#what do you mean the shoulder's fine. it went through bone

[draconicace]

cuno i'm grateful you told me all this. getting shot in the shoulder blade is not fucking lucky, logic

[teaboot]

One of the best parts about working at a sex shop is the employee discount, and yeah that means excellent deals on sex supplies but that's not the big brain part.

You come to my house. Something is cooking in the kitchen- it smells wonderful. What is it? It's novelty dick-shaped pasta. I've set up a sensual sexy Italian dinner. There are candles set up on the table. They're melting too fast, dripping everywhere- they're low temp waxplay pillar candles. For dessert, I serve you a delicious ice cream topped in penis-shaped rainbow confetti sprinkles and strawberry body paint drizzle, and afterwards, serve coffee with roasted hazelnut warming lube.

We play a board game while we drink. It's sexy monopoly. It's your turn. You roll the dice. They come up as 'whisper into' and 'butt'. I lost the original dice. We're using the sexy dice. You move four spaces.

After dinner, I run you a bath. A bubble bath. The bubble gel? Sensual ocean breeze. There are candles lined up around the tub. The scent is overpowering. Why? They're three-in-one fruit flavored massage oil candles. I'm using so much. It's so wasteful. Do you want to shave? I have conditioning shave cream that smells like limes. And an electric body razor, but you can't use that in the tub.

How about a bath bomb? You toss one in. It's cherry blossom scented. As it dissolves, three sexy bath sex suggestion cards fall out. They're all variations on doggy style, probably because fucking in a bathtub is probably the easiest way to break your hip.

The water cools. You get out an dry off with a novelty towel. If you wrap it around your chest, it looks like you have gigantic tatas bursting through the fabric like the Hulk.

You walk into the bedroom. I'm there, reading an instructional book titled "The Housewife's Guide To Every Day Stripping". I'm wearing a neck pillow designed to look like a massive curved weiner. Also a pair of fake leather bondage leggings and an oversized men's christmas T-shirt that says "Jingle My Bells" across the front.

I see you come in. I put down the book, take off the pillow. Offer you a massage. You accept. I already burned up all the massage candles so I pop a new bottle of CBD massage oil that says something wrong about Chakras on it. It's very gritty. That's because there's little chunks of amethyst in it for some fucking reason. It's fine, though. You say you don't mind.

I don't do massages very often. It's bad. You end up more tense than before. One of your muscles starts to cramp- it's okay. I whip out a bottle of Lidocane topical masculine performance numbing spray. You immediately feel like your shoulder went to the dentist. It's not ideal, but it's better than cramping.

You're not in the mood to bone after that. Which is good, cause I'm actually pretty asexual, but it hasn't come up yet so I'm relieved to avoid the conversation. Instead we get ready for bed. (The weather is terrible, and I insist you stay over.) I set up the futon, then realize it smells like cigarettes from the previous owner and shyly ask if you wanna cuddle in my room. You're down.

I crawl under the covers, placing my penis-shaped pink glitter pride bottle on the side table in case one of us wakes up thirsty. Once you're settled in, I turn off the glowing bare ass night light and the room goes black.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you look up at the ceiling. It's dotted all over with little green flourescent lights. Are they plastic stars? No. I've pinned up a thousand glow in the dark condoms. God bless

[allllium]

Secret

~ This took so much longer than I wanted it to, yay writers block right? 😭

~ Angst, Fluff at end, WC:2,737

~Remus is keeping a secret

Your boyfriend is cheating on you. That's the only explanation for the way he's acting. Every month he disappears, not just for an hour or two, but full days. Most of the time he disappears for about two to three days. And even if he doesn't disappear, he acts super weird around you.

You've tried to ask James and Sirius about it, but of course they never say anything. They are loyal to bone, which usually you respect but now it's just frustrating. You thought you were a part of the group, clearly you were wrong.

What are you supposed to do? You've already tried his friends, and spent months obsessing over behavior. Analyzing every little thing he does for you and other people, trying to find out who Remus would rather be with than you. You can't keep feeling like this.

You're in the library, trying and failing to focius on your book. Usually Remus would be here with you, but he's not. You haven't seen him since yesterday morning, when he all but pushed you out of his dorm room.

At first this whole thing was frustrating, and confusing, but now you feel rejected, a feeling your boyfriend should never give you. At first you raked your mind for any other reason why Remus would act like this. You went through things like illness, something about his friends, family maybe, you even thought it might have something to do with school work, but none of those explain why he's nowhere to be seen.

So now here you are. On the verge of tears while sitting in the library, wishing he would just come clean about what he's doing. At least then it would be easier to break up with him. But what can you do without proof, left with nothing but a bad feeling.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” You are quickly pulled from your thoughts by James’s voice coming from behind you. He's always been incredibly sweet to you, mostly because he thought it would help convince Lily to go out with him, but you also know he's just a naturally good person.

“Fine, Jamie.” You give him the best smile you can muster, obviously he sees right through it. He slings his arm around your shoulder and plops down in the seat next to you.

“What's on your mind?” He seems genuinely concerned but you don't believe it. Real friends tell friends when they're being cheated on. You wish. In real life, however, they always stay loyal to whoever came first. You love that Remus has such great support when he needs it but what about you?

“It's nothing, doesn't matter.” You try your best to reassure him.

“No, something is clearly wrong. How can I help?”

“It's nothing, James, just drop it. Please.” He knows you're serious when you use his real name, usually resorting to some stupid nickname.

“Yeah, okay. If you need anything just let me know.” You only nod as he turns to leave. You take a big breath when you're alone again.

You're honestly trying not to panic. You love Remus, a lot. But you can't be with a cheater, you just can't. And if you break up with him then you lose all your friends, because of course, they were his friends first. Which means you have to start over, all alone. Yeah, no reason to panic.

Over the next few days you don't see Remus. Not because of him, this time it's you trying to disappear. This is what happens, he ignores you for a few days then comes back all clingy as if nothing happened. The first couple times you tried to ask about it but you never got a straight answer. He told you he was busy with his friends or with school, which was clearly a lie, so eventually you stopped asking.

You've had to change your daily routine a lot just to avoid him. Instead of going to his dorm for bed, you go to your own. You're not eating in the dining hall, because he would sit with you. You're sitting away from him in class and turning the other way when you see him in the halls. Apparently your avoidance has been so obvious, McGonagall stopped him after a class to ask what happened. You didn't stay long enough to overhear his answer.

“Oh, Angel!” You hear your boyfriend’s voice call for you in the hallway, you do nothing but walk faster, knowing you won't be able to keep it together long enough to face him right now. “I know you heard me.” His voice is much closer as he grabs your shoulder to stop you. He takes the books out of your hand and holds them behind his back.

“What do you want, Remus?” You ask him, not turning around.

“I want to know why my girlfriend has been ignoring me for days now?”

You no longer feel sad when you finally turn and look at him, the irony of his statement filling you with sudden frustration and anger, “Oh really? What about you Remus? You ignore me for days every month and I still don't have an answer for that!”

He stays silent, analyzing your expression before continuing, “It's different,” is all he says.

“How Remus? I would love for you to explain how exactly this is different.”

“It just is!”

“You know what, I don't even care. Come find me when you can explain, otherwise don't bother.” You feel like you're going to collapse as you walk away, leaving him in the hall, with your books in his hand.

You didn't think it would be this hard. Yet after a few more days have passed it seems Remus took the ‘don't bother’ part of your speech more seriously than any other.

You honestly thought he would at least try to give you any kind of explanation. Even if it is a lie.

James and Sirius haven't talked to you either. Remus obviously told them about what you said, they don't want to be friends with you if you aren't with Remus.

Over the last few days, you've spent a lot more time with Lily and the rest of the girls.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened?” Lily asks you. You're sitting with her in her dorm with Mary and Pandora.

“I don't know what to say.” You shrug. What are you supposed to say? You don't want to tell her Remus is probably cheating on you, on the very off chance he isn't. And you don't want to admit how much you miss being around him.

“What did you guys fight about?” Mary pipes up. At this point the whole school has noticed the behavior between the two of you. Everyone has been talking about it, spreading theories as to why such a happy couple has been acting like this.

“It wasn't a fight,” You begin to explain to the girls, “I told him unless he can tell me why he keeps disappearing I don't wanna talk to him.”

You don't miss the look Lily and Pandora exchange. Mary focuses her gaze onto the floor, none of them look at you as Pandora speaks up this time.

“I mean he probably has a good reason.” She tries to offer.

“And you all know, don't you?” Great, you're officially the only one who doesn't know this secret your boyfriend is keeping.

“It's not what you think.” Lily tells you softly.

“Then why won't he tell me?”

“I don't know,” Lily tells you again, “Maybe you should talk to him.”

“I tried that, but it didn't work.”

“Then don't ask him to talk, tell him you're not happy. I promise he's not trying to hurt you.”

“And how do you know? He apparently told everyone but me Lily, what am I supposed to think?”

No one responds.

“I don't know what to do.” Remus tells his friends, running his hands over his face in despair.

“Well, I vote you stop being a dumbass but we know that won't happen.” Sirius offers him. The four of them haven't left their dorm all day, trying to convince Remus he needs to be honest with you. Actually Peter and Sirius have been trying to convince him, James hasn't talked to him all day. He knows why you were upset in the library and isn't trying to hide his irritation, however, he doesn't want to say something to hurt Remus. So he stays quiet.

“I agree. What's the worst that can happen?” Peter shrugs, you'd think Remus would listen to him considering he's the one in the longest lasting relationship.

“Uh, she could leave me!” He practically shouts, rolling his eyes at the look shared between Sirius and Peter.

“Oh you mean like what she wants to do now?” Remus doesn't even notice who says it, too distracted by the ice running through his veins.

“You really think she'll want to break up over this?” His voice is barely a whisper, the slight heartbreak clear in his tone.

“This is one of the biggest parts of your life and you haven't told her. She knows you've been lying about it and you haven't talked to her once since she said “don't bother.” In my opinion all you're doing is showing her you don't care.” Peter tries his best to explain this gently to Remus. Not wanting to hurt him but knowing Remus won't actually understand till he knows how you feel about it.

“I need to tell her. I just- I don't want her to leave me because of it.”

James lets out an exasperated sigh at Remus's words. “She's not going to leave you for being a werewolf, she loves you just as much as you love her. If she breaks up with you it's because of how long you've kept this a secret.

Another week goes by with no word for Remus. You're started to give up hope that he'll even try to talk to you again. Unless to finally end this relationship. Thinking about either of these options hurt your heart, not wanting this to end or go on.

“It's not until you're leaving the dining hall after dinner that you're pulled into an empty classroom. You can tell by the touch on your wrist that it's him.

“What do you want, Remus?” You immediately ask. You try to keep your face as straight as possible, not wanting him to see how upset you really are.

“I need to explain.”

“Seriously? Now?”

“Can I please just tell you what's going on? You can yell or insult me all you want afterwards, I just need you to know.” He lets go of your wrist but refuses to look away from your face.

You give a small nod in agreement but it's all he needs to jump right into what he wants to say, you have the feeling this whole plan was practiced beforehand.

“I was not trying to hurt you. I love you a lot. More than I have ever loved anything before and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you because I'm not normal. I figured if there were something wrong with who I am, I can change, I can fix that but I can't fix something I have no control over and I felt like I would die if I lost you because of it.”

“Because of what?” Is all you ask.

He takes a deep breath before finally explaining, “I'm a werewolf.”

“Oh screw you.” You roll your eyes and quickly walk out of the classroom.

Remus doesn't follow you out. He stays standing in the empty room for a few minutes, confused about the interaction that just took place.

He comes to your shared class almost halfway through and doesn't look at you until it's over.

“Angel, please talk to me.” Remus begs, following out of the classroom. You shake your head and begin to speed up your walk. He grabs your wrist and pulls you into him, “Baby please.”

“What do you want, Remus? Here to lie to me more.” You turn around to confront him.

“I'm not lying about being a werewolf.” He defends, eyes widening in bewilderment.

“That's not what I'm mad about.” Your tone grows more angry as you talk. “We've been dating for how long now and you don't tell me your biggest secret? You've had me panicking every fucking month wondering where you where and who you were with. All because you what? Can't trust me with this big secret?”

Remus visible winces as your voice grows louder. “Please don't be so loud.”

“Oh yeah! Don't trust me not spill anything!”

“That's not what I meant, love. Can we just talk about this, somewhere private.”

“So what? So you can make up some lame excuses?” You turn again and try to leave.

“No angel, that's not why I didn't tell you.”

You pause. As much as you want to keep walking you love him. Deep inside you know exactly why he didn't tell you but you don't think you can bear to hear him say it. You know it's not because of you but you feel like you failed. You feel as if you failed to make him know just how much you love him, just how worth it he is. You want nothing more than for him to be happy and if he hasn't told you about his big secret clearly he's happy enough with you.

“It has nothing to do with you, I promise. I wanted to tell you so many times, so much more than you know but whenever I tried I couldn't. My mouth wouldn't open as much as I tried. I was terrified that you would leave, I know you never would, okay, I know. But the thought that you could stopped me, it stops me from doing many things.”

“Why?” You ask, tears arriving in your eye line.

“Because I can't live without you. I know how cheesy that sounds but it's true. All my life I've dealt with the consequences of being a werewolf even from people that don't know. You have helped me be myself more than anyone ever has and that's enough. I can't bear the thought of you leaving let alone the thought of knowing I pushed you away. Knowing this pushed you away and it wasn't something I could stop because if I could I would. I know it makes things harder for you. I hear how people talk about you because of my scars and how awkward I am and you don't deserve that, you've made me think that maybe I don't deserve it either. I can't lose you. I can't let this push you away because without you I go back to who I used to be. And now that you've shown me who I really am, I can't go back to being him.”

You listen to his words silently, trying your best not to let the tears fall. He doesn't deserve to feel this way and hearing him admit that makes you want to cry with happiness for him, for yourself in succeeding to make him feel as loved as he is. You want to tell him this but he continues.

“I love you, angel. And I'm so sorry I couldn't get myself to tell you before. I am so sorry I made you worry and made other people lie for me. I don't know what to say except for that. I don't know how I can make this better.”

“You already did, Rem.” This time you turn to face him, seeing the tears on his face break your heart even more. “I mean I can't really fault you for your mouth sabotaging you.”

A small smile blooms on his face. “How dare it.”

“I know what it's like to be that anxiety. I thought you were cheating on me.”

“I would never!” He looks genuinely offended at your words.

“I know baby, but there's still that fear.”

“I'm really sorry.” He pulls you in for a hug.

“I know, Rem. I wish I could've helped you more.”

“Dove, you've already done more than enough, I love you.”

“I love you too. But if I find out you're keeping something else I'll kill you as you sleep.”

You feel Remus grin into the crook of your neck.

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons - Part 10

WC: 817, Masterpost

Jason sighed as the tablet in his hands flashed with alerts. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“How did the meeting with Black Bat go?” Bruce asked instead of responding, because of course he did.

“You know it went fine,” Jason said, trying not to snap. “Besides, everyone likes her, there was a good chance it was always going to go fine.”

“We both know trauma isn’t always that easy,” Bruce said, his tone carefully modulated to be gentle. It rankled Jason, like it always did.

Jason took a breath and let his chin drop to his chest for a moment. Bruce didn’t mean it like that. He knew that now. This was Bruce trying as best as he was able— it wasn’t just another mask. Bruce just had to put effort into emotions that made it seem forced. Jason pushed away his flair of temper; it was harder to do than he’d like after too much worry and too little sleep.

“Ja—”

“I’m fine. It’s just like you said, trauma isn’t always that easy. I’m fine,” Jason said as he waved the concern away. “And names. You know we’re sticking to code names still.”

Bruce tilted his head, observing Jason through the white lenses. (That used to rankle too.)

“You thinking there’s a chance he’ll run.”

Jason sighed. He gave an exaggerated shrug to cover the worry that ran through him at the question. “Not run, exactly. I think he doesn’t believe that he can stay— that it’s even on the table. I think that we’re his last hope and he doesn’t believe in hope anymore.”

Bruce didn’t move. Jason gave him time to think that over.

“That’s why he doesn’t want to see… Wayne,” Bruce said, slowly, like he was feeling the idea out. “He doesn’t expect to get anything from him so it’s better to be healed up first.”

Jason shrugged again.

“Figure so. But also once that meeting happens, whatever happens, then all of this,” Jason motioned to the safe house, “is over as far as he knows. If he puts off the meeting, he puts off the risk of losing the first safety that I think he’s hand in a long, long time.”

Bruce’s shoulders hunched and he almost blended back into the shadows by the window. “If he’s already posed for it to go badly…”

“B, that’s not your fault,” Jason said— had to say. “The kid’s been through hell, maybe by his own family, of course he’s going to expect the worst.”

It was a long moment and then Bruce nodded, just once. “What’s the plan?”

If Jason really had his way, the plan would be to deal with all these ill feelings, but that’s not what anyone in the family was good at, him included. It would be what it would be.

“We’ll have BB over again for a meal tomorrow. I’m sure it will keep going well and she can help be on watch that night. We think it’s best to give that a few days before we introduce O or anyone else new, so you have to keep the rest of the horde reigned in,” Jason said pointedly. Then a though occurred to him. “Where is the little spawn anyways?”

“He’s on the roof across the block.”

“Yeah, is he? Because that was a lot of alerts—”

“Hood!”

Jason didn’t think before he was striding across the room towards Danny’s room. The kid was standing in the door. White hair stark in the low light. Green eyes bright.

Glowing.

Wide with fear.

“Danny?”

“Someone else is here,” Danny said. His voice was almost too quiet to hear, but Jason could half swear he felt it in his very bones. Danny reached out and clung onto the sleeve of Jason’s hoodie. A cold settled into Jason’s bones along with the vibration of the soft words. “Someone touched by death. Can you feel them too? They’re not not like us. They haven’t died. They haven’t died, but they reek of death. Hood, what are they?”

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe here, remember?” Jason assured Danny automatically. The words rolled out of his mouth without Jason having to even think about them, which was good, because Jason’s mind was still caught on Danny’s words: They’re not like us. They haven’t died. “Some Bats just stopped by to check on us.”

Was it Bruce? Did all of Gotham’s death cling to his shoulders like his cape?

Was it Damian? Was it the stench of the Pits?

Or did Jason miss something else slipping in with all of the other alarms.

“We’ll go check on Nightwing together, alright? I bet he has a little red and black guest who slipped in,” Jason said. He twisted his hand to hold Danny’s. The cold bit at his skin. He didn’t let go.

He hoped he was right.

He had a hard time believing in hope too.

---

AN: A myyyyyyyystery *wiggly fingers*. Gods I'm so tired.

I no longer tag, you can subscribe to the masterpost instead!

[familyvideostevie]

the meaning of it all

joel miller x reader

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

word count: 13.6k

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tommy meets you at the stables to check-in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Joel Miller," he says back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good," he says. "Good."

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

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

Joel says your name and you turn around.

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

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I--what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

The doors in your house open and close silently.

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

Until you have a bad patrol.

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

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

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

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

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

"Shoved me into some thorns. You?"

"Yeah. Can we go home now?"

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

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

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

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

You could only be so lucky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something in your chest tightens.

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

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

"Couldn't sleep."

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

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

"Sorry," you say softly.

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

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

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

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

"Couldn't sleep." Joel hums.

"Heard that one before."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

__

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

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

"Am I?" you say lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

"Am not," you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I...what?"

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

"Joel--"

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

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

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

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

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

So did you. You didn't dream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Joel--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You'll never stop wanting him now.

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

It's very possible that you gasp a little.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're so fucked.

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

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

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

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

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

"And thank you for--"

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

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

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

He turns. "Countin' on it."

___

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

"Fucking amazing," she says.

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

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

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

It goes to shit fairly quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What happened?"

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

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

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

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

"But the rules say --"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're going to need a lot of help.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone is calling your name. Yelling it.

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

Joel.

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

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

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

"Joel --"

"Sit."

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

"How are you here --"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I told him to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before you can open her mouth Joel answer for you.

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

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

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

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

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

We.

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

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

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

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

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

You sniffle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For my sake or yours?"

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

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

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

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

"Can you kiss me again?" you ask.

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

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[sordidmusings]

Age Gap (Buggy x Reader)

A/N: for @soft-mafia since she wanted more age gap Buggy! Mostly bulleted like a headcanon but has two little drabbles sprinkled in cuz I couldn't help myself. I will be posting a continuation of this actually writing out the scene mentioned at the end, but I wanted to get this out now.

Word count: ~2.6 k

Warnings: obviously an age gap but the younger one is mentioned to be in their 20s, fem!reader, NSFW mentioned at the end, alcohol consumption, probably (hopefully) silly humor, the touch starved shows hardcore for a second there, tried my best to get Buggy right but you know how it be especially because he exists as an amalgam of LA and anime Buggy in my brain

Now come get y'all dopamine

I imagine you joined Buggy’s crew largely looking for that found family goodness then found out how much you’d never been taken care of and how much you craved it

One day while going through the different acts you were learning from the crew trying to find what stuck, you took a decent fall. Not the kind that breaks bones, but the kind where you just gotta lay there a sec and recalibrate how you got to this point

After some laughter (I mean come on it is a crew curated by Buggy and they could tell it wasn’t serious), the nearby crew surrounded you to check on you. While you were breathlessly saying you’re fine from your position on the floor, they parted to reveal the Captain coming to your side:

Buggy bent down to loom over you. The shadow he cast over your face was a welcome break from the bright overhead lights. You just wished that the way they haloed him didn’t make it so hard to see the laughter on his face.

“Good form! I think we could just throw you around to see you flail like that as your act - you’d be our finest comedy routine.” His voice was thick with sarcasm and giggles. However, his detached arms were gentle when they lifted you from the floor. They changed to posing outstretched with his hands on your shoulders and he walked into them to reattach. He looked you up and down before circling around you, all the while his hands were nudging you this way and that for his inspection. Once he was back at your front, he changed to brushing some dirt from your arms and shoulders. You didn’t speak for fear of interrupting this attention you were receiving from him.  He seemed to suddenly snap to clarity anyway.

“RIGHT.” Vocal control? Who is she? Buggy doesn’t know her. “So either get better at what you’re doing or actually fall on purpose. Wouldn’t want you fucking up that money maker.” He was already walking away when one detached hand gave your cheek two brisk pats and he made himself scarce.

It was obvious to you and everyone else how much you ate up his attention. The soft look you were still giving the direction he went in was damn near sickening. It was then you understood your purpose here - becoming Buggy’s spoiled lapdog.

Luckily for you, that was also the moment Buggy realized how his body buzzed when he touched you and how he lit up when you looked up at him with pretty, wide eyes. 

Unluckily, he also decided that being near you would lead down a dangerous route of him needing more and more of you and he was positive that he was just being some old creep over a pretty little thing like you.

This led to a game where Buggy would try to keep you at arm’s length while he battled both his own desire to be around you and your seemingly supernatural ability to just appear next to him at all times.

He wasn’t great at the arms distance thing even when he thought he was nailing it because nailing it to him was being in his natural space as the center of attention and only checking (immediately and desperately) that you were watching and approving of whatever he was doing. The way his head would always snap to you for your reaction was neither subtle nor discouraging to your rapidly growing infatuation.

You decided that orbiting his personal space wasn’t working well enough. Sure, he’d give you a hit of what you wanted with some fleeting touches and mostly disguised compliments but you needed more. Hurting yourself intentionally so that he would take care of you didn’t seem like a sustainable option, so you settled on playing his own game. Time to practice owning a room.

This could be a dangerous game to play. You were certain that blatantly taking the spotlight would just make him upset with you not that you’d mind him taking that out on you. You settled on more subtle things like spreading your attention more through the crew instead of mostly on him, being more focused and daring in your training, participating more in the many games that broke out when the alcohol did, and dressing a bit more intentionally (whether that’s flashier colors, eye-catching accessories, bold makeup, new or intricate hairstyles, etc.) 

The boldest card you played was feeding more into any of the flirting you received.

He has a freak show, yes, but have you ever seen how fine circus performers are?? Full fun costumes are It and also the tasks they have to perform either help them get conventionally attractive bodies and/or the rizz that comes with performing feats (just look at the traction Fryboy has gained with women like damn why he kinda-). Due to that, you’re around attractive people all the time.

While the flirting is for the purpose of pushing Buggy’s buttons, you must admit that it wasn’t a hard habit to keep up and may help inflate your ego.

Your attempts have mixed results. Buggy’s desire to claim you grew but so did his insecurity

In his mind, you look more natural next to one of the younger lookers in his crew while he’s certain the pair of you must look ridiculous together. It’s this very insecurity that’s gonna make it necessary for you to bluntly and shamelessly throw yourself at him both repeatedly and with no room for questions:

You have no clue what else you can do to get through that thick skull of his. You’re on your knees, quite literally at that. You figured that kneeling in front of that circus throne while he’s laid himself all over it would be enough to break the man. Enough to break any man, really, but he’s still finding ways to deflect you.

Buggy nodded his head to a nearby open seat. “You know they made chairs to be comfortable and your dumb ass is on the floor. That drunk already?” he snorted. Maybe choosing to do this during one of the many celebrations (you think this one is for one week of no one pregaming for show runs. ironic.) was a bad idea. You had been banking on some drinks loosening up whatever was holding him back.  It always made you snicker when you entertained the idea of it being from a sense of propriety. Checking in on the situation, you could see how all the chaos going on around you two made it easier for him to keep his eyes off of you and his ears unfocused. Earlier, you had counted it as a plus that working up a buzz would help you bulldoze through his stubbornness. You had forgotten that any alcohol in your system would make for the perfect excuse for him to write you off.

“I’ve barely started my third drink,” you started with a pout, “and I’d be ashamed if that’s enough to get me drunk after all the time spent on your crew.”

“Then you are just being stupid.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. Okay. Attention didn’t work. Compliments didn’t work. Kneeling didn’t work. Time for some big guns.

You shifted to the side so you’d be sitting towards your left hip with your bent legs beside you. Your drink found its way to your right hand but, most importantly, your chin found its way onto Buggy’s left knee. It brought you so close to where you’d really like to put yourself to work, and, man, was the temptation strong with the way his right leg was slung over the armrest of his seat. How did he expect you to stay away when he was serving himself up on a platter like this?

Buggy was definitely giving you his undivided attention now. His gaze was dark and slightly accusatory. The lighting matched with his makeup made him look more dangerous than usual. The nerves it sent through you might have had you back right off. Instead you held your ground because you saw his pulse hammer against his neck. You saw his throat bob as he swallowed. You saw his pink tongue contrast with red as he licked his lips and gave a shaky exhale.

While you were starting to settle into your bold move, Buggy was becoming more and more antsy. His grip on his glass became white-knuckled under his gloves, and he tried to give himself time to think by taking a huge gulp of his drink. Why did you have to look at him like that? So pleading? The angle from his lap made your lashes darken your eyes and it was impossible for him to keep the image of your hooded gaze about a foot closer to him out of his head. What did you want from him? You’d denied his accusations about money or intel so what the fuck could it be? Was this a game? Get in the pants of the Captain for preferential treatment and go back to whoever else you had in your palm on the crew to laugh about him falling for it?

You noticed his mood turning sour so you decided to interrupt whatever was tumbling around his head. “I think I could get much more comfy right here.” To prove a point, you dragged your chin to his inner thigh, right above his knee, and snuggled your cheek into his leg. His pants weren’t the softest against your skin but he was so addictingly warm through them. Your eyes briefly fluttered shut to enjoy the sensation before you looked back up at him and flirtatiously said, “I’m comfiest next to you.”

His hands itched with the need to grab you by the hair and force your face right where he needed you. Instead he scoffed at you. “Suuuuure. And why’s that, princess?”

“You make me smile,” you admitted immediately. His startled gaze met your lovesick one and you realized what you said and how quickly you said it. Too close to emotionally vulnerable; time to backtrack a touch. You want to get the role as his trophy before you even attempt to approach the title of Love of His Life. “You also said that you take care of your crew and I’m on your crew, right? So you’ll take care of me.”

The cheeky smile you spoke through melted him. An achingly deep sigh left him while his right hand detached from the arm to deposit his drink on the floor next to you. Quickly, it flew back to its limb. Both of your hearts pumped fire through your chests as he reached that hand out towards you. Buggy took his time stroking his fingers from your forehead into your hair. When his palm came down to join the gesture, you were very happy to realize that his hand was just as warm as the thigh still under your cheek. You shuffled closer so your legs squeezed in between his foot and the left leg of his throne. Buggy shuddered when he felt your fingertips graze the back of his calf and spread out like a star so you could grab it. Using your new grip, you snuggled more firmly into his leg and let yourself buzz off of getting this new touch from your Captain.

Ulterior motives be damned, Buggy couldn’t give them any credence when you looked so happy to sit at his feet and receive such a simple touch. He should probably laugh and call you a needy puppy to regain some control over the situation. Instead, he slipped his hand down the side of your head.  He massaged his fingertips into the base of your skull and said, “I’ll take care of you, little star.”

Once he has accepted that you’re serious there will be jokes about the dynamic but do not be fooled - he can only dish it out and WILL spiral if he receives any type of comment about how much older he is (the word geriatric is punishable by death)

Sometimes the joke is him patronizingly treating you like a child (you almost socked him right there at the dinner table when some food came at your face with accompanying airplane noises)

Sometimes it’s calling you a gold digger (“then where’s my allowance, huh?” “OH so my gIFTS AREN’T ENOUGH FOR YOU NOW? YOU were the one ACTUALLY CRYING over me buying you that wonky ass stuffed seal with the lopsided face!!” “HIS NAME IS JERRY AND YOU WILL SHOW HIM SOME RESPECT”)

Sometimes it’s just dumb shit like pointing at the type of girl’s clothing store that has made a contract with God to own all the pinks and pastels the world has to offer before turning to you straight faced and asking if you want to stop in to look. Any way this man can think to goof, he will.

And it’s tooooootally a coping mechanism to process the fact that he’s nearly forty and dating a twenty-something and not at all because joking around with you has become one of his basic survival needs

The dynamic ends up helping both of y’all feel special - you have a hot, boisterous, spotlight-stealing pirate captain pampering (and then making a mess of) you while he gets a beautiful, capable, eye-catching young thing looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky

Nothing goes to Buggy’s head more than when you walk into a room full of people, attractive ones especially, and only see him.

He loves anything that makes it obvious to others that you are his, whether that's him draped over you, you draped over him, red stains on the back of your hands, your shoulders, your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, having his jolly roger on your outfit, having you in his hat or coat

This very much extends to him wanting anyone and everyone to overhear you in the bedroom. Everyone should know you're his and he's the only one who can make you feel so good

Don't worry, they'll also get the message that he's yours from all the moaning and praises

He gives you endless pet names but always comes back to “sweet stuff”, “sweets”, “princess”, “star”, “prima donna” (affectionate), “prima donna” (derogatory), and anything preceded by “little” (“little showstopper”, “little tease”, very rarely “little girl” if he feels especially like exerting power over you)

He prides himself on making you feel cared for and safe. Instead of feeling like a chore he has to do because he’s in the ‘older man’ role, he loves the way you preen under his attention and how you happily return the favor.

When in the Cross Guild Era, Buggy started going to all meetings with you by his side then on his thigh. It was a good defensive strategy because the other two seemed more hesitant to throttle him if you were in the way, but lets be real this man is also clingy and loves showing you off too.

At first he found it offensive that Mihawk and Croc were so disbelieving at the sight of you happily perched on your captain’s lap but then it made him the smuggest motherfucker when he would see their eyes trail over you knowing that they can only look and he can touch however he wants. This leads to him pushing until he hit your boundary at leaving very visible marks on you

One time he fucked you stupid right before a meeting so that you wouldn’t think about the bite mark surrounded by red makeup that kept playing peekaboo with your shirt collar (or the red smears between your thighs that showed whenever you shifted your legs)

[writememysticfalls]

Naked | Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: You're craving affection from the cold Elijah. When he asks you to read the names off his naked body, you can't keep your hands off him.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Genre: Suggestive, Shirtless!Elijah, Inspired by S1 Ep 14 when Elijah has the names on his skin.

Word Count: <1k

"Y/n! Come here, quickly." Elijah yanked off his tie and threw it onto the ground.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of delight. It had been too long since you'd heard Elijah call your name.

You rushed into the room. "I'm here, Elijah. How can I help...."

The words died on your lips when you caught sight of him.

Elijah was standing in the centre of the room. He was shirtless, holding his pale blue shirt crumpled in his hands.

You almost felt embarrassed by his nakedness, like you should turn away. But you couldn't tear your eyes from his body.

"The names marked on my flesh represent a riddle, left for me by the witch Celeste." Elijah said, voice cool. "If we figure out what they mean, we can save my siblings."

There was no "hello" or "how are you" with Elijah, even though this was the first time he'd spoken to you in days.

Your eyes traced across Elijah's naked chest. There were names scrawled all over his brown skin. You had never seen beneath the suit that Elijah wore like armour every day. What you saw was more... muscular than you were expecting.

"I need you to write down all the names marked upon me. Hurry, we do not have much time."

You stepped closer. "Why me?"

Elijah clenched his jaw, folding his arms across his chest.

His voice was curt. "I cannot read the names on my back, and I do not trust any of Marcel's imbeciles to do the job properly."

"So that's all I am to you now? One step up from a next-to-nothing daywalker? You almost loved me once." You muttered the last part under your breath, but Elijah's vampire ears caught every word.

Elijah turned to you, looking you straight in the eyes for the first time since you’d entered the room.

"I do not have time to discuss... such matters. Help me now, I implore you."

You sighed. "Fine. Let's crack this code and save some goddamn Originals."

You took Elijah's arm. His skin was surprisingly smooth, like warm butter. You gulped. You couldn't remember the last time you’d been touched.

"Adriana Malory," you whispered, tracing your finger across the cursive inked onto Elijah's forearm.

Inch by inch, you scoured Elijah’s skin, hands caressing every name.

You touched his bicep. "Anita Kaur." The slope of his shoulder. "Maria Nester." Under his collar bone. "Sophie King." Over his ribs. "Sabine Dubois."

Elijah watched silently as you read the names across his chest and back.

"We're nearly done," you said. "There's some left on your..." Your voice faltered. You gazed at the thick, taut muscles of his abdomen.

Half hidden by the belt of Elijah's trousers, one name was nestled amongst the dark coarse hair at the base of his abdomen.

"Just need to get a little closer..." You muttered. You knelt down on your knees in front of Elijah. His heart nearly stopped.

You reached out and touched his stomach, smoothing the hair to read the words.

"Emma... no, Emily..." Your mouth was dry. "I can't read the rest. Your belt..."

Elijah sucked in a breath. "Let's just get this over with." He unbuckled his belt and pulled his boxers down an inch.

You leaned closer.

"Emeliana Kirkcaldy," you said. "That's the last one."

Both you and Elijah exhaled. It was over.

Right now, Elijah was glad you weren’t a vampire. You couldn't hear his heart racing a hundred beats per minute.

"Won't you forgive me, Elijah? I only went through your diaries because I had to.” You looked up at him from your position on the floor. Your eyes, a deep shade of walnut, bore onto his. Tempting him. Taunting him.

Elijah cupped the side of your face. Your eyes slipped shut. You leant your cheek into his warm palm.

He wanted to give in, he wanted to feel your hands all over him, your lips on him. But then he remembered your betrayal, and his mouth filled with venom.

"We're done here." Elijah hissed. He sped across the room at vampire speed and whipped his shirt on.

"Wait," you called. "Take me with you, Elijah. I can help find-"

"You've done enough," he said, walking towards the door.

"Elijah!" You grabbed onto Elijah's arm and yanked him back with all your strength.

Elijah turned, staring at your hand on his arm. He couldn't help but be a little impressed that this young girl had the courage to take on an Original.

"How long are we going to be walking on eggshells around each other?" You yelled. "I've said I'm sorry! You're my only friend in this... prison that I'm forced to live in. Please, I can't bear you angry at me. I won't have it!"

You were panting, brown cheeks glowing with life. Your dark hair whipped wildly round your angular face.

Elijah sighed. "I am not angry at you."

You scoffed. "Tell that to your face."

Elijah smiled. He reached forwards and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Y/n… I owe it to my siblings to give them my undivided attention. If I allow myself to think, even for a second about... us." His words were strangled, barely above whisper. "No. I cannot."

Before you could say anything, Elijah stepped back, shrugging on his Armani suit jacket.

"Do not leave the Quarter, Y/n. It is not safe for a human.”

He sped off, too quick for your eyes to even process. Tears pricked at your eyes.

Elijah's indifference was worse than his disappointment. Something had to change.

​—

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[lumiolivier]

Feel Better, Sweetheart

Series: One Piece

Chapter: One Shot

Word Count: 2296

Rating: T

Pairing(s): Law x Reader (YN)

You're not feeling too hot...It's a good thing the doctor's cute...but he's also mean. And means well.

“YN?” You knew right then and there.  That gentle, yet viciously biting voice floating through the air that could warm and chill all the same.  You were screwed.  You were hard at work, finishing up some paperwork for the Polar Tang.  Just some logistical things.  Mostly the grocery list for the next time you were at port.  But that was the funny thing…

You were supposed to be in bed already.  You were supposed to have those blankets pulled up to your chin while you slept on your stomach as ordered.  Instead, you were still hard at work.  Despite your violent chills that froze you to the bone, hoarse cough that rattled both your chest and the entire ship every time it came out, and thousand pound head that was just about to the point where it distorted your vision.  You could hardly see straight and yet, you pressed on with all of your regular administrative duties.  Even though it went against both doctor’s and captain’s orders…And you were about to reap what you’ve sown.

“Captain…” You sat up to the best of your ability.  Although it felt like someone was twisting your spine as hard as they could.  You knew mistakes were made.  And you were about to get viciously rammed for them.

“What are you doing in here?” Law asked, leaning against the doorway, his steely gaze glaring you down.  Oh, yeah.  You’re definitely screwed.

“I…” You could hardly speak.  Your voice was shot.  Violent coughing fits did that to you, “I was working on…”

“You were working?” Oh, yeah.  You’re absolutely screwed.  And a pissed off Trafalgar Law was not something you wished on your worst enemies…Well, maybe a few.  But like this?  Oh, no.

“It still needs to get done, Law,” you rolled your eyes.  Although, you immediately regretted it.  You could’ve easily thrown up right then and there.  But you held it back.  Not in front of Law.  You knew the kind of disaster that would breed.

“You do know,” Law moved closer to you.  Granted, under any other circumstances, with that same fire in his eyes, you’d be sweating.  And in a much better way than you sweating out a fever, “I have Penguin and Shachi down here, right?  That they’ve been more than capable of picking up your slack, right?  That you’re supposed to be in bed when you’re this sick, right?  Not just because you need the rest, but so you’re not infecting the rest of the ship, right?”

“I know.” But…Did you?  Did you really?  Of course not.  You were a vicious workaholic and Law knew that the day he brought you onto the Polar Tang.  And yet…You come down with something and all of a sudden, he seems to forget that, “But…!”

“No.”

“Law…”

“Don’t you Law me,” Law groaned, “Go.  Bed.  Now.”

“Fine,” you caved, “But let me finish up with-”

“YN…” Law held his face in his hands.  He knew he’d have to do it the hard way.  Whether you liked it or not, “You’re not finishing anything.  You’re going to go to bed.  I’m going to have Bepo watching the door, so I don’t have to worry about you.”

“Law…”

“No,” Law didn’t even think twice.  He scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder.  It was like carrying nothing for him and yet, he carried his everything.

“Law!” You flailed, kicking yourself into another coughing fit.  And you fell limp in his arm.

“You were saying?” You hated when Law got smug.  When you could hear the I told you so in his voice.  When you wanted to lock him in a room in the Polar Tang all by himself and tell him to open a window.  But you knew he meant well.  He always meant well when it came to you.  Especially when you were as sick as you were.

“I told you,” you could finally catch your breath again.  And Law paraded you down the hall to your room, “I still have, cough, cough, shit to do.”

“And I told you.” Or so you thought he was bringing you to your room.  Instead, he went down a few more doors and into his own room, “You need the rest, YN.  You know I wouldn’t be doing this unless you had me worried.  And right now, you do.  There’s a reason why I was keeping you from work.  You don’t need to be wasting your energy on us right now.  You need to get better.  And you’re not going to do that with your face buried in paperwork.  Do you understand?”

You hated when Law babied you.  When he treated you like you were made out of sugar.  You were more than capable of getting better and getting your work done.  But in your defense, you were also getting worse as the days went by and Law had to manhandle you onto his bed.  When he got you tucked in, you started to see his perspective much clearer, “Yes, Captain.”

“Hey,” Law sat at the edge of his bed and pulled you into his lap, “No need to be so formal, sweetheart.  It’s just you and me.  And I know this shit’s rough, but you’ll get over it.  And when you do, we’ll all be waiting for you.  But we also deserve you at your best.  Got it?”

“Fine,” you fell limp in Law’s bed and nuzzled into his thigh, “Hey, Law?”

“Hmm?” Law pushed your hair out of your face, “What do you need?”

“I, uh…” you bit your lip, knowing the further ass reaming you were about to get, “I’m a little hungry.  Do you think you could get me something to eat?”

“I’m just glad your appetite’s coming back,” Law kissed your forehead, “Of course.  Tell you what.  I’ll even make it myself if I have…Hold on.”

And there it was.  There was the sudden realization that would make Law want to kill you even more.  You braced yourself for impact, “What?”

“YN…” Law sighed out, “Have you eaten anything today?”

“You said it yourself, Law,” you threw it back in his face, hoping that could serve as your armor, “My appetite’s been in and out since I’ve been sick.  Cut me some-”

“No.” Law refused to give you any slack.  But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy you were eating again, “Stay here.  If you even so much as move, I will know.  I’ll be right back.  This shouldn’t take long to make.  Ok?”

“Ok.” Not that you really had the energy to move anyway.  You were too wrecked to fight him anymore.  And the warmth in his bed was quite lovely…and it smelled nice, too.  Like sandalwood and leather.  With just a little bit of sea air.  You weren’t complaining.  However, you thought about taking a nap.  Until another coughing fit got to you.  And it rattled your chest like some manner of creature wanted to get out.  You’d be more than happy to let it out if you knew how.

“YN,” Law came in with a bowl in his hand and sat at the edge of his bed.  He put it down on the nightstand and helped you sit up a bit better.  Although, you still wanted to go to sleep.  For just a while. 

“Mmm…” you laid your head on Law’s thigh and shut your eyes.

“No, no,” Law nudged you up to his chest, “I just made you something to eat.  You’ve hardly eaten anything in days.  You’re eating.”

“Mmm…” Your stubbornness would put Law into an early grave.  But in your defense, you were sick.  You were already miserable.  Anything you could do to make yourself comfortable at this point, you were going to do it.  It was Law’s fault for taking you away from your desk.  You were perfectly fine…ish. 

“No,” Law grabbed the spoon out of your bowl and held it up to your mouth, “Eat, YN.”

Lazily, you wrapped your lips around the spoon and finally started eating.  Although, you weren’t expecting it to taste so good.  And a little spicy.  Not that you were mad about it, “What is that?”

“Cora-san called it a medicine ball,” Law sat you up a little more and continued to feed you, “When I’d get sick as a kid like you are now, he’d always get nervous.  So, the least he could do was feed me and keep me from starving to death.  But back when he was still with the Marines, half his platoon ended up coming down with the flu.  There was one who was visiting their base that week.  She made this for everyone.  They were down in the morning.  She fed them.  They were all good to go by the next morning.  And it worked for me when I was younger, too, so I don’t see why it wouldn’t work for you, too.”

It always warmed your heart to hear Law talk about Corazon.  But it broke you all the same that you’d never get to meet him, “What was her name?”

“I don’t remember,” Law thought back, “Belle…?  Bella…?  Something like that.  Rumor has it, she ended up lost at sea.  Cora-san said she was a nice lady.  Wouldn’t surprise me if there was a little something, something between them at some point.  That wasn’t the last time he talked about her.  The man had his moments when he was a hopeless romantic.  It’s weird to think about in hindsight, but whatever made him happy, I guess.”

“Actually…” You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but having Law spoon feeding you was doing something to your heart and soul.  You weren’t sure if it was the deep nostalgic connection or if it was something else.  The thought of being taken care of.  The thought of being up on that pedestal.  The thought of still being asleep at your desk and waking up just enough to realize you were being carried in Law’s arms, but asleep enough to stay that way.  Regardless of the psychological aspect of it, you were fighting back a smile with everything you had, “This is really good, Law.  I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” he spooned another bite of soup into your mouth and cradled your cheek in his palm, “I wish we had some bread, too.  Not that this won’t give you everything you need, but something more substantial in your stomach would be nice, too.”

“I’ll make some when I get better.”

“But,” Law put the bowl on the nightstand, “You need to get better first.  And you can’t do that if you’re busting your ass at your desk.  I’d rather not have to peel you off your chair again.  Or worse, from off the floor.  I don’t need you passing out on me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry…” You winced a bit as a jolt of pain ran through your head.

“No need for apologies now,” Law settled you, making sure you were covered up.  He checked you quickly for a fever.  The back of his hand on your forehead felt phenomenal, “Your fever’s still a little too high for my liking.  I’m going to go get you some medicine and then, I’ll let you get some sleep.  When was the last time you got a full, continuous eight hours?”

“Uh…” In all honesty, you couldn’t think of the last time you got decent sleep.  That may have attributed to your current predicament.  But you knew telling Law would just result in a verbal spanking and you didn’t have the lecture in you today, “I’m not entirely sure.  I’ve been sleeping, though!  Does that count for something?”

“More than it should,” Law knew better.  He knew your sleeping habits were…less than stellar.  And he’s tried.  Bless him, he’s tried to do everything in his power to try and get you on a normal sleeping schedule, but it’s only led to you spending more nights on watch duty than anything else, “Some sleep is better than no sleep, I suppose.  But you are going to sleep tonight.  I will make sure of it.”

“And how do you propose you’ll do that, Dr. Trafalgar?” you taunted him, knowing your body didn’t allow you much for sleep anyway, “Are you going to put me in a coma?”

“Why would I put you in a coma?” Law chuckled under his breath, “You forget where you are.  You’re in my bed.  And I know for a fact that if there’s anywhere on the entire ship you can sleep and sleep hard, it’s right here.  Once I give you your last dose of medicine for the night, I’ll risk myself getting sick for you getting a decent night’s sleep.  I will gladly share my bed with you.”

Although the sentiment was touching, you knew the real reason he was staying with you, “You just want to make sure I stay in bed like you told me to, don’t you?”

“I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t an ulterior motive,” Law confessed, already pulling you into his arms, “But I also can’t be too mad at this either.  I miss you, YN.  Sure, I’ve been taking care of you for the last couple days, but I miss you.  There’s a big difference between having you as my patient and having you as my girlfriend.  And I miss the latter.”

Law didn’t get sentimental often.  But hearing him pour his heart out…at least as much as Law could…melted you inside.  You laid your head in his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart, and you shut your eyes, “Ok.  Stay with me.”

“That’s the plan,” Law kissed the top of your head and pulled your blankets over you, “Good night, YN.  I love you…Feel better, sweetheart…”

[reve-writes]

—fixer upper. | alice in borderland chishiya shuntarō x reader.

you were shot. he helped you not bleed out to death. | set in s2 beginning of king of spades.

CHISHIYA WAS CUNNING AND SELF-PRESERVING. While it would've slightly hurt your feelings if he had left you, it would be very much in-character of him.

He cussed when the first spray of bullets was fired, finding cover. You cussed seconds later, leaning against a pillar, your hand hovering over a fresh bullet wound just above your hip bone.

"Fuck," you repeatedly said, trying to stay calm despite the adrenaline pumping through you. You needed to think of the different ways you could get to safety, away from the gun-crazed maniac.

"Can you move?" Chishiya asked, noticing the blooming blood on your jacket.

You closed your eyes, the pain was starting to sink in. "You go. I'll wait for the shooter to walk past and make a run for it."

He said nothing and for a terrible second, you thought you were actually alone. Having been in the Beach for quite a while, you weren't used to isolation. Your eyes shot open when you felt someone grab your hand.

"Can you walk?" He asked again, slinging your arm over his shoulders.

You stare at him blankly for a second. He asked again, with an annoyed click of his tongue. "Can you walk or not?"

"I can try," you answered, hobbling along the sidewalk with the silver-haired man. You hissed and cursed every time he pulled or pushed you swiftly to take cover.

"You're regretting it, huh? Should've left me," you teased, watching him as he frowned with effort.

"Stop talking and move faster."

Finally, he ducked under an apothecary, pulling you inside with him, waddling as far away from the doors and windows as possible. You hid behind the cash register counter while gunshots rang over and over again outside. Until, eventually the sound got quieter and disappeared.

Chishiya peeked over the counter. Still quiet. He gingerly stood up and walked quietly over around the counter.

"I have the shittiest luck," you complained. "Can't even die from the shot. Now I have to sit here and bleed to death in pain."

"On the contrary, I think your luck is keeping you alive," he replied, shuffling about between the shelves.

You shrugged, not that Chishiya could see it. "Maybe I'm lucky to be stuck with you then."

It was silent for a second and two and five.

"Are you—"

You interrupted him, "Because you're a med student! I didn't mean to make it weird."

"You remembered," he said, putting a handful of supplies next to you. Gauze, anesthetic, antiseptics. Sat facing you, Chishiya put on a pair of latex gloves.

"Take off your jacket."

"Huh?"

Still as expressionless as ever, he tugged on the bottom hem of your jacket. "Off."

You slid down the zipper awkwardly. Chishiya was completely professional while dressing your wound. You were staring at him, shamelessly, as his blood-slicked hand pressed against your torso.

Were his lashes always this long?

Chishiya knew he should have left you. Your plan most likely would have worked, assuming the shooter was trying to rack up as many victims as they could, you would've been safe hiding until they walked past.

However, seeing the blood slicking your clothes, he could feel himself tensing. He couldn't leave this to a probability. A dozen different scenarios went through his head—all of them with you, dead. At that moment, his caution was thrown in the wind. You couldn't die. Not there, not then.

He was so used to having you around him that the thought of you dying never really crossed his mind. Would he simply go on? Would he grieve? He didn't want to dwell on the thought. This was the one thing he didn't mind not knowing—what he would do after you.

"You'll be fine," Chishiya said finally, security the bandage around your torso. "Rest up."

"I'm fine now," you said stubbornly. You tried to push yourself off of the ground, but the room spun around you. You fell, lying down on the floor with your hand on your eyes, groaning.

"You lost a lot of blood. Get some rest."

When you woke up much later, there were a fresh, clean jacket, a bottle of water, and a couple cans of food by your side.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

[ ]

[arafilez]

੭୧ ⼂ BOO ... AND A KISS ﹗

ー☆ㅤㅤ [ kgv x fem!reader ] ㅤ੭𓂃 ㅤfluff 𓏧 should have told your boyfriend you hate horror movies. now you are stuck in between a horror movie and his scary comfort ㅤㅤ warnings kissing crying ㅤ﹢ㅤ1.0k wc ㅤ𓏧ㅤ req

You are fucked. This is your first reaction as you enter the ZeroBaseOne dorm and see the bowl of popcorn and a blanket on the couch. The dorm is quiet, as the other members have left for their work except Taerae and his girlfriend and the latter is staring at you from the kitchen.

You nod and she points towards a room indicating where Gyuvin and Taerae are, before walking towards you, clearly worried, making you sigh. “I will be fine,” you say with negligible surety in your tone and she shrugs, “I told you twenty-one times the whole week just to tell him the truth. That’s three times per day!”

Now, you love your friend, you really do, but sometimes you just want to punch her so hard that she forgets the time she met you in high school. You glare at her and grit out, “And I replied twenty-one times that I can’t do that, he has been excited about this.” She deadpans in your direction and you grimace.

“Plus, I am older now, it probably won’t be that scary. I can’t let him down for a stupid fear that only children have,” you mumble and she shrugs saying, “Whatever lets you sleep at night.” Her words quieten down as Taerae and Gyuvin come towards you both and you grin nervously at your boyfriend who takes you in a bone-crushing hug.

“Have fun you two,” Taerae calls out before the two leave making you take a deep breath. You can do this!

Gyuvin is so excited that he is jumping up and down, only stopping to peck your lips making you giggle at the sweet gesture. Momentarily you get lost as he holds you in his arms and kisses your lips lightly. You kiss back and enjoy the warmth and love from him as your lips move in a light haze.

“I am so excited for tonight, especially since you agreed,” Gyuvin says as soon as you break the kiss, making the melodious record in your head screech to a halt.

“Right yeah,” you grin and do finger guns clicking your tongue before your mind yells “too much” and you stop. Gyuvin eyes you once weirdly before shaking it away and sitting down on the couch. You sigh lightly before plopping down on the couch beside him and he wraps his arms around your shoulder.

You take in his warmth and the scent he has on and get comfortable. Maybe you won’t even get scared, maybe cuddling with him will make your fears dissolve.

Oh, you absolutely cannot do this! You went through Conjuring fine if fine means albeit screaming at every jump-scare so much that Gyuvin had to skip the second and third parts.

“Sweetheart, let’s stop, why don’t we?” he suggests as you crouch impossibly closer to him and say, “No, I am fine.” Gyuvin deadpans at you making you slightly slap his chest and he shrugs.

“Sure, fine is what I would word it as. You are screaming so much, the neighbours are gonna think I am murdering you,” he replies snorting as you hit him again and push yourself away from him, scowling.

“Okay, let’s start the movie,” he gaslights and you scream “no”, jumping over to him as he easily catches you replying, “That’s what I thought.” You roll your eyes at his smug face but realise your breathing has calmed down a lot. Maybe you can go through the rest now.

“Are you sure you still want to see?” lace concerns his voice as he nuzzles his nose on your head and you hum lightly. You can do this! These are just movies.

Oh how wrong you were for the third time that night because Annabelle creation was a thousand times worse than Annabelle. Why the hell did they make a movie about the creation of a fucking demon doll?

Gyuvin was secretly enjoying holding you close, which is most of the reason he played Conjuring fully but now his heart hurts seeing your state. You scream once more at the stupid doll and bury your head in his neck clutching the shirt he is wearing. Light tears build up in your eyes and you quickly blink back and your breath becomes heavier with every creek of a door you can hear from the movie.

He pauses the movie as soon as he feels a dampness on his collar and closes it. Your head is still buried in his neck, light sniffles rocking through your body and you grimace for the teasing that is about to come. You stay in shock as he lightly threads his hand through your hair, tidying the messy strands.

His hold strengthens along your waist and he hums lightly when he feels you turning your head lightly towards him. “I can do this, huh? I told you let’s stop, I don’t like seeing you like this,’ his voice is a soft murmur as he dabs his palm under your eyes to dry the tears.

You stay quiet, looking at him with glossy eyes and finally speak up, “I thought I would be fine.” Gyuvin grimaces a little before wiping over the remains of the tears under your eyes.

He kisses your forehead, lightly trailing his lips down to your eyes as they flutter close from the contact, press one on your nose and before you can act on instinct his nose brushes along yours and his lips encase into your own. He holds one of your hands, intertwining the fingers while you clutch his shirt lightly.

He giggles lightly when he pulls away finding you chasing that feeling, making you giggle too before a comfortable silence falls over the room.

Well, comfortable silence is overrated to Gyuvin as he says, “How about we play a game? Whenever a scary scene comes, we kiss?” You raise your eyebrow at the innuendo, as he flashes his signature cheeky grin making you laugh. “Sure, okay,” you shrug nonchalantly even if your ears were burning at the mere thought of it.

Needless to say, you didn’t get scared anymore, not that you saw any of it!

ー☆ㅤㅤ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ੭𓂃 ㅤtysm 🥭 anon for requesting this, i know this is worse than you thought i am so so sorry my mango ㅤ𓏧ㅤ libraryㅤ zb1 shelfㅤ navi

੭ 𝅄ㅤ ꒰ TAGLIST ꒱ ㅤ⏤ㅤ @orikiys @sxmmerberries ㅤ𓏧ㅤ fill this or comment or ask to be added

ㅤㅤ(ㅤㅤ© arafilez on tumblrㅤㅤ)

[brineoffire]

Part 2 of The Right Price!

Riled Up

You had none. Zero. Absolutely no idea how you got here. Laswell introduced you again to them man you saved. The Captain. You saved. You babble on about how it was a fluke, how it was absolutely dumb luck but there's no insisting with Price. There's no damn way a rookie could take out four hostiles on his own on luck alone. He knows it and you sure as hell better start focusing on it because you CAN NOT turn down the pay raise.

You'd definitely never planned to be flying with a Captain to join his task force. And you definitely didn't plan to have the shit scared out of you by the huge Lieutenant waiting at the helipad to meet the two of you when you touched down. The guy was huge! He saw a little over eye to eye with Price and damn if you didn't stare at that skull mask a little too long. It wasn't your fault. Tall, dark, and secretive was everyone's thing. That's what you tell yourself when you realize the guy, Ghost, is eyeing you suspiciously.

"Easy there Ghost. New recruit."

"H-howdy, good to meet you sir. Roland Haven, sir." You stumble over your own words as he stands there unamused, your hand out awkwardly before you give up and let it fall to your side. You suck in an embarrassed puff of air through your teeth.

"Don't take it personal, kid." Is all Price gives you as he claps you on the shoulder, pulling you forward with him past Ghost and into the base. You still feel his eyes burning into your spine but you don't let yourself look back again and focus on the direction your pushed in. You get shown to a small barren room, a simple bed, dresser, desk, and chair as Price nods you in.

"This'll be your room from now on lad. Get cozy, proper intros start in thirty." Giving him a nod he heads off as you set your small bag on the bed. You didn't have much with you but you do take a little time to throw your clothes in the dresser and drop your laptop and headphones on the desk. A deep sigh leaves your lips as you look around again and wonder how you got yourself this fucking deep. It doesn't really matter how anymore though, you definitely need the money, and you're not one to turn down a fast track past dealing with other shitty recruits like in your last two teams.

Before long you find yourself heading down the hall following after where Price went to the meeting room. You didn't have anything else to do so heading here ten minutes early was fine by you. Looking around the room you make a note of the layout, wandering around and glancing at maps and a few images of what you can guess is the entirety of the 141. Your skin nearly falls off your bones when you hear a gruff voice call out loud and clear somewhere behind you and you thank your horror game conditioning for keeping you from physically flinching.

"Someone's early ay?" You glance over your shoulder towards the opposite side of the room and notice Ghost once again. He stands by the back wall, arms crossed over his chest, the sockets of the skull baklava on his face look empty with how dark that end of the room is. There's a chill that runs up your spine as you turn to give him a salute, unsure of how to proceed.

"Uh. Yes sir. Wasn't really sure what else ta do." He stares at you as he steps forward, you can see the glint of the lights on his eyes now at least. Makes him look less like death but it means he's that much closer to you. Out of the frying pan you think to yourself. He stares for a long while before nodding and moving to lean on the large rectangular table.

"Right well now you wait with me then." He gestures a hand over to one of the seats opposite him and you hesitate before you get yourself stepping towards it.

"So, uh. Ghost huh? How'd you get that name?" His eyes narrow at you as you sit and you can't help but swallow air.

"Listen 'ere recruit. I ain't in the mood to lead a green'orn around 'ere, an' I sure as shite ain't gun'na let you get anyone on this team killed. You best keep up or you will be lef' behind." Another gulp as his dark eyes bore into yours. You raise your hands in a mock surrender as you nod.

"Understood sir. I ain't looking to ruffle any feathers." He scoffs but doesn't add anything else to his rant so you lower your hands to your lap and sit in a silence so loud you feel like your breath is annoying him. You know better then to piss off a giant you couldn't even hear so you keep any snark behind your lips, rare for you to keep quiet but Ghost didn't know that yet. It's a long ten minutes before you hear footfalls getting closer to the room, time to meet the team.

[vodika-vibes]

Miscommunication pt 2

Summary: You finally get the date that Commander Wolffe promised you.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Reader

Word Count: 1692

Warnings: None

Songs: None

A/N: I saw a bunch of people asking for how the date went, and this is what I came up with. Also, how does one end short stories? I always feel like I need to write more, lol.

Divider by saradika

“So, let me see if I understand you correctly. Your Commander is planning on taking you on a date, in spite of the fact that he’s had a whole one conversation with you?” Your older sister asks over the com.

“You know, when you say it like that, it doesn’t sound like the best idea.” You grumble, “And we’ve talked more than just the one conversation.”

“Look, I get that the clones are fine, girl, but-oh, hold on,” Your sister turns away from the com, “Conner James! You might survive jumping off the railing, but you will not survive me!” She glares at someone off screen for a moment, and then turns her gaze back to you, “Where was I? Oh, yeah. I get that you’re lonely, but you can probably do better than someone who couldn’t talk to you.”

“It’s not like that. He was just a little shy. I can understand that.” You reply. “And I’m not lonely. I am literally surrounded by people all the time.”

Your sister sighs, “Look, I’m just worried about you. You’re my baby sister and, well, you don’t exactly have the best taste in men.”

“Not a baby, and also rude.”

“First of all, you’re always going to be a baby. Second of all, your last boyfriend cheated on you with your best friend.”

“Ex-best friend, and also that’s on him, not me.”

Your sister sighs again, “Just…be careful, yeah? I hate seeing you get hurt.” There’s a loud thump and a cry of pain, and she closes her eyes, “Now, I have to go and make sure my son didn’t just break every bone in his body…and then ground him until he’s grey.”

“You know you signed up for this when you married a trapeze-”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’ll talk to you later.” The com cut out before you could reply, and you lean back in your chair.

You suppose your sister does have reason to be concerned. After all, the last she knew, Commander Wolffe wouldn’t even look at you. But things are different now. 

Since his injury he’s been much more open with you.

When you’re on the Triumphant, he makes time to visit and talk to you daily. Even if that means that he’s eating a meal in your office while you process paperwork. 

You’ve come to cherish him as a dear friend, and more. Though, in spite of his claim of wooing you, he’s been nothing but respectful. The only hint that he might desire something more than friendship from you comes from the way his fingers linger on your arm or hand or shoulder.

It is infuriating, to put it mildly.

Everytime his fingers linge on your skin, it feels like electricity zips through your body. And he knows it.

Yes, he has an important job. And yes, he doesn’t have a lot of free time. But would it kill him for one kiss? Just a little one?

You release a sigh and pick up your com, absently tossing it from one hand to the other. You’ve been back on Coruscant for a whole week now, and Wolffe still hasn’t come through with his date.

You’re beginning to worry that he forgot. 

You set your com back on your desk, and eye your datapad critically. You have so much work that you need to do before the next deployment. Not to mention, the men in the Wolfpack need their physicals, which is on you to schedule, and you need to catch General Koon for his physical, and yearly inoculations need to be given-

You’re about to grab your datapad to start on all of that, when the doorbell chimes.

You frown and get up. You aren’t expecting any visitors. At least you don’t think you are. You open the door, and a bright smile crosses your face when you see who’s standing on the other side.

“Commander,” You lean against the door frame and fold your arms, “I didn’t know you knew where I live.”

“It’s in your file,” He has a small smile on his face and his mismatched eyes scan you, something you notice that he does whenever he’s in close proximity with you. “Which the General shared with me.” He pauses and his gaze meets yours, and then he lifts one of his hands, “I bring food.”

The scent of something delicious reaches you, and you suddenly remember that you’ve not eaten since lunch the day before.

“And I’m guessing you’ve not eaten since yesterday.” Wolffe continues with a knowing, and slightly exasperated, look on his face.

You laugh sheepishly, and move out of the way, allowing him into your home, “Well…I ate a late lunch yesterday and I wasn’t hungry for dinner.” You try to explain as you take the bags from him and move into the kitchen.

Wolffe follows you once he sets his boots on the shoe rack, “And why didn’t you eat breakfast?”

“Breakfast is for losers.” You reply as you pull plates and cups out of the cabinet. 

“If I said that to you, you’d be reading me the riot act.” Wolffe points out as he starts to pull containers out of the bags, “I got some of the pasta you prefer, with garlic bread.”

“Ooh, you know how to spoil a girl,”

“Well, apparently the way to a woman’s heart is through carbs and cheese,” Wolffe counters very dryly, and you start laughing, which puts a small grin on his face.

“Well,” You say, through your giggles, “You’re not wrong.” You favor him with a bright smile, “There’s drinks in the fridge. You can grab whatever you like.”

He watches you for a moment, something soft and fond crossing his face as you move around the kitchen, and then he walks over to the fridge and grabs two of the sodas in the door. 

Wolffe sets them on the table and starts divvying out the food on the plates you set on the table.

“It smells delicious, Wolffe. Thank you!” You look up at him, in delight, as you slide into your seat.

“You’re welcome,” He replies as he settles into the other chair. He’s quiet for a moment, and then he leans back, “I owe you an apology, mesh’la.”

“For what?” You ask.

“I promised to woo you,” Wolffe says slowly, “Unfortunately, that’s not something that was covered in my training.”

You smile at him, slow and warm, “Wolffe,” You say so gently, “You came to my apartment with my favorite food. This is perfect.”

“You deserve more,” He replies.

“Maybe, maybe not.” You shrug easily, “I like you, Wolffe. Not grand presentations. I’d like you just as much if you showed up with fast food from the place down the street.”

Wolffe is quiet for a long moment, and then he favors you with a warm and soft smile, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Well, I was selected to be the medic for the Wolfpack,” You joke.

“Most people wouldn’t think of that as a good thing,”

“I get to spend my days with you, what’s not to like?” A barely noticeable blush crosses Wolffe’s face, and you feel a surge of glee. Before you drop the conversation in favor of the food that Wolffe brought you.

Later, once the meal is finished, and you finished cleaning up, which Wolffe insisted on helping with, you’re tucked on the couch while Wolffe is looking at the pictures on your walls.

“Your family?” He asks, glancing at you from one of the bigger pictures.

“Mm. My older sister, her husband, and their son.” You reply easily, “They’re on…Dantooine, I believe, this month.”

He hums thoughtfully, “You're close to her,” Wolffe notes.

“Oh, yeah. She’s great. You’d like her, I think. She’s very no-nonsense.” You reply as you stand and walk over to him. 

“If she’s anything like you, I’m sure I will.” Wolffe replies, he glances at you, “I like you after all.”

You duck your head, a faint blush crossing your face, “Well, I like you too. So, I guess that’s fair.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then you feel warm fingers against your cheek, and he lightly taps your chin, tilting your face up to meet his, “Do you like me enough to let me kiss you?” He asks, his voice low.

“Yes!” You blurt embarrassingly quickly, and then you blush bright red, “Um…I mean…”

Wolffe laughs, and leans down, his nose brushing yours, “I’ve kept you waiting then?”

“I’m pretty patient,” You whisper in response.

He doesn’t say anything, just closes the distance between your lips, and slowly, tentatively almost, kisses you. You slide your hands up his chest, and wrap your arms around his neck.

He pulls away just for a moment, just long enough to make sure that you are still okay with this, and then he hooks his arm around your waist and he crashes his lips back against yours in a much more passionate kiss.

His lips are warm and soft and so, so inviting. And you can’t help but moan into the kiss as he pulls you flush against his body.

And when he breaks the kiss you let out a whine, which pulls a quiet, breathless, laugh from him. “You’re so…intoxicating,” He breathes against your lips, “But we need to stop for now.”

You pout at him, but slowly release him, and instead you rest your hands on his chest. He keeps you flush against him, his fingers flexing on your hip. “Do you need to leave?” You ask, your voice soft.

“No, I’m on shore leave.” He replies, “but we still need to stop.” His eyes close and he bumps his forehead against yours. “As much as I really, really don’t want to.”

“Well,” You hands slide up his chest and he groans, “If you don’t want to stop, and I don’t want to stop, then we can just not stop.” You point out logically.

He releases another groan, “You’re a terrible influence.” But his grip around your waist tightens, “Be my girlfriend?”

“Yes-” You’re unable to finish your sentence as his lips crash against yours again.

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Ivy | chapter twelve

listen to: Jessie’s girl - Rick Springfield | Un Coco - Bad Bunny(playlist here)

warning: violence, blood.

word count: 1.5k

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fii!!

Carole Bradshaw would have never said that her son had anger issues. She wouldn't admit it. Bradley was sweet as honey and caring as Goose; he was nothing but kind. 

But two things can be true at the same time. 

When Goose was still alive, there wasn't a school report that said otherwise. Bradley always played nice with other kids, Bradley always made friends wherever he went, and Bradley wasn't shy or rude to other people. After Goose passed, though, things started to look less shiny. 

Bradley got into certain fights. Sure, it might be because someone was picking at a smaller kid, and Bradley acted out to defend him. Carole was never mad over that; she fiercely fought teachers and principals that said she should be upset and that Bradley should be sent to therapy. She knew her son. She knew how he truly acted. He was soft with her; he took care of her. He was more mature than any other kid. He wasn't a bully, he didn't have problems, he was fine. 

Then, one day, Bradley broke a kid's nose. He was only ten. 

He didn't mean to. He just got so angry when the kid said that Bradley wasn't allowed to celebrate Father's Day since he didn't have a father. He got to therapy afterward, and even later in life, when his mom passed away, he still went for a little while. He had recently returned after your break-up when he had made a hole in the wall almost as big as your head. 

It was strange, the things he could recall now that he drove over the speed limit to the base. Dozen memories flying by. 

He remembers his mother crying until she falls asleep. He remembers how his father played the piano as he sang. He remembers how your lips tasted the first time you kissed. He remembers his mother stroking his hair as she sobbed silently. He remembers that night in the bar when you walked away after Jake left. He could remember the feeling of his knuckles beating after he broke that kid's nose when he was ten. He remembers your broken moans. He remembers how you cried the night you left him. He remembers the way you laughed with Hangman that day after a dogfight. He remembers how when you disappeared, so did Jake. He recalls the way you were crying in the shower. He remembers how his knuckles beat when he punched the wall next to his face. 

He now could only listen to his heartbeat, the way it was thundering. It was all he heard. He walked passed the hallways of the base without really feeling he was there. It was as if time had gone still around him. Only his breathing and his heartbeat. His memories. He entered the hangar as if he was a ghost. 

And suddenly, he felt like he had taken his first breath as his amber eyes fell on Jake.

It breaks. It suddenly all breaks. Everything with you it's cursed; it is poisoned. There's no way things can be like before because Jake took it away. He took you away from him. Bradley's heart raced, each beat thudding in his chest like a war drum as his feet began to move toward Jake. A torrent of pain overwhelmed him, his veins twisting like a tempest as he walked toward Jake. He knew what he was going to do, not because of a conscious decision -no- but as he felt the tendons of his knuckles straining against the force he exerted on them. 

The weight of his fists, as if the weight of the world, had transferred into his hands. With furrowed brows and eyes burning with intensity, Bradley approached Jake. 

Jake barely had time to register Bradley; neither Coyote nor Payback honestly knew what Bradley was doing; he seemed okay. They didn't quite understand it. How Bradley pulled Jake by his right shoulder, Jake didn't even get it. His brows furrowed quickly before the first blow landed. A jarring crack filled the space between them, reverberating through their bones. The same pain Rooster had felt before shot through his hand, vibrating up his arm. 

Jake fell on the floor, the metallic tang of blood flooding his senses. He held his nose and then gazed back down at it, blood. He barely had time to wipe it off before Rooster was leaning down to continue, but before he could, Payback and Coyote were suddenly trying to hold him. Jake watched Bradley for a moment, the way Bradley's eyes had turned darker, the way his cheeks and neck were red, the sheer hatred in the way he was looking at him.

"HOW FUCKING DARED YOU!?" he screamed at Jake as he struggled with Coyote and Payback. 

He knew. 

Jake could be better and walk out of there, especially now with Phoenix, Bob, and Fanboy entering the room with concerned expressions. But Jake had had enough. He'd longed for you so much time, and he knew that you longed for him too. If you weren't together, it was because of Rooster, because you were still grieving his relationship with him, and he still loved you. If Rooster had stopped thinking that you owed him something, you would've stopped believing that. Jake wouldn't have had to live from moments when he had to steal. 

You could've been together if it weren't for him. 

"You are so blind, aren't you?" Jake chuckled, blood running down his face. Coyote and Payback turned to him wide-eyed, and Rooster stopped moving for a second as he glared at Jake. 

Everything stopped for a moment, the desperate dance of Rooster on Coyote's and Payback's arms. Phoenix, Bob, and Fanboy stared at them, confused. 

"She wasn't happy with you, Bradshaw," Jake breathed out as he sniffled the blood on his nose. "She was happy with me,"

The silence was deafening as it dawned on everyone present in the room what they were both talking about. Jake's sea-foam eyes held Rooster's amber eyes.

And then Rooster slipped away from Coyote's and Payback's hands.  

"You son of a bitch!"

Jake fought back, his fist cracking against Rooster's jaw, carrying all the anger he had held for months, Rooster tried to strike back, but Jake held his wrist as he gave another swing, his knuckles red after he finished. Grunts and groans accompanied the thuds of flesh connecting with flesh, the sound of the people that surrounded them trying to stop them, and the echo of their thuds ricocheting through the hangar. 

In the midst of it, time seemed to slow down. Jake could see the beads of sweat trickling down Rooster's forehead, mingling with the blood of his busted lip. Rooster could feel the blood of Jake in his knuckles, how it tainted them. Jake could remember the first time that he kissed you. Another punch. Rooster could still see those dog tags in his hands. Another swing. Both of them knew better, and yet they continued. The room became a blur of faces, colors, screams, and tugs of people trying to get them away. Pain merged into the chaotic symphony of the hangar. 

And then, Jake almost crashed into the floor. 

It was a split second. Rooster didn't mean it, one final, desperate lunge. He almost managed to collide his intertwined fist against Jake's already bloody nose. Instead, his elbow collided with something else. 

"Fuck!" you cried as you landed on the floor, holding your nose. 

Both men snapped their heads toward you. The adrenaline suddenly began to ebb, leaving behind aching muscles and battered bodies and concern as they watched you on the floor, blood dripping from your jaw as you watched them. Silence enveloped the room as the two men watched you lay there, panting and bruised, the remnants of their anger scattered around them. Blood dripped from their split lips and busted noses, mingling on the concrete floor of the hanger. 

Jake was the first to lean down while Natasha and Fanboy were already helping you stand up. He didn't say anything, though; he just held your face, examining your nose until he was sure it wasn't broken. His eyes met with yours, and you could feel it, the weight of the heartache and shattered dreams. 

Rooster stepped up after Jake gave a step back; Coyote quickly held his friend and walked him towards a chair, leaving the two of you behind. With tears in his eyes, Rooster glanced at your nose. Guilt tighten his throat, anger seething from his eyes. You could feel it. Quickly you shook your head and took his hand. 

"It's not your fault," you whispered to him. "I'm so sorry,"

He didn't manage to say anything. Instead, he looked back at Jake for a moment. They locked eyes, their shared pain etching lines of understanding on their faces. 

And then, Admiral Simpson came in. 

"WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING HERE?

an: sorry for making you wait so long!! I was super sick in June which left me with little energy to do anything if I was honest and all throughout July, I have been working on moving to DC! Thank you so much for waiting! I hope you enjoy this short chapter! Next one is bigger, I promise.

Taglist: @laracrofted @double-j @inky-sun @alanadetigy @teenwolf01 @beebslebobs @materialgirl01 @daisyhollyxox@piceous21@elicheel @supernaturaldawning @midnightdevotion @hangrymama @ashann7 @maverick-wingman @snap-crackle-and-pop-blog @ebonyhogan24 @teddyluvs2sing @happypopcornprincess @untoldshortsofthefandoms @xxshea-barnesxx @sweetheart-im-the-boss @je-suis-prest-rachel @bregarc @imagineteller1 @abaker74 @lilylilyyyyyy @nemtodd-barnes1923 @loveless-simp @fucktthisworld @deliciouslydisturbed365 @laluneveillesesureux @emma8895eb @tandefeaffe @potato-girl99981 @jstarr86 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mirrorball-6 @grxcisxhy-wp @that-one-random-writer @dempy @zbeez-outlet @djs8891

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

@dragonprincedrabbles

Nyx + Corvus, Foreboding

Corvus finds out just enough about Soren's kidnapping experience to be pushed over the edge.

Corvus is quick to dislike a person. Easy to rub him up the wrong way. And this elf had done it from a mile away.

Blue hair and heterochromic, an omnipresent shit-eating grin, and non-stop teasing, jabbing, and overall being infuriating.

Soren knows her, it seems, based on the way his jaw set and brow furrowed when he laid eyes on her across the market they passed through, and especially based on the way he heard her following them from abovehead–because of course the oversized harpy had wings–and used Corvus’s chain to yank her down from the sky. Corvus didn’t think he’d ever seen the other Crownguard so angry, so angsty in the way he stomped off to gather firewood when they made camp that night.

With the Skywing sitting across the fire from him, preening her feathered wings. “Naimi-Selari-Nykantia” had been how she’d introduced herself, tacking on a “But you can call me Nyx” as an afterthought.

Nyx was annoying.

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” she says over the flames, breaking Corvus away from his thoughts.

“How do you know him?” Corvus demands, skipping directly over the small talk.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, too,” she grumbles, but adjusts to turn at least part of her attention and body language to him.

“How?” he repeats, letting his hand drift to his chain. The angry red welts along her ankle suggest she has not forgotten how painful it was, and even less likely to want a repeat. All ration seemed to go out the window when it came to Soren. For Corvus, at least.

She shrugs sheepishly, rolling her shoulders and eyes to the sky. “Er, well… Let’s just say a girl’s got to look out for herself, am I right, eh?”

“Tell me how you know Soren,” Corvus hisses, gripping the handle in an attempt to keep himself in check.

“Oh, we went through a good ol’-fashioned pirate kidnapping together,” Nyx says with feigned cheeriness, a sad attempt at a chuckle. “I gave him some information, he let me go free. The little king, handsome dolt, and idiots in love, er- dealt with their situation themselves.”

Corvus’s blood is suddenly boiling hot, as if his skin doesn’t fit right over his bones. Shock and rage fills crevices of his body he hadn’t known existed prior to this moment. What?

Soren had been kidnapped? Ez, too? And Callum and Rayla, judging by the “idiots in love” bit. And none of them had breathed even a word of it?

That’s fine, it’s their business. Really, Corvus tried to tell himself, getting to his feet.

It didn’t work. Soren had been hurt and in danger, and sure, that’s what Crownguards were trained for, but it didn’t mean he was expected to simply be okay.

“You sold them out?” he says, voice nearing a roar. “You sold him out?!”

“Woah, there. Two batches of idiots in love, my mistake,” she mutters, and Corvus is too angry to be flustered about it. “Listen, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Everyone else there had someone looking out for them. Number One’s the only one who’s gonna look out for Number One. Everyone’s selfish.”

Corvus turns to the woods Soren had disappeared into, everything starting to make sense with each puzzle piece falling into place. “Leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“Leave,” he repeats, digging his jagged, worn fingernails into his palms. “I’m going to look for him, and if you’re here when I get back, I’ll kill you. I swear it.”

“Okay, chill out there, Big Guy,” Nyx starts, and he hears her light footsteps approaching him tentatively but quickly.

As her hand goes for his shoulder, Corvus wheels around and grabs her wrist, getting up close and personal. He lets every bit of anger show on his face. “Look me in the eye and try to call my bluff. Look me in the eye and try to reason with me. I’m not messing around.”

Nyx’s wings flutter nervously, and he lets her snatch her wrist out of his grasp. His skin feels dirty, but not from guilt– from touching this monster who’d let Soren get hurt. “Alright, alright! Message received!”

She takes a few steps backward, and Corvus relishes in how she trips over her bag, and, flustered, scramble to start shoving her things into it. “You, eh, might wanna get some anger issues management help. Friendly word of advice.”

“Get out!” Corvus screams, face hot with anger and eyes pricking with tears, ready to strangle her with his bare hands.

“Okay, okay! I’m leaving!” Nyx shoulders her backpack and only makes it a few feet into the air before reconsidering. She comes back down another bit, hesitant with downcast eyes. “Um, be careful with him. He’s a good man. Savor the people you have to look out for and who look out for you.”

Corvus turns away from her. “I will.”

[wntryoongs]

Why I think "Be Nice To Me" is THE Stucky song

I wrote this because I saw a Captain America edit with this song and thought “wow. This kinda gay”

This is me basically analyzing every lyric of the song and relating them to Stucky. Lol

DNR if you can't handle spoilers.

CA- Captain America

First movie- CA: The First Avenger

Second movie- CA: The Winter Soldier

Third movie- CA:Civil War

TFATWS- The Falcon And The Winter Soldier

Steve- Steve Rogers, Captain America

Bucky- James Barnes, The Winter Soldier

The Captain America Edit

A playlist I made for them cuz I’m extra

(I wrote this in under two hours; Apologies in advance if you think it’s messy.)

I got boulders on my shoulders 

Collar bones begin to crack

—Boulders on my shoulders symbolize pressure. This applies to both Steve, who feels the weight of being Captain America, and Bucky, who feels the pressure of being Russia's lethal weapon. Steve was pressured into choosing between saving his best friend or playing by the rules as Captain America. Or in other words, he must choose between his duties as a hero, or his personal loyalties. Meanwhile, Bucky carries the burden of the actions he was forced to do as The Winter Soldier. The relentless torment and psychological effects from his past pressure him further. This pressure impacts his identity and his efforts to forget who he was and what he did.

(TLDR; Steve and Bucky face lots of pressure from their personas as Captain America and The Winter Soldier, while also dealing with personal pressures they have as normal human beings.)

There is very little left of me and it's never coming back 

There are certain things you ask of me

There are certain things I lack 

—The line "very little left of me", relates to Bucky's struggle with his fragmented identity. His memories are wiped and he is still, having trouble remembering all of them. "There are certain things you ask of me" refers to Steve begging Bucky to remember him even though he can't. The line can also be related to Steve's question in the first CA movie, which is "Are you ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”.

The beginning, we were winning

Now we're just making a fact

—"We were winning" relates to Steve and Bucky's adventure in the first CA movie where they were still winning against their opponents and had each other.

What's it matter anymore?

You believe the lies I tell

There's no meaning to words

But we still sing these songs well

—Despite the betrayals, missteps, and moments of deception, they manage to forgive one another. Steve and Bucky’s whole relationship is built on trust and loyalty that they forged with their bittersweet experiences together. From having each other’s backs in the battlefield, to defending the other from their own teammates (AKA my fave CA movie, CA: Civil War :]).

And we all left it alone

I'm sure it will work itself out fine

They are playing with your numbers

And we are running out of time

—If they didn't meddle in the war, they wouldn't be in the mess they're in. "We are running out of time" can mean two things. One: when they were on the run from the government AND the Avengers (context: Steve became a fugitive in order to protect Bucky. [this fr the same man who left him for a girl...]),they didn't have time to reconnect or reminisce with each other. Their lives were consumed by the necessity of survival. Two: When Bucky blipped right after Steve had just gotten him back, and then when Bucky returned, Steve left again (voluntarily!) for a life that wasn't his, with another version of a woman he used to love (note: version, as in he went to another universe/timeline). After everything they've been through, they never really had the chance to be alone. Their lives were focused on war after war, fight after fight, but no matter what, they never left each other's side.

(TLDR; They never had the time to talk and be with each other because they are always too busy running for their lives and saving one another.)

You're a killer and I'm your best friend

I think it's unfair, your situation

—"killer"= Bucky, best friend= Steve. It was no secret to anyone who's watching that Steve felt guilty and blamed himself for what happened to Bucky.  Despite Bucky's actions being beyond his control, Steve struggles with the weight of Bucky’s suffering and the role he believes he played in it. He views Bucky not as the killer he was forced to become but as the friend he grew up with. Steve’s biased belief in Bucky is that he is and will always be innocent, no matter what. This is why he would protect Bucky until the end, even if it means being considered a war criminal.

You say I'm changing,

Sorry I didn't know I had to stay the same

Can we talk about this later?

Your voice is driving me insane

—the first two lines refer to the second CA movie, where Steve saw Bucky for the first time again after his apparent death. At that time, Bucky was still The Winter Soldier and didn't recognize Steve, which is why he had "changed" and "didn't stay the same." The last two lines refer to the third CA movie when Steve finally captures Bucky, hoping to get answers and help prove his innocence. However, Bucky was still on the run, and the Winter Soldier programming was still affecting him. He was dealing with trauma as well, making it hard for him to talk.

(TLDR; Bucky is going insane cuz of stress and Steve's pleas are just making things worse.)

I try to write you poems, but the words they don't make sense

The hand tries to grip the pencil, but the fingers are too tense

—This line is Steve talking, if you replace "poems" with drawings. There's a specific scene from the second CA movie where Steve is trying to sketch a building but he can't focus because he keeps thinking of Bucky. There's even a zoom-in on his hand where you can see him gripping his pencil too hard.

I try to show emotion, but my eyes won't seem to wet

I'd love to tell you stories, but I can't remember how they went

—This line is Bucky talking. After being a killing machine for more than a decade, his memories are still fragmented and his emotions are suppressed. In their fight scene in the second CA movie, Steve keeps asking Bucky to remember him. Steve even says their famous line, "I'm with you, till the end of the line." while Bucky is actively trying to kill him. This manages to unlock a memory for Bucky. In the third CA movie, when Steve begs Bucky to remember what happened while he was The Winter Soldier, Bucky still cannot remember. No matter how much Bucky tries and wants to help, he simply cannot with his memories missing.

(TLDR; first line is Bucky in the second CA movie. The second line is Bucky in the third CA movie.)

You're a flashlight in a dark room or the loneliest black out

You were all we had left after it all was filtered out

—The first line is Bucky talking about Steve. Bucky has always felt that Steve was the guiding light in his life, pulling him out of the darkest moments. In the series TFATWS, Bucky says "And if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me." Here, "he" refers to Steve. Bucky thinks he doesn't deserve forgiveness, yet Steve tirelessly tries to prove to him that he does, again and again.The second line is Steve talking about Bucky. Steve feels that he owes his life to Bucky after the countless times Bucky took care of him. In the second CA movie, Steve said, "Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky." Before Steve became Captain America, when he was just a scrawny guy, Bucky worked countless jobs to make ends meet. When Steve was always sick, Bucky would nurse him. Even while they were fighting in the second CA movie, Bucky dragged Steve out of the water to prevent him from dying. Bucky was still being controlled by Hydra at this time, yet he managed to snap out of it for a moment and recognized Steve (this was right after Steve said IWYTTEOTL). Steve and Bucky are two sides of the same coin. They balance each other out. Without the other, they wouldn't be where they are. Without their dynamic, the CA movies wouldn't be half as good as they are. 

(TLDR; Bucky sees Steve as hislight, someone who believes in his redemption despite Bucky's doubts, while Steve feels indebted to Bucky for always being there, even before he became Captain America. They balance each other.)

I'm turning you on in a dark room right before we both pass out

I'll turn you on when I need you, but the batteries ran out

—For the first line, as I said above, they relied on one another even in their darkest times. The second line on the other hand, is Bucky after the blip. He needed Steve to help and guide him in adjusting to this new world he was thrown into. Sadly, "the batteries ran out" means Steve is gone. Despite everything they went through together, Steve left Bucky to face things alone. (F.U STEVE ROGERS)

You're a werewolf and I'm a full moon

And all your very worst enemies will be gone soon

I think you're changing

Don't worry, you don't have to stay the same

Can we talk about this later?

Your voice is driving me insane

—In conclusion, cuz I'm tired and too lazy to continue this anymore— The Front Bottoms made this song for Steve and Bucky :D 

[the-common-cowgirl]

The Lost Children

Chapter 6

Summary: Edward’s men watch your relationship closely as they are still skeptical. Osferth begins training you with a sword again (and finally with his sword.) How will this impact your relationship henceforth?

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: *Deep Breath* Angst in the beginning, Heavy Petting, Smut (p in v, fingering), Loss of Virginity, experienced male teaching inexperienced female, premature ejaculation, creampie, hint at marriage, fluff at the end.

Rating: Explicit, +18, MDNI

Series Masterlist

The floorboards croaked, disturbing your slumber. You groaned groggily and when you tried to roll to your side, your muscles and bones ached deeply, fully waking you. Slowly you sat up from the floor you were sleeping on, rubbing your shoulders and neck forcefully with a wince on your face.

“Paying your penance for not taking the bed?” Osferth asked, looking as if he also had not slept well.

You scrunched your nose, making a face, refusing to answer him. Turning your head aside and looking up to the window. Dawn was cracking through the wooden shutters. A cool misty air had settled in the room from the poorly sealed window. You realized that you felt damp.

“It’ll be a chilly ride this morning, hope your new mare isn’t too fresh.” Osferth spoke with a certain poison on his tongue that made you tilt your head briskly in questioning as he fastened his boots.

You stared at him for a few moments before he realized your angry eyes were on him.

Your eye narrowed when he looked at you. “Do you have a qualm against my new horse?”

Osferth frowned mockingly and shook his head, looking away, “No, not at all. She’s a fine mount.”

“Why are you being so fresh this morning then?” Deciding to throw his own derogatory verbiage back at him seemed to have been a fine idea because you realized you received a reaction from him.

He stiffened, bent over the chair, fixing his boots and trousers. His brows furrowed deeply and his nose scrunched. “I just think someone else is more deserving of a horse like that.”

At that, your eyebrows nearly reached your hairline, “Someone like you?”

He shrugged his shoulders and stood up straight. “Someone who has been loyal to Lord Uhtred longer than you have.”

You scoffed, “He’s my father.” Osferth scoffed in return. You felt the need to defend Uhtred’s decision in gifting you a fine horse. Finer than his own. “He gifted her to me out of guilt,” you blurted, not entirely certain you were correct.

His head cocked and jaw ticked before Osferth rolled his eyes and turned around, done with the conversation and you. He walked toward the door and just as his hand was about to turn the knob he paused, looking over to you, still seated on the floor. “Remember, we are together.” Then, he swung the door open and stepped out before you could say another word.

It took you a few moments, in your early morning fog, to remember what he meant. As it came back to you, you groaned and put your heavy head into your own hands that rested on your bent knees.

Edward. Edward’s men. Osferth’s woman. A lie.

“Damn him,” you swore, not entirely sure if you were swearing Osferth, Uhtred, or Edward. You were tired and frankly, mad at everyone.

After you dressed and went down to the first floor of the Inn where everyone was seated at a table, you sat next to Finan, flopping into the seat with little energy.

“Long night?” Finan joked with a suggestive hint and wiggled his eyebrows toward Osferth.

Osferth blushed, playing along with the act.

You on the other hand, had not realized both of Edward’s men were sitting on the other end of the table, watching the play in front of them closely.

“If you mean long night-“ you started. Osferth sensed you hadn’t noticed the men on the end of the table who were paying close attention to you. He moved across the table swiftly and out a hand over your mouth, stopping the words that were forming in your mouth and beginning to spill the truth in front of men who were waiting for it.

His hand engulfed the lower half of your face and while you fought against him, Osferth merely chuckled and pulled you in closer to him, twisting your head inconspicuously to see the other men at the table. “Haha,” he faked, “darling, we need not tell them of our bedroom antics.”

Before you could bite Osferth’s hand, the men around you started rising, noticing the tension and stated that we needed to be on the move if we wanted to make it to the next village by nightfall. Osferth rose and offered you his hand. Since you felt watched, needed to put on a good show for your own benefit, you took it, squeezing harshly when Edward’s men had turned around and asked Uhtred a question.

Once outside, you let go of Osferth’s hand and began your work saddling your mare. Once you were nearly finished, Osferth came over to you in a hushed tone, “Lord Uhtred has informed me that Edward’s men are going to ride with us until we reach our destination.”

You narrowed your eyes and turned to Osferth, “Which is where might I ask? No one is telling me anything-“

“What is not concern is where we are going to but whom we are traveling with.” He corrected your behavior. “If Edward’s men find out you are Uhtred’s daughter and not my woman- well- we will all face repercussions for lying to the King.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine, act friendly toward you. I understand.” You turned to finish tightening your saddle and Osferth moved close to your back, pinning you softly between your mare and himself.

He leaned in to your ear, “I believe we both need to act friendly toward each other.” He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and whispered against it, “I’m sorry for how I behaved myself last night.”

You elbowed him slightly but harshly so he’d moved away and when he did, you turned and narrowed your eyes at him, noticing Edward’s men were walking by with their own mounts, watching you two.

You leaned in close to him and whispered, “Good act but they’re not looking now…so go.”

Osferth looked over to the men who had now mounted and walked over to Uhtred on the road.

“I hadn’t noticed they were even looking,” he admitted before giving your a brief smile and rubbing where you had elbowed him before moving toward his own steed.

The journey was peaceful for most of the day. Due to Edwards’s men riding with the group, you had to ride next to Osferth for most of the day. Near midday, you finally got bored enough to ask him when he was going to begin training you with a sword again. He simply smiled and said “Whenever you would like m’Lady.”

Just before dusk, the group had reached the next town, but the inn unfortunately was full, so you rode North, just a few miles outside of the village and made camp.

At that time, there was still enough daylight left, so directly after you ate your supper, you asked Osferth if he could train you. He smiled and nodded, excusing the two of you from the group settled around the vampire, then the both of you took off into the woods, across a small creek and down a hill so your lack of sword skills would not embarrass you in front of Edward’s men.

“Your stance is not ready, if you were to have to dodge a strike, you would fall,” Osferth came up behind you and kicked your feet apart. You felt that familiar heat begin to grow in your lower abdomen as he stood behind you.

“There, now you stand like that, wide, light in your feet.”

It was stronger this time, something about your body, here and now, it yearned for a man you vowed to deny until he could apologize; and he hadn’t.

He reached around you, grabbing the hilt of your sword and encompassed his hands around your own.

“Hold it like this.” He instructed gently, too close. You felt wet. Perspiration? No, something different.

“And when you strike,” his voice was soft but commanding, “you want to mean it. If you back out halfway through, you will get hurt. Aim true. Don’t hesitate; if you do, your opponent will win.”

You nodded. Croaking out a, “got it,” before trying to move away from his proximity…but Osferth’s arm snaked around your waist, keeping you to him.

Hot. You felt hot. This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not when you felt like you didn’t have control.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you,” his soft voice was so close to your ear…it made you want to lean into him.

“I’ve not been a good friend or a good lover to you, and for that, I apologize.” His nose nuzzled through the hair guarding your neck from him. Finally, he found your skin and kissed you gently and held his lips to your quickening pulse.

You felt like you could faint.

“You’re not-“ you choked out, “You’re not my lover.”

“In pretend only for now, yes.” He kissed you again, “But I’d like to be in practice… if you’ll have me.” His other hand reached up and you dropped your sword as he caressed your stomach through your dress, then your ribcage, then your breast. A small moan escaped both of your lips as Osferth began to grope your breasts tenderly and you pushed back against him in reply, feeling his hardness through his fabrics.

“I- I- want this,” you breathed out, “But I’m worried.” Your brain was fuzzy as Osferth touched you and kissed your neck but in the back of your mind, you were still worried that after Osferth fucks you, he’ll turn hateful again just like before.

“I’ll be gentle with you, you know I’ll be gentle.” He misunderstood you but the words made you turn around and grab his face, kissing him on his lips harshly and pulling him into you.

The action made you lose your balance, falling backward pulling him atop you. Giggling and moving your head so he could kiss the front of your neck as his hands traveled underneath your clothes and pulled them over your head, leaving you in your riding trousers and undershirts. He moved down your body and hastily yanked your boots off while you began pushing your trousers down and once he could get ahold of them, he grabbed them too and ripped them off of you.

Now you’re lower half bare, you didn’t feel embarrassed as Osferth moved up your body to kiss you harshly, greedily, as his hand traveled down to your core and began playing with your pearl. A moan escaped your mouth, into his own and you felt him smile against your lips in pride as he moved against you. Pulling away to watch his work on your clit, you closed your eyes in ecstasy, a pure feeling you’d never felt before as Osferth moved against you, building a knot in your lower stomach.

“Oh God, what are you doing?” You moaned, feeling silly for not knowing your body could feel this way.

“Not God, just me,” he chuckled, removing his fingers from you and opening you wider gently with his hands pushing your knees apart as he kneeled between them. Then, he brought his hand to the apex of your thighs again and started circling a different part of your core, finally, pushing a single finger in.

You whimpered in pleasure as some needy tension was relieved when he inserted himself inside you but your sound made Osferth stop.

“Was that painful?” You looking up to him and saw concern on his face.

“No, no!” You whined, “Keep going. More please. More.”

Osferth nodded and your head fell back against the soil as he began moving again. The knot in your lower half continued to tighten as his ministrations were precisely where you needed them and then…more pressure down there, this time, slightly painful.

You raised your head and looked up to Osferth as he explained, “I’ve got to work you open if you’re going to take me-“

“Work me open?” You questioned but head felt back again as Osferth hit a within you that took the pain away and pleasure began to bloom faster.

He chuckled at your reaction, “I don’t want it to be painful for you.”

“Why-“ you could barely think, “why would it hurt?”

Osferth nearly chuckled darkly at your ignorance but decided to take pity on you, “Do you think my cock is the same size as my fingers?”

His words made the knot tighten and you grew excited at his insinuation. “I’d, I’d like to know-“

“Patience, my sweet lady, patience.”

He brought his thumb up to work your bud gently as his two fingers worked against your quaking walls and the knot tightened. It tightened so much that you were overcame with a blinding, searing sensation of euphoria throughout your whole body. You felt tight, hot, strange. When the fuzz in your brain slowly dissipated, you felt Osferth pumping his fingers against your core and you shuddered, wanting to pull away from him due to the hyper sensitivity you felt but he only stopped and moved over you, kissing you gently.

“What-“

“You peaked,” he explained gently. Your brows began to furrow in embarrassment for your ignorance but he smoothed you and kissed again, “It’s confusing for most women, their first time, it’s okay.” He held you head gently and looked into your eyes deeply. “We can stop here-“

You shook you head, “No, no I’d like to continue- I’d like you to-“ you gulped your pride down, “teach me.” You looked up at him and his face was solemn, impossible to read. You brought your hand up to his face and cupped it, “please.”

You plea brought Osferth from his trance and he nodded, “Of course.” He stood and removed his robes and shirt, to expose his toned chest and arms.

You suddenly felt that if he were to be fully nude, you should as well, to make him feel more comfortable, so you started to pull your shirt over your head but he stopped you, “You don’t have to do that.” Looking up to him with big eyes, he offered further, “This is about you, not me. Only do what you’re comfortable with. Do it if you’re comfortable.” He began taking off his trousers and you kept your shirt on, not comfortable fully exposing yourself.

When his trousers were undone, he pulled them down, exposing his cock.

You had, unfortunately, seen a man’s penis before, never in a way that made you list filled, more so, repulsed. However, staring at his pretty cock, thick and long, leaking at the tip with a reddened head, you were filled with a newfound lust, if not, a bit scared. Osferth moved to kneel between your legs but as he moved to kiss you, you stopped him with your hand on his chest. His expression of confusion was not missed on you.

“I’d like to be on top, if that’s alright.”

Osferth’s eye twitched in further confusion, “that’s not typically the way of-“

“You said,” cutting him off, “this is about me. What I’m comfortable with. Guide me but let me take you at my own pace.”

He seemed for contemplate your words for only a split second before grabbing your hips and flipping the two of your around, his large hand traveling through your hair to the back of your head and pushing you onto him for a punishing kiss. You giggled as you pulled away and sat atop him. “Thank you,” whispering.

“Lean up, just a bit, I’ll guide you on.” You did as he said and he grasped the base of his cock and ran it through your folds before catching on your entrance from below. “Okay, you go at your pace,” he kissed your hand, “just know, this is killing me.” He smiled and you giggled again, giddy with something between lust and love, however, you’d never admit the latter.

You sat up and his grip on his harden cock followed, putting a hand on his solid abdomen to support yourself, you began lowering yourself down slowly.

His head breached you slightly then met resistance.

“Relax,” he cooed and you tried to obey.

Lowering yourself more, little pain began to shoot through you as you felt his appendage conquered even more of your maiden core. You were thankful he had, in fact, prepared you then as you felt this could have been more painful.

Osferth’s head rolled back slightly and you saw him biting his lip as he tried to restrain himself. You wondered briefly how he was like when given free will of his lovers body without restraint of “being gentle.” The thought excited you and you abruptly lowered the remainder of yourself down, onto his cock, your pelvis flush with his. Pride bloomed in your heart as you had realized you had just taken a man successfully with little pain.

This would come naturally to you, you thought, and it excited you.

“My God, who art in Heaven,” Osferth nearly moaned, “forgive me, for I have sinned and oh God,” you experimentally moved against him, making him twitch inside you, “I am bound to keep sinning with this demon in my presence.”

“Demon?” You laughed and rolled your hips against him again, making him nearly choke out a moan.

“Oh lady, don’t do that,” he begged.

You laughed and rolled your hips again, “I thought you were supposed to be teaching me?”

Osferth wiped his hand across his face on anguish, “I feel as if I will fail you.” He grasped your hips harshly and started moving you against him in the way you rolled your hips previously, you felt so incredibly full and he moved against every inch of you beautifully. The familiar knot, the peak, had begun to appear again. “Yes, just like that sweet one.”

The name made you blush, Osferth was so lost on his own ecstasy to realize it.

He choked out a moan and you felt his body tighten against you, then, warmth flood your core. You kept riding him, unaware he had peaked until he grasped your hips harshly and stilled you on him.

Breath ragged, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he rambled.

“What?” Growing anxious something was wrong.

“I uh- I spilled myself already, inside you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, angrily at himself.

You leaned down and kissed him, feeling the warmth you now know was his seed spilling from your core and his softening sock pulling from you. “Can you not go again? I want to peak on you.” You moved down, kissing his chest.

You felt him nod, “Again, for you, of course. Just-“ he moved both of you again so that he laid on top of you, “just give me a moment.”

That “moment,” consisted of him kissing and suckling at your breasts over your shirt before you finally felt resolve and pulled the shirt over your head to grant Osferth full access to your body. You felt hims harden inside you once again and as he attacked your breasts with kisses, licks and sucks, he began canting his hips into you. Gently at first, then picking up speed. The knot started building within you and Osferth felt it, fully recovered and raised from your body to look down at your bare form as he began pumping into your harshly with his cock.

His rutting was rough, as if he had something to prove to you but you loved it. Chasing that peak feeling, you were nearly there as he toed the line with you. And then, his dexterous fingers found your pearl and you toppled over the peak.

Blinding euphoria rocked through your body as your clenched yourself around his cock, milking him. Unfortunately, he pulled himself from your core in the middle of your peak, cutting it short as your fuzzy eyes looked up at him, grasping your bent knee in one hand and with the other, pumping his cock in his hand, once, twice, before spilling white-hot seed on your stomach.

He collapsed next to you on the forest floor, catching his breath. You looked over to him, smiling and he smiled back at you.

“First-“ still breathless, “we must repent.”

You laughed.

He smiled, “Second, we find a church.”

Your brow quirked, “why?”

“I don’t want to repent every time after I have you.” He leaned over and kissed you passionately.

Maybe the word “love,” could have been used about this interaction, however, you’d just blame it on the ethereal haze.

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