#wind: i am learning what it means to live for myself

[ppeasants]

blondeswap!Wind: I chose to fight. I chose to be a pirate. To be a soldier. A pawn hero. My world needed a savior. And when the goddesses didn't choose one, I ripped that destiny from their throat and became that hero. I gave up my childhood, my freedom, my life, to become a weapon of the people. But now that I'm in a world where I'm no longer the hero, in a world where there are other kids who can fight for their own freedom - and still have the chance at their own freedom, maybe I can have mine too. Maybe I can learn how to live for myself again.

blondeswap!Hunter: what the FUCK is a triforce??? I'm gonna kill Ganon

[medicinemane]

I'm very tired, I have to do everything around the house myself (as in, I keep having to turn the water off and on to the kitchen sink until I teach myself to install a new faucet, and negative cleaning gets done if I don't do it), and the money is in the hands of the third worst person in the whole family when it comes to money (the worst being my grandpa who is dead, and my grandma who blows all her money on overpriced jackets and other junk)

I'm very tired, I have to teach myself how to do everything, and I have almost literally no support in any way shape or form ever

I can't remember the last time anyone said they were proud of me... I don't actually know if anyone's ever used that word with me before. When I do something like get the trailer cleaned out or buy a house, frankly no one gives a fuck, except my grandma who gets mad

I haven't actually had a chance to see anyone that counts as a friend in like 15 years, and I mean even in high school everyone liked me but no one could be bothered to actually ever even talk outside school... so even back then it's not like I had anyone I was close with

I'm providing this version where I totally remove how I feel or how I view myself from the description and instead try to provide something close to an objective description of things

So if you wonder why I say what I say about myself, honestly I think it's pretty much all summed up here

[buckets-and-trees]

Welcome Home, Pumpkin [spiced]

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x curvy Female!Reader Word Count: 1.9k Summary: Bad ethics. Zero impulse control. This is what everyone says about him. What will it mean for you tonight?

Content/Warnings: dubious consent, soft!dark story, use of pet name "Pumpkin," explicit smut (fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse), orgasm denial, groping, light choking, bondage

Notes: This is the second of three in a set of short stories with Lloyd served three ways - soft, soft!dark, and dark. The three feature the same setting, overlapping themes, shared thoughts, and bits of dialogue. Spiced is the soft!dark version.

sugar pumpkin | smashed pumpkin

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You shut the door behind you and sigh, happy to be home after a long day - a long week, really. 

You slip your shoes off, hang your bag on the hook by the door, and turn on some music before making your way down the hall to your bedroom, ready to change from your professional clothes to something comfy to lounge in the rest of the evening. 

You jump when a deep, serious voice you aren’t expecting says, “Welcome home, Pumpkin.”

Your heart rockets into your throat, and you grip the doorframe. “Lloyd Hansen!”

He chuckles, rising from the spot he’d been perched on the edge of the bed. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.” 

He makes a show of bowing slightly, “And yet, here I am.”

You hesitate in the doorway, studying the face of the man you are now so familiar with. The steel blue eyes, the sharp jawline, the ridiculous mustache you hoped to avoid indefinitely. 

He looks you up and down slowly, then sits back on the bed. “Did you think I would really be stuck in a Lithuanian prison?”

You narrow your eyes slightly and chew the inside of your cheek. His eyes study you as much as you’re studying him, and you don’t want to give anything away. 

“Aw, you did. That’s cute,” he says, voice dripping in saccharine sweetness. “You should’ve known I’d be able to work myself out of there in two or three days, at most.”

You shrug. “A girl can hope.”

“Only one night, by the way, since I know you won’t ask,” he says, clearly wanting to boast. 

“And that was six months ago,” you counter. “I finished the job and got the paycheck.”

“The job might be done, but we have unfinished business, Pumpkin. And it’s more fun surprising you like this when you thought you’d never see me again, isn’t it?” he simpers. 

He might have been biding his time to drop in on your life again, and you can sense he’s eager, a bit impatient, but you also sense he will play this out the way he wants now that the two of you are in the same room together again.

And you hate the way you’ve been drawn to this man since the day you two first crossed paths. He is dangerous and untrustworthy. You operate in the daylight and occasionally step into the shadows, but he lives in the dark, revels in it. 

“Are you going to tell me what you’re keeping from me? Why you took the contract in Kaunas in the first place?” he asks, lifting his chin just a fraction. 

And oh that look does something to you - the delicious swoop in your stomach that made you weak in Eastern Europe and traitorously eager for him now. 

“No,” you finally answer. Slowly, you take measured steps toward him. 

“Fair enough. But I might get under your skin enough to change your tune, wind you up, have you singing all sorts of secrets for me.”

“How much time did you spend thinking up that line? The imagery, the alliteration? Impressive.”

“Not the only thing that’s impressive about me,” he responds without a second thought.

You scoff, but there is an impertinent flutter in your chest you try to tamp down. He talks - a lot - but from the brief time you were in each others’ orbit in Lithuania, you learned he could back up his bluster with brains and brawn. A dangerous player on the board.

“How much time did spend you think about my fingers deep in your pussy like they were in the closet in that day in Kaunas?”

His words hang in the air, a bold challenge that sends a shiver down your spine. Your mind immediately flashes back to the last day in Lithuania, when you had been alone, hiding in a closet and his fingers had boldly started to explore your body. You can almost feel the heat of his touch, his breath on your neck, and his hard body pressed against your back like they were that day. The memory floods your senses, the smell of wood and dust, the creaking of the floorboards as the hired goons patrolled up and down the hallway just on the other side of the door. And now, here he is, asking how much time she had spent thinking about it.

You couldn't deny to yourself the way your body responds to his words, his presence, craving that same intense pleasure again, but you can deny it to him. You have to.

“I didn’t want you then, and I don’t want you now,” you reply simply and walk over to your dresser, bypassing him on the bed. Methodically, you begin to take off your necklace, and then your watch, as if he’s not there.

“Want, need, crave…”

“Lloyd!” You gasp because those words are murmured directly in your ear, as Lloyd has moved with silent precision right behind you. 

“…those are all different things,” he says. He presses his hard body up against your back, pressing his pelvis up against your ass, knocking you roughly into the drawers, pinning you. “You may not want this, but need it? Crave it?”

“No,” you whimper when he grinds against you again. 

“Mmm, you made some pretty, soft sounds when we were hidden in the dark before. Wonder what sounds I can get you to make now that we’re not trying to be discreet.”

“We’re not trying to be anything,” you argue, squirming against him. 

“Anything with labels, no, definitely not,” he agrees. “But you’re itching for it, aren’t you, Pumpkin?” 

One of his large hands gropes your breast, and the other moves to your throat. He squeezes in both places, and you groan, a shiver ripping through you. 

He chuckles, “I see we like that.”

“No,” you whimper. 

“Boring!” he barks. 

In one swift motion, Lloyd hefts you up, flips you around and has you on the bed pinned beneath him, body pressing into yours. He growls into your mouth as he claims you in a filthy kiss. He props himself up slightly on one arm, and his other hand reaches to tear the front of your shirt open, rending the fabric in two. 

You look up at him, chest heaving, waiting with bated breath. 

He unbuttons the top of your pants and drags down the zipper, all the while looking in your eyes. 

“I find you wet, and I’m not stopping,” he insists, tone low, calculated. 

You could press your thighs together, try to squirm away from him, but he’s too strong, and you know what he’s going to find. You could even turn your head and look away, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

His fingers dip into your panties, and he goes straight for the cut of you, slick and wet for him, and slips a finger inside. 

“I knew it,” he whispers. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing in slow circles.

You moan, arching into his touch, unable to resist the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Such a sensitive little thing,” he murmurs, adding another finger and thrusting them inside you.

You wriggle and writhe beneath him, unable to control your body’s response to his touch. He watches with dark satisfaction as you lose yourself in the moment.

“Lloyd,” you moan his name, and he chuckles softly.

“You sound so sweet when you say my name like that,” he coos, increasing the speed of his fingers inside you.

Your breath hitches as your orgasm approaches.

But then he pulls his thick fingers away, and a whine escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your body surges up, pelvis seeking his.

"You'll give me what I want," Lloyd purrs, his voice low and dangerous. He brings his slick fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. The sight makes you shiver involuntarily.

"Never," you breathe, but your voice lacks conviction.

Lloyd smirks, clearly not believing you. "We'll see about that."

He leans down, pressing his body against yours once more. His lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "I always get what I want. And right now, I want you."

Before you can respond, he captures your lips in another searing kiss. His hands roam your body, touching, teasing, igniting a fire within you that you've tried so hard to extinguish. You hate how easily he can affect you, how your body responds to his touch without your permission.

Lloyd's voice is a low rumble against your ear as he pins you to the bed. "You'll tell me everything I want to know."

You struggle to catch your breath, still reeling from the sudden loss of his touch. "I told you, I'm not giving you anything."

He smirks, trailing a finger down your cheek. "Oh, but you will. Your body's already betraying you. I think you’ll give me everything."

You think there’s a possibility he could end up being right, because while you didn’t think of him much after Lithuania, the truth is you did think of him. You thought of him on some of the nights alone in your bed when you had your best orgasms.

"What's the real reason you took that contract in Kaunas?" he demands.

You clench your jaw, refusing to answer. Lloyd's hand slides back to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

"Come on, Pumpkin. Make this easy on yourself."

Your breath catches as his fingers tighten ever so slightly around your throat. The pressure sends a thrill through you, desire boiling in your belly despite your best efforts to resist.

"I won't tell you anything," you manage to choke out, your voice strained.

Lloyd's eyes darken with a mix of frustration and arousal. "So stubborn," he murmurs. "But I did hope you’d choose the hard way."

He takes off his belt and binds it around your forearms. He yanks the clothing completely down and off your bottom half, and then he’s between your legs, cock out, and pushing his thick, blunt head against your entrance. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "Last chance to tell me what I want to know."

You turn your head, refusing to meet his gaze. "Go to hell," you spit out.

He chuckles darkly. "Oh, we're already there, Pumpkin."

With one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. You cry out, overwhelmed by the sudden fullness. Lloyd groans, his fingers digging into your hips.

"Fuck, you feel even better than I thought you would.”

You moan and push your bound forearms at his chest.

Lloyd growls, grabs your wrists, and pins them above your head in one of his giant hands.

Then he proceeds to fuck you.

Slowly.

He gives you what you won’t admit you want.

Over and over again he gives it to you, until you’re boneless, voice hoarse, throat raw, limbs aching, babbling, but somehow still fighting against giving the one piece of information he’s seemingly desperate to have.

When dawn is about to break, dazed and delirious with pleasure, you wonder which of you will break first - or if neither of you will.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

all Welcome Home, Pumpkin stories

Aaaaah! So with the second one, what do you think? Was this anything like what you were expecting? Did you catch the repeated lines?

...and will you be ready for the third and darkest of the three?!

[mcflymemes]

THE SUITE LIFE OF ZACK AND CODY PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the tv show (season 1), adjust as necessary

i can shove 12 gummy worms up my nose. you wanna see?

i was blunt... i was direct... and if i do say so myself, i was pretty darn mean.

is that a threat or a promise?

i learned something from you and you learned something from me.

i can't believe i might have to wear plaid.

teach me to be smart!

i mean, this is probably the most boring hotel in the history of boring hotels.

none of them even noticed me.

do you need some help with your bags?

i'm not that strange... except when i get really nervous i can't stop talking which is odd because i'm aware of it and you'd think i'd know better but for some strange reason...

what kind of superficial airhead thinks that's cool?

are you wearing lipstick?

i protest against them.

i got dragged off by a cop!

i guess i should say goodbye. or... you could invite me to your suite?

do you know how much they cost?

it's so much nicer than the mini-van we used to live in.

is there a hall of fame for this kind of stuff?

that's what trees look like before you cut them down.

what's that on your face?

thanks for the red sox tickets!

you tend to be un-smooth.

some of this candy is older than you.

somebody ordered the "i'm sorry for what i did last night" buffet.

get us into the wedding.

we may live in a palace, but we are not royalty.

what did you set on fire?

have you seen what you're wearing?

will you guys stop fighting?

we are not fighting. we are having a creative discussion.

stop agreeing. you're annoying me now.

i'll have you know, i flunked that math test purposely just to get away from you.

are you familiar with the gear shift?

you're making me nervous with all this technical talk.

why don't we just relax, turn on the radio? would you like AM or FM?

let's find out how rich i am!

you're gonna learn to drive?

have you heard the good news?

i love the rush of the road, the wind in my hair.

they shouldn't be too hard to find. we'll just look for the car that's going in reverse.

i suppose i have a slight tendency to be a bit critical.

have you seen my kids?

which goes first, the milk or the cereal?

it's a special night. don't make me slap you.

did you just flick flour into my face?

come back here and take this banana creme pie like a man!

how would you feel if people were spreading rumors about you?

we don't have a dungeon.

i recommend you go away!

this is not a joking matter.

there's no such thing as ghosts.

just 'cause i don't need it doesn't mean it's not mine.

don't take this the wrong way.

i made it with my own two hands.

i've hit rock bottom. and i don't like rock bottom. it's so... rock bottomy.

i have about twenty different ones. which one do you want?

i actually cooked for three hours.

do you ever find yourself feeling discouraged, unfulfilled, unappreciated?

try this hot dog!

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Four sighed, taking a sip of his beer as he looked at the embers glowing and crackling in Time’s fire pit. “I hate seeing people in pain and not being able to do anything about it.”

Sky glanced at his friend, wondering where that statement came from. Nobody said anything for a moment, and then Legend piped up.

“Yet you chose to work in a surgical-trauma ICU where everyone is in pain all the time,” he quipped with a little playful smirk to take the edge of the sarcasm.

Warriors snickered, leaning back in his chair, beer bottle held lazily between his fingers. Sky almost laughed at the sight of it, recalling that he and Hyrule had been refilling the bottle with water after their friend’s first drink. The army nurse hadn’t commented on the matter.

“Oh shut up,” Four laughed as well. “I know I set myself up for this. But I… I wanted to help. And I wanted to do nursing that made me feel like I was thinking through puzzles and able to focus on as few patients as possible so I could really get into taking care of things. And I like the thrill of it. But…”

He trailed off a moment, looking around at the group relaxing by the fire pit. Twilight paused briefly in the act of throwing another log on the fire, glancing at Four, before finishing the action, sending sparks showering into the air briefly. Time and Malon watched Four quietly, bundled together under a plaid blanket, Malon’s head on Time’s shoulder. Warriors perked up from his slumped position, head tilting towards the ICU nurse while Legend’s playful smile faded. Wild and Wind paused from eating their s’mores to give Four their attention while Hyrule sat up from where he’d been laying in a burrito of blankets on the grass.

Sky watched Four try to ask what he wanted, and as much as he wanted to prompt his friend he knew to wait.

“Does it ever get better?” Four finally asked. “The compassion fatigue. I’ve only been in nursing a short while and I can already feel it. Am… am I done?”

Sky bit his tongue, remembering when he’d asked Legend a similar question. But Sky had been through a war and had been flying sick, injured, and dying patients for years now. Four was still a fairly new nurse, wasn’t he?

He supposed it didn’t matter. Everyone’s exposure and experience was different. Four very clearly was uneasy about this.

Warriors spoke up first, sitting up. “It comes and goes, buddy.”

“Sometimes you just have to stop and remember they’re people,” Legend added. “We… you know, when everyone’s worst day is your workday you have to shut it off. It’s not…”

“We have to protect ourselves,” Sky picked up for his dear friend. “We suffer when they suffer. But if you let it get to you then you can’t focus on helping them. You’re not a bad person for doing that. For…”

Well. Were they bad people for feeling nothing when their patients were in pain?

Honestly, Sky knew there wasn’t a single person in this group who felt absolutely nothing. They just redirected what they felt into something else. Dark jokes to make a bad situation funny, frustration to turn strong emotions into rambling with coworkers… they all felt it somehow.

But it did make it hard to remember who they were taking care of sometimes.

Sky was grateful he just flew his helicopter. He wasn’t sure he could tolerate much more exposure than that, honestly.

“I don’t know if it ever gets better,” Warriors finally said. “It’s kind of just something you learn to live with.”

“I’ve seen nurses who have all the compassion in the world,” Twilight noted. “But I also have no idea how they do it, honestly.”

“Oh, you mean like you, Mr Biggest Bleeding Heart in the Room?” Legend remarked. “I bet you’re everyone’s favorite CNA over there. I don’t know how the hell you deal with sick kids day in and out.”

“It’s a lot easier when you’re the tech walking in and out of the room instead of the nurse responsible for that kid’s life,” Twilight argued mildly. “I mean, I do get attached and I want to take care of all of them, but I’m also so spread out it makes encounters shorter. So like… I don’t know, not as much burnout I guess. Except for the chronic kids.”

“Well, techs make a hell of a difference,” Four noted. “I’d be so screwed without you guys.”

“Back to the point,” Twilight frowned, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m sure even the kindest nurses have moments when they just can’t let themselves get hurt anymore. You’re not a jerk for being worn out from constantly watching people suffer.”

“What’s important, love, is getting out and having moments like this,” Malon piped up. “You boys all tend to self isolate when you’re not working, and all that does is make work your entire life. Take time for yourself but go out in the world too. We’re all here for each other. That’s why we had this tonight.”

Four sighed a little, glancing down at the fire. Sky elbowed him teasingly, smiling. “Hey. You can’t be any worse than Legend.”

The travel nurse perked up, face flushing and eyes wide with irritation as Warriors wheezed. “HEY!”

Everyone started to laugh while Legend rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air. But Sky knew it was just theatrics; after all, he and Legend had talked about this very thing a few weeks ago.

Healthcare broke people. They all knew that. But a little crack here and there could be supported, one person holding the other up. Sky wasn’t sure how long any of them could last in any one area, but he knew they’d try to make it work.

[just-jordie-things]

[part fifteen] to build a home - gojo satoru

word count: 5.8k warnings: !!manga spoilers!! swearing, jjk-verse style fighting series summary: when (y/n) (y/l/n) catches wind that the notorious sorcerer killer, toji fushiguro, has children, she makes it her personal mission to find them. the catch being she couldn't tell a soul about them- the risk of the zen'in clan learning about them was too great. keeping the secret isn't the hard part, it's lying to her friends, shoko ieiri, geto suguru, and of course gojo satoru, that she struggles with. especially when satoru has suddenly become so keen on keeping an eye on her lately.

series masterlist

[part fifteen] : “The Whole Truth”

___

She’d been in this room before, more times than she could count on both hands, but standing here now, (y/n) suddenly is overwhelmed with the anxiety that she’s invaded a very private space.  Despite the fact that she was asked to come in, despite the fact that she’s there with one of her oldest friends- if she could still consider him that- when she’s standing before him, she’s overcome with the urge to find an excuse to leave.

Her fingers curl around the paper bag that’s still in her hands, the parting gift she’d gotten for him, and she comes back to earth for long enough to extend it to him.

“I got you mochi,” She says softly.  Satoru takes the bag to inspect its contents.  “From that place you like that’s always way too busy”

Still holding the bag open, Sartoru’s eyes slide upwards, peering over the top of his sunglasses questioningly, already feeling a motive behind the random gift.

“So busy you had to wait overnight?” He questions, and (y/n) frowns.

“I picked them up this morning,” She says, the previously level tone she’d kept her voice at dropping, just enough to let him know that his comment irritated her.  “So they’d be fresh”

Satoru nods, before rolling the top of the paper bag shut and setting it on his desk.  (y/n) doesn’t say a word as he lets out a huff, his peace clearly disturbed by her already, before he leans back against his door and crosses his arms.

“What’s this all about then?” He asks, in an uncharacteristically bored tone.  “Is it an apology..?” He shakes his head as though he couldn’t fathom the idea.  “Because I don’t need an explanation, I’ve heard enough-”

“Satoru, I don’t want to-”

“Fight?” He finishes her thought with a scoff, a bitter laugh escaping him before he looks over her again, her nervous stance, her tired features.  His annoyance quickly burns into something uglier.  “I mean, was it worth it?”

(y/n) blinks in surprise, and hearing the same question that Suguru had asked her just a few weeks ago has her blood running cold.  What a bitter feeling of deja vu.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” She says quietly, ducking her head so that she didn’t have to look at him while she spoke.  “And… and I don’t expect you to forgive me.  I know I wouldn’t,”

That has Satoru’s muscles relaxing, and he doesn’t cut her off this time when she speaks.  He lets curiosity get the best of him as he hears her out.

“But I… I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t even try to tell you how sorry I am before…” She trails off, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip to keep her from saying too much.

Her throat feels like someone had just poured lighter fluid down it and dropped a match.

Satoru leans off the door then, his head cocked and his eyebrow arched as he tries to fill in the blanks she’d left.

“Before what?” He asks.

(y/n’s) eyes nervously meet his but it’s fleeting before she turns away again, this time fixing her gaze on a single photo taped to his wall.  It displayed all four of them, having a picnic during their first year.  

For a brief moment, she’s transported to the memory, remembering the way Shoko had giggled as she held out the camera, her face barely in the shot but the peace sign she held her fingers in front and center.  Satoru has his arm slung around Suguru’s neck, pulling him into view as they both grin wide.  He has his other arm wrapped around (y/n’s) middle, forcing her to be in the photo as well.  She remembered trying to scramble away before Shoko could snap the shot, and how tight but not uncomfortable Satoru’s hold on her had been.  She remembers squealing as she tried prying his arm off her, but in the picture, it looks like she’s grinning happily, clutching his arm almost lovingly.  It looks like she not only gives into his hold, but embraces it.

It brings a sad smile to her face now, and she wonders if she had embraced it, no matter how hard she tried to tell everyone she didn’t.  

“(y/n),” Satoru steps forward, jarring her thoughts as she whips her attention back to him.  “Before what?” He repeats his question.

Her lips part, an excuse writing itself on her tongue, but she can’t bring herself to say it.  In the grand scheme of things, one more lie meant nothing.  Satoru already thought so little of her that it wouldn’t matter how much more damage she could create.

But she just couldn’t do it.

“I’m…” Her voice fails her, and she clears her throat before trying again.  “I’m leaving”

Her voice still cracks when she says it, but she tries to maintain eye contact so that he knows she meant it.  This wasn’t another act of deceit, which he believed it to be as the words first processed in his mind, but the longer he stares at her and sees that her expression is unwavering, the more he realizes she had meant it.

He would have preferred another lie.

“No you aren’t” He says in disbelief, hoping, praying she’d finally fucking learned how to lie and he could call her bluff.

(y/n) nods her head in a small motion.

“Yes, I am,” She says softly.  “I just wanted to try to make things right before I-”

“No- no, you’re fucking explaining yourself this time,” Satoru cuts her off, his arms falling from their defensive stance over his chest.  “You don’t get to just- fuck- are you quitting? Is this about Suguru?”

That seemed to catch her attention, as her face fell as she shook her head adamantly.

“No,” The word comes out solid, and it’s the loudest she’s spoken since she’d come into his room, even though she still hasn’t reached a normal speaking volume.  “It’s not about him, at least, not entirely.  It certainly hasn’t helped-”

“Then why? Why do you have to go?” He asks, his words coming out in such a rush they almost slur together.  “Where are you going? What is this about?”

“I…” She wants to explain herself, but there’s nothing for her to say.  “Satoru, I can’t…”

It’s quiet for a moment, while he hopes she could just find the words to tell him, to help him understand why she’d been pulling away so much, why it had brought her to the point of leaving entirely.  He waits, impatiently so, while his eyes search hers desperately for some kind of reasoning.

After a minute, it dawns on him that she won’t explain it to him.  Even now, she won’t tell him the full truth.  He wants to hate her for giving him scraps of clues of what’s been going on in her world, he wants to tell her off, tell her to leave just as she’d told him.

But just as she can’t tell him the whole truth in fear of hurting him, he can’t tell her to leave in fear of hurting her.  It was a vicious cycle they had been putting themselves through.

A thought comes creeping up in his head, and he doesn’t want to speak it into existence, but he does anyway.  If she really was leaving, he might as well try to uncover the truth.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” He asks, quietly, afraid that it was the truth.  “The Zen’ins?”

(y/n) fights the urge to show any expression of emotion, but it’s not enough.  Satoru is quicker, and catches the flicker of recognition in her eyes.  He’d guessed correctly.

“What is it then?” He asks dejectedly.  “They’re moving you into their weird fucking compound of a house? Are they arranging your marriage? You’re just going to skip along and follow their old, backwards lifestyle? Do you really want that?”

He gets carried away rather quickly, the reality of the situation hitting him the longer he thinks about what her life would become if she really did go down that path.

(y/n’s) breathing is rapidly increasing, and she realizes that no matter what she’d done, if she’d continued with the lie or admitted the truth, Satoru was always going to be hurt.  Tears prick her eyes as she tries to come up with a solution that would put him at ease, at least until she flees first thing in the morning.

When she doesn’t say anything, Satoru takes quick steps forward to close the remaining space between them.  (y/n) has to tilt her head up to look at him properly, her eyes wide at the sudden action.

This was the part where he told her everything he’d said in her nightmare, she thinks as she stares up at him.  This is all your fault.  This is what you deserve.

He’d meant to tell her that this was her mistake to make, that he wouldn’t stop her if she went through with it, even if he found it ridiculously foolish.  But then he got a good look at her, at the way she was holding back her tears, even in her physical exhaustion, she fought the will to cry.

And Satoru softened.

He pauses before her, and everything around them pauses for a moment as he kept watch of those eyes he’d been staring at for years.  He’d seen every flicker of emotion one could in them.  He’d seen the way they brightened when she smiled, how they crinkled when she laughed, how she looked when she was surprised, or angry, and he’d seen them sad before, too.

But he’d never seen them helpless.

And although everything she’d been saying had been in an effort to push him away, there was something swimming in those irises that was trying to communicate something else entirely.  She was lost.

With a sigh, Satoru pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. Not caring that they got tangled in his hair.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He huffs, and (y/n) blinks in surprise at the affectionate nickname.  “What’s going on?

She blinks again, but she keeps her lips sealed shut.  Even if she tried to speak, she’d be a sputtering mess.

“You know…” He speaks carefully, making sure to pick just the right words.  “You know that you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to, right?” The question comes out in a whisper, as though there were prying ears to hide from.  “And if you need help-”

“It’s not like that”

Just as she suspected, her voice comes out in a strained whimper.  Satoru frowns.

“You’re crying,” He states the obvious.  “And you’re telling me that you’re leaving but you’re still not telling me why”

“Because I can’t,” (y/n) speaks again, and this time is no better.  “I just can’t, okay? I’m sorry-”

“Well you’re going to have to,” He says decidedly, his hands wrapping around her shoulders.  “Because something isn’t adding up, and I can’t just let you go when you’re like this,”

Against her will, a tear slips down her cheek as she looks up at him.  She shudders as she takes a deep breath.

“Please, (y/n/n),” He says softly, “Who’s done this to you? Who’s hurt you?”

Another shudder rattles through her as she tries to breathe normally, and she curses him internally when a warm hand touches her cheek, wiping away the stray tear and bringing her an undeserved amount of comfort.

“I… I can’t,” She mumbles, closing her eyes as she draws her face away from him, before she steps away from him altogether.  “I can’t bring you into it” She finishes, her voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru shakes his head, filling the distance she’d tried to put between them.

“Well it’s too late for that, so you may as well tell me anyways,” He says, trying to sound comforting, and he has no idea just how much she longed to be comforted by him.  

She drops her head so that she couldn’t be tempted by him again.

“(y/n),” He tries to bring her to look at him again, but she won’t.  Hesitantly, he reaches his hands out to her, his fingers grazing over her knuckles.  “I won’t know rest until I know you do,” He admits.  “So I’m begging you, okay?”

She sniffles, and closes her eyes tighter while his fingers carefully wrap around hers.

“I can’t hurt you anymore” Her voice still shakes, and Satoru doesn’t know how much more of this his heart could take.

His resentment towards her these last few weeks had been washed away so easily by his overwhelming need to protect her, and he’s never felt so strongly about doing so until this moment.

This wasn’t how he’d seen her cry before.  This wasn’t how she’d behaved when Haibara Yu had passed.  This wasn’t how she’d behaved in her desperate rage to push him away.  This wasn’t her.  He knew deep down something was terribly wrong, and he didn’t care what it was, he just wanted to make it go away.  He just wanted her to be herself again, to be okay, to be happy.

“You won’t,” He murmurs, still unsure if it was a lie.  “You won’t,” He repeats himself with fervor.  “There’s nothing you could tell me that would hurt me, sweetheart, okay? So just… just tell me what he’s done, and I’ll fix it”

(y/n) looks up at him then, realizing now that Shoko must have filled in the gaps of her lies between them, and that Satoru truly does believe she’s gotten into trouble with a suitor of some sort from the Zen’in Clan.  Any thought of lying through her teeth escapes her mind, as she looks at him now, all she can find in his eyes is pure honesty.

He’s serious, and it’s almost tangible before her.  She fears that he really would do anything to put her at ease, and she fears that she would do the same for him.

She fears that she’s in this situation because she’d tried to do the same for him.

She doesn’t know why, she doesn’t understand the feeling, but she chases it, in hopes that it would guide her to do right by him.

“I’m not seeing someone from the Zen’in Clan”

It’s the clearest she’s spoken in a few minutes, but Satoru hesitates as though he still had to make out what she’d said.  (y/n) doesn’t blame him.  She’s just as surprised by herself as he is.

“You’re not?” He mumbles in disbelief, his brows drawing together in a confused knot.

“I’m not,” She whispers back.  “I… I never was” She adds with a small shrug of her shoulder.

Satoru blinks a few times, his eyes flickering between hers, just to be sure that she was once again telling the truth.  He doesn’t find an ounce of insincerity on her, but it still doesn’t bring him much comfort.

Suddenly, his hands are squeezing around hers, and he’s bringing them to his chest, holding them close as though the action alone could convince her to stay.  (y/n) almost stumbles from the action, but catches her footing before she could fall into him.

“Then why are you leaving?” He asks the nagging question on his mind.

Her tears threaten to spill over her lashes, and her hesitation tells him she still isn’t ready to give him the full truth.  She tries to think about Megumi, about Tsumiki, and everything she was going to do to ensure their safety.

“There must be a reason if you’re going to put yourself through this much trouble,” He voices his thoughts while (y/n) tries to blink her tears away.  “What is it, sweetheart? You have to tell me”

“Sa-toru,” She chokes on his name, her eyes falling shut as a last ditch effort to keep all of her tears from falling.  She tries to pull her hands out of his, but he keeps them in a firm grasp, and she doesn’t have the will to snatch them back.  “I just can’t- please, please forgive me,”

She hiccups, and closes her eyes tighter, even though she can feel wetness racing down her cheeks.

“I just have to protect you, I can protect all of you, but you have- you have to let me-” She’s cut off by another hiccup, and when she opens her eyes again all of the tears she’d tried to hold back are streaming down her face.  “I know it’s not fair, but it’s the only way I can keep you safe”

Satoru’s eyes blink wide in surprise, his brain desperately trying to connect the dots, trying to figure out who she’s talking about, who she’s protecting, and from what?

He doesn’t rush to ask her these questions, instead he shushes her gently, and brings her over to his bed so she could take a seat.  She wants to fight him, but she doesn’t.

“Alright,” He hums, releasing one of her hands so he could catch her tears against his finger, flicking them away before they could stain her cheeks.  “Alright sweetheart, let’s start slow, alright?”

She shakes her head, unwilling to drag him down with her.  Satoru tries again anyway.

“There’s nothing you could do to jeopardize my safety, okay?” He tells her, wishing she’d look up at him.  When she doesn’t, he hooks his finger under her chin and gently lifts her head so she could see he meant it.  “Okay?” He asks again.

(y/n) lets out a shaky breath, and her eyes fall from his, landing on his throat.  She takes a few more breaths before finding her voice again.

“You’ve been hurt by my mistakes before,” She whispers.

He’s certain he couldn’t have heard her right, but he doesn’t try to speak over her.

Her eyes don’t move as she continues.

“I just can’t hurt you again,” She sighs.  “I’ve done it too much and… and it hurts me too” She admits the last part in a voice that barely reached a whisper, but he hears her clear as day.

“I understand,” He hums.  “But you have to understand that I can’t ignore this anymore, (y/n).  Whatever this is, it’s killing you.  And I can’t just let that happen”

“I had a chance to kill Fushiguro Toji,”

Her voice is raw, sore from her crying, strained from her whispering, but she forces herself to speak anyways.

“The day we were sent after Riko Amanai,” (y/n) continues, still staring at the spot on his throat where he’d shown her Toji’s blade had cut clean through.  “When we parted ways that day, I ran into him,”

Satoru hung onto her every word, wondering where she could possibly be going with this, and why she hadn’t told him sooner.  Although so far, the truth didn’t seem too harmful, there was a nagging pull on his heart that led him to believe somewhere, sometime, things had gone completely wrong.

“Just by accident,” (y/n) continued, shrugging her shoulders in thought.  “Or maybe it was fate, I don’t know what led me to him that day, but…”

Finally, her eyes flickered up to his, and she swallowed the remaining lump in her throat before speaking again.

“I overheard a conversation he was having, on the phone,”

Satoru nods, understanding the story so far, while he waits patiently for her to continue.

“He mentioned… he mentioned children,” (y/n) said through a shaky exhale of breath.  “And I just… I just had to follow him, I had to learn more, I don’t know why, but it just nagged at me, and I…”

She turns her head, her eyes landing on that photo on the wall again as she thinks back to that day.  The way she felt in the beginning of this all, desperately searching for Megumi and Tsumiki like their lives, her life, depended on it.  And now, because of her, they did.

Satoru watched her as she stared at the photo for a long moment, trying to collect her thoughts.  He was on the edge of his seat, but he didn’t say anything to rush her into explaining further.

He looked down at the hand that still sat in his, limp and clammy from her nerves.  He squeezed it gently before running the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand.

(y/n) looked back at him right away, almost jolted by the small gesture, but Satoru kept his focus on the small motion of comfort.

“He had children,” She whispers out the truth like it was a damning piece of information.  “Two children.  Young.  A girl, and a boy”

When Satoru finally meets her gaze again, she’s no longer crying, but she’s still giving him that hopeless look, as though she’d done something terrible that she couldn’t take back.

“That’s where you were when you disappeared that weekend?” He finally spoke after listening to her so intently.  (y/n) chewed on her lip as she slowly nodded her head.

“I followed him but I… I lost him..” Her eyes trailed back down to his throat, and now he understood what she’d been staring at.

She’d been watching the place on his throat where Toji had stabbed him that day.  Oh, he realizes, all too slowly, she blamed herself.  As soon as he puts the pieces together, he squeezes her hand again, as though requesting her attention again.

“That wasn’t your fault”

“I could have-”

“That wasn’t your fault”

“But I was there”

“(y/n),” Satoru’s voice is firm now, and she snaps her mouth shut.  “You couldn’t have known,” He tells her, sure of every word he spoke.  “There was nothing that you could have done differently to prevent it.  There was nothing I could have done differently to prevent it,”

She sighs, her eyes falling to her lap as that dreaded feeling of uselessness washed over her.

“And need I remind you, I’m fine?” He adds, pulling her hand upwards, gently laying it at the base of his throat while keeping his palm over her hand.  “Just a little mark,” He whispers while (y/n’s) eyes linger on the spot.

This must be his most vulnerable spot, she thinks, after what happened, no matter what he says, he must have some trauma from the incident.  And yet, he lowers his infinity, and lets her rest her trembling fingers there.

Her eyes meet his unsurely.

“I need you to believe me when I say it’s not your fault”

“Okay,” She whispers back.  “Then I need you to believe me when I tell you I have to go”

Satoru shakes his head, his fingers curling around hers again, dropping her hand from his throat and against his leg.

“I can’t do that, sweetheart” He sighs.

“Why?” She whispers back, her eyes flickering between his, trying to figure out why it was he cared so much about this.  “I’m… I’m going to do a terrible thing tomorrow”

Satoru raises a curious brow.

“Is that so?”

She nods back at him, frowning.

“It will be unforgivable,” She whispers.  “But I don’t have a choice,” Her voice cracks again, but this time it’s just the reality of her situation crushing down on her.  “I can’t lose them”

“Lose who, sweetheart?” Satoru asks, his brows furrowing now, as he was missing a vital piece of information she hadn’t shared yet.

“I found them,” She whispered, almost gravely.  “I found Fushiguro Toji’s children”

The confession processes slowly, and then all at once, and (y/n) watches as he begins to put all the pieces together in real time.

Those children weren’t just poor abandoned things left to live their days out in some broken, unjust system society deemed charitable.  No, they weren’t your average non-curse users.  They were property.  Valuable property.  

They were Zen’in property.  And it was only a matter of time before the clan would come to collect them.

“I see,” Satoru hums.  “So you…”

“I’ve been sneaking off campus for eight months to take care of them” (y/n) whispers.

Every time he caught her in an odd lie, every time she’d go missing as soon as classes were out, the tutoring, the dodging of plans, it all came flooding back to him now, in a completely different light.

“Oh…” He mumbles, leaning back slightly as he was still processing it all.

“Yeah,” (y/n) sighs, hanging her head.  “They’ve sent a notice that they’ll be collecting the boy, Megumi.  His cursed technique has begun to manifest… just like Zen’ins to care when there’s enough power involved”

“What is it?” Satoru mumbles, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor.

“Ten shadows” (y/n) answers, also refusing to look at him.

Fuck.

Satoru runs his free hand over his face, trying to come up with a solution and fast, because he didn’t know how much time they had to keep him from the Zen’in’s greedy clutches.

“I’m to bring him to them tomorrow,” (y/n) says.  “They don’t have an interest in the girl, she was born a non-curse user.  And the two can’t bear to be split apart so…” She trails off, nervously looking Satoru’s way.  “So I’m going tomorrow to… make my case”

“Make your case?”

Satoru repeats the words back to her in disbelief, because he knows just as well as she does that the Zen’in Clan don’t just hear people out.  They’ll take what’s theirs by whatever means necessary, and if she went to them tomorrow then-

Fuck.

It hits him then as he looks back at her, her glossed over eyes and frowning lips, he knows exactly why she’d come to tell him goodbye.

“No, you’re not-”

“I have to”

“(y/n) that’s a death sentence” Satoru stands up from the bed now, her hand falling from his as he stands before her.  Her expression doesn’t falter, not once.

“I’m not losing them” She tells him, clearly, and he knows she means it, but he can’t possibly accept this.

“And that cost is your life?” He raises his voice, although he tries not to yell, he can’t help it as it all sinks into his veins, the situation she’s in.  

Why couldn’t she have come to him sooner?

He begins to pace in front of her.  (y/n) remains calmly sat before him, letting him process however he needed to.  As much as it had hurt, she’d made her peace with it all.  It’s simply what she had to do.

“It doesn’t matter how much you train yourself to death, (y/n), if you walk in there tomorrow with any malicious intent, they’ll strike you down.  They’re an entire clan, (y/n), do you understand that?”

“I do” She whispers with a small nod of her head.

He shakes his head at her, his hands on his hips as he huffs and moves about the room sporadically.

“No, you can’t possibly understand it, because you wouldn’t just be sitting here right now-!”

“Satoru,” She calls his name softly, and while her voice is much smaller than his, he quiets immediately.  “I do understand,” She tells him with another nod.  “I love them,”

His features fall, softening as he sees her small smile begin to break through a painfully hurt exterior.

“I do.  I love them so much.  And I won’t let anything hurt them for the rest of their lives,” She tells him while he’s still frozen in front of her.  “So I have to go.  I have everything prepared, I’ve left them as much money as I can, a few cursed tools I’ve given them and hidden in their house that I’ve imbued with my cursed energy to protect them even if I…” She trails off, not wanting to admit the dark fate that would be in store for her come tomorrow.  “But now that you know, can you promise me something?”

Satoru doesn’t answer, still stuck in front of her, hearing her horrid confession play on repeat in his head.  She was really planning on this? She really was going to go through with this?

“Promise me you’ll keep an eye out for them?” She asks, and no matter how much she tries to keep her breaths even, he can hear the shakiness in the exhale she lets out.  “You don’t have to watch their every move but… just make sure they’re safe, here and there?”

Her brows draw together as she stares at him with utter hope.  She knows that she doesn’t deserve a favor from him, after everything she’s put him through, but if she had to, she’d beg him to make sure her kids were safe when she’s gone.

The room is silent for a few beats, before slowly, Satoru kneels himself to the ground before her, bringing himself to her eye level.  (y/n) stares at him steadily, and he’s close enough that she longs to reach out, to hold him by his jaw and make him swear he’d do her one last favor.

“You’re not doing this,” He tells her, quietly.  “I can’t let you”

“I have to”

“You don’t”

“I don’t have another choice,” She’s quicker with her words, more decided, unwavering in her choice.  “The Zen’ins, they sent men to the house this morning, to intimidate me, or scope out the area, I don’t know.  But they aren’t just going to back down now.  They’re going to take Megumi whether I try to stop them or not”

“We’ll think of something else” Satoru says surely.

“There’s no time,” (y/n) whispers back.  “Tomorrow I’ll put as strong of a curtain over their house as I possibly can and then I’ll go face Zen’in Naobito myself,” She tells him her plan in hopes that he would accept this was her final decision. “So I… I need you to promise me you’ll check in on them”

Satoru’s eyes don’t leave hers as she says this, and he can see that she means every last word.  He’d never pegged (y/n) as someone to have the stomach for cold blooded murder, but he can see now that something had changed, and the love she had for these children would drive her to do anything to protect them.

“You’ll die” He whispers back, knowing that she’s well aware.

(y/n) musters up the courage to give him a small smile, although it still carries the weight of her sadness, it is genuine.  She only hopes to bring him some semblance of comfort in knowing that this was her decision and hers alone, and that she’d found solace in it.

“Promise me,” Is all she replies with, followed by an even softer, “Please”

Was mochi supposed to make up for all of this? Satoru wonders as his eyes flicker between hers.  

While he’s sitting here fighting the urge to completely break down in front of her, she was trying to convince him that she was okay with this plan, that throwing herself into the wolf’s den in the name of love was her only choice.  He wants to tell her she’s completely deluded, that he’d chain her down and keep her here if he had to in order to keep her from making the sacrificing play.  And a part of him knows that he would really do it.

Satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath and tries to run through every possibility on how this could end.  He doesn’t like what he comes up with.

“Satoru,” (y/n) calls softly, and when he looks up at her again, her hand is hesitating over his shoulder.  It takes her a minute before she lays it there, and she lets out a deep sigh before speaking again.  “I’m sorry,”

Her eyes follow the trail of a single tear slipping down his cheek, and she has to remind herself why she has to do this.

“If by some miracle I live, I’ll send you a postcard” She means to jest, but her voice is too soft, and the way her eyebrows sink as her eyes meet his again tells him she barely believes her own words.

Her hand falls from his shoulder as she stands from the bed, and Satoru’s quick to get up to his feet too, stopping her before she could leave.

“Stay,” He says before he can think of something better to say.  “Don’t go yet, stay, please, let’s think of a better plan, together, okay?”

He’s rushing through his words again, desperate to keep her here long enough that he alone could solve all of it for her.

(y/n) opens her mouth, no doubt to protest, but Satoru cuts her off before she could even start.

“Let me help you,” He pleads, stepping closer to her, leaving little to no space between them.  Her eyes noticeably widen at this, but she remains silent.  “You didn’t have my help before, I could get you out of this, we can come up with a way to keep the kids and you safe, okay?”

She’s frowning at him, but she doesn’t walk away from him either, so Satoru thinks he has a chance at making her cave.

“Please?” His hands grab onto hers, the action harsher than it had been before, desperate, even.  “Please, (y/n), I just can’t accept this.  You can’t do this… not without at least talking about it first, okay?”

(y/n) ducks her head and slowly begins to pull her hands out of his, although she longed to stand there with him holding them for the rest of time, as he’d always reminded her that she would never find comfort in another person the way she felt it with him.  She knows that if she stays any longer, then she’ll never leave.

And it was the right thing to walk away, right?

Satoru lets her pull her hands back to her stomach where she could wring them together as some form of control over her nerves.  He doesn’t mind that she tries to pull away from him, because he’s quicker.

When she feels the warmth of two palms resting on either side of her face, lifting her head so she’d look at him properly, (y/n) knows right away that she wouldn’t be walking away anytime soon.

Satoru’s hands are warm, smooth, and no matter where they are on her they still bring her that same blanket of comfort.  They’re so delicately firm, cupped around her face to keep her looking at him.  They’re so solidly gentle that she couldn’t break away from them if she wanted to.

She already knows her answer as soon as he speaks, although she can’t quite explain how she folds so easily, she decides to blame it on her overwhelming physical and mental exhaustion.

“Stay”

___

taglist: @whats-humanity-lol @malinq-ashida @mor-pheus@bekahtaylorgriggs@pookiea@megumimind@thealchemical@pearlstiare@niallerhere@96jnie @purpleguk @peqch-pie@yukinemaroop@makis-girl@sadtoru​ @kamikokii​ @nerdiel-has-no-braincells​ @googlesheetshoe​ @vzleria​ @hilzup @cole-silas @iam-mia9 @stxrrielle @ezrahour @whatamidoing89​ @idioseasworld​ @yuuuumii​ @l0diluvs​ @miffysoo​ @chibiizzy​

xoxo ~ jordie

[quitealotofsodapop]

One of the firsr times MK actually sees Luzhen acting serious and maturely is during the New Years fiasco. When Wukong got captured by the Spider Queen, Luzhen has wanted to go to him immediately but Wukong had mad him swear to make sure MK and his friends are safe first so he ended up with the team that went to the Celestial Realm, this ended up being a benefit because that means they had someone familiar with he place.

He and MK ended up pairing up to get the Furnace, but they both ended up trapped inside. While they were there, Luzhen had a lot of memories and regrets from long ago pop up, being in the same device that was once used to torture and nearly kill his older brother. The Furnace that took Wukong away from him. And MK notices this during his own self-deprication episode.

MK, feeling bad for himself: This is all my fault, why did I ever think I could ever do this!? I can't ever live up to the Monkey King!

Luzhen, quietly and turned away from MK: Yeah, I know the feeling, kid.

MK, realizing for the first time he wasn't ghe only one trapped: Huh? Luzhen!?

Luzhen: Yeah. I'm stuck here too, kid.

MK: Oh great, not am i useless. but I got the Monkey King's brother trapped there too!

Luzhen: Kid, it's not like that. I'm in here... because I jumped in on my own. Same as you.

MK: You... jumped in on your own? Why!?

Luzhen: Aw, c'mon kid, you know the story don't you? How did Dage get his Eyes of Truth?

MK: The gods put him here, in an effort to burn the immortality elixir out of him... right? Only instead of killing him he got gold vision.

Luzhen, nodding: For nearly fifty celestial days and night my brother anguished in here, burning alive from the heat of a primordial flame... all because I made a mistake that he took the fall for.

MK, suddenly realizing: Oh...

Luzhen, quietly, eyes dtill fixated on the corner wall: Wukong... I owe hin so much. He's my older brother, he always took care of me... protected me. I knew he was special, even moreso than me, and I swore I would repay him his kindness and care one day by making sure everyone knew thay. I hadn't meant to hurt anyone but... Wukong was so shy and timid back then, still is in some ways. So when he learned the truth about how much of an insult the position of Biwamen actually was and was going to just... let it go... I snapped.

MK: Are you saying you're the one who... caused the Havoc?

Luzhen: No. I caused the events that led to the Havoc. I'm the one who threatened the dragon gods and removed my brother's name from the Book of the Dead, I'm the one to let all the horses loose and then declared for all to hear that Wukong was the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Everything that happened after... *Luzhen shakes his head as he starts to get emotional* I owed my brother everything, but my stupid, reckless actions were what led to his downfall.

MK, worried about the implications: Luzhen... why did you jump in here?

Luzhen: ...I-I don't know... *huffs in hysterical amusement* I guess... I guess wanted to. No... I needed to know. What he went through in here, to try to get an idea of what I did to my brother. See what it was like for myself. The stories say that he survived because he his himself in this corner right here. *points to the side he was facing, where a very old imprint of scratch marks lay, as though something had been clawing at the walls* It's marked by the wind trigram and had less of the fire. That it was his cleverness that let him succeed... but I know my brother.

*Luzhen runs an hand along some of the faded scratches*

Luzhen: Wukong wanted to make sure he could come home... the only reason he survived was because he was determined to make it home to us... to me.

Luzhen may not have known it at the time but hearing his own thoughts on the Furnace and how Wukong had survived had inadvertently given MK the push he needed to find a way to get them both out. After all, if Wukong had survived being in here for that long to get back to his family, the least they could do was escape the damned thing and save him in return! Both MK and Luzhen have a silent pact not to bring up what happened in the Furnace or the conversation they had up, What Happened in the Furnace, Stayed in the Furnace.

YEE

Luzhen is such an interesting character to unpack in this au simply due to his role as the "dodged culprit" in the Havoc in Heaven. And he's never forgiven himself for it.

He's suffered the ultimate pain of being the younger brother who Wukong would do anything for. Nearly losing him.

A lot of MK's feelings of unworthiness are mirrored in Luzhen, who's lived his entire life as a mere shadow to his brother, not even believed to be a real person by many.

His big bro's successor is a good kid. Not like him. He shouldn't have to worry about this junk,

Though I love the idea that they spent the time in the Furnace hashing out emotional issue they have, and both agree that "Furnace-stays in the Furnace"

[genericpuff]

Big steps are scary, but not moving forward is scarier u.u

So I've been sitting on this post for a little while now, I had planned to post it a few days ago but then I crashed for a nap and woke up to the news of LO ending so wound up using that as another excuse LOL

The last few months have been, to put it lightly, brutal. It's not that anything has happened, it's more like nothing is happening - the usual slow season in tattooing has been especially long, with especially less clients coming through the door, so while it's given me loads of free time to prepare for my conventions and work on other projects, it also means I'm not making as much as I'd usually make. And what I usually make is typically what supports everything I do here.

This has basically been me for the last half a year:

(riding it out, just riiiding it out, whoof)

I'm very fortunate to have a job that satisfies my dream of making a living off art, controlling my own schedule, and making money doing it to boot - but the caveat to it all is that it's a luxury service that relies on the economy around me doing well, and the economy around me right now is very much NOT doing well. I'm also very fortunate that my savings are capable of supporting me, but that's all they are, savings - if I'm not making anything, they'll burn up eventually. I'm not sure how physically capable I would be of going back into retail / food service, and it's honestly just not something I want to do after coming this far as a tattoo artist.

I've also learned how valuable and necessary collaboration is during projects like these. Not just to supplement the quality of the work itself, but to supplement the working experience as a whole. Working with an assistant has been an eye-opening experience in that regard.

When I set out to make this account, it was for the purpose of LO shitposting, edits, essays, and nothing much more than that. I wanted to keep it separate for the sake of my mental health and for the sake of my separate audiences, because when I started here, it just... wasn't a popular opinion in the slightest to have opinions about LO and comics like it outside of the positive norm. I had a lot of fear for a long time built up in my head over it, but as time has gone on, I've fortunately had mostly positive experiences and even when they aren't positive... I've proven to myself that I'm capable of moving forward through it all with my head held high and that these scary experiences aren't as scary as they tend to seem in my head. That's really just the funny thing about fear over any sort of 'risky' endeavor.

That said, I've also branched out a lot more from this blog's original purpose. I've talked about the process of making webcomics, Webtoons as a platform, offered alternatives to creators seeking refuge from the more corporate platforms, given out writing and art advice, discussed topics concerning Greek myth, shared my own original works, and basically just naturally progressed into talking about and doing other things because LO will end eventually and I don't want to restrict myself to talking about the same comic forever LOL

This is a crossroads that I've been at for a few months now. And I know nothing will change unless I take a step forward. It might wind up not being in the right direction in the end, but it's forward, and that's all that really matters to me, because staying in the same place forever isn't good for anyone.

So, I guess I'm gonna stop yapping and just show y'all what I've been working on! I brought this up in a Twitch stream the other day and people in the chat were all very supportive and optimistic, so I'm hoping those of you who follow me here will be too ╭( ･ㅂ･)و (and if not, well, you can kick my ass in my inbox later LOL)

I've applied for my genericpuff account on Twitch to become an Affiliate channel and am just waiting on the approval process. Assuming everything goes through well enough, y'all will be able to subscribe to my channel or support it with bits. If I do get approved I'll be doing a rehaul of the channel design and offering some fun lil' goodies for the chat, and I'll be trying to stream at least twice a week.

So please go follow my Twitch account if you haven't yet! It's the best way to get early sneak peeks of Rekindled, as I'm usually working on new episodes, but we're usually also chatting about LO, webtoons related stuff, and other fun topics ٩(｡•ω•｡)و

But now for the biggest new addition - I've started a Patreon account specifically for my genericpuff stuff ! Normally I would redirect anyone who asked to my main Patreon, but it's not as active nowadays simply due to my original projects being on hiatus. And it's not exactly the best space to share any bonus goodies related to my genericpuff account.

That said, I want to make it clear that I will still be putting limitations on what I offer on this page. Anything related to early access sneak peeks will still be free for all. This will be a glorified tip jar first and foremost, most of what I will be offering as bonus goodies and incentives will be stuff like time lapses of pages, art tutorials, original character designs, critique requests, early access adoptables, deleted scenes, etc.

Basically it'll be stuff that I'm already making (or want to make) but will be exclusive to patrons that won't be tied exclusively to the reading experience of Rekindled. The comic will always be free to read, not just because of the legal stipulations of it being a fan project, but because I want it to be.

Alternatively, if you want to access the stuff I have planned for my original work that I will be posting as early access to my Patreon once it rolls out, you can support that Patreon here!

From the bottom of my heart, thank you all so much for supporting what I do here, in all of its niche craziness. Building this little community over the past year has been life-changing, and I don't say that lightly. I've worked very hard to maintain what I'm doing here, and I'm going to continue doing so - it's a privilege to write and draw for you all week after week, and I appreciate any and all support you can give so I can keep managing what I do.

And if you can't, that's okay! The best way you can support my work is to read it, share it, and engage with it! Remember that reblogs will always be more beneficial than likes, and please don't ever be afraid to pop in to our streams or into our Discord to say hello! It would be a joy to have you ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

Thank you all so much. This has been a big barrier to overcome on a mental level, my anxiety is through the ROOF right now, but I'm so grateful and glad I have such a wonderful circle of readers, community members, and friends who have offered their reassurance through this slow season and process of seeking support. Whether or not this is a step in the right direction, it's at least forward <3 And whatever comes of it, we'll see. But I'll be riding it out all the same ~

[bokettochild]

Demon In A Bottle

Took me bloody well forever, but I'm off work now, so here we go!

Febuwhump: Day 1 - Helplessness

Word Count: 5,395

Summary: In the wake of a battle with a demon, one that's abilities allow it to dredge up old miseries, Sky must hunt down their straying captain to try and stop him drowning said old miseries in whiskey.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Alcoholism and Substance Abuse

notes: quite frankly, the theme of this fic is in no ways lighthearted, but while the title jumped out at me from the story, I find it also makes me laugh. I can’t help thinking of the tweetle-beetle-bottle-puddle-paddle-battle-muddle from Fox in Socks and I don’t know if I hate myself for it or am just glad I can giggle about something related to this story! 

  If there’s one thing heroes are supposed to be able to do, it’s save people. By definition, a hero is someone who helps others, but in meeting the rest of their chain of heroes, Sky has since learned that the title of hero means something else too. 

  The Hero is a man or child clad in green who appears when Hyrule is in danger to fight away monsters and evil and restore peace to the kingdom. The fashion in which they do so differs of course, as he’s slowly learning, but the fact remains that a hero still has a duty to his people and his country, and while it’s not always something thrust upon them, each one of his brothers bears that burden. Some of them let it drag them down, the weight of the world on their shoulders an inescapable duty, others shoulder it as a life purpose, a defining role, something that they’ve built their whole being around, and others, like Wind, regard it as a natural course of action. 

  It’s strange, learning that the title is so commonly used, that so many men and boys have borne it since it was given to him what feels like ages ago. In a way, it’s nice knowing that there are others, that there are people like him who understand things, yet in the same breath, they’re all so different, and with such varying experiences that really, in the long run, they’re as different as night and day sometimes. 

  As if to prove it, Legend’s blatant lack of trust in knights clashes with the fact that so many of them bear the honor of knighthood with pride. Warriors is a polished, well-spoken soldier, trained in the ways of combat, and Twilight is a ranch hand hailing from the country village of Ordon, brash in many ways that clash with the captain. Time is quiet, distant at times, and Wind is warm, welcoming and an ever-present ray of sunshine at their sides. Where Hyrule is unpolished and unassuming, the majority of their group stand out in a crowd. Wild can cook. Truly, there is such variety among their number that it’s a wonder they can all be classified by the same singular word: a hero. 

  But just because the title is there, doesn’t always mean it always feels like it fits. 

  Sure, Legend’s whole being is built around his life as a hero. They're not sure how long he’s been doing it, but they don’t call the young man “veteran” for nothing. It’s clear he owns his title without shame, living out each day in the effort of following the destiny given to him. Sure, Wild has taken to heart the burden bestowed on him, striving to be the best he can be and own the title. Sure, Wind accepts it like it’s just another truth about himself, just the same as his golden hair and ocean blue eyes. Yes, the old man seems to characterize what any child might think of when asked to describe a hero. But Sky is not Legend or Wind or Wild or Time or any of the other heroes. They are of the same spirit, and some of them apparently share blood (why had Twilight and Time told no one?) but they are each their own separate selves, each with his own life and person, and unlike them, Sky feels the weight of their shared title acutely. 

  It was his duty to save Zelda. The weight of the future was on his shoulders. His duty was protecting the people of Hylia and restoring peace and safety to the surface. His whole world expanded in one day from a smattering of islands high above the clouds to a whole huge land full of people and animals and duty. 

  Duty. What a heavy word. 

  It follows him. Even with the sword now silent, Fi having gone to rest with the assurance that he has accomplished what he must and no longer requires her aid and guidance (even though he does, he still does, please, Fi, some advice would be great from time to time) his mission isn’t over. No, because now that he’s defeated the god of evil, now that Zelda is safe, now that Impa is dead, he is the one Hylian out of all of them who knows enough about the surface to guide the other in surviving there. Yet, in the same breath, he’s still the youngster who barely graduated Academy, never mind being properly knighted. He’s still young enough that the elders sometimes doubt him, but experienced enough that they know not to treat him like a child. He’s ‘too young’ to understand the Knights of Skyloft, but has seen more of the world than they ever have. 

  It’s strange, being caught in such an imbalance. People expect so much and yet so little of him. They want him to know what’s happening but doubt that he does. They ask for advice but question anything he gives them.  

  It’s exhausting. He knows Zelda used to tease him before, but the nickname “sleepy-head” never felt so accurate. 

  At least with the chain though, he doesn’t need to worry about it. Call him selfish, but there’s a certain kind of relief that comes from allowing someone else to take the lead, knowing that everyone else understands the world around him better and knows what to do. He doesn’t need to babysit them around new species or warn them about dangerous conditions or fauna. He doesn’t need to even be on guard, instead free to drift along at the center of the group, knowing that Twilight’s sharp ears and Legend’s acute sense of danger will provide ample warning if anything does come upon them. 

  He’s free to sleep for the first time in what feels like forever, without someone busting through his tent in a panic because they heard keese for the first time or realized that rain existed. In fact, he’s allowed to even sleep in sometimes, no plans or defenses or responsibilities waiting for him when he wakes up, just simple easy to follow orders of get up, get ready, walk, fight, and make camp. 

  Call him crazy, this adventure has been almost a vacation if it wasn’t for the fact that Twilight almost died on them a month ago! Or then again, there’s been a lot that happened since then, but even with that in mind, at least he’s not the sole one responsible for the safety, care and guidance of his fellow heroes. More often than not, actually, they’re the ones looking out for him. Honestly, he doesn’t know how he’ll thank Legend for teaching him about the poisons on the surface, or Wild for letting him peek at the champion’s slate to read what he can about monster types, weaknesses and whatnot. The other heroes have this and that to add, of course, but those two have been the most helpful, seeking him out in order to show him things first hand when they can, so that while Wild and Hyrule often go to muck about, he and Legend find their free time typically spent with the veteran teaching him everything he knows about the surface world, survival, and even matters beyond that; matters beyond being a hero and more about just being. It's nice learning things for the sake of learning, not for the sake of staying alive, and Legend talks with a similar cadence and manner to Fi when he’s caught up in expounding on this point or that, uninterrupted because Sky very much appreciates both the effort and the guidance. 

  For all Legend has to share with him though, the vet isn’t exactly someone he can turn to when it comes to problems with people. Honestly, sometimes it feels like he returns the kindness shown to him by the younger hero by covering Legend’s ass when it comes to social interactions, at least among their group. The vet’s left a terrible first impression on most of them, and since it seems everyone else is equally bad as he is when it comes to communication, there’s still many in their group under the impression that their vet is a total asshole. 

  So yeah, Legend is not the best person to ask for help when it comes to people issues. Time either. Time and he aren’t close by any exaggeration of the word, and while the older man is willing to offer advice here and there, Sky’s not certain he feels comfortable seeking it out. Typically speaking, he’s found that Warriors is the best person to ask about these sorts of things, being as he is a man and not a child and possesses the social skill necessary to address this sort of thing, only.... 

  Only, it’s terribly hard to ask someone for advice on how to handle their own stupidity. 

  He is not blind. Okay, well, maybe, and to some things, but missing Time and Twilight’s relationship is likely more a matter of him not being close enough to either to really put much stock in their interactions. Their leader’s fondness for one of their number wasn’t too shocking considering how attached he himself has become to all of them in such a short time. He'd just assumed that Time moved slower and had begun to warm up to them one at a time, starting with the rancher and moving on to the sailor. He'd thought they’d all follow in time, not that Time just ultimately had favorites. 

  Despite missing that though, he’s not entirely incompetent. He sees his brothers, and much as they might have all assumed he was simply the tired, quiet one, just because he doesn’t speak up doesn’t mean he’s not paying attention. No, he sees what happens in camp. He sees Legend’s tentative bids for connection, Wild’s withdrawn attitude that hides behind the smile and the laughter. He sees Wind’s worry and Time’s stress. He knows Twilight is wrung out and confused after his secret was exposed and the rest of them have had to accept the fact that their silent, furry companion was, in fact, one of their brothers.  

  He knows that there’s a breach of trust there, or at least a perceived one. Those who didn’t regard the beast as a threat have often sought the company of their wolf companion in order to express troubles or thoughts that they didn’t wish to share with anyone else, including the rancher himself. Not knowing, they’d told him things, thinking he was just an animal and incapable of sharing them, told him things they didn’t want Twilight to know, things they thought or felt. Now, knowing that Twilight is privy to so many of their secrets, it’s perhaps natural that their barriers have been thrown up, their brothers guarded and wary of what he’ll do with the forbidden knowledge he possesses. 

   He knows it hurts the man, but he understands. He’d never shared his own feelings with their wolf companion, but if Crimson were to one day take hylian form, he’s sure he’d be at least the slightest bit worried about it, maybe even betrayed. Not knowing a dear companion could speak if they so wanted, could be like yourself, would be hurtful. To know they didn’t trust you when you poured out your heart to them... 

  Yes, he understands. 

  Unfortunately, that also means that Twilight is, very much, also not in the category of people who he can come to about things that are worrying him. Sadly, it seems none of them are. He’d never dream of asking the younger ones; Wind is a child and should not be burdened with such things, Hyrule is still struggling to make his own connections, Wild may or may not understand and most definitely has enough on his plate already, Legend is Legend, and he’s never been very close with Four. 

  Which leaves Warriors, who is, again, the course of his frustration. 

  Because, unfortunately, despite being a hero, and despite killing an actual god, Sky finds himself helpless to face a mere vice, a common demon that seems to have taken hold of one of his brothers. 

  It started simple. A night after a tough battle, one where he couldn’t sleep and had wandered downstairs from the inn-room he’d shared with a few of the others, a room where Wind was being kept awake for the sake of his earlier concussion from a battle. Stress was high across the whole group, and he’d needed the space so it was natural that he’d wandered downstairs, hoping to sneak outside and catch some fresh air like he used to on Skyloft. 

  Like on Skyloft, the awful visions that woke him up that night were also cause for his slipping from bed. 

  His intention had been to step out, to catch the breeze on his face and maybe watch the stars for a bit. Legend often says that the stars hold comfort and assurance, and while he doesn’t know nearly as much about them, or the stories and figures the vet can pick out from the heavens, he does know that cloudless nights remind him of home, and bright lights twinkling above had quickly become the only familiar thing between every place he’s gone. 

   Maybe that’s why Legend likes them so much; they’re an unchanging constant no matter where you go. 

  At any rate, he’d needed the space. He hadn’t expected to find any of the others up as well though, much less the captain. In the end, he never made it outside, instead sitting up and talking with the other. 

  He’d thought little of the nearly empty bottle of whiskey at the man’s side, too busy with his own thoughts and worries. 

  He’d thought nothing of it either when, after a terrible battle that nearly saw the loss of the traveler and ended with a passed-out Legend and a very bloody Four, he’d found the captain up stewing quietly over ill thought-out plans and reckless behaviors. The off-handed “I need a drink” had been something to just smile and shake his head at. 

  But then he’d begun to catch on. Rough battles, difficult nights, sleeplessness from worry, from pain and in his own case; from visions. It had resulted in many a night spent up in each other’s company. More worrying still was the constant presence of a little silver flask, held tight in fainty trembling hands as dulled blue eyes would linger over their younger ones. 

  He’d thought it strange, but it was Wind’s worried “has the captain been drinking again?” that really caught him by the ears and shook him. He’d thought it a passive thing, hadn’t paid it much attention because there was no true way to know what was in that little flask (Legend has one too, but it’s got some kind of sweet, spicey juice in it). The sailor asking about it though had changed that. It had revealed that, no, it wasn’t simply a passing thing and was very much a longstanding issue. It was not at all what he was hoping to find out. More so, the youngest can’t even say anything about it, because the captain knowing that his former charge is aware of the vice apparently would have some very, very bad results. 

  So, Wind can’t say anything without potentially making it worse. None of the others know or have seen it enough to realize the weight of the issue, and he’s left the only one who not only knows and witnesses it but has nothing he can do about it. 

  Long nights, dark eyes and pain, so, so much pain in the captain’s face and voice have left him stumbling. The quiet admission of how their elegant captain’s own stepfather was a miserable drunk isn’t any help either, although that conversation had rather quickly turned from him trying to bring up the issue and into the both of them commiserating on the lack of decent father figures in the world. 

  From there. It just... keeps happening. 

  He’s watching, trying to say something and so, so easily letting pretty words and prettier eyes distract him into talking about something else. Quite frankly, it would be terrifying if it wasn’t so impressive how the captain manages to dodge his every quiet attempt by redirecting him onto something else, turning the matter around or simply accepting his concern with a smile and an easy, gentle, so very believable dismissal. Yet, he sees the results. He sees the stress and the tension. He sees the misery that before had hidden so prettily behind a polished mask, but which now spills from time to time into a slippery mess before him, catching him in its mire and leaving him floundering, breathless, and scared. 

  He’s the hero, the one meant to save those around him from trouble, but he’s failing a battle with a bottle that’s he’s not even touching. 

  Watching the result of that failure, the downward spiral, it hurts. It hurts more than blades or arrows or even poison. In a way, it is a sort of poison; a slow working thing that, while he never touched it, has infected not only his own life but those around them. 

 As chaos sows itself across the kingdom, poison spreads within their own number. The attention of their brothers, and indeed, most of his own, is fixed on the protection of their home, on defeating the newly risen foe, on ending things so that their lives can return in some small manner to a semblance of normalcy. And somehow, he lets his worries fall to the background, let’s his mind turn to the struggles spawning up around him with the others, with himself, with things that are ever so much more prominent than a little silver flask. Even the yelling match that sprung up between the vet and druken captain hadn’t refocused him, his attention more fixed on other things in the aftermath; Legend’s behavior, his own aggression when shouting at the captain to just cease and desist with beating the dead horse before he’d marched off after the vet.  

  Fighting and travel have kept him busy since, but failure is as sure a trigger as anything, or so he’s learned. Even now, he watches as the others retreat to lick their wounds, to hide away in their inn rooms, silent and mournful, blood still staining their clothes. He’s sore himself, tired, weary, too worn from the events of things over the last couple of months to actually want more than to lay down himself and sleep, but he doesn’t. 

  No, because when the rest of them go to hide at the inn, the captain goes off alone, a cold, dangerous, dark look in that drawn and tired face, and worry gnawing at the skyloftian’s own heart will not allow for him to even entertain thoughts of sleep, not when he’s learned to know what that look means. He lingers only as long as he must to ensure all the rest are settled, safe and stable, before darting back out onto the streets. 

  Watching is hard. Seeking is harder. 

There’s an awful sort of feeling that comes over him at the realization that the nearest bar is mostly the new location of his straying brother but finding it in the dark is nearly as difficult as dragging himself towards it, knowing full well what he’ll find inside. He does though, he does because he has to and because it’s the right thing to do. He does it because it’s what a hero would do.  

Heroes save people when they’re drawn into danger, and the devil in the bottle is slowly urging his beloved brother and friend in. A steady hiss or whisper or however it’s call manifests for the captain, and one that, if he doesn’t make it in time, he won’t be able to stop from taking hold. 

He can whisper a begrudging thanks to the heavens that Warriors is a gentle drunk most of the time. 

- 

The bar-room's floor is shockingly clean when he enters, considering it’s a farming town they’ve stopped to stay in at Time’s suggestion. Faint, dusty footprints from one or two people scuff in and out, but he can see where thick ash and dirt have clumped and marched across the floor, and following the trail is the easiest thing he’s done today after fighting a far larger, far more terrifying demon. 

In his mind, Sky steels himself; if he can fight Demise and come out alive, he can face up to the captain about this most worrisome coping technique. The key is simply not to let Warriors distract him with something else, so at the first mention of anything that’s not the man’s own issues, he needs to start to redirect. 

Hylia above, why couldn’t those cursed goddesses have granted him even just the smallest piece of Wisdom? Charging in is the easiest part, getting through the battle with a silver-tongued soldier is the thing it seems he can’t do properly. 

Glass taps on polished wood, a heavy and familiar sigh following. Trailing his eyes towards the back corner of the room, he can easily make out the bloody and worn form of his brother, slumped against a small table and already with a hand ploughing through his ash dusted hair. Warriors looks like hell. Dark bruises beneath darker eyes, face drawn and still stained with the remains of their defeat. The usually proud appearance has been crippled, uniform torn and filthy, and blood still spattered over armor, leather, and skin. The man doesn’t so much as spare him a glace as Sky settles across from him at the table, keeping the barrier between them for both their sakes. 

“Hey.” 

A long, drawn-out sigh sounds off the wood of the worn bar table. 

Sky waits. Pressing any of his brothers is counterproductive. Sitting quietly, taking in the situation, is the best approach, letting them determine whether or not they’re ready to speak yet. He won’t push either, he just sits and rests his arms on the table, glancing the empty glass and the blessed lack of a matching bottle.  

“What d’you want, Sky?” Still not even a flick of dull eyes up towards him. “Shouldn’t you be with the rest?” 

He shrugs, stiff, as though he’s not being eaten up a bit with guilt at leaving them. The other adults can keep an eye on things though, and Wind was already doing a marvelous job of talking them out of their heads. It’s up to him to handle the captain though, as the sailor may or not have even been allowed inside the bar. The kid shouldn’t be here anyway, for the captain’s sake and his own.  

“I didn’t feel right about letting you go off alone.” 

“The kids need you right now.” 

“They need you too,” he challenges, leaning a bit closer and trying to catch the turned away eyes of the other. “And I think you’d do yourself some good to be around them.” 

A twitch of the fine-featured face before him is his only answer as sooty fingers toy with the empty glass between them. It’s lifted briefly, before the other man seems to check himself and realize it’s empty. 

 Sky needs to prevent it getting refilled. Hopefully, he can drag the captain’s ass out of here and back to their brothers before then. The key is just getting through to him, and though it feels like ages since he’d looked at the other man and found only unreadable smiles and perfection, there’s still a barrier that stops him really understanding what the captain might be thinking. Goddesses above, how is it that even Legend is easier to read than this man? 

“Wars, you’re worrying me.” He tries. Slowly, softly enough that no other patrons in the place will hear him, but it seems the captain doesn’t hear it either. 

No, the man just taps his glass against the table-top, distracted, and sigh so heavy he seems to shudder. “Go back, chosen.” 

“No, captain.” 

In battle, maybe blue eyes hold the flames of the goddesses themselves, but in the dim light of the bar, there’s only a dullness and flickering darkness that makes him want to shift and draw away. He doesn’t though, doesn’t dare. Instead, he sits under that stare for the brief second it's spared, and then the soldier is shutting his eyes with yet another heavy sigh. “Rest, you need it.” 

“I can’t.” You’re here, he wants to add. You’re out here and you’re worrying me, and I can’t sleep easy until I know we’re all safe. 

Fine features twitch, shifting into a frown that would be very terrifying indeed if Sky hadn’t gotten used to all the harsh looks of his team over the last while. Time’s dark looks and Warriors’ disapproval aren’t nearly as weighty all things considered, and he carefully doesn’t respond when the other looks up at him again, brows drawn low and tightly together, jaw twitching slightly. “Sky-” 

“Link,” he returns, sharp to match the look he shoots at the other. Their given name slips strangely off his tongue and earns a twitch of the brows in answer. “No. I’m not letting you sit alone a stew.” 

“Even if I want to?” The glass taps loudly against the table, a sharp contrast to their low voices. “Does that matter at all?” 

Okay, that’s just a bomb-burr waiting for him to walk too close. “Link, please,” and the use of their shared name seems to have fingers closing tighter over the mouth of the whiskey glass, “we both know what will happen if I leave.”  

His words are proved by the lack of verbal answer, instead the tapping of the glass back onto the table as dark eyes meet his. They’re blank again, impossible to read past that closed off, stern expression. It's not one he’s used to facing much these days, but he’s seen it turned on the younger ones plenty of times. 

“I leave,” he presses, “and you’ll drink.” 

There’s the faintest tightening again around the glass still clutched in sooty hands. “It could be worse.” 

“You’re right,” he agrees, nodding slowly, “it could. I could keep ignoring it and you’ll keep getting worse.” He steels his own jaw, folding his hands if only for something to do with them before he meets the stare now fixed, heavy and harsh, on his face. “When we all met, you hardly touched the stuff save maybe after a bad battle, and I mean a really bad one.” The same as Time here and there. The same as any man likely might. A really bad day is fair enough excuse for one drink, but Warriors used to stop at one, and now he doesn’t. “Now it seems every time our backs are turned...” he motions to the glass, watches as blue eyes dart down to follow his gaze. 

The captain’s hands aren’t shaking like they normally do. They’re perfectly still as he clutches hold of the empty cup.  

He doesn’t like it. The tremor is normal, it is a sure sign of ease. He knows the after effects of their last battle, the magic in it, the illusions cast around them of the worst they’ve seen, worst they’d imagined, used as a distraction shook all of them, but seeing the man still so tightly wound, still so caught up in his head that his body is still responding as though he’s in immediate danger, it doesn’t sit well with him. 

“Come back to the inn,” he begs. “We all-” 

The sudden shriek of the chair as the soldier stands might be what cuts him off, the cold look in closed off eyes definitely is though. “I don’t know what that demon showed you, chosen, but know this: you can fight gods and you can win, but some of us have fought men and believe it or not, there’s something quite different and more terrible about that.” It’s the clipped soldier’s voice that speaks to him, resounding enough in the bar that everyone else present has fallen silent and tense, looking up from their own conversations to stare. “So go back to the inn, get over what you saw, and let me do the same here so we can face the demon again in the morning.” 

“Wars-” 

The other turns, heading back to the bar and no doubt with full intent to refill the glass he holds. 

Sky darts after him. “Please, Link! This isn’t good for you!” 

“Well, it isn’t exactly hurting you now, is it?” Is the sharp answer as barkeep approaches the two of them, wary. 

 For a moment, Sky debates between telling the barkeep to not serve his brother and telling the captain to just walk away. Caught betwixt, he misses the opportunity for both, too distracted, too unfocused, to slow, and when his brother motions for the bottle in the hands of the barkeep, it’s only then that he gets his wits about him enough to catch hold of the thing himself. 

The barkeep darts away, no doubt eager to avoid the mess as snapping eyes fix on storm cloud blue as Sky’s voice rumbles low like thunder between them. “You doing this hurts everyone that loves you. We can’t stand to just sit back and watch anymore.” 

“Well no one asked you to watch,” the captain bites, “or care.” 

“But we do,” he answers back, trying desperately to catch those eyes again, “we chose to be your brothers, and thus we chose to stad beside you.” 

“Then don’t blame me when your choices get you hurt.” The hand he’s set on the bottle is knocked away as, once more, Warriors turns his back on him and heads back to his table.  

He’s not sure if he should chase or walk away or give up. He’s left standing for a moment before darting after, again, unable to stop the other as a finger of amber is poured and knocked back without so much as a flinch. Well, not a flinch from Warriors, he finds himself recoiling just the slightest bit as he watches. 

 He tries again, this time not daring to push further by touching the forbidden poison, but instead trying to break through and get the other to just look at him. “Link, please, you’re killing yourself like this.” 

Dark eyes are empty, lifeless, as they turn upwards to look at him, like visions of the sealing grounds were once, thousands of years ago; barren and ruined by battle and death. “Good.” 

And then it’s gone, another glass knocked back and Sky left standing, only able to watch. 

What else is there to be said? What argument is left to beg, to plead, to convince? He’s the hero, he’s good with his hands, his blade, his strength. He sees foes and he crushes them. He sees allies and he aids them. But when an ally embraces the foe, what then? What’s left for him to do? What course of action is there left save to beg? And when even that fails there is nothing. 

Nothing but watching, unable to go back without fulfilling his mission and unwilling to let his brother be left alone in the weakened state the quickly emptying bottle will leave him in. All he can do is watch as golden poison flows, as sooty, bloodied, burned hands lift and toss back, as glass clacks against the tabletop again only to be refilled once more. There's nothing else he can do or say. There may be other arguments, but they’re lost to him, buried instead under that horrible stare and the cracked and shattered soul that had glinted through on that single, devastating ‘good’. 

It’s not the first defeat he’s faced today, but between the two, this is the one that leaves him truly helpless in it’s wake. 

[fangirlingnuisance]

"Goodbyes are bittersweet. But it's not the end, I'll see your face again."

- Walking In The Wind, One Direction

I never thought I would be 25 and writing about someone from One Direction's passing. The way I imagined it in my head, I'd be in a home with my teenage kids and they'd be the ones to tell me about it. Never in my wildest dreams would I think I'd get the news from my brother who just came home from his graveyard shift, waking me up at 8 in the morning, delivering the news that One Direction will never be complete again.

I admit, this has been a rollercoaster of emotions. I'm not even sure if it had completely sunken in. Having someone you grew up loving and who was vital to your formative years -- grow up to be someone you dislike, his passing has come with a wave of confusing emotions. It's been some time since I supported Liam the way I liked the career of the other boys. When his ex-fiancée Maya shared her traumatic experiences with him, I felt myself growing farther from him. This then made me question why in the wake of his death, my heart was broken into pieces.

That thought was answered through my tears and constant scrolling through social media in search of comfort and reassurance that I wasn't the only one feeling this way. Then I came across this tweet:

It all became so clear to me. I am grieving for the teenager who stayed up late, cried, laughed, cheered, screamed, and did everything because of One Direction. I grieve for that little girl in me who clung to them when I was going through some of the darkest days of my life. I am grieving the boy I grew up watching, the one I first loved in 1D. I was grieving the version of him I remember, not the version I barely knew. Call it parasocial, it is. But it's awfully difficult to detach when he was part of something that played such a big role in the way I am, the friends I have today, and the journey I had to go through to get where I am.

The ache I feel when people I used to constantly watch/listen to resurface and talk about him. It was like I was transported back to a time when everything felt easier in life but this one -- this is one of the most tragic ways to relive that feeling. Photos of him and the boys I lived through, lyrics of them plastered on different social media pages, the voice I used to hear when I wanted something comforting; they all have different meanings now.

I was silently rooting for him to get the proper help. I wanted him to realize his mistakes, learn from them, make amends, reap what he sewed, and go get better. He just needed a little more time.

But it's too late now. Wow, I can't even believe that this is real. Heavy is the weight of the news that came today and I still can't seem to really wrap my head around it. I find myself staring at the wall or at my phone screen, trying to make sense of it all. I don't even know why I decided to write this and post it here. I think maybe because this place was one of those places I frequented during those times, or maybe I wanted somewhere where I felt I could freely express this. I don't know. I just know I wanted to pay tribute to the boy I once knew, the boy I grew up with.

I am heartbroken, Liam. You will be missed, especially by those who loved you. I pray for your family, your parents, and your son. May they find light in such a dark time. 🤍🪽

Liam James Payne 1993-2024

[sailoryooons]

In Every Life | Drabble | kth x pjm

☾ Pairing: Taehyung x Jimin

☾ Summary: Taehyung has lived thousands of lives. He has recognized his soulmate in every single one of them, a gift of his bloodline. Finally, he has crossed paths with his soulmate once again. 

☾ Word Count: 1,206

☾ Genre: Reincarnation, Soulmates, Implied Romance, Stranges to Something

☾ Rating: SFW 

☾ Warnings: Brief discussions of life and death and some saddness - mostly just talking about living multiple lives and loving someone in their multiple versions. Obscure hints at magic/unexplained ability to recognize soulmates in every life. 

☾ Published: January 1, 2024

☾ A/N: This is my first drabble for the 100 Drabble Challenge that @gimmethatagustd and I are doing together! I am so excited to be doing this and look forward to using this as a way to get myself writing at LEAST twice a week, and to explore AUs I normally wouldn’t get the time to do. This is also going to be a test of self-restraint and making myself write actual drabble-length things. Please make sure you check out Jai’s drabbles too - we are going to have so much fun!! Today's number generator provided number 70 for reincarnation!

☾ A/N 2: HAPPY NEW YEAR! What better way to ring in the New Year with a brief drabble about soulmates Vmin meeting each other for the first time in a new life! I hope everyone has an amazing 2024 - here is to more writing, more joy and more fun!

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ 

Taehyung would know his soulmate in the dark. He would know them in the blinding light of morning, when the golden sun spills like yolk over the horizon, making it impossible to see. He would know them in the warm summer rain, carrying in on violent winds off the tropical coast, thunder echoing across the sky. He would know his soulmate if he were at the bottom of the ocean, too cold to feel and too dark to see. 

Recognizing his soulmate in every one of his lives is both a blessing and a curse. Taehyung has experienced the joy of knowing his other half every time he has been able to walk across the earth. He has laughed with them, smiled with them, and fallen in love with them, each and every time. 

But sometimes, it has brought inexplicable pain. Every once in a while, Taehyung loses them too early. He tastes the sourness of grief as he waits to reach the end of his current life before he starts the next one anew. Sometimes it’s Taehyung who leaves too early - gone in a snap or withering to illness. He might have some sort of magic in his blood, but he’s not impervious. 

The magic is a strange thing. His grandmother told him that it was gifted to their family by the gods when the first of their lineage saved the god from a hunter’s snare. Now, Taehyung is always able to remember a handful of things in every single one of his lives: that he has the gift to recognize his soulmate each time he begins a new life; that he is - according to grandma - blessed by the gods with this gift; he has had past lives and they are all as familiar to him as a recent dream; and that when he remembers these facts about himself differs each lifetime.

Sometimes Taehyung remembers these things when he is ten, overcome with emotion that he hasn’t quite learned the words for. Sometimes, Taehyung remembers when he’s twenty, stricken by the fact that he has the chance to find his other half in the world again. Sometimes, he doesn’t remember when he remembers, just that he does. 

In this life, Taehyung remembered everything about his special gift four years ago. Sometimes he feels lonely. In other lives, it’s taken a short amount of time to find his soulmate. They always come in different versions and at different times. He’s eager to meet every version, though. Loves every single one of them, every different face, gender, and shape. 

Today, it happens.

Taehyung doesn’t go into every single one of his days hoping it will be the one. He’s learned after many lives that he has to treat each day the same, lest he fall into a constant cycle of disappointment when he doesn’t see the person he is hoping to find. He remembers one lifetime where it took him twenty years to find his other half. 

And he still loved them. 

But today. 

Today Taehyung goes to Seokjin’s coffee shop on Third Street like he does every Saturday morning. Winter rain mists down the street, car tires hissing on black pavement, and water flooding the storm drains. Taehyung ducks his head to keep his face away from the cold bite of the wind and rain, pulling his umbrella a little lower. 

Inside the coffee shop is warm, the smell hitting him immediately. He shivers and shakes off the rain, closing the umbrella and sticking it in the umbrella bin alongside others. He smiles when he sees a plastic yellow one covered in ducks. Cute. 

Seokjin waves at him over the counter. Taehyung lifts a hand before placing it back in the warmth of his pocket, forgoing ordering at the counter to walk to his favorite table in the back. It faces the park and even though it’s raining, he likes to watch the world go by. Seokjin always brings Taehyung his coffee, memorized from years of Taehyung haunting his little corner of the world.

Holiday music plays, and Taehyung is so wrapped up in humming and the routine of his morning that it takes him a second to recognize there’s a buzzing in his ears and a tingle in his spine. He stops for a moment, head snapping up as his eyes flicker from booth to booth, heart picking up speed. 

This is it, he thinks. Taehyung knows this feeling. Knows that it means today is the day. He squeezes his hands inside his coat pockets, slowly turning around to look over his shoulder at the booths he’s already passed. His eyes settle on one, and the world goes cotton-soft at the edges, fading to the background.

Taehyung’s soulmate is beautiful. His heart pounds harder as he stares, drinking in the soft brown hair hanging in the man’s eyes, the pouty lips as he reads a book held by dainty, soft hands, and the hoop earrings that catch the dim light of the cafe. Taehyung can barely breathe, eyes sweeping over a small, but fit frame. Round cheeks with a natural blush, and beautiful eyes that remind Taehyung of a siren - or perhaps some other temptress of old. 

His mouth goes dry. He feels everything all at once: the deep breath before skydiving, the first at the concert of his favorite band, the last second before the New Year. None of it sums up the feeling of rightness that settles into Taehyung’s bones. He swears the world sits just right on its axis now, as if it were off before.

Without thinking, he walks over to the table, chewing his lip. He isn’t sure what he’s going to do until he’s standing at the edge of the booth, staring and shaking and smiling. 

His soulmate looks up. For a moment, the man looks confused. Then, something like curiosity glitters in his warm, brown eyes. His mouth twitches upward in a smile, tentative but pleasant. He grips his book a little tighter, tilting his head as he drinks Taehyung in. 

“Hi,” Taehyung offers. A hundred lifetimes and he still never nails the greeting, too nervous. 

“Hi,” the stranger says back, smiling. “Do I know you? You look… familiar.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “No.” He gestures to the open seat. “Mind if I join you? Today is a good day for company.”

“Please, I enjoy new friends.”

Taehyung can’t help but smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as he sits, peeling his jacket off. His soulmate watches him, interest piqued as he shuts the book he was reading and sets it down on the table. Taehyung recognizes the novel.

“I love The Notebook,” Taehyung admits. “It’s a comfort book. And movie.”

The man’s grin grows. Taehyung warms from his fingertips to his toes, happiness spreading. “It’s my favorite,” the man admits. He sticks a small hand over the table between them, an offer. “I’m Jimin.”

Taehyung takes Jimin’s hands, watching as the spark catches in his eyes. Jimin doesn’t know what he is to Taehyung, but there’s something there. As though his soul recognizes Taehyung, somehow. 

“I’m Taehyung. I look forward to getting to know you, Jimin.” 

And so he does as he always has, in every life. 

[destiny-in-the-universe]

So.

I may have just binged Xiaolin Showdown- I’m not quite at the finish line yet, but I am screaming. First of all - the main four embody their elements so well!

Between Clay’s down to earth attitude, but at the same time - being a strong, hard-to-take-down opponent. As a dragon of earth, I was definitely in awe the entire time. I enjoy his character so much, and the Texan sayings he says? Count me in!

Kimiko? Her fiery attitude matches being the dragon of fire so well. She has a free-spirited energy, and can’t easily be tamed even by the wildest of evils. She has an immeasurable, headstrong way of directly taking things on. She’s grown more as a character, but because these characters are likely no older than 13 - they still have a lot more to learn.

Raimundo. Dragon of Wind. He’s the most unpredictable of all of them sometimes - he has an energy which cannot be tamed, and won’t be held down by anything (even if it almost became his door fall). Though in the end, he came back around- deciding he couldn’t abandon his friends…

And then there’s Omi. The Dragon of Water. With his strength, athleticism, and optimistic personality make him perfect for his element- his cheerful but bold attitude are a wonderful mix and I cannot wait to see more from him and the rest of the cast! Though I only got to episode 25, and I’m purring like an idiot- Omi’s characteristics are mirrored as if it were water. He almost seems to go with the flow, but in the end - like a tsunami - he will always protect the ones he cares about.

But now- I get to talk about what I was itching to focus on grrr.

Our villains…

Jack Spicer is certainly the kind of villain who serves as comic relief, but even then- he’s a genuine good fodder to the four monks that stand against him. At times, we’ll see him team up with them for a shady cause, and I find this almost charming. While he isn’t the most terrifying of villains, and he simply functions as the filler for the monks to handle, I’ve grown quite fond of his character!

but ho boy, then we have Wuya and can I just say- she might not have a physical form but even then - she makes for a great opponent. The episodes in which she gained physical form were done so well, and I found myself being drawn in more and more. Her cunning and trickery make her a hard enemy to beat- and I am curious to see where else this series takes us.

BUT there’s another character that has me frothing at the mouth: Chase Young.

Previously on the side of good, Chase Young turned evil on the promise of power and youth- he has his army of Fallen Warriors to guard him, and well, if the fact he’s immensely powerful. Not to mention, he’s incredibly strong and has been around for, say, a while (?). He’s already caught my interest and I can’t wait to see more of him… also his interest in Omi from episode 25 “The Evil Within” has my metaphorical tail wagging because holy- I’m already seeing the vision: Chase attempting to sway Omi onto the side of evil…

Also, the Fallen Warriors being cats while Chase Young has slitted golden eyes (and yes, I know that secretly the mf is reptilian-) is extremely ironic and I live for it- nonhuman Chase for the win because, well, that is what he is! I can’t wait to continue seeing more of his character-

Of course, this is hardly helping my case at all…

Xiaolin Showdown and Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja would be such an interesting crossover- like, I do have a couple ideas cooking in my mind but at the same time… I need to develop this a little more! And if it happens to be influenced by the whole First Ninja and Chase Young dynamic, no it isn’t - whatever do you mean /lh

My tail is wagging

More to come soon! Because mrrr- I am ever so slightly hyperfixated…

[donnerpartyofone]

I love my stepmother dearly and she has helped me through a lot, my life would be totally different without her, however: Every time someone uses the term "bridezilla" I remember when I got engaged, and she strangely launched into this derisive thing about how I'm gonna be a BRIDE and that means I'm going to be a totally irrational emotionally violent bitch, and I'm going to be crying all the time and pushing people around and making demands and it's gonna be soooooo funny that I'm such an insane cunt because I'm a BRIDE. I've never behaved that way in my entire adult life and I didn't understand why she thought it was so inevitable, and I was also bothered that she was kind of laughing in my face about this idea that I was going to make a huge asshole out of myself on account of getting married. And then the irony was that I was not at all set up to do all that even if I wanted to, my best friends live nowhere near me and they don't even know each other very well, it's not like I had sorority sisters or cousins or like anyone to be my squad or whatever. So aside from the usual bit of financial assistance (for which I am very very grateful) I more or less did the entire wedding all by myself, and I had to keep it together until it was completely over to make sure it was easy and pleasurable for everyone else. Actually I made an effort to involve my stepmother just as a personal gesture by getting her to come to the shop that was resizing my dress so she could learn to wind up my train into...into you know, the ass thing, I forget what you call it, so it's neatly in a shape and out of the way after the ceremony. I thought she would be good for this because she's like a fancy, formal, old money kind of lady, but even though she talked to the seamstress and we made a demo video for her and everything she just couldn't be bothered to learn to do it or even admit that she didn't get it. So at my wedding reception I was basically walking around with this like huge chaotic wad of fabric stuffed up my ass, and eventually it all came apart and I was trampling all over it and I could hear it tearing, and my only consolation was that everybody knows I'm such a sad wet mess of a person (which is possibly why my stepmother thought it was cool to flub this without even apologizing or anything) that this probably seemed totally expected and normal to them, even though it actually wasn't my fault for once. But anyway even a really small personal wedding like we had is super stressful to put together, and unless you're like a psycho exhibitionist who is literally on the Bridezilla TV show, the hilariously histrionic bride is a pretty misogynistic concept that totally undermines how exhausting and pressurized it is to design and oversee a heavily photographed event that has to be perfect because everyone will remember it, on top of just the business of undergoing a major life change in and of itself. If a woman does happen to get stressed out and snap while she's trying to tackle that shit, it's not really necessary to make a laughing stock out of her for fulfilling the stereotype of being a crazy bitch.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

The way substance abuse has been handled on the show thus far genuinely upsets me and reeks of writers who either 1.) don't understand the subject matter they're presenting and haven't done even the bare minimum to research it or, worse, 2.) simply don't care.

Apologies for the slight rant incoming, your comment about how it has been mostly "handled" off-screen got me going because that's 100% true and in that truth is such a missed opportunity for the show. The way it has been handled winds up feeling incredibly shallow and juvenile at the end of the day, especially for a piece of media that is attempting to present itself as "adult" and navigate multiple incredibly sensitive topics. I'll try not to get into my own personal experiences and will speak broadly, but the show uses substance abuse more as a cheap character flaw to poke fun at or something to magically handwave away when it is inconvenient, rather than the life-altering, debilitating illness that it is.

Nothing about Angel's use is ever meaningfully explored. It's so (apparently) unimportant to his arc and development that one rude comment from Husk (a character who ALSO has a problem with gambling and alcohol that is never addressed) is all it takes for him to suddenly "resist temptation" and be shown as "recovered" (unless I'm misremembering). Or was he suddenly going to counseling off-screen too and its just another thing that will be told to us rather than shown? And how does Charlie even handle that at the Hotel (I'd be really interested in this as a moment for her character to have to grow/change too)? Does she even understand substance abuse and the many unaddressed systemic factors that can influence it? Or is the entire recovery process just shame based (because that works so well /s) combined with some more corny trust exercises? Why is this incredibly serious topic relegated to the background as if it's unimportant?

Recovery is hard. It is emotional and exhausting. Withdrawal (depending on what you're coming off of) can sometimes mean excruciating, unimaginable pain and in some cases people literally die. It is not a funny "ha-ha I take drugs because I'm chaotic and wild" quirk to be adored or glorified and it definitely should not be presented as something that can be wrapped up in a month or two off-screen without any development whatsoever. That's just insulting.

When you approach a topic like substance abuse and recovery, I personally feel you need to take in all sides of it. All the missteps that come with it (two steps forward one step back - mistakes are expected and okay), the self-loathing, the guilt and shame, the joy, the sense of freedom, the loss, and the best part of all: the incredibly difficult but liberating journey that is rebuilding your life and learning to love yourself and your body again, once you've chosen to be free and to live life.

Mad props to anyone who has ever battled this disease. You are strong, you are worth it and you are valued. Lol I am so sorry for going off here but I so appreciate you calling out the lack of exploration on this topic in the show. I guess I didn't even realize how annoyed and upset it was making me feel (praying this is coherent...).

This was absolutely coherent don’t worry!! Im really glad to see other people talking about this. I myself have not struggled with drug addiction but I have struggled with other kinds and as someone that studies a bunch of medical junk, I’d say I’m decently knowledgeable.

I’m mainly going to focus on Angel for this since he’s the main character I write for, but I assure you other characters addictions are also handled in my rewrite.

During the actual canon show, we don’t see Angel actually abusing substances that often; there’s a few times, most notably in episode 4, but from the rest of the show onward we hardly see anything. Yes in episode 6 they mentioned relapsing, which, mind you, was done horribly, but I digress. They touch on relapsing; Angel relapses, and then… what..??? What happened from that? I don’t feel upset or second hand guilt of any kind from this scene because we haven’t seen Angel’s attempts to stay sobre and off drugs.

His name is fucking Angel Dust. You don’t, I dunno, think that’d entail a higher dependency on drugs? Why do you think he named himself that?

About his name before anything else, the show has so much potential later on to talk about Angel picking out his drag name and why he chose that specifically. So much potential to explore how he views drugs and himself. He sees them as an escape and something “fun” to take his mind off of his actual life. When you die in a fucking coma and wake up in hell as a spider you’re going to want an escape. You will want to ignore reality. I am fully convinced Angel picked his name once he started performing because thats what he needed at the time. He needs to be like that to survive in hell. Angel is an incredibly mentally ill, troubled, traumatised, and unstable person, and being surrounded by so much intense negative influence only amplifies his current problems. I don’t mean to drag Vox in here but in my last redesign post I mentioned how very mildly bad people can become even worse people in hell because of the environment and this is no different for Angel. He’s been surrounded by crime and drugs his entire life and unable to live comfortably because of his sexuality. He has very likely been struggling with substances since he was a teen. Possibly even younger. He is not going to suddenly get over his addiction because of something like this. It could pave the way to him looking into dealing with it, but things like this can take years. I don’t remember when my addiction started; I’ve been clean for 2 1/2 years now I think, but the amount of relapsing and anguish I experienced while working towards that isn’t something that can be done in a few days or months. I still struggle with feeling like I deserve to say I’m recovering.

I’m hoping they tactfully handle this as they should, but my hopes are low. It’s okay to show a character relapsing. It’s okay to show a character feeling guilty. What matters is that the struggle is there to signify they’re trying. For a character with a song called “Addict” you really don’t see much of it. Drug and alcohol addiction is not a silly thing to just twiddle your fingers with and be like “well I guess thats over!” It’s incredibly insensitive to do so.

Whenever I write about Angel’s struggles with addictions, I focus on how small they can feel until you realise what’s actually happening. Just me talking about my rewrite again, but to get my ideas out here: Angel smokes often. He smokes at the studio when he’s stressed, he smokes at the hotel when he’s stressed, he smokes at in alleyways when he’s bored, there’s almost no location he won’t, but sometimes he tries to smoke less. His lungs aren’t the same as humans and technically he has 2 pairs of lungs, but smoking causes him to cough. This is painful in general and especially painful for Angel since he has barbs going down the back of his throat. Imagine choking on sandpaper, kind of like that. It’s painful, he doesn’t like the sound, Fat Nuggets REALLY doesn’t like the sound, and it’s an overall inconvenience, so he tries to stop smoking as much. Periods like this usually go fine for him until the stress returns or he starts to feel the withdrawal. Withdrawal from any sort of addiction is terrible, and in Angel’s case, just from not smoking it worsens his mental state further. He becomes irritable and stressed and that stress leads to wanting to smoke again to calm down. He may resist a few times and those times should be praised, but he gives in eventually. One cigarette to calm down becomes two, then three, and before he can process himself getting carried away, the entire pack is gone. It’s things like this that make addiction horrible. It’s something that deeply scared me when I was struggling. When I was struggling I was still in the mindset of “I can stop when I want to” and then being so suddenly hit in the face with the realisation that I’m not longer in control of this is terrifying. I could not stop when I wanted to. There were even points where I didn’t want to stop. Even just getting the smallest glimpse of this in an incredibly serious manner with Angel Dust would surprise me. To think the bar is this low on a show that seemingly prides itself on tackling such sensitive topics like you said is appalling. Your show shouldn’t have to be told how to write itself.

[hitomisuzuya]

Suzu its time... I would like to request you to write whatever you want and go crazy with it!! I honestly dont have any restrictions unless its 3somes/4somes etc (i get uncomfortable reading those types of fics) but other than that by all means go write till your heart desires 😋❤️❤️❤️ please have fun with my daily request!

Fatui!Scaramouche x Fatui!fem!reader. Smut. Consensual Somnophilia in an established relationship. Some Yandere themes because I wanted test myself. I have Yandere!Kazuha ask in in inbox. It's nothing heavy though. I won't write the crazy shit like kidnapping and forced captivity. Slight mention of violence but nothing big.

A/n: Really👀? Just those two restrictions? I exercised some restraint because I am afraid this is going to make you nervous. Here is the wind up and the pitch. I hope you and everyone reading enjoys. I hope this wasn't too much😭

At first, Scaramouche wondered if you even had the disposition to be in the Fatui. You were normally quiet and sweet, rarely lashing out at your subordinates. (He didn't know how you did it, really.)

He was instantly curious when he'd heard you had a reputation, and Scaramouche really wanted to know where it came from. You even cooed at stray animals, playing fetch with a few children in the village near a Fatui safehouse one day.

Color him impressed when he found out you were the Fatui's best interrogator. The first time he watched you work, he quite frankly was a little in love at first site. He didn't think that was possible. Scaramouche was glad it took a little bit for the person to crack and sing like a canary because that meant he could watch you do your thing a little longer.

And what was more exhilarating to him is that you never let anyone live, telling him coldly as you wiped blood off your hands that you couldn't have them running back and spilling your whereabouts in case anyone wanted revenge. He knew it wouldn't matter if they did suss you out in the name of revenge. They were going to die anyways, you were a force to be reckoned with your Pyro vision and your sword.

"I'm doing them a favor." You hated people like he did.

Little did you know, he learned your schedule by heart everyday after that, keeping a copy folded in his pocket.

He eventually had you transferred to his squad. Scaramouche liked being able to choose when you had days off. It increased his chances of getting to see and be intimate with you. He liked having you all to himself whenever he wanted.

Scaramouche was sitting next to you on your bed. You'd been zonked out for about an hour now, not even moving once. There was still a little blood caked underneath your fingernails leftover from a job, making him lick his lips. You'd even told him to drop by if he saw you sleeping, telling him you wouldn't mind if he wanted to indulge himself a little while you slept.

About six months into your relationship he did just that. Rolling you over onto your back, he pushed your panties aside, rubbing your clit before burying them inside of you. He shivered at how wet you felt. "You are tempting me on purpose, aren't you?" He whispered.

You shifted a little in your sleep. "You really should lock your door if you are going to sleep looking like that," the pace of his fingers increased, making you moan quietly in your sleep.

"Just give me a spare key to your quarters," he continued, fondling one of your bare breasts, pinching your nipple. "I will fuck anyone up if they saw you like this. In fact, I won't allow it." He glared slightly down at you. "You belong to me now."

Scaramouche felt himself getting hard the more you moaned. Ahhh, you sounded so pretty. You were his and he was yours. He wasn't going to share you anyone.

He didn't have to ask you twice when he asked you to come with him when he betrayed the Fatui. You were so sweet, so loyal.

Remember, he didn't exactly play well with others.

[something-tofightfor]

Everybody’s Waiting For The Next Surprise: This Is Halloween

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (JTGTBG)

Word Count: 15,426

Summary: In the days leading up to Halloween, you spend time with Tommy, and learn a little more about his - and Joel's - pasts. When the night of the party arrives, you find it a little easier than you expected to let yourself get caught up in the celebration ... and so does Joel.

Rating: NSFW. Lots of smut, but also lots of canon-typical TLOU content and discussion.

Warnings: This story contains spoilers for TLOU season 1 and TLOU Part 1, but doesn’t get into anything from the second game.

Author’s Note: This is very long, and I know that means a longer time requirement from readers. I would apologize, but I'm not *actually* sorry. I love writing for these characters, and am so happy to share this.

Takes place in the JTGTBG universe between Help Me Get Away From Myself and Your Eyes Outshine The Town.

Thank you for reading!

Song Suggestion: “This Is Halloween” by the cast of The Nightmare Before Christmas

Catch up with Part 1 here

You were only riding twenty or so miles out from Jackson, the winding expanse of Highway 22 taking you straight to the Idaho / Wyoming border, but the patrol with Tommy was uneventful the entire way west. 

It was a route that you’d patrolled countless times before. With Tommy, the miles went by quickly, the late-fall sunshine warm on your backs, despite the chilly air. Two decades after the outbreak, fewer people came to Jackson, so the route was patrolled less - and was more overgrown than it had been the first times you’d traveled it. 

And because it was one of the longer routes, each patrol took more time - and that meant almost two full days with Tommy. You saw no sign of infection and no sign of humans the entire first day, the two of you guiding your horses at a leisurely pace down the road as you traded stories. 

It had always been easy between the two of you. The man showed up in Jackson a few years after you with hope written on his face despite the haunted look in his eyes. You’d taken to him immediately - charmed by his accent and the personality that continued to develop as the days passed, the man he’d been before the outbreak emerging little by little.  

He’d been proof that even after years of horror - living on the road and in QZs and dealing with the Fireflies and FEDRA directly - there was a chance for normalcy … and you’d been thrilled to get to see it for yourself. 

For brief moments, some of Jackson had assumed that you and Tommy would end up together because of the amount of time you spent in each other’s company, but you’d never looked at him the way they’d all assumed. 

He’d simply made you feel safe in a way that you couldn’t quite explain, especially since you knew some of the things that he and his brother had done to survive. You’d never judged him for it, though. Everyone had done things they weren’t proud of, and once Tommy had realized that you weren’t going to think less of him for surviving, it was like a switch flipped.

In the years that had passed, you’d only grown to care for him more - the man and Maria as close to family as you’d thought you’d ever come to having again. And that made patrolling with him almost fun. There was no question about whether or not you had each other’s backs, or that you’d know how to react if the situation called for it. And it guaranteed quality conversation throughout the trips you took. Just like this one.

As the day went on, and you got closer to the border, your conversation switched from talk about Jackson to other things. I need to get ahead of him asking me about Joel. “So why’d you switch, Tommy? You were scheduled for the Cache Creek patrol later this weekend.” 

Turning his head to look at you, Tommy’s reply came moments later. “This is the last time this season we’ll be able to find ‘em.” Find… what? “Don’t give me that look, you know what I’m talkin’ about.” 

You didn’t - racking your brain to figure out what he meant. There’s no houses. There isn’t anything out here to find. “Tommy?” 

“You’ll see.” He pointed ahead of you at one of the turn offs for the old hiking trails. “Right over there.” What is he talking about?  But when he guided his horse off the main road, leading her into a small copse of trees and then dismounting, you weren’t far behind. “I wanted to come out here with you because it’s the end of mushroom season, and I knew I could convince you to fuck off for a couple hours and hunt for ‘em.” 

“You’re joking.” He looked up at you, shaking his head. “We’re all the way out here for Mushrooms? How do you even know where -”

“You think it’s a coincidence that we’ve always got a shit ton of fresh mushrooms after the autumn Teton Pass patrol?” Tommy rolled his eyes. “It’s not.” 

“Is it safe to leave the horses?” You trusted him - but not asking questions was a recipe for disaster that you knew all too well. “To wander away from them and into the woods?”

“You’re with me. Of course it’s safe.” He raised a brow, grinning. “And if I let anything happen to you, my brother would fuckin’ murder me with his bare hands, so…” Well that escalated quickly.

“It’s not that serious, Tommy.” You forced the words out, rubbing one hand over your cheek. “We’re still getting to know each other, it’s just …”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, sweetheart. Maybe someday I’ll believe it.” He tossed you a mesh bag. “You know what to look for?”

“It’s been a long time, but yeah.” Nodding, you continued. “And I assume you’d let me know if I tried to grab something that would kill someone, so… yes. I think I can do it.” 

“Alright. We’ll head out in that direction.” He pointed, using his chin for emphasis. “First spot is about fifteen minutes into the trees.” 

Neither of you spoke as you headed deeper into the forest, the sound of birds and the underbrush beneath your feet the only noises you heard. It was peaceful - the sun shining through the branches and illuminating patches of ground, Tommy walking beside you - and for a few minutes, you let yourself forget what the situation actually was. 

It was dangerous to do that - and you knew it - but from time to time, you couldn’t help it. “That big rock over there’s a landmark.” Tommy nudged you with his elbow. “That’s where we need to go. It’s nice to be lookin’ for these damn things instead of them chasing after us.” 

You changed directions while laughing, heading for the boulder, and only moments later you saw the first sign of mushrooms - tons of them sticking out from various points on fallen, dead tree trunks that surrounded it. “Jackpot, Tommy.” 

— 

Later that night, the two of you made camp just off the side of the highway. You set a tent up to block the wind, but neither of you were inside it. The sky was starlit, and though there was no fire burning, you were warm, a thick blanket wrapped around your shoulders 

“Would be the perfect night if we had some coffee.” Tommy crossed his legs at the ankle, his back propped up on a tree stump. “Reminds me of all the nights we’d have bonfires back home after football games.” 

“I’ve heard stories about you and those days, Tommy.” Yawning, you shrugged your shoulders, pulling the blanket tighter. “How many different women did you take to those bonfires?” 

“That asshole.” Tommy laughed, though, running a hand through his hair. “Wasn’t that many. More’n him, but …” He sighed. “Bet you had your fair share of boyfriends and bonfires, too.” 

“I had a few.” You smiled at the memory, turning your head to look at him. “Fall was always my favorite season. I still like it, but it’s always kind of bittersweet, you know?”

“It was still hot as shit in Texas that day.” Tommy closed his eyes. “Hard to believe it’s been so long.” 

In most cases, people tried not to talk about the outbreak and immediate aftermath. But with Tommy, neither of you were shy about mentioning it - especially since the journeys that you’d taken in the months that followed were similar in so many ways. “Wasn’t it always hot as shit in Texas?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” He rubbed at his chin, nodding. “Used to complain about it all the damn time.” Of course you did. “Especially since me an’ Joel were always workin’ outside in it.” 

“You know, I’m kind of surprised that you two didn’t just … dress like construction workers for Halloween.” It slipped out - your mind still on the discussion that you and Joel had had after carving your pumpkins - but to your surprise, Tommy only laughed, scooting closer. 

“We did once. Jeans and boots and sleeveless shirts that we had Sarah drag around in the yard with her bike. Joel strapped a tool belt around his waist, and I had one of those reflective vests on.” 

“Let me guess.” Sitting up straight, you eyed him. “You guys went home that night with a stack of phone numbers, and Joel didn’t call a single one of them.”

“No.” Tommy’s smile widened. “I didn’t call a single one of them, because I knew they just wanted me for my hammer, and -”

“Oh, fuck off.” Shoving him with one hand, you rolled your eyes, despite the fact that you didn’t even know if he could see it. “The two of you were trouble, weren’t you.”

“Still are. Just … in a different way.” Tommy sighed. “A lot of different ways, actually.” He pulled his blanket tighter around himself and drew his lower lip back between his teeth. “Saw those pumpkins you all carved. Not the pictures, the actual pumpkins. Can’t believe he actually did one.” 

“It was a surprise to me, too… and it was his idea. He brought the third one home himself.”

“Did he tell you about Halloween with Sarah? About her and her costumes? About -”

“He did. He actually talked a lot about her that night, but most of it was just to me. After Ellie went to bed, we talked about … before.”

“He was a real good dad.” Tommy nodded to himself, taking and holding a deep breath. “Not just at Halloween.” 

“Heard you were a really good uncle, too, so it must have run in the family.” Tommy was quiet for a long time after that, and just when you’d started to think that he wasn’t going to continue the conversation, he spoke up again. 

“These last couple months? With you and Ellie? It’s the closest thing to Joel I’ve seen since 2013. Whatever you’re doing… please keep doin’ it.” He turned to face you, quietly speaking your name. “We’ve been through a lot of shit, and I don’t like rememberin’ a lot of what we had to do to get here, but it’s real good to have my brother back.” 

There was nothing that you could have said that would have been enough, and so you did the only thing you could think of - and dropped your blanket to wrap your arms around Tommy, hugging him as tightly as you could. I’m sure it is. 

— 

You made it back to town the following day with four bags full of mushrooms - and two smaller ones that you and Tommy had put aside for yourselves. You offered to drop them off at the main community center after you’d stabled the horses, letting Tommy go home sooner. Penny was out for the day - thankfully - and once you’d said goodbye to the younger Miller brother and made your delivery, you headed straight home. 

You wanted to go to Joel’s - wanted to end the night with his arms around you while you fell into a deep sleep - but you needed a hot shower, and that wasn’t possible at his house. 

So you’d clicked the radio twice on the channel you used with him to let him know that you’d made it back and then headed home, savoring the feel of the water as it warmed your skin and washed the dust from the road away. 

But the entire time you were under the water, he - and the conversations that you’d had with him and Tommy over the previous few days - played back in your mind. We’ve all lost so much.

The following day was an off one for you, and you had nothing planned until the party that night. So you did something that you rarely allowed yourself to do when you were alone and slept in, the blankets pulled tight around your body and the breeze from the open window filling your apartment with fresh, chilly air. 

And when you finally left your place that day, Jackson was bustling with activity, though much of it was preparation for that night. You dropped off a batch of mini muffins and two loaves of pumpkin bread, staying to talk with two of the people decorating the inside of the main hall for a few minutes about their plans for that night. 

It was the end of the conversation that got the wheels turning in your head, one of the men leaning against the wall and eyeing you. “Are you dressing up this year? Max said some of the other adults have come to the storage building to look through all of the extras.” 

“I didn’t plan on it.” I really didn’t. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you sighed. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “There was a pirate costume and I grabbed it. It’s stupid but dressing up for a couple hours is … it helps.” It does. You smiled, telling him that you couldn’t wait to see it that night - but then you headed out, stepping back onto the street. 

It wouldn’t hurt anything to head to the storage facility. It wouldn’t even take you long to look through what was available. And maybe … Tapping on your lips with your fingertips, you narrowed your eyes. Maybe I can even make Joel smile. 

That was the only thing you needed to think, and five minutes later, you were walking into the former school building that housed all of Jackson’s “extras”, a large smile still on your face. 

— 

The fall festival was held inside of the community center and on the land that surrounded it. Tables were set up for snacks and drinks, the remaining pumpkins scattered around the space for decorative purposes before they’d be smashed and given to the animals or roasted for use by the other residents in the following days.

You saw Maria as soon as you got to the open space, the woman wearing a long black dress that was cinched at the waist, a pointed hat perched atop her head. It was one of her usual costumes, and when the sunlight caught the buckle on her hat, the metal glinting brightly, you grinned. But where’s Tommy? 

She waved you over, the woman’s eyes widening and her smile growing, and by the time you were beside her, she was laughing, both hands settled on your arms. “You haven’t dressed up in years, what -”

“I thought it would be fun.” Shrugging, you glanced down. “It’s just a cloak and -” 

“Oh, bullshit. You’re trying to impress someone.” She rolled her eyes. “They had that in storage?”

“Yeah. You’d be surprised at what’s still in there if you look through it all. Reminds me of going thrifting.” Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the final piece of your costume, holding it up in the air. “Even managed to find these.” She laughed, squeezing your arm before she dropped her hands. 

“My husband is running late, and I haven’t seen Joel or Ellie yet, either.” She sighed, lifting a hand to wave at someone behind you. “I know Tommy will be here, and I hope the other two come, too.” 

“I could see Ellie here before Joel. And if she was at the school today, there’s no way she missed this setup.” It was somewhat juvenile - lots of witches and bats, a few carved pumpkins and more plastic ones placed around the space, dried out cornstalks tied to the lampposts and building pillars … but it made the area feel like it was Halloween, as did the sight of children running and playing, most of them in costume. 

You even saw some of the older kids hanging out. Dina and Jessie were both wearing their regular clothes with masks perched atop their heads, and Cat was with them, the girl living up to her namesake with whiskers drawn on her cheeks and the tip of her nose painted black. 

It was a nice break in routine - and aside from the holiday celebration in December and the mid-summer party that was held each year, it was the largest gathering in Jackson. And the most fun, honestly. “Oh, shit.” 

Maria’s next words interrupted your thoughts, and at the sound of them - and the sight of her jaw dropping, you froze. “Maria? What -”

“Turn around.” 

You had no idea what to expect, and as you spun slowly to look behind you, your heart slammed against your ribs. She’s not running. She’s not screaming. No one else is either, so it can’t be … At the sight that greeted you, your heartbeat quickened for an entirely different reason, your lips parting in shock. “You’re fucking joking.” 

But it wasn’t as joke, and as the three of them got closer, your shock turned into delight, one hand rising to cover your mouth. 

It wasn’t any one of them - it was the three of them together that got to you, your eyes filling with tears that you knew weren’t hidden. I don’t want to hide them, though. I just … “Hey, ‘Ria, does my ass look big in these pants?” Tommy stopped a few feet away, putting a hand on his hip as he turned to the side. “Joel said it did.”

“Hell yeah it does, Tommy.” Maria pushed past you, closing the distance between herself and her husband in only a few steps. “But I won’t complain.” He grinned, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her into a deep kiss, but your attention was entirely on Joel and Ellie, the girl standing awkwardly next to the man, who was clearly uncomfortable. 

“No base layer pants for you, Joel?” Arching a brow, you wrinkled your nose. “Gonna let Tommy steal the -”

“I sure as shit am.” Joel actually laughed at you, raising one arm to scratch at the back of his neck. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m squeezin’ into a pair of those and runnin’ around where other people can see me.”

“And everyone thanks you for it.” Ellie spoke up, and you turned your head away from Joel to look at her, watching as she rubbed a thumb over the whistle that she wore around her neck. “Also like … surprise, we’re here, and we’re dressed like …” Gesturing to herself, she shrugged. “This.” 

“I told you, Ellie, you’re a referee. Means you’re supposed to watch me an’ Tommy and make sure we follow all the rules.” Joel elbowed her, head shaking back and forth. “And I still think you shoulda been blowin’ that damn whistle at him about those pants, so -”

“No, she shouldn’t have.” Maria was next to Tommy, the man’s arm around her shoulders. “Fuck I forgot how much I love Halloween.” Her eyes were bright and her smile was broad, and you had a feeling that she and Tommy wouldn’t be sticking around long enough to hassle you and Joel about public indecency. For once. “And how much I miss football Sundays.” 

“It’s not the Longhorns, but it’ll do.” Tommy spoke up then, eyes on Joel. “For a couple hours anyway.” 

“Can I take a picture of the three of you?” You pulled your camera from beneath your cape, holding it up. “It’ll be better than taking individual shots.” Ellie nodded eagerly, and when Tommy had extricated himself from his wife’s hold, moving back to stand next to Joel, you turned the camera on and held it up, smiling as you pressed the shutter. “Thank you.” 

It was a perfect shot of them - Tommy’s arm around Joel’s shoulders, one of Joel’s hands settled on his hip and Ellie standing between them, the whistle between her lips and both hands on her hips. God, that’s a good one. 

“You’re good, Ellie.” Lowering the camera and then hanging the strap back over your shoulder, you nodded. “Thank you.” She blew the whistle once and then broke away from where you stood, bee-lining it for the other teenagers. Good for her. “And as for you two, you -”

“I’m going to go and make out with my wife.” Tommy winked at you and then moved back to Maria’s side, linking their fingers together. “You two behave. Or don’t.” 

They were gone moments later, leaving you and Joel standing in front of the community center and facing each other. 

You really looked at him for the first time - the man’s upper body encased in a white football jersey with brown and yellow accents, the tanned skin of his upper chest and forearms on full display. Unlike Tommy, who was wearing stretchy pants, Joel had opted for a pair of dark, loose fitting ones, though he was wearing a pair of sneakers instead of his boots. 

“If you had asked me whether or not I thought you were going to show up tonight, there’s absolutely no way I’d have guessed it would be looking like that, Joel.” Cautiously stepping closer, you took a deep breath. “Where the hell did you find a football jersey?”

“There was a whole box of ‘em in that storehouse. And when I asked Tommy if there was anything like this in there, he was real quick to come with me.” Joel shrugged. “This was one of our “go to” costumes when we were younger. One of us was always playin’ touch football when we were kids, and then as adults, we always had jerseys in the closet. It’s low effort but it’s … a costume.” 

You let your mind wander for a few seconds - picturing yourself, a couple drinks in and watching Joel and Tommy walk into a bar dressed like football players. I would have lost my mind. “Not many men look good in that shade of yellow, Joel… but you and Tommy pull it off. And Ellie as the ref was perfect.” 

“Yeah?” He cracked a smile, reaching out to take your hand. “As long as you think so.” I do. “And I see that you decided to wear a costume, too. This have anything to do with that conversation we had the other night?”

“Maybe.” You reached into your pocket and pulled what you’d shown Maria out, winking at Joel before you popped them into your mouth. “Or maybe I justh wanted to show you my true thelf.”

“Oh, the fangs.” Joel groaned, pulling you closer. “Hope those haven’t been passed down between people that wanted to wear a costume.” You bared them at him and then stuck your tongue out, focused on Joel’s face as he looked you over, hunger in his eyes. “But I meant it the other night.” He leaned closer, mouth hovering over your ear. “Those teeth are really doin’ it for me.” 

You lost it laughing at that, closing your eyes and leaning in to press your forehead against his shoulder, Joel’s arms wrapping around you to hold you close. You liked seeing the carefree side of Joel, even though it only appeared infrequently. And you knew that being around people in the Halloween environment was likely difficult for him, but he seemed to be making the most of it… and so you decided to, too. 

Taking the teeth out and putting them back into your pocket, you cleared your throat. I forgot how uncomfortable those are. “We should go inside, Joel. There’s hot apple cider, and donuts and …” Pulling away so that you could meet his eyes, you hummed. “And I’m sure half of Jackson’s population will want to ogle the shit out of you in that jersey, so I don’t want to deprive them of the opportunity.” 

He groaned. But instead of replying, Joel moved to kiss you, one large hand tilting your chin into position. It was a brief kiss, but it was still a shock to you - the new status of your relationship something that the two of you were still navigating through. Neither of you were into PDA, but it seemed like you couldn’t help it sometimes; stealing kisses or touches whenever possible - even if only to let the other know you were there. But I’ll never complain. 

“Let’s get this shit over with.” He sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “You said there’s donuts?” 

— 

A couple hours later, everyone was inside and getting settled into seats that were facing the big screen at the front of the room. You’d moved through the space, taking photos and talking to people throughout the night, and even though you hadn’t been joined at the hip, Joel had never been more than a few feet away. 

Part of it was that the space was smaller, and with a lot of people inside, it was cramped. But you knew that another, larger reason for his proximity was that of all of Jackson’s residents, he felt the most connected with you, Ellie, Tommy and Maria. But Ellie’s been busy all night, you reminded yourself as you watched her, the girl included in a huddle with a group of Jackson’s teens. And Tommy and Maria … well. 

It wasn’t a surprise that they were side by side all night, because it had been that way for most of the time the man had been in Jackson. But their behavior that night was out of the ordinary, the couple acting like lovestruck college students - and even reappearing from one of the back hallways after a few minutes, Tommy’s curly hair disheveled and Maria’s smirk huge. 

A few more minutes of looking around clued you in on exactly why Tommy’s behavior had changed so rapidly and totally: Joel’s presence.

Even with you, Joel was reserved at times, pulling back when he felt like things were getting to be too much. He was guarded - and rightfully so - with you and Ellie. But one look at him with Tommy, and it was like getting a glimpse into the distant past, back to a time when things had been much simpler and they’d been able to just be brothers, not survival partners. It was still cold between them at times, but that night wasn’t one of them, and while you sipped from a mug of hot apple cider, you watched the Miller brothers, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Would we have stood a chance with them before?” Maria stepped next to you, tilting her head to the side and resting it against your shoulder. “Tommy by himself is one thing, but the two of them together? Shit, that’s a sight.” 

“I really don’t know, Maria.” Taking your eyes off of Joel, you turned your body toward your friend, raising your mug. “But we do now, so if there’s any bright spot in the last twenty years of hell…” She winced but then nodded in agreement, clinking the edge of her cup to yours. “What’s that saying? Everything’s better when it’s from Texas?” 

“It’s actually “everything’s bigger in Texas”, but I’ll let that one slide.” Tommy moved to stand behind Maria, one arm curling around her waist. “Even though it’s true, and I’m sure you both could -”

You covered your face with the hand not holding your drink, and at the sound of Maria and Tommy’s laughter, you turned away, groaning. “Movie starts in fifteen. Make sure you get popcorn.” Assuring Maria you would, you glanced around the room, finding Joel deep in conversation with a group of men that you knew he’d been working on a construction project with. I’ll find Ellie. I haven’t talked to her in a little while. 

But the girl was settled at a table with her friends, five of them playing a card game that you didn’t want to interrupt. Maybe I’ll just go outside before the movie starts. 

You did that, pulling the cape tighter around your shoulders as you looked up at the starlit sky, your breath visible as you exhaled. Maria’s question was one that you asked yourself often, and even though your self esteem wasn’t that low, you didn’t think that the answer would have worked out in your favor. Just because of - 

The sound of your name startled you from your thoughts, and when you turned toward it, you barely held back your wince. “Penny? I’m really not in the mood to argue.”

“Neither am I. I wanted to apologize.” She was wearing a leather jacket and jeans, her hands stuffed into the pockets. “For a few things, actually. But mostly for … the other day.” What the fuck is happening? You were confused, cocking your head to the side and stepping closer. “You were right. I took it out on Ellie, and that’s really shitty of me.” 

“It was. And I’m glad you’re admitting it, but …” How is this an apology? “It worked out. Joel got his own, and Ellie got to -”

“I’m also sorry for the way I’ve treated you for the last few months.” She looked away, shaking her head and then met your eyes again. “There’s no reason for it. I knew what the deal was when Joel and I slept together, and I just … refused to accept it.” Oh? Well this is a surprise. “He was miserable back then, and I just wanted to…” I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to know anything about them. “He’s better now. With you?” She smiled, the expression sad. “I hate to admit it, but it’s the truth.” He is. It is.

“Penny, I …” Trailing off, you bit your lip. “Thank you for apologizing. I didn’t … it wasn’t my … I’m not trying to rub it in or anything like that. This just … happened.” And I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But that doesn’t mean I want to be an asshole about it. “I just want what’s best for him and Ellie.” 

“Yeah.” She gave you a tight smile and then extended her hand. “Truce? Jackson’s pretty small, and it’ll be so much easier if we can move past this.” It was an apology, sure. And for the most part, you heard sincerity in it. But she’s acting like I’ve been extending this feud, too… and it’s all been her. 

“Yeah, Penny.” You took her hand, fingers curling around hers. “Sure. That works for me.” But I have nothing to apologize for. “I’m going to head back inside, though. I’m cold, and the movie’s probably starting.” She nodded once but stayed outside while you turned to reenter the building, shivering at the change in air temperature. That was weird. 

“Thought about comin’ out there after you.” Joel spoke from right beside you, his hand pressed against your lower back. “Especially after I watched her follow you out. But we didn’t hear any arguin’, so…”

“Nah, Joel.” Finishing your drink, you set the empty cup down on one of the tables. “We’re good, I think. For now, at least.” You shrugged, meeting his eyes. “Might not have to fight Penny anymore over you, but I’ve seen the looks you’re getting tonight … no one’s going to forget the sight of you in that jersey, Miller.” 

“Was never anything to fight over.” He locked his jaw, blinking slowly. “Not for you.” He raised one brow, clearing his throat. “And it’s just a jersey. It’s loose, and I’m fifty years old. Tommy’s the one runnin’ around in those damn Spandex pants.” 

“Mmmm, yeah, he is, but no one here’s dumb enough to make eyes at Maria’s husband, so…” You reached out, pressing your hand to the center of his chest, fingers spread over the WYO there. “Guess I’ll just have to double ‘em up on you.”

“Fine by me.” The corner of his mouth rose briefly, but when the lights dimmed, Joel’s head turned toward where the screen was illuminated, the press of his hand against your back firm. “What did they pick for tonight?” 

“Hocus Pocus.” You smiled, shrugging. “It’s a safe choice. Witches and talking cats and cursed spellbooks are a lot different than zombies or vampires. They see enough violence as it is, and …” You smiled sadly. “It’s just a nice break.” He nodded, agreeing, and then Joel urged you forward, though you stood at the edge of the mostly seated crowd. 

“Already told Ellie we might head out before the end of the movie, so I figured we could just stand for a while.” He spoke from behind you, directly into your ear. “And then sneak out before everyone else does and we get stuck talkin’ til midnight.” 

“I like that plan.” Leaning back against him, you took a deep breath. “Does that mean I get to go home with the quarterback tonight?”

“No, Maria’s got that covered.” He laughed, both arms winding around you. “So unless you’re goin’ home with them, you’ll have to settle for me.”

“Settle?” Turning your head, you kissed his cheek. “You’re crazy, Joel.” He didn’t reply, but there was no need - the tightening of his arms was more than enough. 

— 

When the two of you exited the room a half hour later, you didn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone. Instead, you quietly left through the side door, both of you hurrying around the building and toward the sidewalk. “Shit, it got cold.” 

“Yeah, well, at least you’ve got that cape. I don’t even have sleeves.” He grumbled from next to you, rubbing his hands over his arms. “It gets real cold here early. Even in Boston, it wasn’t like this.” 

“It shocked me, too.” You took his hand, squeezing it. “And the snow and cold also stick around a lot longer in the spring. I was actually kind of surprised that it was all gone when you and Ellie got back this year.” 

“Great.” He sighed, letting the exhale out in a burst - along with his next words. “I just want to thank you, because if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be doin’ half the shit I have here.” 

“What?” You stopped, looking both ways at the corner even though it wasn’t necessary, and then the two of you crossed the street, stepping off of the curb at the same time. Where’d that come from? “You’re welcome, but -”

“You’re gonna tell me I don’t need to thank you, but I do.” Joel’s hand tightened around yours, the man continuing a moment later. “When we first got here, you were just nice. I wasn’t real nice back, either. But you didn’t hold it against me, or against Ellie.”

“She’s just a kid, Joel. She’s done and seen too much for someone her age, but she’s still just a teenager. Of course I’m not going to take it out on her when someone else is an asshole.”

“I deserve that.” He did - you agreed, but you understood. “None of this is easy for me, not after everything I’ve seen and done. This feels … wrong, y’know?” 

“I do. It all felt that way for me for about a year after I got here,  but you… you have a lot more to think back on. Of course it’s going to take longer.” 

“I mean … for the first time in damn near 20 years, I ain’t starvin’. I’m sleepin’ on a bed that has new pillows and a thick blanket, and I have a shower and a sink and clean water, and a place to keep my shit that actually has a good lock, and -” He stopped, tugging on your hand and turning to face you. “I’m finally startin’ to understand that I don’t have to worry about havin’ to protect myself or someone I care about every time I leave my house, and that I can let Ellie outta my sight and she isn’t going to get into any real trouble.” 

“How does you realizing any of this involve me, though?” You gestured around you with one hand, the material swishing around your body as you moved. “It’s not me, it’s Jackson, Joel. It’s the gate and the walls and the people here and -”

“You didn’t give up on me.” He swallowed hard, brows furrowed and a deep line etched between them. “Most people would have seen me and been around me for a couple minutes and noticed how I treated people and just … avoided me. Avoided Ellie because she was with me. But you didn’t. And you didn’t try to push me into anything I wasn’t really ready for, and …”

“Joel.” Exhaling, you pressed your hand to the center of his chest again, the slick material of his jersey cold to the touch. “I didn’t give up on you because I wanted you to be happy here. Both of you, actually. And I did push you, but it was just … you needed to understand that this place isn’t going to chew you up and spit you out like most other places would.” You let go of his hand and pointed back in the direction you’d come from, shaking your head. “You needed to see firsthand that Jackson isn’t like the QZs. It’s not like the settlements where hunters have taken over, or where people are just living in tents or out of cars or …” You needed to see it as a home. “Tommy told you that you had a place here, but that doesn’t just mean a place to sleep, Joel. It might be stupid to think about hosting parties and movie nights and having holiday celebrations, but we do it because it’s what we need, and you’re included in that. It takes a little time for everyone, but …”

“But the longer I didn’t get involved, the harder it would be for me. I got it. Ellie said the same damn thing. But she doesn’t understand …. She doesn’t understand that feeling of lettin’ yourself get comfortable and -”

“And losing everything?” You reached up, running your fingertips over his beard as you thought of the girl mentioning Riley. “No, she doesn’t, not in the same way we do. And I hope she never does. But there’s a difference between getting too comfortable and letting yourself live. And right now?” You tapped his cheek, grinning. “You’re living, Joel Miller. And I’m so happy to be a small part of it.” 

“Small part?” He shook his head. “Hell no.” Joel cleared his throat, pointing down the street. “Now we need to get back to my place because I’m freezin’. We can keep talkin’ when we get there, but -”

“I don’t want to keep talking, Joel.” You stepped back, grinning at him. “But I do think I’ll be able to find a couple ways to warm you up.” 

— 

Fifteen minutes later, you were waiting in the kitchen for Joel, sipping from a mug of tea while you rested your elbows on the kitchen island. He’d unlocked the door for you and then headed around the back of the house to light Ellie’s wood stove, ensuring that she’d be warm when she got home. 

He’d instructed you not to remove your costume, so you’d left everything in place, even going so far as to flip the cloak’s hood up while you waited. If I don’t think about it hard enough, this is just … another Halloween. It certainly felt like it - carving pumpkins, roasting seeds and sharing them with Joel and Ellie, dressing up and going to a party with someone, and then going home with them was more involved with the holiday than you’d been since before the outbreak. It feels too impossible to be true. 

But it was true - and you being in Joel’s softly lit kitchen, waiting for him to come back inside was actually happening. A year ago I didn’t know him, and now … Smiling at the sound of the front door closing, you turned your head, glancing back at the entryway. Now I have this. “That you, Joel?”

“You waitin’ on someone else?” He stood behind you, just shy of touching you. “Because that’d be real shitty, especially in my own damn kitchen.” 

“Only you.” Straightening up, you turned to face him, leaving the mug on the countertop. “And now that we’re alone and no one else is going to interrupt me, I can finally tell you how fucking good you look in that jersey, and how all I’ve thought about all damn night is getting to watch you pull it off in front of me.”

“Bullshit.” You saw the color rising in his cheeks, though - the man’s fingers curling and then relaxing before he crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s just a -”

“No, Joel. It’s something normal. It’s you wearing something that isn’t functional. It’s you in an outfit that serves no purpose aside from covering your body and -”

“D’you have a thing for uniforms?” He stepped back, tilting his head to the side. “Guys in uniforms, I mean?”

“No.” Biting your lip, you wrinkled your nose. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” No, I have a thing for you in a uniform. “If I’d known you were going to give me shit, I never would have said anything about your stupid arms or your stupid broad shoulders in that damn thing.”

“I like it.” He swallowed, the muscles in his throat working as he stared at you. “Almost forgot what it felt like to be objectified by a woman dressed like a vampire on Halloween.” He barely kept a straight face as he got the words out, and you were laughing only moments later, the man’s arms winding around you and his lips landing on the top of your head. He held you for a few seconds while you composed yourself, eyes closing as you inhaled the scent of him. “You would have loved Tommy before, he played all kinds of sports. You probably would have dated him, if I’m bein’ honest.”

“No, I wouldn’t have.” You backed away enough to meet his eyes. “Because I know Tommy. And I know enough to know that even though I like him, I wouldn’t have ever dated him. Maybe someone like him, but he’s not the Miller brother I’m interested in.” 

“You’re so sure.” He ran his hands over the smooth material of your cape, head shaking back and forth. “But you don’t know.” 

“I do, Joel.” Nodding, you kept your eyes on his face. “I love your brother, but we’d drive each other insane if we tried to live together. We’re too much alike. He and Maria are perfect for each other. And I know you already know how I feel about all that, because he told me that you asked.”

“That asshole.” Joel rolled his eyes, his tone a mirror of Tommy’s from the day before. “What happened to private conversations?”

“You’ll have to ask him about that.” You rested your hands on his hips, smile widening. “Also, do you really think Maria would be alright with me and Tommy going out on multi-day patrols together if there was any chance something was going to happen between us? No way.” 

He wanted to say something else - you could see it on his face - but instead of speaking, Joel pulled his bottom lip back and between his teeth, eyes locked with yours as he pulled you closer. You curled your fingers against his sides, the jersey material filling your hands, and then Joel was kissing you, mouth moving slowly against yours. 

It deepened quickly, his lips parting so that he could slip his tongue past them and against yours, but he didn’t push you for more. He didn’t need to, because you were waiting for it - your own mouth opening and inviting him in, hands sliding up his sides and then toward his back, the stitching on the numbers raised against your palms. 

It was the perfect kiss - a demonstration of actions speaking louder than words - and even though you didn’t want to end it, you needed to, backing off with a long inhale, your eyelids fluttering open. “Joel?” He hummed in response, lips trailing over the bridge of your nose before they landed on your forehead. “Do you want me to put the fangs back in? Might make the kissing a little -”

“No.” He growled the word, crowding you backward and against the island. “Leave ‘em right where they are.” He groaned, rocking his hips forward to meet yours. “I do want to go upstairs, though. You mentioned warmin’ me up, and I’m still pretty cold.” I did. 

“Are you?” You pushed him away, ducking out from under his arm and moving toward the doorway. “We should do something about that, then.” 

He followed you almost immediately, the man leading you upstairs much the same way he had the first night that you’d been in his bed, though you didn’t pause on the landing. And you didn’t hesitate walking into his room before him, either, Joel’s hand on your back urging you into the space - which was much warmer than you thought it would be. 

Joel stopped you before you reached the bed, though, your name quiet in the mostly dark room and his fingers around your wrist, urging you to turn and face him. “Hmm?” He didn’t speak, instead reaching out and undoing the knot at your throat with one hand, twisting the end of the ribbon around two fingers before he tugged. It fell easily, the silky material pooling around your feet, and then Joel took his time looking at you, his eyes roving over your form like he’d never seen it before. 

You weren’t wearing anything special - just dark jeans and a short-sleeve tee shirt with a scoop neck, but like him, there was nothing functional about your outfit - and you’d even put on a decently new bra that night. Not that it matters. It’s going to be on the floor in a few minutes. “You want to take this off, or do you want me to do it?” 

“Go ahead.” Lifting your arms, you stared at him. “It’s all you.” He moved slowly, peeling the fabric up and over your torso and then your head, letting it drop to the floor before moving his hands to your waist and undoing the button on your jeans. He didn’t pull them down, though, instead running his fingertips along the skin of your abdomen and then settling a hand on your hip, thumb pressing down. 

Joel always touched you with purpose, and that night was no different - his hands exploring your body while he remained focused on your face, the man’s eyes darkening by the second and the rise and fall of his chest quickening, too. “Would it be alright with you if I’m not … patient tonight?” What? “Wanna take my time, but …” You watched the flash of tongue that appeared when he licked his lips, his gaze dropping to your chest and then rising again to meet yours. “But I don’t know if I can.” 

“Whatever you want, Joel.” Reaching up, you dragged your fingers through his hair. “I-” He moved before you could finish the sentence, Joel stepping forward and pushing you back and against the doorframe. The wood rattled slightly at your impact, but you had no chance to worry about it because he was kissing you hard, the man’s mouth sealed over yours. 

There was desperation in it along with a focus that was uniquely Joel, and despite the intensity of his kiss, he still made sure to protect the back of your head with one hand, his palm cradling it while he squeezed your hip with the other. And you gripped the slick material of his jersey, the fabric cool where it touched your bare skin, his chest pressed to yours. 

It had been a long and mostly lonely 20 years, and even though you hated everything that each of you had been through to get to that moment you were sharing, you were thankful that you’d made it. Because we deserve something good. We deserve this for whatever time we have together. 

“Wanna get in the bed?” He questioned you while catching his breath, the hand at your hip dropping so that he could squeeze your thigh through your jeans. “Might make things easier.” 

“Joel, this all you tonight.” You reached up, hooking a finger in the neckline of his jersey. “You’re free to …” You trailed off, thinking hard. What was it? “Call the plays? Was that it? Run a quarterback sn-” He cut you off with a kiss that was more a growl of annoyance than anything else, and for long moments, you stopped thinking and focused on him - the heat of his body, the weight of it holding you against the door frame, the give of his lips as they pressed to yours. 

You were in deep, and you knew it - knew that feeling so much for someone else was dangerous in the world you lived in. But you also knew that if you were aware of that, Joel was also aware of it, and in some ways, likely even moreso. But we’re here now. Both of us, and - “Get your ass in that bed.” 

He backed off, hands dropping from your body so that one of them could rise to the back of his neck. You didn’t answer verbally, instead using both of your hands to push the jeans down so that you could step out of them, shivering slightly in the air of his bedroom. Joel nodded twice at the sight of you, one side of his mouth lifted into the smirk that you looked forward to seeing - and then he stepped to the side, gesturing for you to pass him. 

You wanted to sprint for the mattress - wanted to jump in and settle against the softness of the blankets, but you forced yourself to move slowly, passing the man and reaching for him as you did. You grabbed the jersey again, encouraging him to follow - and Joel did just that, his footsteps echoing yours across the wooden floor. 

When you reached the bed you paused, closing your eyes and taking a breath, but before you could lift one foot to climb in, Joel stopped you with an arm around your waist, his other hand sliding up your bare arm slowly enough that you could feel the goosebumps as they followed the motion. 

“Trick or treat?” He spoke directly into your ear, beard and mustache scraping over your skin. What? Your eyes flew open, lips parting in confusion, but before you could turn your head, Joel repeated his question, his hold on you tightening. “Trick or treat? 

Playful Joel was someone that you rarely encountered, and you didn’t want to waste what was clearly an opportunity for him to relax - and for you to reap the benefits. “I’m almost positive that you don’t have any candy hidden in those pockets, Joel.” Leaning back against him, you closed your eyes and grinned, giving yourself a few seconds to think back to gorging on your favorite candy after coming home from Halloween parties or the bars. “Good thing I don’t need that, though.” Spinning around to face him, you shrugged as both of his hands fell back to your waist. “You’re sweet enough for -”

 He groaned at your words but you watched as his cheeks reddened, the skin at the base of his throat and the center of his chest following suit. “That’s the cheesiest goddamn bullshit I have heard in twenty years, and I listened to Ellie readin’ out of a joke book for four months.” It’s the truth though. You are to me at least. “You pickin’ treat, then?”

“No.” Your voice was steady, head moving back and forth. “No, I’m picking trick.” He was visibly surprised, both brows shooting upward, but Joel recovered quickly, telling you he’d be right back and then spinning away from you and walking back into the darkened hallway. It gave you a chance to catch your breath, your arms crossed over your chest while you waited. 

“Do you trust me?” He appeared again, a piece of cloth held in his hands. “Ain’t much of a trick, but -”

“I do.” Dropping your arms, you nodded, eyes locked with his. “I trust you.” But what’s that? 

“It’s clean. I have a whole pile of these in my workshop for oilin’ wood, but this one’s new.” He held up the cloth - something that looked like it had once been a shirt or a blanket - and then started deftly folding it, the man never looking away as he did so. “And I won’t tie it too tight, but -” Joel stepped closer, holding up the thinner strip. “I thought you’d pick treat so I didn’t really have a plan, and a blindfold’s the best I -”

“Before you do that,” you started, holding up one finger and hoping it didn’t shake. He wants to blindfold me. I was not expecting that. “Let me at least watch you take that off, since I’m never going to get the chance to see Touchdown Joel again.” He laughed, the sound quiet, but didn’t disagree, tucking the folded cloth into his front pocket and then reaching for the hem of the jersey. 

The muscles in his forearms flexed, your eyes drawn to that as he pulled it up over his torso, exposing each inch of his body to your greedy eyes. 

He was wearing a shirt underneath - a simple white one - the thin material stretched over his broad frame. At the sight of it, you licked your lips unconsciously, teeth digging into the lower one immediately after. Joel’s face came back into view, his hair slightly messy, and at your first glimpse of him like that, you couldn’t hold back. “Fuck, Joel. I wish you could just …” Gesturing with one hand, you shook your head. “Look at you.” 

“You’re not gonna be able to in a second.” His smirk was back, the man’s eyes hazy with desire. “So you better do it now.” Oh, I will. Don’t you worry about that. “If it’s too much, take it off. I haven’t done this before, so I don’t know if you’re gonna like it or not.” I haven’t either, but … You shivered when he pulled the blindfold back out, holding it up. “If you want to stop, tell me.” 

“I will.” You met his gaze again, hoping he could tell you were being honest. “I know you’re going to take care of me, Joel. We’ll be fine.” He stepped closer and then moments later, the cloth covered your eyes - material soft against your cheeks and the bridge of your nose as he pulled it taut. The scent of him enveloped you, your hands rising and then pressing against his sides before they moved to his lower back, Joel solidly there. “Wow, this is …” You closed your eyes beneath the covering, taking a deep breath. “I can’t see anything Joel.” 

“That’s kinda the point.” He cleared his throat, saying your name. “I changed my mind, by the way.” Humming in question, you waited. “I’m gonna take my time with you tonight. Keep you waitin’.” 

“Oh, fuck you, Joel.” You groaned, lowering your head in mock defeat. “How -”

“That’s the plan.” You lost it at that, laughing loudly, but you were cut off when he settled his hand on the side of your neck, thumb extended beneath your chin so that he could tilt your head back. Oh, he… “C’mere.” It was barely muttered, but you still heard the words before his mouth met yours, the desperation from earlier gone and replaced with a tenderness that you didn’t usually associate with the Joel you interacted with on a daily basis. 

Part of you wondered if it was the trust that you’d put in him. Another part thought that maybe it was the fact that he’d let himself relax throughout the night, and seeing you before him with your eyes covered was helping to keep his mind on you and nothing else. It doesn’t matter, you told yourself as you kissed him back, Joel drawing your lip between his and then sucking, the pressure a welcome change. It doesn’t matter because now I know that this is still in there. That he can still - “Joel, holy fuck.” 

Your thoughts scattered mid-sentence when he dragged the edges of his nails down the center of your back, his other thumb gliding slowly over your kiss-swollen lips. “You like that?” You nodded in reply, too dumbfounded to speak again, and when he chuckled, the sound low, you felt your stomach bottom out, mouth falling open at the sound. “Good. That’s real good.”

He kissed you again then, the only warning you got a single exhale that warmed your lips before his covered them. Your fingers curled, the softness of his t-shirt bunched up against your palms - but Joel didn’t seem to mind, the kiss intensifying with the addition of his teeth, the man biting down against your lower lip briefly and using your surprised gasp as an opening. 

You’d kissed your fair share of men throughout the years - some tentative kisses at school dances or the overeager ones at the ends of dates, others the desperate kisses that you remembered vividly from after the outbreak or the ones that were the result of confessed feelings throughout the years - but none of them had ever felt the way each kiss with Joel had. 

Even the first one on the hillside had felt important, you beginning the motion but Joel finishing it and making the first contact, a sign that despite what you thought you knew, there was still much more to him if the situation was right. And as you got more comfortable with each other, you began to understand him more; Joel’s body language only able to mask his true emotions for so long. 

The fact that he trusted you was huge, too, and as he led you the final few steps through the room, one hand on your waist and the other cradling the back of your neck so that he didn’t have to pull away from you, you understood how much. “Feel that?” He murmured the words after taking a breath, his nose running along the side of yours. “Bed’s right there. Want to get in?” 

“Yes.” Squaring your shoulders, you nodded. “Which end are the pillows at?” Joel spun you around slowly so that you were facing away from him, one palm sliding over your stomach, but he took your other hand and squeezed, lips hovering just above your ear. 

“Pillows are on this side.” Smart. “ He squeezed again, humming. “But before you climb in, I think we need to take a couple more things off.” You answered with a single nod and Joel’s hand slipped lower, fingertips hooking beneath the waistband of your underwear. “Startin’ with these.” He let go of your hand and then the second joined the first, the material moving over your hips and then down your legs where you stepped out of them, toeing them off to the side. “Almost there.” He kissed the back of your shoulder and then unhooked your bra, making quick work of the straps so that it could join the rest of your clothes on the floor. 

You stood in front of him, and even though you couldn’t see his expression, you could imagine it - his eyes roving over every inch of bare skin, the flex of his fingers just the right side of frustrated as he stuck his tongue into one cheek. “What about you? You still had all those -”

“Patience.” He whispered the word into your ear, pressing a kiss to the space just beneath it a moment later. “We got time.” We do. We really do. “Get in and get comfortable.” His hands were on your hips and he nudged you forward, the man’s touch warm. “I’ll be right behind you.” Taking a deep breath, you reached out, your hand making contact with the bedding before you lifted one knee to climb in. 

You knew that he was watching you. But the blindfold made everything a little more complicated, so you also knew that you were less than graceful as you got situated. Hopefully he isn’t going to laugh, because I … I don’t know that I’d be able to handle that right now. 

You stretched out, taking a deep breath as you sank into the familiar-smelling blankets, a smile curving your lips upward. It was quiet, but you still heard Joel’s hum of approval which sent a wash of warmth through you, your fingers curling into the comforter. Alright so he likes what he sees. 

There was some shuffling, and you assumed it was him removing the rest of his clothes, but before you could open your mouth to ask what was taking so long, you felt one of his large hands on your side, guiding your forward so that you were laying more or less on your stomach. “Lay flat. Arms by your sides.” What? How is that - 

You did as he asked, repositioning yourself as he’d requested. Before you could get truly comfortable, though, he murmured for you to lift your head, the softness of a pillow sliding beneath your cheek moments later. “Joel, this is great and all, but how is this a trick?” 

“I told you, I’m workin’ with what I’ve got.” He sighed. “I donno. It’s a trick because you can’t see and because it’s not just right inta sex, and -”

“I’m not complaining.” You laughed, shaking your head back and forth without lifting it again. “I’m just wondering, because if this is supposed to be a trick, then I can’t imagine what my treat would have been.”

“You’re still gonna get onea those, too.” You felt his touch again, Joel’s fingers spread wide and his palm gliding up the expanse of your back. “Don’t worry.” You shivered, letting out a shuddering breath, and he continued to touch you, the man’s breaths lengthening as his second hand joined the first. He rubbed at your back, increasing the pressure - pressing down with the heels of his hands on either side of your spine, digging his fingers briefly into your shoulders, thumbs arcing up the base of your neck and then back down. 

“That feels amazing, Joel. Your hands are … fuck.” You’d seen him work with them - seen him fire a gun and swing an axe and use a hammer or chisel. You’d watched him saddle up horses and cook meals and carry things, but each time he touched you with them you were reminded of just how capable he was. In all ways. He could be doing anything with those hands and this is what … what he wants. You arched your back, breathing out his name when he found a knot in one of your lower muscle groups, his focus immediately stopping there. “I didn’t even know that -”

“I got you.” He cleared his throat. “Can I ask you somethin’?” His tone was hesitant, and you knew that whatever he was going to ask was likely difficult for him to articulate. But you didn’t mind, telling him to go ahead as his hands kept moving over your body. “How … why are you alright with me havin’ my hands all over you like this?” What? “You know better’n anyone except maybe Tommy what I’ve done with them, and -” 

“You did what you had to do to survive, Joel.” It was a reminder you gave him often - mostly on the days where he had to take down infected on patrol, or when he woke from nightmares, his breath nothing more than gasps as his fingers clawed for anything solid, which most often turned out to be you. But it came when you least expected it sometimes, too, and that night was one of those times. “We all did. And we’re all guilty of getting our hands dirty.” He’d done worse things than most, though, that fact something that he’d tried to keep hidden from everyone, but specifically you and Ellie, though you suspected that you knew more than the girl. “That doesn’t mean that’s all we are, Joel.” 

It wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have without being able to look at him, but as he stayed quiet and continued to run his hands along your skin, you realized that maybe that was why you were having it in that moment. 

With your eyes covered, you couldn’t see the shame in his. You wouldn’t be able to gaze at him with sympathy or understanding, or see the way his jaw ticked while he forced the questions out and listened to your answers. It’s easier for him this way. “I’m still that man. I’d still be that man without hesitation if I had to -”

“You would. And I know that.” Taking a long breath, you held it. “And I hate that you have to be that, but the only reason you’re still here is because you are. Ellie wouldn’t be here without you. Tommy wouldn’t be here without that part of you. You became that man to protect the people you love, Joel.” You reached back with one hand, finding and circling his wrist before you squeezed, moving your fingers up the inside of his forearm and trailing over the thin scars there. “You’re still here because you’re a fighter. You might not like it, but it’s part of you the same way it’s a part of -” 

“Stop makin’ so much sense.” He interrupted you, voice thick with emotion. “Makes me feel like such an asshole.” Your smile was small but you knew he saw it, Joel pulling his arm from your grasp so that he could continue touching you. “I just never thought I’d…” He leaned over, resting his forehead on your shoulder. “Never thought I’d be able to have this again. Not with someone like you, anyway.” 

“You’ve got me, remember?” Humming, you shifted your shoulders, Joel’s thumbs circling over your lower back. “More ways than one, Joel Miller.” 

“Yeah. I guess I do.” There was a pause and then he actually climbed into the bed, hands on your hips for balance as he situated himself over you. “You comfortable?”

“I am.” He settled his weight against your legs - and you felt the bare skin of his, confirmation that he had, in fact, also undressed. “You keep doing that with your hands, you’re going to put me to sleep.” 

“That’s not the plan.” He leaned forward, hands resting on your shoulders. “The plan is to -”

He was interrupted by a series of explosions from outside, Joel jumping out of the bed so quickly that he actually kicked you in the process. You sat up, too, tearing the blindfold from your face and crossing the room to follow him to the window, using both arms to cover yourself. What the fuck is - 

There was another series of noises, and then moments later, you saw the cause of them - golden sparks shooting through the sky and popping into glittering trails, one after the other. “Fireworks.” You sagged against the window frame, covering your face with one hand as two shadowy figures ran through the darkness, away from where the noise had come from. “Fucking kids and their fireworks. You’d think that -”

“Why the fuck are those still in Jackson?” He spun toward you, all traces of playfulness gone. “And how do people get -”

“We keep them in one of the storehouses in case we need to use them for distractions. The most useful are things like bottle rockets and firecrackers. You can set ‘em off in one place and get out of the area pretty quick, and they do the job. Noise attracts the infected, and if it’s people, they’re usually smart enough to realize that someone alive needed to set them off, so they investigate.”  He nodded, eyes narrowed. “And we ration out things like sparklers and those stupid little pop-its to the kids. They’re pretty quiet, you saw that over the summer.” 

“Those weren’t sparklers.” He pointed, lip curled into a snarl. “Those were loud. And Ellie’s out there somewhere, and -”

“There are still people on guard duty, Joel. It was loud, yeah, but the mountains will distribute the sound, and we haven’t seen anything to worry about on patrol in weeks.” Swallowing, you looked around, reaching for the blanket that he kept on the back of the armchair in front of the window. “You saw them running the same way I did. It was just a couple kids, and now they’re done.” Hopefully. 

Wrapping the material around your shoulders, you stepped back toward the bed, disappointment coursing through your veins. Guess the trick came from somewhere else. “Do we need to go help ‘em look for whoever it was?” He walked back to you, footsteps heavy on the wooden floor. “Are they going to radio over?”

“They probably won’t, no. There are plenty of people on duty already. But if you want to…” You sat on the edge of the bed, bending over and reaching for your pants. “We can -”

“Look at me.” You did, eyes widening at the sight of the man standing at the foot of the bed, both hands covering as much of himself below the waist as he could. In spite of yourself, you smiled at what you saw, eyes trailing up the man’s muscled body until they landed on his face. He was concerned - the worry etched deep into his features, but he was much more calm than he had been only moments earlier. “Do you think we need to go and check it out?” 

“No.” It was immediate, the word accompanied by a firm shake of your head. “If there’s actual trouble, they’ll radio over. If it happens again, then yeah, we should go. There are enough people here that you don’t need to worry about getting involved in every situation, Joel.” You paused, closing your eyes. “But if it’ll make you feel better, we can go. Won’t take too long to get dressed, and we saw the way they ran off, so -”

“No.” He stepped even closer, his tone even. “I need to start trustin’ other people. And I trust you. You say we don’t need to go, we’ll stay here until someone needs us.” It was hard for him - you could see it in the way he held himself, but when Joel nodded again, closing his eyes and tilting his head forward, you finally relaxed. “It’s gonna kill me not to go, but -” But it’s the right call. 

“Let me distract you, then.” You stood, letting the blanket fall away, and then wound your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. “It’s fine for you to worry, but I promise you, someone’s got it handled. We’re a community here, Joel. It’s not just every man for himself.” 

“I know.” He mumbled the words, hands moving to your waist and urging you even closer. “But I need to know you’re safe. You an’ Ellie.” It still floored you every time he mentioned you in line with the girl, but it filled you with relief at the same time, because it meant that in his mind, you were just as important to him as she was. And if not as important … it’s close. 

A few months shouldn’t have been enough for him to feel that way, even if it was more than long enough for you to understand Joel’s place in your life and in your heart. But you wouldn’t question it; people that arrived in Jackson got acclimated to it in their own time. For some, it only took weeks. Others, months passed before they stopped looking over their shoulders at every opportunity. 

You’d figured it would take much longer for Joel overall. And it will, you reminded yourself, lips trailing over the stubble on his cheek. He’ll be fine in some ways and still need time for others. “We’re safe, Joel.” Kissing him softly, you nodded. “Here in Jackson. With you. And you’re safe here, too.” 

That was all you got out before he kissed you hard, Joel’s mouth rough against yours, hands squeezing your flesh to keep you as close as possible. You could feel him pressed against your hip, his body rapidly recovering from the fear he’d experienced at the sudden interruption. 

Joel licked into your mouth moments later, tongue prodding yours before he pulled back and groaned, his nose wrinkled and both eyes shut. “Things were goin’ so well. And now I’m just -”

“They’re still going well.” You rubbed your hand in a slow circle over his back, nodding. “Really well, if you ask me.” Your hand moved lower, following the curve of his hip. “I’m going to get back into bed, and I think you should follow me.” 

He didn’t reply before you pulled out of his hold, turning away and then climbing back into the bed. It was easier that time, your eyes wide open and making it simple for you to get comfortable - stretched back out on your belly with both arms folded and beneath your head. “Look at me for a minute.” 

The command came out of nowhere, and when you turned your head to the side, looking in his direction, you gasped at what you saw - Joel’s fingers curled around himself, the man stroking lazily along his length. “I…” Biting the corner of your lip, you smiled up at him. “Damn.” 

He was in no hurry - the motion of his hand slow and steady, deep brown eyes focused on you and your reaction instead of rushing himself to the edge. “I could have you watch me.” He sighed, grunting at the end of the sentence when he tightened his grip momentarily. “Just lay there and watch, maybe touch yourself, and -”

“Is that what you want?” Breath catching, you rolled onto your back, eyes locked on Joel’s face. “Just to watch each other? No touching, or -”

“No.” He shook his head back and forth, his free hand rising to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s not. Because I’ve had enougha my own hand to last me a lifetime, especially when you’re right here in front of me.” He took another step closer, the tip of his tongue visible for brief moments. He followed the movement of your hand, his eyes on your fingers as they trailed down your torso and came to rest on your abdomen, waiting. “How ‘bout you?” 

“I want you, Joel.” You shrugged, the blanket rustling beneath your shoulders. “Always want you.” It slipped out - but that didn’t mean you meant it any less, and even though you were worried about how he’d take such an admission, you didn’t need to be. His eyes widened and darkened in the span of a few seconds, Joel giving himself one final squeeze before getting into bed with you. 

He positioned himself atop you without hesitation, straddling your body and then leaning forward, his hand stroking the side of your face. “Want you too.” He nodded, the desire in his expression underlined with certainty. “So much more than I have any damn right to.” 

It was one of the times he needed your reassurance - even though he was honest with what he felt, it wasn’t easy for him. It’s not easy for me, either … but it’s not as hard. 

“That’s not true.” Reaching up, you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling his face down to yours. “And you know it.” He scoffed but didn’t try to pull away, his mouth settling against yours in a kiss that was more of a reaction than anything else. But it feels right. It feels so right. You continued to kiss him, mouths moving together and your hips rising to meet his, the weight of Joel a welcome presence against your own body. 

He was harder than he had been, too, Joel’s length solid and warm where it touched you, and it took everything in you not to reach for him - replacing his fingers with yours and and beginning to stroke. Because that’s not what I want. 

“Roll over.” He breathed the words out, mouthing at your jawline. “Get comfortable.” You nodded, waiting until he shifted off of you to do as he’d asked. Once you were on your stomach, you felt the mattress bounce as Joel stood up, floor creaking as he crossed the room. You wondered what he was doing, but only for a few seconds. “Lift up a little.” He spoke quietly, voice low in the darkness. “Gonna put this under you.”

Pushing up with both hands, you hummed at the silk-soft feel of a pillow sliding between your stomach and the mattress, elevating your hips a few inches off of the bed. From there, he used both hands to urge your legs apart, strong fingers trailing up the backs of your thighs as he climbed back into bed and positioned himself with his knees caging your legs in. “This alright, Joel?” 

Still elevated, you turned your head to look back at him and caught a single nod, his expression serious. “More than alright.” Pulling one of the pillows down so that you could rest your head on it, you folded your arms and settled in, lips curving upward in a contented smile when you felt his hands gripping you, squeezing your curves. 

He was tense - you could still feel it in him, but that didn’t stop Joel from lining himself up between your thighs, the tip of him nudging at your entrance. There was no stopping your body’s reaction; your hips instinctively jerked backward, seeking him out. And Joel didn’t keep you waiting, the man using the motion of your hips and the forward momentum of his own to slip inside of you. 

It was a stretch because he’d barely touched you that night. Though you were used to him after a few months of regularly sleeping with him, Joel always eased into you, no matter how thorough he’d been in preparation. He did the same then, pausing to give you time to adjust but not for too long - the man grunting when he sank into you to the base, your muscles tightening around him. 

He paused there, his hands moving to your hips to steady himself. It was only at your hum of contentment and a slight shift of your shoulders as you pressed your cheek against the pillow, eyes closed that Joel began to move for the first time. 

You felt every thrust - the man starting slow and shallow, your body steadied by his capable hands. As Joel’s speed increased, his grip tightened and so did the press of his legs against your body - the muscles in his thighs taut and the sounds of his quiet grunting and skin meeting skin filling the room. 

You missed looking at him, and even though you enjoyed the position - Joel able to put more power into each motion of his hips, your entire body comfortable and steady - it only took moments for you to open your eyes and use both hands to raise the top half of your body so that you could rest your weight on your forearms and turn your head further. 

His eyes were closed, Joel’s head tipped back and his mouth hanging open, and at the sight you moaned, a shudder traveling throughout your entire body. Fuck he looks good like that. The sound startled him, Joel’s hips stuttering and his eyes flying open, his hold on you tightening further though he didn’t stop moving. “You alright?” 

“Yes.” You groaned, the sound turning into a hum of pleasure as you arched your back more, driving him in even deeper. “Feels… feels amazing. I just…” Your fingers curled into the blanket and you took a steadying breath, blowing it out before you continued. “Saw you. You look … Fuck Joel.”

You couldn’t even put it into words - but all he’d needed was confirmation that you were fine before he picked up the pace again, Joel’s eyes staying open. His breaths were accompanied by grunts, and when you felt one of his hands straying from your hip and sliding up your side, you nodded in appreciation, attention divided between the way he felt with each push into you and the warmth of his palm against your bare skin as he stroked it. 

He slowed down a few minutes later, that hand leaving your side and resting against the bed, but before you could ask him what he was doing, you felt him shift behind you. Joel leaned forward, covering your back with his body, and when his mouth made contact with your shoulder, the edges of his teeth grazing the skin, you cried out, the sound a mix of startled pleasure and his name. 

He liked that; you could feel his smile as he continued to mouth at your skin, and when he thrust his hips forward again, you realized he’d changed the position of his knees, widening the spread of his legs to give himself more leverage. It felt amazing - like it always did - but the slower pace and Joel’s mouth on your body proved that he also missed the typical closeness that your usual sex positions afforded you. Good. Good, because I like knowing that. 

You grinned again, letting your head hang down - but your eyes flew open when you felt the hand at your hip slide forward, his fingertips skating across the skin of your abdomen and then lower. It was dark in the room - but not too dark for you to watch his hand disappear between your legs, fingers zeroing in on the place where you were connected. 

He grunted then - the sound low and deep, but he didn’t stay there, sliding his hand back up so that the tips of his fingers could find - and begin to stroke - against your sensitive skin. Joel had learned your body surprisingly quickly, and that night was further proof. He’s perfect. This is … fuck, this is … 

Keeping up the momentum of his hips steady with slow, deep thrusts, Joel turned his head to press his cheek against your shoulderblade, breath fanning over the skin of your back. He doubled down on the motion of his fingers; circling them over you with precision, the pressure just right. You were slick and so were they - but you could still feel everything he was doing, the competing sensations ripping a low wail of his name from your throat as you fought to stay upright on shaking arms. 

He knew that you were close, the rise and fall of his chest growing shallower as he sped up his thrusts just enough to throw you off kilter. When the hand on the bed slid upward so that he made contact with the back of your arm, his thumb arcing over the skin there in a slow and deliberate motion, you shuddered, your muscles clenching around him and drawing him in deeper as the heat - and tension - continued to build low in your belly. 

“Lemme feel you.” He spoke so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him, but Joel repeated himself moments later, drawing his hips back and then slowly pushing back into you as he spoke. “Fuck, let me feel you.” Curling his index finger slightly, you felt the edge of his nail catch briefly on your skin, and that was enough to send you over, his name spilling from your lips as you came around him, every muscle in your body going taut for long seconds. He said your name, the sound almost reverent, and it made you shiver again, toes curling as you gripped the blankets tightly. 

“Joel, please.” It was barely a whisper, and you didn’t even know what you were asking for, but like he always did, Joel knew - and he gave it to you. He kept going; his hand and hips continuing their motion and prolonging your pleasure, even as your breath caught and your heart thumped against your ribs. But just before it got to be too much, he pulled his hand away, the man’s damp fingers dragging over your belly and then securely gripping your hip again. 

Joel’s thrusts shortened then, though he didn’t change his pace. When he straightened up, the weight disappearing from your back and his other hand going back to your opposite hip, you repositioned yourself slightly, lowering your upper body and bending your knees to raise your lower half for him. 

It wouldn’t take him long - you knew Joel’s tells well enough to understand that you’d rapidly brought him to the edge, too. But before you could speak and let him know that you were waiting for it, Joel snapped his hips forward one last time and then withdrew completely in a single backwards thrust. The loss of him shocked you, and your mouth fell open in surprise, but it was Joel that spoke up, growling out that he was close. 

He let go of one hip, and when you heard him sigh, followed by the telltale sound of skin on skin, you understood. He’s using his hand. But… why?  It hadn’t been discussed a second time between the two of you; your understanding of Joel’s inability to have children meant that when the two of you were together, there was no need for him to finish somewhere that wasn’t inside of you. 

And he hadn’t - unless you were using your mouth, which had happened a few times, so that night was a surprise. Unless he’s just trying to pull back from this. From…us. The thought saddened you, but you didn’t want to dwell on it until you knew for sure, because if there was one thing Joel was an expert at, it was reading body language. And if he sees a change, he’ll stop, and … 

“Is…” He grunted, the hand still on your hip moving in a slow circle. “Is it alright if I …” Another grunt, and then Joel swore, hissing out the words. “Can I come on you?” Asking changed things - and so you nodded immediately, turning your head toward him so that you could meet his eye. 

“Yeah, Joel.” Biting your lip, you reconfirmed. “Of course.” Joel continued to touch you, his hand gliding over your hip and the curve of your ass while he stroked himself with his other one. He didn’t stay quiet, either - his grunts and groans filling your ears until he swore, your name following in a lengthy exhale. 

You felt the warmth moments later, the man emptying himself onto your lower back in a series of spurts that were accompanied by more exhalation, his hand dropping down to your thigh and stilling, though you could feel his thighs tensing as he came. “Jesus Christ.” He was panting by the time he was done, and when you peeked back at him, you saw that his gaze was focused on your bare skin, the man’s mouth lifted into the barest hint of a smile while he stared. What? “You look perfect right now.” He wet his lips, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “Covered in…” Joel trailed off, shaking his head and then took a deeper breath. “Be right back. Let me get somethin’ to clean you up.” 

He got to his feet, careful not to jostle you too much. Even though you gave yourself a few seconds to appreciate the sight of him walking toward the bathroom, you closed your eyes and settled down against the bed, sliding both arms under your head. So he wasn’t trying to distance himself. He just wanted to see… shit. 

There was still a lot you had to learn about each other - and though in your mind, the fact that he could come inside of you without concern was as intimate as things could get, it seemed that for Joel, something else was true. “Sorry if it’s cold.” He returned a few seconds later, his footsteps soft on the floorboards. “It’s not from the tap, but -”

“It’ll be fine.” You mumbled the words, though you steeled yourself for the touch of the cloth. “You just -”

You yelped at the first swipe, the cloth downright chilly where it touched you, and even though you tried to make yourself stay still, it took the man’s splayed fingers between your shoulders and the press of his hand to keep you in place until he was finished wiping traces of himself from your skin. Shit that’s freezing. “I said sorry,” he continued, the words coming through barely concealed laughter. “I -” 

“Don’t even.” You pulled the pillow out once he was done and then rolled onto your side, giving him space to climb into bed if he chose to. Even if he does it won’t be for long. “You know if you fixed that water heater, you -”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved his free hand, the used cloth held in the other. “I’ll get to it.” No, you won’t. He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned forward, dropping the washcloth onto the side table before settling his hands into his lap. “I hope that was alright. I didn’t even …” He sighed, the laugher gone from his voice. “We’ve never done that before, and …” 

“Joel.” You sat up, not bothering to cover your chest and reached out, settling your hand against his cheek and urging him to look at you. “It’s fine. For a second I thought … you were just trying to… to distance yourself from what we’ve been doing and go back to what you’re used to, but now I -”

“Hell no.” He shook his head almost violently, the look in his eyes going from concern to surprise in an instant. “No. I just got carried away and wanted to see what you looked like with me all over you.” There was no way he missed your reaction - a sharp intake of breath, both eyes widening - but he didn’t waste time, leaning in and capturing your mouth in a kiss that was fueled by want and ended with the sting of his teeth as he backed off, tugging your lower lip with him. Fuck, he… “Last thing I want with you is distance.” Joel blinked twice and you nodded, your thumb arcing over his cheekbone. 

“Good.” It was a relief for you - and you knew that that admission was about as deep as things with Joel were likely to get, but that was fine. It’s only been a few months, and it’s more than I ever expected. “I feel the same way.” He smiled, the expression fleeting, but then Joel’s eyes moved briefly to the window and he frowned, sighing. “Hey.” He looked back at you again, the man’s mouth opening, though you didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Get dressed. We’ll go and see if they’ve found those kids, alright?” 

“No, we -”

“Don’t tell me no.” Rolling your eyes, you tapped him on the cheek and then moved to get out of the bed, feeling as he kept his eyes on your naked form. “All we’ll have to do is go to the main lookout post and ask. If they found ‘em, we’ll know. If not … well, we’ll know who to look for, since I’m sure someone on the wall saw something.” 

You pulled on your jeans and underwear again, straightening up before heading to the closet, where you kept a few extra things. Joel followed moments later, the man’s arms winding around you from behind, his broad, bare chest blazing hot against your back. “Thank you for understandin’.” He nuzzled against your neck before pressing a kiss to the side of your throat, tightening his hold on you. “I know it’s probably nothin’ but … but I need to know.” 

“I get it.” You grabbed a shirt off of the hanger and then reached for one of his - a black long sleeved thermal, your fingers closing around the material. “You’ll probably want to wear this and not the jersey, though.” 

He groaned and pushed you away, the sound of your quiet laugher loud in the small closet. But when you turned toward Joel and held the shirt out, you saw that he was smiling too - the look of relief in his eyes almost palpable. 

You didn’t want to leave the house on Rancher street, and didn’t think that there was any need to. But for him? To give him peace of mind? I’d do just about anything. 

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Tag list coming soon!