’ right by you. Worries he’s not…enough.”

“He’d be doing better if he’d just back off a little,” she scoffs.

“Yeah, I reckon he would,” he agrees. “Ezra’s stubborn, but…he’ll get there. Just has to do things on his own time.”

Cee frowns as they ride on, loping across the frigid landscape.

“I had a thought,” Joel continues. “Might not be the most comfortable way of doin’ things, but…what if we invited you and Luke to supper? Maybe give y’all a chance to, uh, talk. When Ellie an’ I were new here and things were…rocky…with Maria, Tommy had us over every week. Was pretty awkward at first, but then we kinda fell into a routine with it.”

She wrinkles her nose. “That sounds painful.”

Joel chuckles. “Yeah, it don’t sound like a good time to me, either. But it shows Ezra you’re willin’ to meet him halfway. And he’ll probably come around if he can see how much Luke cares about you.”

She doesn’t answer for a while and that suits Joel fine. He relaxes his attention a fraction and enjoys the ride, the crunch of snow under the horse’s hooves, the biting January air. They’re almost home, well within the safest part of Jackson’s territory.

“Okay,” she sighs finally. “We can try the dinner thing…I guess.”

“Yeah? Alright then. It’s a deal,” he says. “An’ it prob’ly goes without sayin’, but…if that kid ever lays a hand on you in the wrong way, it won’t just be Ezra he has to answer to. Understood?”

She smiles her shy, subdued smile. “I know. Thanks.”

“I mean that. You’re family. If anything happens–“

“I get it, I do, but he’s…he’s sweet,” she blushes, looking down at her hands on the reins. “He’s…careful. And kind. He writes. And we like the same books and music and…I dunno. I guess I just feel this…connection with him that I haven’t felt before. I never had the chance. Feels like I’m making up for lost time when I’m with him…y’know?”

“Yeah,” he says softly, thinking of Ezra. “Yeah, I do.”

“I wish Ez would just relax about it,” she sighs. “Like with you and Ellie.”

Joel blinks in surprise, thinking “relaxed” is not exactly how he’d describe his relationship with Ellie. But he doesn’t have a chance to question it before she continues.

“I mean, you’re not all on her case about…oh.”

She trails off with a faint squeak, going stiff in the saddle and jerking the reins. The horse rears and hesitates, sensing her rider’s distress, and Cee has to soothe and shush the animal to get her back on track.

“On her case about what?” Joel asks once the horse has settled.

Cee’s words come out in a rush. “Nothing. It’s nothing, I–I mean…nothing.”

“Wait, Cee…is Ellie…is Ellie seein’ someone?”

“No! No. She’s…she’s not…I didn’t say that,” she sputters, cheeks flushed.

“But you said–”

The gates are in sight and she’s brought the horse to a trot, pulling ahead of him. “Race you back!”

“Hey, hold up!”

But she’s already closing the gap between him and Jackson, waving the red flag to signal their reentry as she leaves Joel in her dust. By the time he rides through the gates, she’s abandoned her horse to the care of one of the stablehands and disappeared. It had gone so well, too; Cee said more words in the last half hour than she’d probably said to him in the last two years.

Goddamned skittish cat , Joel thinks miserably.

He’s still processing their conversation as he walks back from the stables. His chest goes tight as he considers the implications, remembering his seventeen-year-old self, carefree and reckless to a fault. He thinks of the steady rotation of condoms in his wallet and two lines on a pregnancy test. Fuck, they’ve never even talked about this and god knows what bullshit they taught in FEDRA school.

He’s been Ellie’s guardian for three years and he doesn’t even know if she’s on birth control.

This swirling mass of emotions is not assuaged as he approaches the house. Ellie’s garage apartment is unusually dark for this time of day. She’s probably just out with her friends , he tells himself, but the uncertainty churning in his gut leads him to knock on her door.

No response.

He’s raising his hand to knock again when he hears a noise. It’s faint, but not faint enough to escape his poor hearing.

“Ellie?”

Muffled sounds from within, but no response. The hair on the back of his neck prickles.

“Ellie, I’m comin’ in–”

“NO! Don’t!”

His hand snaps back from the doorknob at the sound of her voice, relieved to know she’s safe inside…and yet, not. “You alright, kid?”

“I’m…fine! It’s fine!”

“You don’t sound fine.”

More muffled sounds, a thud, then scraping and shuffling. And…giggling?

“I’m comin’ in,” he growls, but the doorknob turns under his hand and Ellie appears, face emerging from the darkened slit of her barely opened door.

“Don’t,” she pants. “I’m…I’m fine. There’s…I’m just…I was tired and needed to…rest before dinner.”

“You’re not gettin’ sick, are you?”

Another noise. Definitely a giggle. Not from Ellie.

Her ponytail is down, hair curling in wild wisps around her flushed face.

Her shirt is inside out.

She shoots a frantic look over her shoulder at the source of the giggles and offers Joel a weak smile. He puts two and two together just as Cat appears at the door clad in nothing but jeans and a sports bra, equally flushed and tousled.

Joel turns on his heel because he sure as hell doesn’t need to see more.

“I’m…you’re…I’m gonna…go,” he chokes out.

Ezra is sitting on the couch with his book when Joel stumbles in on wooden legs, looking up in alarm at Joel’s shell-shocked expression.

“What happened?”

“Ellie’s…uh…Ellie’s with a girl. With Cat.”

Ezra’s brow furrows. “And…?”

“I, uh…I almost…walked in on ‘em,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Together. Christ.”

“Oh–OH,” Ezra says, eyes widening in understanding. “You mean with -with?”

“With-with,” Joel echoes dully.

His partner slowly closes the book and sets it on the coffee table. “Well that’s…an interesting development.”

Joel trudges over, not bothering to take off his jacket or boots, and sits heavily on the other side. “You didn’t know about this?”

“On my honor, songbird, I hadn’t the faintest inkling of a romantic entanglement on the part of our young prodigy. Are you…certain?”

Joel fixes him with a wordless stare.

“I see,” he murmurs. “Well, I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

Joel groans and sinks further into the couch, rubbing at his face with both hands. “Go ahead an’ get it over with, then.”

“I don’t follow.”

Another wordless stare.

Ezra tsks and smirks at his lap. “Come now, cher , I’d like to think I’m a bigger man than that. And ‘I told you so’ is such an unattractive turn of phrase.”

“Uh-huh,” Joel grunts. “So Ellie, uh…she likes…girls?”

Ezra’s face takes on a pinched expression that Joel has become all too familiar with in their time together.

“But you knew that already,” he sighs. “Christ, do I even wanna know how long?”

“She…may have sensed a kindred spirit in me early on.”

“How early are we talkin’?”

“I believe it was our sixth appointment or thereabouts,” Ezra has the decency to wince.

Joel balks. “You’ve…you’ve known for two fuckin’ years ?”

Ezra gives an apologetic shrug.

“How the hell’d I miss it?” he murmurs.

“I wouldn’t take it to heart, cher ,” Ezra says, reaching over to rub a soothing hand up and down Joel’s arm. “I suspect it’s only recently become something important to the development of her identity. Her first foray into a romantic endeavor, so to speak. It’s natural she’d want to keep it…close for a while. You might recall you were hesitant at first.”

“Yeah…yeah, I s’pose. Jesus. Even Cee knew,” he mutters.

“You spoke with Cee?”

“Yeah,” Joel sighs. “Switched patrol partners for the day so we could talk. Rode up to the ridge and back.”

“Any…insights you might be willing to share?” he asks hopefully.

“We’re gonna invite Cee and Luke over for supper.”

Ezra blinks. “That’s…not exactly what I had in mind when you suggested a conversation.”

“We’re gonna invite the kids over, and we’re gonna get to know him, and you’re gonna behave. He ain’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon,” he says pointedly. “So if you wanna keep her around, you’re gonna have to figure out how to get along.”

~*~

Ellie storms in the next morning, cheeks flaming, and flops down on the couch without further greeting.

“Let’s get it over with,” she says.

Joel takes a sip of his coffee, thankful it’s still the good stuff because god knows he either needs to be caffeinated or drunk for this conversation, and it’s way too early for a stiff drink. “An’...what are we gettin’ over?”

“Y’know. The usual.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific or let the coffee kick in, kid, ‘cause you’re not makin’ a lick of sense.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a rush. “You lay into me, tell me I’m being a fuckin’ idiot or whatever, and then we talk about our stupid feelings and I tell you I have no idea what I’m doing and you make me feel better by reminding me that you’re here for me no matter what and then you ground me for like half of forever or until I’m forty, whichever comes first.”

He bites back a smile. “Seems like you’ve already parented yourself. My work here is done.”

“Ugh, dude, stop putting it off and just tell me how bad it is already.”

He walks over and settles into the chair in the living room with a muffled groan.

“So…how long have you an’ Cat been, uh…datin’?”

She rolls her eyes. “Nobody dates , Joel. It’s not dating, we just…hang out.”

“Alright, so how long have you been ‘hangin’ out?’”

“A few weeks,” she shrugs.

“And you didn’t think you could tell me…why?”

“I didn’t tell you because Ezra’s been really fucking weird about Luke, and I figured you’d be on my ass and be all scary to Cat and I don’t want to…to mess it up.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, leaning forward. “Okay, I get that.”

She narrows her eyes. “So…that’s it? You’re not pissed at me? I’m not, like, grounded until I’m forty?”

“Would it stop you from seein’ Cat?” he asks wryly.

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. No, I’m not pissed at you for, uh…’hangin’ out’ with someone…like that. Just want you to be safe about it, is all.”

“I feel like there’s a big-ass ‘but’ coming up.”

Joel snorts. “Honestly, kid, I dunno what I’m doin’ here. I never…Sarah never had a boyfriend or girlfriend, far as I know. Hell, we had the, uh, talk when she was twelve, an’ that was–”

“Awkward as fuck?” Ellie shudders. “Please don’t. I know how all that stuff works.”

“Good,” he says quickly. “Good. But…there’s more to it than just…the mechanics. There’s, uh, protection, and–”

“Ugh, gross, man,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut. “I know about…all of it. And we’re being safe. Promise.”

Joel sighs, biting his lip. “What I’m gettin’ at is…is she good to you?”

“What, does she like, bring me flowers and chocolates and shit?” Ellie says.

“No. I mean, maybe, if that’s what you like. But what I’m tryin’ to say is…in a relationship…like that…you want someone who’ll bring out the best in you. Someone who loves you for you, not what you can do for ‘em, y’know? Someone who…has your back. It ain’t just about the material stuff.”

Ellie arches an eyebrow in a silent what the fuck, dude?

“It’s…it’s a hard time to grow up,” he tries. “It’s always hard growin’ up, I guess, but…it’s especially hard now. You’ve seen things that no kid should have to see, done things no one should have to do. That…scars a person. Makes ‘em see things a certain way. An’ a lot of the people you’ll love are walkin’ around with similar…stuff. Am I makin’ any sense?”

“About as much as you usually do,” she sighs, but she’s smiling in that way that tells him he’s getting through.

“It took me twenty years of fightin’ to get to the point where I could…um. Where I could love someone…like that…again. An’ I want you to know you don’t have to…settle for anything you don’t want. I know you prob’ly haven’t had a lot of…examples…”

Ellie seems to consider this for a minute, looking at her lap as she speaks softly. “Cat’s good. She’s…we’re good. You don’t have to worry.”

Joel huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I’m always gonna want to protect you. Keep you safe. That don’t just mean infected or raiders or…or bad people. Sometimes it’s about protectin’ your heart, too.”

She wrinkles her nose and fakes a gag, and he can’t resist reaching over to tousle her hair.

“Yeah, alright, enough of the mushy stuff. You’re not in trouble, kid.”

“That’s nice for a change,” she smiles. She’s making to leave when he has another thought.

“Oh, um…I hope you didn’t think I’d be mad it’s…another girl. ‘Cause I’m not. That’s…you’re, uh…you love who you love an’ all that.”

“Why would you be mad?” she asks, brow furrowing, then her eyes widen in understanding. “You didn’t know?”

“Uh…I guess I–are we talkin’ about the same thing?”

“You mean that I’m gay?”

“Yeah, uh…that.”

“Dude, I didn’t tell you because I thought you already knew,” she laughs. “You seriously had no idea?”

“How would I know somethin’ like that?” he grumbles.

She throws up her hands. “I dunno! Gay-dar or whatever!”

“That ain’t a thing.”

“Oh it totally is, and yours is broken ,” she says. “Besides, even if it wasn’t totally fuckin’ obvious–and it is–I figured Ezra would have said something forever ago.”

“We don’t talk about you like that, kiddo. Wouldn’t be right.”

“Wow,” she breathes, then laughs again. “I can’t believe you really didn’t know.”

“You can quit rubbin’ it in any time,” he mutters.

She grins. “What can I say? I’m a chip off the ol’ block, emphasis on the old .”

“Alright, alright,” he says, chuckling. “Ease up, I get it. I’m out of touch.”

“ So out of touch,” she grins, but her words carry an easy affection. “Ancient history. A fucking dinosaur.”

“You love dinosaurs,” he reminds her.

“Yeah…I guess I do.”

“Hey, uh…before you go. We’re havin’ Cee and Luke over for supper next week. Maybe you wanna invite Cat? Make it a family thing?”

“Not a fucking chance, dude,” she says easily, then ducks her head. “We’re not…there yet.”

“Alright,” he nods. “I get it.”

“But I will be there,” she adds, eyes shining. “Wouldn’t miss that shitshow for the world.”

~*~

He decides on pasta because it’s quick and filling and something he can’t easily fuck up. Joel is ready to open one of the jars of summer tomatoes for marinara, but Ezra intervenes, insisting that a cream sauce is faster and less prone to staining.

“Preferably with lots of garlic,” he mutters. “To discourage kissing.”

“They ain’t vampires, Ez,” Joel says, but he lets Ezra take over dinner preparations. He’s the better cook, anyway.

When Cee and Luke show up, shuffling their feet and offering a plate of cookies, Joel has to elbow a tight thank you out of Ezra, and it doesn’t get much better when the food is served.

They crowd five people around a table that’s made for four and Jesus fuck , it’s awkward. Joel wonders if this is how Frank and Tess felt watching him and Bill snarl at each other over wine and roasted rabbit. Unfortunately, this party doesn’t have the benefit of Bill’s curated wine selection or Frank’s natural aptitude for hosting.

Cee stares at her plate and pushes her food around, Luke looks slightly green, Ezra glares and takes tense sips from his beer, and Ellie props her chin on her hands and takes it all in with a smile, occasionally asking pointed questions designed to stir the pot. Joel has to kick her under the table twice.

But somehow, they get on the topic of music. As it turns out, Luke plays guitar and writes songs and poetry. And when they settle in the living room to peruse Ezra’s impressive album collection, Ezra is smiling and chattering enthusiastically about some obscure indie punk band from the 90s, and Luke is looking slightly less inclined to flee.

Eventually, Joel excuses himself and tugs at the hood of Ellie’s sweatshirt, nodding toward the kitchen.

“C’mon. Need help with the dishes.”

She rolls her eyes but follows him willingly enough. They stand together at the sink; he washes, she dries. And when the kitchen is clean and it’s clear the other three are still wrapped up in discussion, Joel ushers Ellie quietly outside to let them continue undisturbed. They go to her little garage apartment, and he sits in the chair and she perches, cross-legged, on the bed. They have the kind of conversation they used to before Jackson, when they were on the road and it was just the two of them around a campfire.

She tells him about her art, about Shimmer, about Jesse and Dina’s on-again-off-again relationship. He tells her about the time he and Tommy got caught egging his social studies teacher’s house on Halloween, then immediately regrets it when she asks where she might procure some extra eggs.

And then it’s getting late, and Joel tips his head back and closes his eyes and they drift in a comfortable shared silence. When Ellie speaks again, her tone is soft and thoughtful, almost shy.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, about Cat and me…I know it’s a different time, and we haven’t had…a lot to look to. But…we have you and Ez.”

“Oh…yeah?” Joel croaks out, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably. Ever since Ellie came into his life, his heart might as well be emblazoned in flashing neon pink on his sleeve.

She smirks, fidgeting with the corner of her comforter, eyes downcast. “Yeah. You two set a pretty high bar.”

Joel looks at her, his girl, their girl, and swallows hard around the lump in his throat.

“I–oh…”

He’s interrupted by the sight of the front door opening back at the house. They watch through the window like nosy neighbors as Cee and Luke emerge onto the porch with Ezra behind them.

“Well, Luke appears to have all his extremities,” Ellie says as Joel draws up alongside her to get a better view, breath fogging the window pane. “And no one’s yelling. That’s a good sign, right?”

“Sure hope so,” he murmurs.

The three of them talk for a minute, then Ezra pulls Cee into a hug, and the young couple turns to leave. Ezra stands on the porch, watching them go with a wave. Then he turns slightly and cocks his head, squinting until he’s looking directly at Joel and Ellie in the garage window. Even at this distance, Joel can make out his partner’s arched brow before he shakes his head and disappears back into the house.

“Oops,” Ellie giggles. “Caught.”

Joel can’t help but laugh a little himself before they’re interrupted by a knock at the door. He goes to answer and finds Cee on the other side, already pink-cheeked from the cold. Luke hangs back, offers a tentative wave from the end of the driveway.

“Hey,” Joel says. “Everythin’ go alright?”

Cee nods, and before he can speak, she’s leaned in and wrapped him in a hug. “Thanks, Joel.”

“It’s, uh…s’no problem. You’re always welcome, y’know. Both of you,” he adds.

He leans in the doorway and watches them disappear around the end of the cul-de-sac. Ellie joins him, tucking herself under his arm in a rare moment of affection, bumping him with her hip.

“Not bad for an old man who’s shit at talking about feelings,” she says.

“There’s hope for me yet,” he agrees.

He says goodnight and returns to the house. Ezra is sitting at the kitchen table sipping a beer, waiting for him.

“Well, out with it, then,” Ezra says, all feigned annoyance, easing back in his chair.

“With what?”

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, surely you’ve earned your ‘I told you so’.”

“I’d never,” Joel smirks. “S’an ‘ugly turn of phrase.’”

“The mark of a gentleman,” Ezra says, thumbnail scratching absently against the ridge of the bottle. “Though I suppose I do owe you a debt of gratitude for helping me see the light, songbird. I was too quick to judge and too harsh in my estimations. Luke is…an acceptable mate for our birdie. As long as he continues to treat her well, I don’t foresee us coming to blows.”

“Let’s hope it don't come to matin’ for a few years yet, either,” Joel says.

Ezra snorts and stands. He wanders to the sink to deposit the dregs of his beer, thoughtful, eyes darkening.

“But if he so much as mars a hair on our young gem’s blonde head, songbird, mark my words…there will be no force in heaven or earth that could save him from the pain I will inflict.”

It’s an all too familiar sentiment. Joel sighs and moves to Ezra’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder.

“If that happens,” he breathes, letting his lips graze the shell of Ezra’s ear, “I’ll be there with the shovel.”

~*~

The next day, Joel’s evening patrol duty gets cut short by an incoming blizzard, and he comes home early, stomping the fresh fallen snow off his boots, shaking the stuff out of his hair. They’ll be snowed in tonight, but Joel can think of worse ways to spend an evening.

Music drifts from the record player in the living room, something soft; he places it after only a couple of seconds— Songbird . A fire crackles in the fireplace, emitting a soft light and a steady heat that prickles Joel’s wind-burned cheeks. He finds Ezra sprawled on the couch, fast asleep on his back, head pillowed on his arm. His book lays face down and open on his chest, reading glasses having fallen to the floor. His t-shirt has ridden up to reveal a stripe of warm caramel skin and a trailing vine of dark curls peeks over the waist of his jeans, sending a heat up the back of Joel’s neck that has nothing to do with the fire.

That feeling is back, the usual aching want and the new thing, the softer thing he hasn’t named but can no longer deny. He thinks of Ellie’s words and knows instinctively what comes next. He wants this, he wants them , for as long as he has left.

We have you and Ez. You two set a pretty high bar.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he climbs the stairs and goes to the bedroom, heart a frantic staccato in his ears. The little blue box is still in the back of the nightstand drawer. His hand shakes slightly as he pulls it from its hiding place, fumbling to take off the lid, pouring the contents into his palm. The result of a spare moment of exploration on a scavenging run and a whim born of hope, a pair of dark brown eyes, and a cocky, boyish grin.

He clutches it tightly, pausing only for a second to take a breath, steadying himself before he heads back downstairs.

He kneels beside the couch, picking up the reading glasses, folding them carefully and setting them on the coffee table. With the same care, he reaches out and draws a thumb along the crescent scar on Ezra’s cheek, down the line of his jaw, reveling in the familiar scratch of scruff, running over the hidden dimple of his smile.

Ezra stirs at his touch, blinking slowly awake.

“Songbird,” he whispers, a sleepy smile blossoming on his face. “You’ve returned.”

“Hey,” he rasps, throat tight. In the background, the record plays on, the first strains of I know you by heart fill the room. Joel doesn’t know what to say.

“I—“

Ezra waits, patient as always, blinking up at him with a love that makes it hard for Joel to breathe, let alone speak.

“I thought—I found these…a while ago an’ I—“

He’s holding out the offering in a closed fist but he’s so overcome he can’t bring himself to uncurl his damn fingers.

Then Ezra’s hand covers his, gentle but curious, reminding him to relax his grip. He does, revealing two identical gold bands. Joel can’t pull his eyes away from Ezra’s face, hoping to find the answer in the arc of his smile or the tear at his lash line, terrified he will see neither of those things, or maybe terrified he will.

But Ezra doesn’t even see the rings. One fingertip lightly grazes gold, dips in to touch the center of Joel’s palm. Then he’s surging up, hand cupping the back of Joel’s neck and pulling him close, noses brushing, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks.

He shudders a single word against Joel’s lips, sealing the vow and their future with a kiss.

“Yes.”

#the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #joel miller x ezra prospect #joel miller / ezra prospect #joel miller fanfic

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theladyofrosewater · 3 months ago

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If any of you guys have read my fic "He Never Did" on AO3, then you might be familiar with this idea but I've decided to expand on it with a new au.

(More art at the end by the way)

The first big difference between this AU and canon is that Charlie never died, she never got locked out of her party and William never killed her. Her parents divorced when she was around 10 and her mom took Sammy in the divorce while Henry got Charlie.

Also side note but like standard FNAF content warning because I know a big chunk of my followers dont care about fnaf.

Basic backstory is in 1982 William gets springlocked but survives which sets him on the path of searching for some form of immortality, after this incident he starts acting colder to his family which causes Michael to start acting out and later leads to the prank that goes wrong and kills his younger brother in 1983 with the bite. This leads to the family further falling apart, especially when William starts his experiments which of course leads to Elizabeth's death and the Missing Children's Incident in 1985. Unfortunately, just like how we see in Sister Location the animatronics and the ghosts inside of them are mistreated terribly and without the Puppet being there to calm them down or at least direct the anger towards just adults. They start behaving a lot more dangerously and maiming and evening killing a few people, with the Bite of '87 instead being an incident where several people were killed instead of just a brain injury (don't worry even though he's not featured in this au Jeremy was relatively fine besides the whole frontal lobe thing). Henry is freaking out over all of this while getting most of the blame, while William uses this opportunity to do more experiments. Henry then closes Freddy's for a few years, with the promise it will reopen in a few years once everything has been resolved. William gets pissed and they get into a huge argument afterward Henry kicks him from the company and William opens Circus Baby's Rentals to continue his work. After a few years he gets a breakthrough with remnant but ruins into a huge problem.

In my AU remnant isn't exactly a cure all. It's absolutely TERRIBLE at de-aging someone unless you literally have gallons of the stuff, and even remaining at your current age take a lot in addition to the fact that until you wait for it to disperse into your bloodstream and get absorbed, a person becomes highly flammable and you have to deal with bouts of nausea and vomiting unless you find a good doner match if you consume large amounts. Something important to note is it's similar to blood in my rewrite with a WAY longer regeneration time, like 6-12 months compared to blood's few weeks, but killing someone violently or drawing it out gets you a higher yield

So, William hits a wall in terms of his research that until remembers that he still has (at least in this AU) two kids left alive, Michael and Vanessa. Now right now Vanessa is about 5 and William tested both her and Michael and found that Vanessa would be a terrible match for him but a decent match for any of her siblings, both the live one and the dead ones, so he notes that down but basically ignores her. Not Michael though, he unfortunately could provide a similar enough template to William that any experiments performed on Michael would roughly have the same outcome if performed on William. So, like in canon he convinces Michael to work at Circus Baby's so he can experiment on Michael in secret and if Michael dies, see if he can be brought back. Unfortunately, while William is out of state dealing with investors and some of his other testing grounds, Michael gets scooped and after Ennard leaves him for dead, he wanders around until he finds his way to where Charlie lives because Michael thinks he is well DYING and A. needs someone to know his sister doesn't have anyone to take care of her and B. This is a Marlie AU and if Michael is going to die, he's at least going to tell the girl that he likes how he feels before he kicks the bucket. So, he does and then immediately falls into a coma because he's like super weak and Charlie is freaking out because oh my god what else would you do. She's freaking out on her porch when who shows up but William. What happens next is basically what happens in the fic I wrote. He basically tells Charlie "Hey Michael is basically going to be a suffering mess in constant pain forever unless you help me murder people so we can fix him and if you say no, I may just murder you instead" So Charlie agrees and after about two months, they have hypothetically "fixed" Michael, but he still hasn't woken up yet. William then hands Charlie a case of remnant and tells her to use it on Michael until its gone and then he'll wake up. William then disappears! and yes, he does abandon 5-year-old Vanessa, but don't worry she still has Charlie. So, Charlie does as she's instructed but here comes the issue. Michael never wakes up, no matter how much Charlie waits, in fact he stops even breathing and goes in a rigor mortis like state. Charlie is heartbroken and one night during a thunderstorm she gets a really fucked up idea.

She needs more remnant.

Specifically, she saw and read Williams notes about remnant compatibility and knows that both William and Vanessa have a high compatibility with Michael. Now she's obviously not going to hurt Vanessa, so Charlie goes to the Afton house to try and get answers from William but again he's not there, what Charlie does find is a taunting note and some VERY unsettling records of all the child murder, so Charlie then decides to hunt him down. Obviously, she can't just abandon Vanessa alone with her comatose/possibly dead brother so she heads home to plan. The first thing she does is empty out a freezer in her garage and she sticks Michael in there after giving him another dose of remnant just in case and gathers up all of Vanessa's things and drops her off at Jessica's house, She tells Jessica she has to be gone for a little bit but promises she'll be back as soon as she can and even puts a wad of cash into her best friend's hands as she runs off. Jessica is a little pissed but mostly worried, so she waits exactly a week before she decides to go check on Charlie. Instead of finding Charlie however, she finds an equally confused and concerned Henry because he'd been calling Charlie's house phone and there had been no response. After Jessica tells him how weird Charlie the last time was she saw her, the two decide to enter the house and grow increasingly more concerned as they see that the house is a mess and find more and more concerning notes and papers. Side note Jessica took Vanessa with her because she wasn't going to leave the kid alone. The tour of the house gets worse when they end up in the garage and when Henry is freaking out and little baby Vanessa asks him to be quiet because "Mikey's sleeping right now" and points to the freezer. Que the abject horror of Jessica and Henry as they open the freezer and find what they think is Michael's corpse, which looks like someone has performed surgery on and he's missing an arm which was replaced by a modified endoskeleton hand. Henry and Jessica then rush out of the room, with Jessica dragging Vanessa out with her. They then start freaking out and due to shenanigans Vanessa somehow manages to electrocute Michael because "that's what they do in cartoons." and they start freaking out even MORE when Michael actual wakes up very confused to why he's not dead. Eventually once everyone calms down and talks it out, they realize they need to find Charlie and probably also William.

The main plot of this AU will follow Charlie hunting down William while she frees the spirits she finds along the way. Henry, Jessica and Michael with little Vanessa tagging along have to find Charlie and William to prevent any future possible murders.

If you've made it this far down, Congrats! feel free to send in an ask about the au if you're curious about anything!

#theladyofrosewater #art #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #charlie emily #michael afton #jessica fnaf #henry emily #vanessa fnaf #vanessa afton #william afton #he never did au #some of the designs have references can you find any one them #If I ever draw game williams face and post it to tumblr know that someone has replaced me #if its the movie version tho dont worry im fine

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anomaliex · 3 days ago

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I like to think that Riz is autistic (and maybe has adhd?), which greatly contributes to his social struggles pre Highschool, and him developing serious social competence later on kind of makes me think so even more? Words. This headcanon is very precious to me, for some reason.

Riz is initially presented as the socially awkward dorky briefcase kid, and though he grows into being more suave like his father (Brennan's words) and has really high insight and persuasion by the end of junior year he's still kind of a "weirdo", he's just gotten better at reading people and adjusting accordingly. And, like, understanding social structures and how to exploit them ("we don't need cool people. We just need a lot of dorks.")

My experience with autism and empathy and social interaction or whatever has been that allistic people, for some reason, seem to "just know" how to approach others and whether they're well received. It's like some kind of secret language that you're not in on, an instinctual knowledge that you for some reason lack, making you an outcast for reasons you genuinely don't really get. ("I don't have many friends even though I'm pretty social, which is weird.")

The way I've rationalised this is that they read tone, body language etc subconsciously, leading to them clocking things without really thinking about them too hard, whereas I can only do so with a conscious effort. I'm good at people reading, at picking up on non-verbal cues and remembering previous behaviour and breaks from patterns and analysing what they might mean and all that, but I had to actively teach myself that? It's something you have to learn if it doesn't come to you naturally, and I think as Riz mechanically levels up and increases his proficiency bonus and gains expertise and stuff, he's just gradually observing and memorising all these things in a very logical and objective way.

Additionally, he figures out how to adjust his own behaviour in ways that are appeasing to others. This means masking but it also means, like, learning how to suck up to people. He learns where to look so people think he's making normal eye contact, at what volume to keep his voice, which forms of stimming pass as "normal guy being bored" and which are "what a freak", and even to just not info dump at all unless he's in the right company no matter how bad he wants to (he doesn't shut up about his cases around his friends, though). This isn't necessarily a good thing, it's just a thing. I think that's part of growing up for a lot of autistic teenagers. This is how I interpret his persuasion, kinda, and it's notable that he's worse at this than insight. It's one thing to analyse and know what people think and want, it's another to actually get yourself to do it when it really goes against your nature.

There's also something to be said about his violent anger towards the rat grinders, and Kipperlilly specifically. Autistic teenager when someone drags his special interest (which is connected not only to his truest form of growth but also his personal view on justice) (in this case adventuring. I think it's gen just adventuring and investigating) through the mud:

(Why he doesn't like it is more nuanced than this expresses but I'm referring to like. How strong his emotional reaction is compared to how he usually acts lol. Also rigid morals and stuff are a symptom tm but hey.)

Ohhh I also think Fabian is autistic, but he happens to be more easily digestible for others because he's athletic and rich and stuff but gods does he also suck at people-ling initially (and honestly he never gets particularly good at it, he just happens to be charming and a good performer but that doesn't necessarily mean he knows what he's doing), especially with other teenagers (it probably doesn't help that he canonically went on adventures with his father for a while which is why he got into school a year later. This kid doesn't have any experience with people his age at the beginning) and oh god I got off track this sentence is really long. But, like, something something, neurodivergent (especially autistic) people tend to kinda flock together automatically? Which is why I think Riz decides Fabian is his best friend so quickly. They're very special to me.

#rambling into the void #dimension 20 #fantasy high #riz gukgak #fabian aramais seacaster #headcanons

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beanghostprincess · 8 months ago

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What’s your opinion on relationship between Roger and young shuggy

Making this quick because I think I've talked about this already an awful lot (and I love it. Please. Anything that has to do with young Shuggy makes me go feral every time).

A lot of people believe Roger played favorites when it came to his kids because. I mean. Look at the scenes we have. Giving Shanks his hat (in fact, both of his hats in that Wano scene) and in general not paying that much attention to Buggy unless it's to tell him to stay behind instead of going to Laugh Tale because he is sick (which is literally what any father would do and this only shows that he cares for him).

But I think he loved both a lot, just in different ways. And I believe that both ended up pretty messed up with how they were raised.

From what we've seen, the flashbacks we have are from Oden's POV and Buggy's. We never have Roger's or Shanks' or even Reyleigh's interpretations of what happened. So, from what we've seen, I think Roger put a lot of pressure on Shanks to be his legacy at a very young age and Buggy interpreted this with envy and thought Roger didn't care about him the same. Which is a valid thought, especially from what we've seen. But I personally like to think Roger went just a little bit harder on Buggy because of the typical "You have a lot of potential but you have to fight harder than the rest to achieve it and by ignoring you I am giving you an opportunity to be independent" or something like that. Because I think it makes more sense than Roger straight-up playing favorites.

Seriously, where is my scene of Buggy resenting Shanks and saying that he was Roger's favorite and Shanks being extremely fucking confused because "What do you mean his favorite?! He only talked about you, moron!".

So to summarize, I think we don't have that much content to have a specific canon interpretation, but in my opinion, I think Buggy's POV is really altered by his jealousy and envy toward Shanks and it only shows that Shanks was also under a lot of pressure. But that doesn't mean Roger didn't love them. Those were his kids!!!! That is their dad!!! I'm not fighting anybody about this. So he loved them but since he knew he was dying he trusted Shanks a little bit too much being the face of the new generation and gave Buggy a bit of a harsher treatment because he thought he had to work more than the average.

And that is how you end up with two sons: A failguy with a savior complex who is always sacrificing himself and drinking himself stupid and a clown with an inferiority complex that only knows how to survive instead of fighting for what he wants.

#okay so basically roger wasn't the best dad ever BUT saying he didn't love buggy the same is outrageous and i am willing to fight abt it #this is only speculation btw it's how i see it but tbh you can do whatever you want with the content we have #i was watching gravity falls the other day and-- that scene of stan saying he goes harder on dipper bc he reminds him of himself #that is roger and buggy to me #i do not care if this is not canon okay it is to me #one piece #buggy the clown #red haired shanks #gol d. roger #shuggy #< target audience #for obvious reasons

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 3 months ago

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Risky Business: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Summary: The repercussions of being in prison finally take a toll on you. You're yelling at everyone, short and curt, and you're in a constant state of wanting to cry. Will this bitter cycle ever end?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

As soon as he is done at the hospital, the police station is exactly where Chris ends up at. You, Derek, and Spencer are talking to him in a private room but he isn't saying anything. He's nervously playing with his fingers which is enough to paint a pretty picture for you. The picture is of his dad with his hands around Chris' throat.

His dad's been hurting him. There's a reason why you don't like him.

"Christopher, we know you've been going through a lot since your mother died," Derek starts. "When bad things happen to us, we get frustrated, kid. Sometimes we act out and do things we're not proud of."

He's not engaging in the conversation. He can barely look at either one of you. It's almost Friday and you're not a single step closer to finding out who made the website. If he doesn't talk, people will play it and die. Hotch seems to think that as long as he's here, he can't post.

You have a sick feeling he's not the one monitoring that website.

Penelope immediately did a search for Chris and his family. It's not a shocker that he's a loner but it's a shock that he's moved three times since his mother died. His father cut off his peer support. Three new schools in two years. That's a lot of adjustment for one kid to have to make.

"I want you to know that we're going to be confiscating your computer," Spencer says. "Our analyst is going through all of it so we can uncover the truth."

"Sure you will," Chris scoffs. "Truth."

As you're talking to him, Penelope is trying to get into his computer but can't. He's got a segmented hard drive, serious firewalls, and major-league encryption. There is no reason for all that protection unless he is hiding something. That's why Chris isn't worried. He knows Pen can't get into it.

You look at the clock and see it's 12:01 AM. One minute into Friday, and the videos start piling into the website. Kids are still playing this game despite the warnings you gave. Chris isn't going to give anything up so the two men leave but you still stay seated across from him. He looks at you nervously and you cross one leg over the other.

"What?"

"How long has your dad been choking you?" He leans back in his seat from shock. How the hell did you know that? He stutters out a response but it's nothing you can understand. "Has he always been this way? What about with your mom?"

If he wasn't going to answer questions before, he's certainly not going to answer them now. You get up and leave the room. Hotch wants Penelope to go in and try because if anyone will get him to talk, it's her.

"Hotch, his dad is choking him. He's hurting him. I saw it."

"Hi, I'm Penelope. Can I sit down?"

"You're the cop," he says sarcastically.

"Do I look like a cop to you?" she chuckles and sits.

"Yeah. What, you aren't?"

"No. FBI tech analyst. I just have some administrative cyber crud to go over with you. Just a geekette."

"Cool," he nods.

"You are glum. Time is a great healer."

"You have no idea how I feel."

"I lost my mom and my dad when I was about your age. I don't know. I think I have a pretty good idea of how you feel, and I felt totally alone. Till I found the netizens."

"BTDT."

That means been there, done that.

"Hey, I'm not lying to you. It'll totally get better. BTW, I like your nails," she smiles.

"Thanks. You into goth?" he asks.

"You know, I don't think I'm supposed to be anymore, but the love is still there."

"So, you're FBI?"

"Yeah, I know. It's crazy, but I love it. I enjoy your earring, too. Where did you score that?"

"Ebay. It's supposed to be Johnny D.'s from that pirate movie."

"Most awesome," she smiles.

"She's good," Rossi says. "She established rapport when Morgan, Reid, and Y/N couldn't."

"We should bring her out all the time," Hotch chuckles.

"Okay, your whole PGP disc encryption system is like crazy impressive."

"Yeah, I'm into that kind of stuff," he smiles.

"Stuff? Dude, you do not understand. I am jealous. That is state-of-the-art technology the feeb does not have."

"Whatever," he waves her off but is smiling.

"Okay, how did you get your anonymizing service?"

"I got it from some link from some dude online. What do you care?"

"I just think it's uber cool how you set your whole system up. Like how you use an e-shredder to obliterate your net activity and a window wiper as your secondary trash eraser. Who does that?"

"Everybody does that."

You turn when you hear someone coming in angrily. Chris' father is here and he isn't happy you're talking to him without him. He demands to have his son back and Hotch is forced to give him back since you're not arresting his son. Plus, he's a minor. His father has every right to take him away from here.

"The interview's over. His father invoked," Hotch says to Penelope.

"Dad."

"I'm getting you a lawyer. I screwed up and failed you when your mother died. Not this time. Unless you people have something to charge him with, we're leaving."

Will takes his son away and you look at Hotch in disbelief.

"You heard what I said and you're still letting them leave? He's hurting his child!"

"There's no evidence of that."

Anger flares in your chest but before you can say or do something stupid, you back away.

"Sir, I'm sorry, I tried," Penelope says.

"If he invokes, he invokes. Concentrate on cracking the encryption."

"Yeah."

Everyone is sure Chris is the culprit so they dive deeper into his life while Penelope works on his computer.

"Judging by sheer volume, Christopher's mother was sick quite a bit. His father brought her into the ER repeatedly. She's described as being violently ill each time. She spends a couple of days in the ICU and makes a miraculous recovery only to be repeated time and again. No diagnosis, no discernable cause."

"There's another video going up," JJ announces.

"That's four kids playing in half an hour."

"How many kids go to this school?"

"Its catchment is the whole county. It's almost two thousand. Garcia, we really need to gain administrative access to the website. I've written down a number of things Christopher may have used as the password. I've already eliminated birthdays, holidays, pet names, and pop culture icons," Spencer says.

"No, there was something pathetic about him, not criminal. When he was leaving, he said he missed his mom. What's his mother's name?"

"Cynthia Summers."

Penelope tries her name and it gives her access.

"That's it. Alright, I'm logging in as an administrator and shutting down the main source, but kids are still posting videos through independent servers."

"Pull up the website history and see if you can learn anything from historical posts," Spencer says.

"Christopher's ER eval shows his bruises were caused by manual and ligature strangulation over time," Emily reads over his medical file. "He's also shown to have layered bruising on his sternum."

"It looks like a CPR artifact but there's no record of resuscitations."

"Wait, all these transmissions are transcripts of the same administrator?" Spencer asks Penelope.

"Yeah, there's only one handle."

"This is weird. In the posts, his voice changes. At times he's using more articles and more precise verbiage like he's trying to throw us off. That's pretty sophisticated behavior for a kid. A writer can disguise his own writing style to make himself appear younger or less educated."

"Yeah, but it's virtually impossible to pull off making yourself appear older and more educated than you actually are," Derek says.

"There are actually two distinct writing styles. Two writers using the same screen name--one teen and one adult. Christopher was being manipulated by an adult."

Hmm. I wonder who that can be. You roll your eyes and sit back in your chair while they come to the same conclusion you did half an hour ago.

"The mother's death is a textbook case of Munchausen by proxy. The kid has been choked and revived on multiple occasions."

"You said the father worked for the fire department, right?" Spencer asks Rhonda.

"Yeah, for a couple of months now.

"In what capacity?"

"As an EMT."

"That's our unsub. It's Chris' dad. He's been hurting his own son."

Everyone looks at you. You can choose to make some snarky comment about how they didn't listen to you again, or you can choose to be quiet. You choose the latter.

"So, the father poses as a classmate and invites local kids to join the game. He bumps up the stakes and encourages them to use their riskiest methods."

"He works on Friday nights," Rhonda says."

"Which means he gets called out to do the rescues. He's not just collecting video tapes. His Munchausen has evolved," Spencer says.

"I'll put out an APB for his truck."

"He'll have to find a place to download the videotapes. They're his trophies. After that, he'll clean up his mess."

"Christopher's the only witness against him."

Your team heads to Chris' house but of course, he and his father aren't there. After a quick search, you end up finding piles upon piles of discs from where Will saved every child that has died because of the game he created.

"There are dozens of discs here."

"I was right here. I never even looked around," Rhonda sighs guiltily.

"We only had consent for the laptop and he knew it was encrypted. We didn't have probable cause for a warrant. Mr. Summers didn't have a chance to come back and get his trophies. He'll definitely try to download the videos tonight."

"This kid was doing everything he could just to survive. The extreme abuse conditioned him to shield his father. When his father came into the room, he seemed genuinely relieved like his burden had been lifted. He was elated when his father rescued him. We need to rethink everything. Now, let's focus on the behavior. What's the pattern?" Hotch asks.

"Christopher knows his father's pattern. In his mind, it will never end unless Chris decides to end it."

You take out your phone, call Penelope, and put her on speakerphone.

"Pen, when you were talking to Chris, did he say anything to you to suggest that he was giving up?"

"Giving up?"

"Like he was trying to say goodbye."

"I don't understand."

"Did he give you anything?"

"Yeah. How did you know that?"

"What did he give you?"

"When we were talking, he gave me this pirate's earring."

"He's made up his mind. Suicide is the only victory over his sadistic father. He may also see it as reuniting with his mother. The father's going to want to download those videos from somewhere, Pen, and we have to stop that process."

"I'm already on that. I replaced the website with a phishing site. I'm downloading it to the servers now. When he logs onto that website, he's going to be rerouted to our server, and we can capture his information."

"Stay on that site, Garcia. It will buy us some time," Hotch says.

"Where are they headed?" Emily asks before the lightbulb goes off in her head. "Wait. What about the mother? It's all about the mother. Garcia, where is Cynthia buried?"

"Oaklawn Cemetery, halfway between here and Glenrock."

"Chris would willingly go there with his father thinking it's some sort of refugee, but Will still needs to download the videos. He needs a power source."

"There's a chapel," Rhonda says. "They use it for burials."

"Let's go. Garcia, we'll call you from the car," Hotch says.

You drive to the cemetery and spot Will's car right outside the place.

"Sir, Mr. Summers just logged on. He's caught in the phishing site."

"Is he downloading the files?"

"He's trying to but all he's gonna get is snow," Pen smirks.

You head into the chapel with the team with guns raised only to see Will with hands around his son's throat. It's safe to say that he doesn't get very far but Chris needs to be hospitalized after what his father did to him.

Without the distraction of a case, everyone is forced to think about you and how you've been behaving since getting out of prison. You never wanted to be the one to treat them badly. You're such a loving and kind soul that it kills you to hurt the ones you love.

"I'm sorry," you announce to everyone. "I'm sorry for what I said before." Two tears fall down your cheeks. "I'm not okay, and I'm trying but it's so hard. I didn't mean any of it." You look at Penelope who looks like she is about to cry with you. "I love how happy you are because I see such darkness every day. You are light." You look at Derek. "I appreciate your tough love because it helps me be a better person." You move on to Emily. "I love how you try so hard because that shows you care. I don't ever want to lose someone like you." You look at Rossi. "It's because of your experience that helps me. I'm going to make mistakes but I can always count on you to make things right. Prison did something to my mind. I want to be here for this team. I want to do my best..."

You can't even finish your sentence. Spencer reaches over and grabs your hand and you look at him with tears in your eyes.

"We're here for you just like you've always been here for us," JJ says.

"I'm trying, guys. I'm sorry."

"We know. You're doing your best and that's all we ever ask of you," Rossi says.

You're honestly so lucky to have people as amazing as the ones on your team. You don't know if you're going to be okay but you do know you have people to fall back on if you're not.

"Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn. My god, do you learn." C.S. Lewis.