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sooniebby · 3 days

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First Drabble after a month or so… Anyway, reader is a bisexual man, deal with it. Kinks are: voyeurism, spanking, dubcon, cucking, manhandling, praise, lite feminization. Brief mention of m/f sex but reader is a bottom and is mentioned to have a cock. BDSM relationship. Tw. Girlfriend is a bit abusive so skip this if bad doms bother you 🫶🏼 no set character, but I gave him a name! A little long tbh, not even a Drabble anymore

The things you do to make your girlfriend.

“Ohhh! Gimme more, Mark.”

You roll your eyes, checking your phone as your girlfriend gets her pussy fucked by your “friend” Mark. They were too busy having the time of their life to notice you stopped paying attention to them.

Your girlfriend, Lizzy, just loved this whole cuck fantasy shit. Whatever made her happy. You tried many other times to tell you that you didn’t necessarily like it but she always somehow made you the bad guy.

It was your first relationship dealing with BDSM, she was more than likely right since she had loads of relationships before you.

Right? She wouldn’t use your naivety to her advantage… right?

Hah.

Anyway, she loved making you watch other guys fuck her. Especially if their dick was bigger than yours. Though you didn’t like her saying your four inches was small.

Some guys had two inches, you were perfectly fine.

She began moaning something about how big he was, you didn’t really care at this point. You didn’t even know if you liked this whole BDSM thing. Sure, being the submissive was cool at first but now it just felt… eh?

You certainly hated her way of being a sadist. You hated being a masochist. It wasn’t fun.

But, whatever makes her happy. She’s freaking Lizzy Powers, the hot girl from your university. Every guys falls for her.

There was particularly high pitched yelp that caused you to look up in concern but it seemed Mark had just manhandled her into another position. You huffed and just went back to watching TikTok thirst traps.

The few times you looked at them to pretend you actually cared, Mark seemed set at staring right at you. His thrusts would always get faster each time. Weirdo.

Mark was popular, just like Lizzy. Loved by many girls (and guys). He was supposedly good natured and kinda but you kinda found him creepy, especially right now.

Was there something on your face???

“Ooh, (Name)~!” Lizzy whined, “he’s so much better than you… Just look at how well he fucks my pussy.”

She looked over at you—you quickly forced a frown. She loved seeing you “upset” about the other guy fucking her. Something about getting you to try harder when you fucked her the next day.

It worked the first time, but after that, you stopped caring. You kinda stopped caring to fuck her as well. It wasn’t even that she was fucking all these other guys. Something just kept bothering you.

Maybe the fact she didn’t go on regular dates with you and there didn’t seem to be an end to the dominate actions she had.

A shrill voice filled the room, Lizzy was cumming. You used to always love seeing this part—just seeing your gorgeous girl coming undone.

Eh, you’ve seen it before. These days, you found yourself watching the guy fucking her instead of her. Which was bad, that was cheating, or at least that’s what Lizzy had told you.

So you made sure to not look at Mark as much. Mark pulled out and rolled off his condom, tossing it into the trash bin next to the bed. The loud sound of music was still ringing downstairs from the party.

You would’ve thought this dumb party would’ve been done by now. “Was that it?” You asked, standing up. “I have a test tomorrow so I need to get back to my dorm.”

There was a moment of silence as Lizzy and Mark stared at you. Mark simply nodded and moved to put his jacket and shoes back on. Lizzy however, looked furious. She stood up abruptly, putting on her dress and stormed over to you.

Oh no.

You knew that look. She was about to “discipline”you. Her punishments were so humiliating—you hated it so much.

You fought back the urge to roll your eyes. Her anger radiated off her face. Though she only stood to your chest, she managed to make your heart drop. There was no fun in this. But isn’t this what these relationships involve?

This was just how it was.

Her harsh words began spilling out, probably promising a punishment once you reached your dorm. Or possibly even when Mark left. But knowing her, she’d get a kick out of him watching.

Maybe you should’ve gotten a different girlfriend. This one doesn’t exactly make you happy. The thought couldn’t go any further though when Mark cleared his throat, ending Lizzy’s tyranny with ease.

“Your submissive isn’t exactly listening to you. I don’t mean to pry,” though the smirk on his lips tells you otherwise. “He looks legitimately scared. No sense of pleasure in him.”

Lizzy scoffed. “And you can do better? He’s just new to this, but it seems to be taking forever for him to listen to me.” She said, harshly poking at your chest with her finger. You try not to show any emotion from the slight pain.

“I can. But that’s if you want your submissive to get a taste of what’s better.”

A pin could be dropped and it would’ve made more noise. You watch in awe as Lizzy practically turned pink in the face. Wow, you’d never seen her this anger. There was silent rage in her eyes before she pulled a quick smile.

“Sure. He’s all yours.”

But Mark looked over at you. He stood up and took off his jacket, walking over to you with a look of determination. “Do you want it?”

“W..wha..?” You whispered, feeling dwarfed against his tall height. Jesus, does he play volleyball or basketball??

“Do you…” his hand slowly reached up, gently grabbing your chin before forcing you to look up at him. Oh. “…want me to touch you? Show you real pleasure.”

“….yes…”

His lips pulled into a slight smirk. “Good boy.”

So here you are, pants less. Mark was kinda enough to let you keep your sweater on. Lizzy was sitting at the desk chair you once were. You felt bad for whoever’s frat brother’s room you guys were in. Poor guy.

“Do you know why you’re being punished?” Mark suddenly said, sitting on the bed as he patted his lap.

You huffed and moved over to where he was. “Attitude probably.” You muttered, looking down at the bed sheets. Ooh, sport cars.

A tug at your sweater caused you to yelp as you were forced to look Mark in the eye. “Look me in the eye when you’re speaking to me.” With little force, he pulled you to drape over his thighs. They were quite muscular. Hm, maybe soccer?

You could feel Lizzy’s harsh glare on your body. It was just reminding you that she was so pissed over you having a slight attitude. Gosh, we doms all like this? You were seriously considering if you wanted to stay in this type of relationship.

Mark’s hand gently gripped your butt, softly massaging it. “I don’t think you deserve a punishment, but I’m going off what your dom wants. This can be really easy, (Name). Just count, okay? I’ll only go to ten.”

“Just ten?” Lizzy cut in.

“Ten is enough. He didn’t do anything terrible.” Mark countered. “Was I even speaking to you?”

You didn’t want to know the look Lizzy gave him. His hand gripped your ass before he released it, gently tapping it.

“(Name), what’s your safe word?”

You blinked, “what’s that?”

There was a tense silence. You tried to look up but Mark quickly pushed your head back down.

“Just whenever you want to stop. In case it’s too much.”

“Oh uhm. Stop should work fine, no?”

“Alright. You can always say red as well. Yellow would be if you just want a breather, okay?”

“Oh… would green be for keep going?”

Mark hummed, gently massaging your butt. “Mhm. Aren’t you smart?”

You blushed slightly. Oh, that was nice. When was the last time Lizzy complimented you?

“Starting now.”

You prepared for the worst. Whenever Lizzy spanked you, it was torture. Just hit after hit with no room to breathe. Didn’t help she would use those whips. It took you awhile to convince her to just use her hand.

Sometimes the damn thing would just start hitting your thighs or back. It was like she was purposefully missing your ass.

Smack!

Oh. What were you supposed to do? You could’ve sworn you were supposed to say something. That felt so weird, but you felt your toes practically curl as a gasp left your lips. He must’ve had experience doing this…

He gently rubbed the slight curve of your hip. “C’mon, count for me.”

Oh right. Counting…

“O..One.”

It went on, each time you momentarily went blank in the head. This wasn’t anything like Lizzy’s spankings. Mark was spanking you hard, definitely, but there still was a slight softness to it.

Hmm, you could probably revisit spanking.

“Ten…” You muttered, sighing in slight relief that it was over. You gently got up from Mark’s lap, ready to pull your pants back up but he pulled your back down.

“What are you doing?” He asked, rubbing your sore cheeks. You heard the sound of a container being opened before a cooling substance was rubbing onto your skin. It was pure relief. A relaxed hum left your throat.

Lizzy coughed, breaking the moment. You almost forgot she was there. “Are you done with my boyfriend?”

“Hm, no. His moans were cute, I want to hear how he sounds cumming on my cock.” He said bluntly, causing you to blush in pure embarrassment. His cock?! He was going to fuck you?!

Lizzy sputtered as she stood up. “What?! That’ll be cheating!”

“It’s just cucking. A man can cuck a woman.”

“But—”

“—It’s only fair (Name) can cuck you too.”

It was wrong. But his words made you grin. Cucking her back? Oh that sounded fun. Finally, she could feel how you felt.

“Okay.” You suddenly said, removing yourself off Mark’s lap. “You can fuck me.” You weren’t scared about anything going into your butt. Lizzy has fucked you with a strap before, those were the few times you had the most fun during sex with her.

Shame she never wanted to do after the two times.

You grabbed the lube that was left on the nightstand from Lizzy and Mark’s previous fuck and drizzled a decent amount onto your fingers. Sitting down on the bed, you began to stretch your ass open.

It was pretty easy, you did masturbate this morning with a dildo. The entire time, Mark just stared at you with hunger, his eyes watching your hole swallow your fingers with ease. He was probably expecting some type of resistance.

“I’m ready.” You muttered, moving to get into a doggy position but Mark grabbed your hand. A shriek left you as he picked you up with ease and plopped you down into his lap.

This position… was embarrassing to say the least. Your legs were wide open, your cock hard against your tummy. Lizzy was literally right across from you, seeing everything. You squirmed, wondering why Mark was so set in humiliating you.

His lips suddenly pressed against your ear, his chin resting on your shoulder. The sound of his zipper and slight shuffling filled your ears as his cock slipped out. Holy shit. He was definitely huge… maybe 7 inches??

“I want…” his hand reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look Lizzy straight in the eye. “Miss Powers here to see you cum on my cock, seeing you become my pretty little slut.”

Your cock twitched. His cock pressed against your ass, gently teasing your hole. Slowly, he lowered you down, letting the stretch become comfortable.

He was definitely huge. You didn’t understand how Lizzy took this thing without crying out in pain? Once he was fully in, you let out a shaky breath, gripping his hand that held your hip.

“Good boy. You’re taking me well.” He whispered, pressing a kiss on your neck. “Now move.”

“What?”

“Ride me.” Mark simply said, gently patting your thighs.

Holy fucking shit. You were supposed to ride this guy while your girlfriend watches? Jesus. You moved slightly, gripping his thighs as a way to hold yourself help as you began bouncing up and down.

The sounds of skin slapping filled the room, your soft moans right behind it. This was better than any strap. You could feel him inside you—his heat. A shudder left you when his cock pressed against your prostate. You quickly tried to keep that position, gasping at the constant pressure.

You practically forgot Lizzy was even there. All you cared about was getting off.

No, all you cared about was making sure Mark was enjoying it.

That was a first.

You glanced down, wanting to see if Mark was enjoying himself. The sight caused your hips to stutter. He was staring right at you, a smirk on his face. His free hand was gripping at your ass, pulling the cheeks apart slightly.

He broke eye contact to look down at your hole, laughing slightly. “It’s so cute. Hey, I’m your first real one huh?”

“Y..Yeah..”

“Good. I’ll be your only too.” He said, delivering a harsh spank on your ass. A scream escaped your lips as you stopped for a moment, trying to process everything that was happening.

First and only? What?!

“Hey, why’d you stop?” His hands suddenly had your waist in its grasp as he pulled you back. You were once again looking at Lizzy, seeing her pure anger. Gosh, you were really betraying your girlfriend.

“Why are you treating him so gently?” Lizzy suddenly commented.

Mark hummed. “It’s his first time. You always gotta treat beginners like glass. Once he’s properly trained… I’ll fuck him like the whore he is.”

“Whore..?” You muttered, but before you could ask why he kept calling you stuff like that, he was suddenly making you bounce up and down on his cock. It was so sudden, so fast and made your previous movement seem like nothing.

If this is him treating you like glass, you wondered just how mean he got…

Your back arched as you cried out, resting your head on his back as the pleasure began to take over. It was so much. But you wanted more. You just knew he could do more.

You wanted it so bad.

You were too lost in the pleasure to even notice that Lizzy left until the sound of a door slamming caught your attention. “Hng…? Why’d she..?”

“Fucking finally.” Mark muttered, pulling you off his cock. You whimpered, feeling your cock leak dejectedly with pre-cum. He plopped you down on the bed and pushed your legs up, putting you in a mating press.

His cock easily slid back inside as he leaned down, grinning. “Now that she’s out of the way, I have you all to myself.” He whispered, his hips moving upwards in harsh staccato type motion. Each slap caused a struggled gasp to leave you in tandem.

“Been hearing all about how you were just her little cuck. Using you because you knew nothing about how these type of relationships work..” he mumbled, a groan leaving his lips when you clenched around his cock.

You couldn’t even care about what he was talking about. You just wanted to cum already. This position was so odd, you didn’t even know your body could fold this far.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore, baby. I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself as mine.”

“Y..yours..? What..? Ngh, did you..”

“Fuck her to get to you?” He laughed, leaning down to kiss your lips. You blushed, shocked that the kiss was so sweet compared to the sinful thrusting. “Yeah, anything for you.”

Anything for you…? You didn’t get to truly understand just how deranged that sounded when he began to roughly fuck you. He managed to push your legs even further as he draped himself over your body, ravaging you like a cheap slut.

Your screams and his grunts mixed together as you gripped at the sheets beneath you for type of stability. If that stupid loud music from downstairs wasn’t still playing you were sure everyone would be able to tell you were getting your stomach rearranged.

“(Name)…”

You let out a strangled hum.

“Your pussy is tighter than hers.”

Yaaaay… first post back! Feel really proud of this one, though I didn’t mean to make it longer than a usual Drabble, felt like I had to add a lot of stuff before the porn… lmao.

@the-ultimate-librarian @mello-life25 @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo @iwishtobeacrow @star-3214 @smellwell @ofclyde @flurrina @tehyunnie @remdayz @love-kha1 @mooncarvers-world @rhetorical-conscience @tomoeroi

#bottom male reader #x male reader #uke male reader #sub male reader #male reader #mlm ns/fw #smut drabble #mlm nsft #x male smut #male bottom reader

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pjackk · 5 months

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Extremley Urgent Action Needed

Hi everybody i hate to to it but im in a realy bad spot and ive been pretty much bummed out really badly lately and lots of people on here are actually being really bad to me constantly and telling me lots of mean shit all the time and im pretty much in a super bad spot because im mentally fucked up badly right now and the theres some some holidays and shit comign up and i dont give a fuck about heaven or hell cuz my life is fucked anyways and going to shit so i dont know how it could really get worst but i pretty much want to treat myself and practice self care by making the right choices for me and getting shit that i really want as a gift to myself since nobody else will ever get me free shit since im a societal freak and a piece of shit apparently and something i really want is a Cast Iron Money Man

So the great part about the guinness Stout moneyman is that on top of making me enjoy my life for once in my fcking life if i had him it would teach me how to save my coins and put them in a safe place so they dotn keep falling down the drain because whenever im counting my pennies and other brown or shiny colored coins its always in the sink cuz thats the only place not filled to the brim with stupid shit i keep finding LOL i keep finding shit on the ground and in the trash and its often interesting as fuck shit like a stick that would be realy goood for turning into a weapon if needs to be if i was attacked from every angel a great way to fight them and a perfect advantage to have is to have the range advantage so if the thieves and other bandits were coming at me with knives and shit i would be able to bash them with my stick and maybe break there bodys while im at it and i could legaly say i killed them to defend my self and all my other shit so anyways theres tons of shit everywhere and since i just throw away my dishes when im done with them because they are way to dirty and beyond even the level to get it cleaned no more cuz shit is dried on there and wont come off if i make it wet i just gie up so that means theres never shit in my sink exept for the coins when im counting them but the big problem is i dont have a money man made out of cast iron to keep my coins safe so they fall down the drain and when i try to pop them up by dumping oil in the drain and using gargage disposal switch it just crunches them up and shoots fragments into my glasses and always breaks my glasses so i always have to get new glasses since they are always breakign whenever i lose my coins but the big problem is since i dont have my coins no more since they all get all torn up and shit its super hard to afford new glasses or food at all even though i dont technicaly have to eat its always fun to eat yummy shit so please consider to send me money to help muy shit as fuck mental get better and invest in my prosperity i promise u it will trickle down to u and u will benefit from my well being im actually working on a new CD right now with dope as fuck music but its realy really hard to be creative when i dont want to get out of bed because im always hung tf over from drinking a shit load of top notch gin a the pub all night and feeling super depresed basicaly my Guinenss beer Shaped money man would be a perfect way to solve my problems let me know if u want to help by clicking the beer above and giving me money to spend on my cast iron money man

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gay-dorito-dust · 20 days

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hi hi!! could i request blade, dan heng, jingyuan, (and anyone else u may want to add) reacting to finding out you’re being creeped on at work please? i’m going through a similar situation at my job atm and would really appreciate it :’) thank u! <3

I hope the situation gets resolved soon sweetheart, you don’t deserve some creep making you uncomfortable or being well…a creep in general.

Jing yuan:

The dozing general seemed a bit more alert when you admitted to him that you were being creeped on at work, a place where this sort of thing shouldn’t be happening at all but is nonetheless.

He can tell that you were greatly affected by it and would do anything and everything in his power to rid you of it all. Jing yuan promises that the anxieties and the stress of having to constantly look over your shoulder, praying that the person responsible for all of it wasn’t nearby would be gone in a heartbeat.

His status as the General was more then enough to scare the creep stiff and profusely apologise for not knowing that you were his partner, rather then apologise to you like he should be, only for Jing Yuan to smile apathetically and say:

‘I’m not the one you should be apologising to,’ he then gestures towards you, ‘they are. So I’d suggest you get on your knees and plea for forgiveness. Quickly.’ He adds with a seriousness as his eyes glowed gold upon opening them and his smile faded.

Needless to say that the creep handed in their notice not long after the encounter with the General.

Dan Heng:

Hates, hates, hates seeing you this scared and uncomfortable by the actions made by one person who thought that it was acceptable to be a freak. All Dan Heng wanted to do in that moment was comfort you and reassure you that everything was going to be okay, but how could he when he himself wasn’t quite sure that was going to be the case?

He hates being uncertain, especially when it’s in regard to your safety in general, because he couldn’t fathom anything happening to you and he was there to protect you like he should’ve.

So instead he helps you in arranging a meeting with your manager about the creep’s behaviour towards you, going as far as to keep a list of all the things they’ve done during their tenure at your workplace in the instance should you not be believed. ‘Just in case.’ He’d say to you as he produced a thick folder filled with the creeps vile actions within the past few months alone.

Thankfully your manager wasn’t a piece of shit and the folder of evidence was enough to take action against the creep, and within immediate effect the bastard was gone by the end of the week; Just as procedures were later put in place for the safety of all employees who believed they were being harassed in the workplace.

After all was said and done, Dan Heng would still want to walk you to work and back, just as a precaution and a reminder that he was always going to be with you no matter what.

Blade:

Doesn’t take to the fact that you were being creeped on lightly and especially not when it was at your workplace either, and he will most likely try to take action into his own hands through any means necessary.

He’s aching to unsheathe his blade and put it to good use and end the pathetic creeps life for ever coming near you with impure intentions without feeling an ounce of guilt. However Blades sets this thought aside and decided to focus on you instead by standing guard outside your workplace until your shift finished.

He didn’t care. He’ll stay as long as he needed if it meant knowing that you were going to be okay, and even if the creep did try to pull something, Blade would be there within seconds to rip them to shreds. However Blade was already an intimidating bloke alone with his physical appearance, that he didn’t need to do much to scare the creep stiff, staring them down with his ruby eyes.

His natural stone face was also benefactor that Blade had going for him in terms of frightening the creep into handing in his notice that very same day. While It may not be how he wants it to end, but that didn’t mean Blade stopped waiting outside your workplace for you.

Just incase a new creep arises in the old one’s place and he needed to get a bit…physical.

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familyvideostevie · 6 months

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the meaning of it all

joel miller x reader

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

word count: 13.6k

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tommy meets you at the stables to check-in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Joel Miller," he says back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good," he says. "Good."

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

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

Joel says your name and you turn around.

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

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I--what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

The doors in your house open and close silently.

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

Until you have a bad patrol.

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

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

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

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

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

"Shoved me into some thorns. You?"

"Yeah. Can we go home now?"

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

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

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

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

You could only be so lucky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something in your chest tightens.

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

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

"Couldn't sleep."

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

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

"Sorry," you say softly.

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

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

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

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

"Couldn't sleep." Joel hums.

"Heard that one before."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Am I?" you say lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

"Am not," you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I...what?"

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

"Joel--"

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

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

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

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

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

So did you. You didn't dream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Joel--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You'll never stop wanting him now.

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

It's very possible that you gasp a little.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're so fucked.

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

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

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

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

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

"And thank you for--"

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

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

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

He turns. "Countin' on it."

___

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

"Fucking amazing," she says.

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

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

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

It goes to shit fairly quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What happened?"

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

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

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

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

"But the rules say --"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're going to need a lot of help.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone is calling your name. Yelling it.

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

Joel.

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

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

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

"Joel --"

"Sit."

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

"How are you here --"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I told him to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before you can open her mouth Joel answer for you.

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

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

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

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

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

We.

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

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

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

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

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

You sniffle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For my sake or yours?"

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

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

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

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

"Can you kiss me again?" you ask.

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

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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d10nyx · 1 month

Text

teachers pet

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+content, dub-con, pussy spanking, spanking, degradation, milddd brat taming, teacher x student relationships (age gap, but reader is in college), p in v, pull-out method, cum eating

a/n: i have been really struggling to write recently, so i hope you guys still like this :3 i um... hate it sorry it's not that good... writer's block is so shitty rn. feedback is appreciated !!

word count: 1.3k words

Leon finds you infuriating at the best of times. Sitting at the front of the lecture hall, giggling as you look at your phone. You never pay attention to his lectures - he doesn't understand why you even bother to show up.

You're not even subtle about ignoring him. The least you could do is try and hide in the back like the rest of his students who don't give a fuck.

To make matters worse, your grades are actually decent. Nothing to write home about, but you always turn his assignments in on time, and you've never failed to get a passing mark. If you failed, at least you'd flunk out of his class, and he wouldn't have to put up with your shit anymore.

It's like you want to get a rise out of him.

He's sick of it. He's sick of you. He retired and took on teaching college kids in the hopes he'd finally have some time to relax, but you seemed to enjoy making his life a living hell. He'd had enough of it. As you're packing up once he dismisses the class, he makes his way to your desk, his footsteps echoing across the lecture hall.

“Not you, miss. I need to have a word with you. Please come to my desk once you're packed up.” He tells you, tapping two fingers against your desk as he leans in to speak before he's returning to sit at the desk at the front of the hall.

You let out an exaggerated groan at his words, shoving your laptop into your backpack before begrudgingly making your way over to him. Your bag is slung over one shoulder, hanging precariously off to the side.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“That's right.” He says with a slight nod of his head, gesturing for you to take the seat across from him. He leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other as he waits for you to sit.

“I'm going to be honest. You've gained my attention, however it's been for all the wrong reasons. You're smart enough. I'm sure if you applied yourself to this course, you'd get top marks. Is there something I can do to help? Is it a motivation issue? Something at home?”

“Well, if I'm being honest, sir. I thought when I chose this elective, it'd be more interesting. Your lectures are, like… seriously boring.” You say with a smirk that makes it clear you're just trying to frustrate him further.

“I'm seriously getting sick of your attitude.” He bites out, leaning forward against his desk. His eyes are narrowed and locked onto your own. “You can drop an elective. It will have no effect on your main course of study. Why are you still here?”

“It's fun to annoy you, sir.” Is your response, a shit-eating grin spreading across your face.

That's it. Leon is a patient man. He'd tried his best to help you. To figure out what the issue was so he could fix it. But you? Everything about you made him want to rip his hair out.

“Stand up.” He hisses, the feet of his chair screeching against the hardwood floor as he pushes it back suddenly before standing, stalking his way to your side of the desk. You don't stand, crossing your arms as you lean back in the chair.

“I said, stand up!” He repeats, gripping you by the arm and tugging you to your feet. He presses down harshly on your shoulders, forcing you to bend over his desk. “You want to act like an unruly child? Fine. I'll treat you like one.”

“You can not be serious.” You grit out, moving to straighten back up before your chest is forced against the surface of the desk once more with a strong hand pushing down on your back, right between your shoulder blades. “Jesus. I always knew you were a fucking freak.”

“This could all have been avoided if you weren't such a brat.” He hisses, raising your skirt to expose the curve of your ass. You hear him snort, bunching up the fabric of your panties and yanking them upwards harshly, making the fabric bunch up between your lips in a wedgie. It draws a whine from your lips, your brows furrowing as you drop your cheek against his desk.

“Fucking slut. Is that why you're acting up in my class, hmm? You want attention? Prancing around in those tiny skirts, skimpy panties like these underneath ‘em?” He lets go of your panties, sliding them down your thighs before smacking his flattened fingers repeatedly against your pussy until it runs hot, dripping all over his skin.

“Fuck… fuck off.” You say through gritted teeth, your mouth twitching downwards as he continues to spank your pussy. You bite down on your tongue, trying to prevent any noises from spilling past your lips.

He pinches your clit harshly between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a little yank. He grins at the sound of your whimper and the way you jerk away from him, letting out a low chuckle. “What was that, sweetheart?”

You hear the sound of a belt buckle and the shuffling of fabric, which is enough to send a shiver running down your spine. You swallow the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling your confidence drain from you. When you speak, your voice is almost a whisper. “Mr. Kennedy…”

“Oh? You finally learning to keep that mouth shut?” He grunts, running his tip teasingly up and down between your folds, letting his cock catch on your hole just to see you jump. “Trying to pretend you're not a filthy slut, but your cunt is crying for me...”

He presses forward with a low groan, burying himself to the hilt inside of you. His cock throbs as your walls tighten around him, his fingers digging painfully into the fat of your hips as he starts to fuck into you, his pelvis pummelling against your ass with every shift of his hips.

“Greedy.” He scolds, smacking your ass harshly, and once more just to hear the way you whimper when his hand connects with your flesh. “She's sucking me right in. Know this is what you've been wanting… shoulda asked, sweetheart. Pretty sluts like you always get what they want.”

“Perfect pussy… squeezing me so tight.” He groans, thrusting deeper into your cunt, pulling you back onto his cock and angling his hips so he's bumping against your sweet spot every time he bottoms out. He fucks you with deep, hard strokes, letting you feel the drag of every inch of his thick cock inside of you.

“Ah, that's right. Just need to fuck the brattiness out of you, hmm? Goooood fucking girl. Gonna… gonna make me cum.” He says through gritted teeth, slipping a hand down to circle a thumb around your clit. You babble helplessly as he touches you, nothing but ‘please’s and ‘sir's spilling past your lips. He almost cums inside of you when he feels your clenching around him as your orgasm hits, but he's not too pussydrunk to release how stupid it'd be to get his student knocked up, so he pulls out quickly and coats your ass in his cum.

“You gonna be a good girl for me now?” He asks, dropping to his knees behind you, his tongue darting out to lick his cum off of you. The sensation has you shivering, but you nod weakly at his question. He pulls your panties up, straightening out your skirt before patting your butt and going to sit at his desk once more, as if nothing's happened. “Good. That's good.”

“Come see me after class tomorrow, babe. Gotta make sure the lesson really sinks in.”

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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lesservillain · 2 months

Text

eddie munson x best friend!reader

summary: a previous request I had to write eddie and a weird girl!reader. edited just a tad for better flow.

cw: none

Eddie watched as you picked up another rock, examining it carefully in your hand before tossing it towards the lake. The two of you had been out here at Lover’s Lake for close to 2 hours now, skipping the rest of the school day after you'd asked him to bring you here during lunch.

The boys laughed at him for how easy it was for you to get him to do anything. But Eddie only gave them the finger as he trailed behind you out of the school. You never asked him for much, so who was he to deny you?

You and Eddie had known each other since he moved to the trailer park to live with Wayne. The two of you fell in and out of friendship over the years as you both went through the motions of life that got you to where you were today.

Sometimes you two were inseparable, and other times you kept to yourself. Choosing to be alone for weeks or months on end until you would knock on his trailer door like you'd just seen him yesterday. Many deemed you weird for your antisocial behaviors, including your own mother. But, Eddie knew you would come back around eventually, and he always welcomed you back with open arms.

With his legs dangling out the back door of his van, he brought a newly lit cigarette in his mouth to chase the joint he had just finished as he watched you do…whatever thing you needed to get out of your system today. He should have known you were going to want to spend the day outside with the overcast that had been looming. You hated the heat from the sun, preferring the shield of the clouds to cover you while you look for different bug or flowers or whatever you deemed worthy to be picked from the ground.

“Oh, Eddie!” Your excited voice had him jolting straight up, greeted by the site of your bright smile before him. “Look! This one’s got a fossil in it!”

Eddie opens his hand for you to place the rock in it. Your discovery stays hidden until you pull your hand away from his. And, sure as shit, there’s a print of some old ass plant or something on the side of the little rock.

“Woah, that's fucking cool,” he says, matching your energy for your find. He hands it back to you and you hold it in both hands, face beaming at your discovery. Eddie likes it when you get like this. The pure, unadulterated bliss that beams from you feels like it could cheer him up on his deathbed.

But after a moment, your expression falters. A crack in the joy of the moment that Eddie clocks right away.

“What?” He asks, looking at you even though he knows you wont give him eye contact back.

“Eddie, why do you hang out with me?”

Eddie reels back. It’s not the first time you’ve dropped heavy questions on him before, but he wasn’t expecting you to hit him with that one.

It was one he wasn't sure how to answer. Mostly because the answer was complicated.

Why was he your friend? Why did he like having you around? Why did it kill him when you distance yourself from him?

Okay, maybe the answer wasn't really that complicated. Rather, admitting it was.

Because the truth is that Eddie is completely head over heels for you.

Ever since he’s known you he knew you were it for him. You never thought that he was a freak for having a dead mom and a jail bird dad. Never judged him for being poor even for trailer park standards. Certainly never made any remarks about his music tastes.

He hadn't always been subtle about his feelings, telling you when you were younger that he would marry you someday. He still gets a kick when he thinks about the way your nose scrunched up at the suggestion.

He would pester you any chance he could, and Wayne had to tell him to not be so forward or else he was going to scare you off. Little did Wayne know that it would take a hell of a lot more than Eddie’s strong personally to push you away. He eventually realized how well you could meet Eddie’s energy, calling the two of you a match made for trouble.

Because Eddie loves when you would barge into his room without knocking to show him a painting you’ve finished. Or when you would tap on his window at 3 am because you couldn’t sleep, knowing he was probably still awake too.

He loved when you would join the Hellfire Club at lunch, telling Grant to move so you could sit next to Eddie’s spot at the end of the table. He loved that you wanted to be around him, and he wanted to be around you just as much.

“Because we’re friends,” he says casually. Your eyes lift to meet his. He can’t tell you how he feels. He can’t risk giving you a reason to run away from him. “It’s been like, what, 10 years now since we started hanging out? Why do you want to know now?”

Your eyes shift down, avoiding eye contact with him once again. You must be worried about something he thinks. He wishes he could read minds just to see what you’re thinking.

“I was just wondering," you say in a tone that tells Eddie you were not just wondering. "Don’t want you to think you’re obligated to hang out with me or anything.”

“What?” He shakes his head incredulously, laughing at the absurdity of your assumption. “I don’t feel obligated. I like hanging out with you. Promise.”

He sticks his pinky out for you to twist with yours, something you’ve been doing since he pinky-promised to be your friend when the other kids said you were too weird.

But you don’t accept it, crossing your arms over your chest and curling in on yourself. Your boot shifts as you nervously roll a rock under your heel. It’s quiet for a moment, and Eddie drops his hand slowly, not liking the way the air is shifting around the two of you.

Something feels off. Final.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to hang out anymore, Eddie,” you say matter of factually.

Forced. He can tell you’re putting on a front, like the one you put on for your mom. He wonders if she’s got something to do with this.

Eddie’s throat feels dry, breathing in through his nose to keep himself together.

“I don’t know why you would think that. Did I do something—”

“No,” you cut him off, looking at him in the eyes for a few seconds before averting your gaze again. “It’s not you Eddie. I just…”

Eddie stares at you with his big brown eyes hoping you’ll give him something, anything to try and fix whatever has you feeling this way.

“Don’t you want a girlfriend?”

Well that was the last thing he expected you to say.

“I’m sorry, what?” He blinks up at you, confused at where this conversation is going. You take a sharp breath through your nose, and huff, brows pinching as you become visibly upset.

“Well you and Jeff and Gareth were talking about how hot the cheerleaders uniforms are, and — and you said that if you had a chance you’d like to see what's under their skirts—“

“Okay, hold on, I didn’t say that,” he says defensively, but you give him a look that makes him back track. “Or, even if I did, I only said it because it was Gareth and Jeff. I didn’t really mean it.”

“I’m not mad that you said it, Eddie. I just," you breath in, a slight hitch in your throat as you do. "…I hear what those girls say about me…about us and…I just feel like…I—I,” you sniffle, “I don’t want to be the reason you can’t get a girlfriend.”

Eddie tries so, so hard not to laugh. Like, he’s really trying to hold it in because you’re clearly very upset. But he can’t suppress wide grin that slowly creeps across his face.

“Sweetheart,” he finally says, “You don’t really think that do you?”

Your only response is a silent nod and Eddie’s heart only grows more for you.

“Trust me, you’re not why I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says with a tone of self-deprecation. It’s not the full truth, because technically you are the reason, just not in the way you think. “Those cheerleaders wouldn’t want me whether you’re around me or not. And it’s not like there’s a line of girls dying to date me or whatever.”

He twists his rings around his fingers, waiting for your response. When he looks up, you’re looking at him like he’s got three heads.

“What?” He laughs.

“Are you joking?” You ask him very seriously.

“Joking about what…?”

“That you don’t have girls trying to, you know, get with you…”

“Oh, no, definitely not.”

A smile finally cracks on your face at his words, and an immediate relief washes over him. The tension in your body visibly washes away and you take a step closer to him.

“Okay,” you say with a soft smile.

“Can I ask why you’re so worried about me getting a girlfriend anyway?”

“Well, my mom said—“

He raises his hand, stopping you mid sentence, “That’s all I needed to hear.”

It warms his heart when you laugh, melting all the worries away. Though, he still can’t help feeling like he could lose you forever at any given moment. It would gut him if you really did decide that he couldn’t be in your life anymore. He already gets sick at the thought of you meeting someone else, someone other than him, and moving on to leave him in the dust.

“Why do you hang out with me?”

He likes the way your eyebrows shoot up when he turns your question back on you. He thinks that he’s got you just as flustered as you had him, but you look at him with a shake of the head as you speak very matter of factly.

“Because I love you.”

Eddie has to catch himself before he can get too excited. This is you that he’s dealing with here. And you could mean that in so many ways; as a friend, a brother, a lover. And, god, did he hope you mean the ladder.

“Love me how?” He asks carefully, trying his best not to sound to excited.

“Like…well, sometimes, when you do stuff that’s, like, really cute or makes me happy, I just want to—“ You bring your hands to his face, something you’ve done many times over the years when he’s going on about D&D or music or even just when he’s reading. He always assumed it was your way of expressing that he was being a bother or overstimulating you, so he would usually stop or change the subject. “—just grab you and kiss you.”

Eddie knows his face has to be as red as a tomato. His heart is going a million miles a minute and he can barely keep his breathing steady.

Holy shit is this happening?

“You want to kiss me?”

You nod, “Yeah, like, a lot.”

“Why haven’t you?”

Your eyes practically bug out of your head, dumbstruck at his words.

“I can do that?”

“Please?” It comes out breathy, meant to be a joke, but almost as a beg.

And so you do. Your soft, mint chapstick covered lips hastily meet his, head tilted ever so slightly so your noses don’t bump as if you’ve done this before. Have you done this before? Certainly not with him. It makes his blood boil thinking that someone other than him has ever gotten a chance to do this with you.

The feeling of your fingers gliding across his scalp, nails skimming in a way that sends goosebumps down his arms. He takes the opportunity to bring his own hands to your hips, pulling you closer to him to deepen the kiss.

When you finally pull away, Eddie leans in to chase after you. And when he finally opens his eyes, he feels sick—lovesick at the sight of your pleased smile. The way you’re looking at him with a sparkle in your eye makes him feel like he could do anything.

“Wow,” you say between the two of you.

“Likewise,” he says with an airy chuckle.

“Can I do it again?” You ask shyly.

“Sweetheart, you can kiss me whenever you want,” he says dreamily.

“Really?”

He hums in response, cut off with a hmph as your lips meet his again.

And again.

thank you for reading.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #best friend!eddie munson #best friend!eddie munson x reader #best friend!eddie munson x best friend!reader #eddie munson x weird girl!reader #eddie munson x wg!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson st #eddie munson blurb

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vacayisland · 5 months

Note

Can I request a floyd x fem!kpop troll who was in her own group and Floyd’s reaction when he finds out? (If you need help w groups I suggest girls generation/SNSD or twice :D)

@!; I never knew! Floyd / Fem!Kpop Troll! Reader

"Tag list"! @writergal02 @chamille-trash @valvalentine69 @starzwithapen @ykvlanq

ꨄ︎ Having met Floyd after your group had blew up, you were hesitant to tell him about your career. Not because you didn't trust him nor were you ashamed of yourself or your group members, yet... he was one of the first people who didn't know who you were. He didn't know your K-pop group, he didn't know your stage name, he didn't call you or fangirl over you when he saw you. It was honestly refreshing, really refreshing.

ꨄ︎ You had joint your group for fun, at first; you thought having a group of other like minded people to rise to fame with would be fucking amazing. And while it was, the amount of fans you guys got swamped with was, well, unbearable. You loved the support, you loved your fans, yet finally finding someone who didn't know who you were was like finding a needle in a hay stack. Especially when your management had managed to get your groups music in every tribe after the events at the Hard Rock tribe. It not only blasted your popularity within the K-Pop trolls group, and their following, yet throughout the other tribes. And you didn't want to ruin the thing you had going with Floyd; so you kept your mouth shut.

ꨄ︎ Every time you had to do something with your group, you always made up an excuse for Floyd. Little yet believable things, like "Oh my sister is sick, I have to take care of her", "I'm spending time with family", "I had a long day and need a moment to myself", "I'm baking with friends", "girls only sleep over sorry", "I'm not in the village right now!". You know, simple white lies that had some sort of truth behind them. You hated lying to Floyd, especially when you two were really clicking, yet you also couldn't tell him the truth; not yet. And Floyd always seemed to not mind, always respected your plans and you, so you thought it was alright.

ꨄ︎ Meanwhile, when you weren't hanging out with Floyd, Floyd was hanging out with his brothers, Poppy, and Viva. It was always casual hangouts either in Branch's bunker, Poppy's pod, or else where around the village. Yet, one day while hanging out in Branch's bunker, Poppy brought out Branch's record player. She began exclaiming, basically shouting and springing with excitement, with how Branch had got her a new vinyl of this band that Poppy loves! Bruce encouraged her to play it, and well Poppy and Viva squealed and danced around while listening to it. "Oh hey, it's that new band." Bruce mumbled, recognizing the tune and lyrics, as well as the voices, of the k-pop band that was currently running a rampage in his house. "My kids love these girls."

ꨄ︎ That was the first time Floyd was exposed to your music, or k-pop in general. He enjoyed it, so he had asked Branch where he bought it and went to go buy himself a copy so he could listen to it at his own pod. He even sent you a photo of the vinyl after he got it!

ꨄ︎ "Hey, look at this new group my brothers introduced me to! Do you know them? They sound really good."

ꨄ︎ As soon as you got that message, and looked at the vinyl record, you freaked out. You scared the shit out of your fellow members, who stared at you so confused and concerned; Even your make-up stylist was concerned. "Hey, hey! What's wrong?" One of them would asked, panickily rushing to your side. You were sure they thought that you just got a message of Floyd cheating on you with another guy. But nope, "He bought one of our vinyls! He knows about our music!" "Oh. you know I thought this would be more serious-" "THIS IS SERIOUS!"

ꨄ︎ You accidentality left Floyd on read for 10 minutes as you explained to the others that you had never told Floyd about your association with this group. You had never told him you sang, or you were apart of this big K-pop group that blew up globally and you weren't sure how to tell him and it's not like you want to tell him incase that somehow ruined your current relationship! It was a lot to confess, especially when you all were getting ready for a show. Your other members stared at you like you were a little mental for your line of reasoning. And maybe you were, but you didn't want to out yourself now! You've been keeping this up for 7 months!

ꨄ︎ That's when Floyd texted you again: "Hey, are you okay? I saw you read my message and you don't usually leave me on read. Unless something happened?"

ꨄ︎ And you had no choice but to respond! You couldn't leave him on read twice. "Hey, sorry something just came up. Yeah, I've heard of them they're pretty good."

ꨄ︎ "Did you really just call us good?" Your group was now peaking over your shoulder, silently reading the conversation to themselves as it played out. They had always been curious about you and this Floyd fellow, and now they understood why you never introduced them. "That's either really egotistical or just sad you think we're so bad." Commented one of them to your left, and you would have agreed with her in you weren't under a lot of pressure right now! "I don't know, I'm panicking!"

ꨄ︎ You somehow managed to get through that conversation without outing yourself, but you couldn't spare yourself from your groups disappointment about your actions; And, to be fair, you were disappointed in yourself. They would pull chairs around, forming a circle around you that kind of made you feel like you were in rehab, or in some sort of intervention. "You know you're going to have to tell him at some point, right?" They would point out, "You cannot possibly keep all of this a secret forever. I don't even know how you've managed to hid it from him for seven months!" You would only sigh, "I know! I know... I just don't know how to say it without sounding..." "Insane?", "Mental?", "Like you're a big fat lair?" "Okay rude- but yes!"

ꨄ︎ "Invite him to a show!" Was the agreement you had all came to, even thought it made you queasy even thinking about mixing your K-pop life with your personal life. You were so comfortable with Floyd and you didn't want to mess anything up; You also didn't want to accidentally out your relationship to your fans and cause some sort of havoc that had to be cleared up by your PR team. Nor did you want any of them to go to Floyd's way and do who knows what. But, knowing you also couldn't lie to him forever, you caved in and sent him the tickets in the mail along with a letter:

ꨄ︎ "Floyd! You have mail." JD called from the elevator as he came back into the bunker with mail. Everyone was gathered around in the kitchen, talking and slowly waking up; JD only dumped the pile of letters, party invites, and anything else that got stuck in mail onto the counter. He handed Floyd' letter to him personally, with a playful wiggle of the eyebrow. Confused, but a little intrigued, Floyd opened the envelope and read the letter, taking his time and not minding the peeping eyes of everyone around. His brothers, seemed to interested with this letter. "It's tickets?" Floyd mumbled when he reached the end of your letter, noticing the lipstick kiss on the bottom. His cheeks flushed a little, a dorky smile wobbling onto his lips before he coughed and tried to compose himself. He knew he would never hear the end of it from his brothers, who were already snickering! All but for Branch, "Tickets to what?" "Tickets to that band you introduced us to." Floyd mumbled, pulling out 7 VIP tickets to your next concert in Pop Village. Poppy nor Viva could contain their screams as soon as they saw the tickets!

ꨄ︎ Floyd texted you later in the day, thanking you for the tickets. Yet, just as you knew he would, he couldn't help but question where you got them (and if you bought them, how he would pay you back) and why there was only 7 and not 8 (where you not coming?). You could only text him back that he would understand during the concert; which was in a few days time.

ꨄ︎ And then you may or may not have ghosted him... Listen, you were completely freaking out about this new change. Even if it hadn't started yet, you had so much fear you half hoped that you ghosting Floyd would end in him thinking you hated him and he wouldn't come and you never will have to face with the consequences of your own actions. Wow, that actually not sounded so shitty thinking about it. "Oh hey, lover boy is here!" "WHAT?!"

ꨄ︎ Your plan didn't work, Floyd sort of figured everything out after hearing Poppy infodump about the group a day before the show. He was still a little iffy about his assumption that you were a member of this group, yet thought he might right. After all, it would explain a lot about your odd schedule and your recent ghosting. And while Floyd was sitting down, getting comfortable next to his brothers and the ever so excited Poppy, Viva, and surprisingly Clay and Branch, you were freaking out! The others literally kept having to splash water in your face to keep you from backing out, or maybe even passing out. You couldn't believe this was happening, you couldn't believe that he actually came, you couldn't believe- "Come on ladies, we need you on stage now!"

ꨄ︎ During the performance, you kept glancing over where Floyd and his brothers were, so nervous about his reaction. You saw, on several occasions, Viva and Poppy shouting and cheering, dancing with both Clay and Branch and between themselves. Bruce acted like any other dad that was brought to this concert because of his teenage daughter, and Floyd... Oh you were too nervous to get a good look at him. Yet, what you didn't see was that Floyd was your biggest supporter. He was shouted your name with the biggest smile, singing your lyrics (that he so didn't memorize since he got the tickets and even more so when he pieced things together).

ꨄ︎ He's so supportive! <3

ꨄ︎ He was slightly shocked when he first realized who you were, but quickly became your biggest fan! Literally ran to you after the show, couldn't hold himself back from pulling you into such a big hug. Literally was gushing over how amazing your performance was and he was so sorry he ever made you feel like you had to hide this from him. You had to reassure him it wasn't because of anything he did.

ꨄ︎ "Wha- Floyd no! I didn't keep this away from you because you were the problem!" You rushed how instantly as soon as you heart Floyd apologize. You couldn't even believe he would even begin to think that this was somehow his fault, when it was the opposite. "It.. it wasn't?" His look of confusion pulled at your heart so much. The way he pulled away from the hug for a moment, hands still on your shoulders, as he gave you a confused wide-eyed look. You cursed yourself for not telling him earlier! "No, of course not! I was-..." You paused for a moment, biting at the edge of your lip. You thought over your words carefully, "It was... nice to have someone who didn't know who I was. It felt like I could be, you know, normal around you. I didn't have to worry about being stage me because I could just be me!" "Oh..." Floyd seemed like he understood that feeling all too well. You stared at him, your eyebrows scrunching a little in confusion. "What?" "Why do you look like you know exactly what I'm talking about like you've experienced it before?" "Because I do!" Floyd would give you a small smile, "Back in my Brozone days-" "YOU WERE IN BROZONE?!"

ꨄ︎ Floyd may or may not have forgotten to mention he had been a member of BroZone; Whoops!

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

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tojipie · 3 months

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Hello my love! I know you’ve been gone for a while but I wanted to stop by and ask if you have any realistic but unhinged toji headcannons? Hopefully this gets you into the spirit of writing again, I don’t mean to overstep. We miss you❤️.

hello sweet anon :( i’ve admittedly been struggling with my mental health a whole ton which is why i’ve been gone but this ask really did help me get back into the groove of writing just a bit <3 thank u for stopping by ! mwah

this is just me saying shit to say it pls don't take this srsly !

content: fluff, mentions of alc, smoking, suggestive talk but not smut, a little angst

was a victim of the xandemic in his late 20s so one of his pupils is a little bigger than the other

initially hated ambulances because of the absurd cost but grew to hate them even more because the attention makes him uncomfortable. oh you want to take his blood pressure? ew, don’t touch him. that’s weird. would rather patch himself up than sit under a gaggle of fluorescent lights for 6 hours in an ER waiting room.

shiu has been a co-signer on every apartment he’s ever rented because his credit score is in the single digits.

picked up vaping on accident after the corner store ran out of cigs when he needed them most. still prefers marlboros because he likes that searing feeling in the back of his throat. throws the cartons out his car window like a freak.

his drivers license is crumpled. like physically crumpled like paper. he has no idea how it happened but when he needs to use it at the liquor store he definitely gets stares.

will forever be devoted to his late wife. mentally at least. she’s the love of his life but in his mind sex with other women isn’t really cheating right? like he uses a condom sometimes so it’s fine probably? he's not gonna stay celibate for the rest of his life. the topic keeps him up at night.

has a scar from an appendectomy right above his v line that women go crazy for. he’s not entirely sure what they like about it but he’s been touched there so many times that it’s morphed into an erogenous zone.

slut for fast food. would rather get a vanilla shake and dip his fries in it till his stomach hurts than spend time at a sit-down restaurant. eats like shit but still maintains his physique, infuriatingly enough.

hates being in public more than you’d think. it’s a deeply uncomfortable feeling that stems from the risk that being discovered poses during jobs. he prefers to have groceries ordered, meals delivered, and shiu take his car down to the shop if needed. if hes out and about he’s either at the casino tables or the liquor store.

is down for whatever if the price is right. like truly. older women love what he has going on which works well in his favor because it puts a roof over his head. absolutely no shame once money is involved.

has tried to get help for his gambling addiction a few brief times. got close once and then decided to hit the blackjack tables to celebrate his progress. he jokes about how things ended up from time to time but deep down he knows it’s pretty serious.

shops at the goodwill bins mostly. made an effort to stop stealing as much because of how dirt cheap the thrift is but couldn't stick to it. likes to go down the jeans isle and look for change in the pockets. his biggest score was a 5 dollar bill that had been through the washer so many times it was practically blank.

there's a little voice in the back of his head telling him to have more kids and he's not opposed to listening.

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2knightt · 3 months

Text

「 i ruin it all by saying somethin’ stupid.」

IN WHICH—you think you ruined everything by telling your best friend you love him.♡ ໋֢ ✧

📀ヾFT. THE GREASERS࿐ྀུ ♡

⌗ 🕯️ notes !𖥔༌ ᰷ ﹅: n’ two people before me made fics similar to this! @/chillyfrys with sodapop x male!reader and @/dearnows with the whole gang. go read both! they’re both talented and lovely people🫶!

Dallas Winston ;

you two just finished pretending to be a couple getting married in a fancy restaurant to get free food.

you liked the rush and dallas was just really fucking hungry 😭. so when the idea was brought up, dallas just nodded.

you two walked out of the restaurant—shit eating grins on your faces as you hold in laughs. you pretend to marvel at the obviously fake and stolen ring dallas had pulled out.

once you felt like you were far away enough—you burst out laughing.

“i can’t believe we got away with it! like??”

“i’m a great actor, y/n.”

dallas said with a chuckle, looking over at you as he lit a cigarette, cupping a hand to protect the flame.

“yea. that’s why i love you, dallas.”

you immediately paused—the smile on your face dropping. you kinda just stared at the sidewalk in front of you, avoiding dallas’ gaze like the plague.

dallas was silent, his head turned towards you. you both stopped walking, trying to process your words in two different ways.

in your head, you were screaming and crying. ‘FUCKFUCKFUVK😭😭😖😖.’ in dallas’ head he was jusy kinda more, ‘they fucking what?? i thought we were just friends?? are we not??’

“…yea?”

dally mumbled, his eyebrows raised as smoke seeped through his lips as he asked.

nervously, you stood up straight, lips tightened as you become more and more awkward by the second. nodding as you hum to begrudgingly confirm.

a chuckle left dallas’ throat as he sees your reaction. he took a drag from his cigarette before taking a small step closer toward you.

“cool.”

he mumbled, hooking a finger around your belt loops, pulling you closer toward him. you stumbled to his side, his hand resting on his backside.

dallas has never been the guy to outright say ‘i love you.’ but this is a start. you’re happy nonetheless with this, his hand on your lower back, guiding you.

his own way of not saying somethin’ stupid like you did.

“so…you love me, huh?”

“maybe.”

“…fuck you mean, ‘maybe’?!”

Johnny Cade ;

“i-i can’t do this anymore, y/n. i hate that damned house.”

“johnny, you’re always welcomed at mine. you know that.”

you found johnny on the verge of tears in the lot. your best friend was alone in such a time where he needed someone the most.

you rushed toward his side, sitting beside him on the cold grass. johnny rested a head on your shoulder as you rubbed his back, trying to provide any sort of comfort.

“i know. it’s just—i don’t know. jumpin’ at a fuckin’ bug ain’t a life for anyone.”

“jesus, johnny. i love you too much for you to be talkin’ like this.”

johnny nodded his head, not realizing the weight behind your words at first. you did, however.

your eyes widened as you tightened your lips. ‘FUCKKKK—DID HE REALIZE??? WHY DID I SAY THAT??? NONONONO, JOHNNY DON’T THINK TOO HARD ‘BOUT WHAT I SAID😭😖💔’

johnny blinked, realizing what you told him. did you mean it in the way he’s thinking? did you love love him? or was this all just some prank a bunch of soc’s put you up to?

he moved away from your shoulder, hugging his knees as he turned his head to look back at you.

“uh…what did you mean?”

johnny thought asking that would cost him his life. you’re just freaking out in your head.

‘FUCKKKKKK☹️ NONONO DON’T ASK ME THAT?? 😖I DON’T WANNA DO THIS WHOLE EMBARRASSING MOMENT ALL OVER AGAIN??’

“it’s nothin’, man. don’t look into it.”

you mumbled, trying to avoid the scenario in your head that you do redo your confession and he just spits on you before walking away.

johnny, however, wanted you to own up to it. it’d be a lot less work on his end. he adjusted his position, getting closer to you as he asked another question.

“tell me. please, y/n.”

you bit your tongue to stay away from saying something irrational.

“i just said i really like you. that’s all.”

you mumbled so quietly, johnny could barely hear. he was awfully glad that this road was almost dead, hearing you admit somethin’ stupid like that was lovely.

johnny shifted around where he sat, his back straightened as he played with with cuticles, picking at them to distract him from his own small confession.

“me too. i—uhm, like you too.”

johnny’s always had trouble saying ‘i love you.’ this is close enough for the both of you. it’s a start—a start to something better.

“why didn’t you just tell me, y/n?”

“I WAS FUCKINGSCARED!”

Ponyboy Curtis ;

you always liked pony. you never knew what it was. maybe it’s because he was nicer to you than other guys—or maybe it’s because you fell in love with your best friend.

it’s not like you know, anyways.

you were sleeping over at his house, you always do. darry and soda’ve gotten used to it by now—keeping spare everything’s around the house for you.

it was late at night, watching a bunch of movies you two made fun of repeatedly. ponyboy said he was gonna ‘rest his eyes’ but you knew that he was just gonna fall asleep.

his head fell onto your shoulder, his body entirely relaxed. seeing your best friend like this was heartwarming—it seemed ponyboy couldn’t get a break.

you adjusted your position so he’d be more comfortable, a hand over his gently. with your attention diverted away from the TV, you watched as strands of his hair fell over his forehead.

a quiet chuckle escaped your throat as you brushed them back, a small whisper leaving your lips as did so.

“god—i love you.”

‘thank GOD this man is asleep! ☺️🙈this’d be real fucking embarrassi-‘

“you what?”

ponyboy asked, a little a lot taken aback by the words that just left your mouth. his eyes were widened as his ears burned, sitting up straight.

you looked back at him with the same reaction—more embarrassed than anything. your eyes were darting all around the room as you tightened your lips.

“i didn’t say shit, man.”

“don’t even try that with me right now, y/n.”

your immediate thought was ‘hoooolyyyy fuck😰😰’ while ponyboy’s was, ‘can they just admit it already😐.’

“…weren’t you asleep?”

“don’t you have something to tell me?”

“no…”

ponyboy groaned, rolling his eyes at your answer as you toyed with your fingers, biting the inside of your cheek.

ponyboy just decided to say somethin’ stupid like you did—ready to get this 1000lbs weight off his shoulders.

“i love you too.”

he grumbled, crossing his arms as he went back to watching the movie. his posture faltered before a sigh left his lips, a head on your shoulder as you tried to process what just happened.

“you loveeee me, pony😍😍”

“nevermind.”

“WAIT NO I’M SORRY!”

Sodapop Curtis ;

you cannot keep living like this—seriously! how are you supposed to be walking around, pretending like you aren’t totally and utterly in love with your best friend!

he’s way cute, way understanding, way too funny, way too smart (even if he won’t admit it.), and did you mention way too cute?

you thought about just telling him upfront. ‘today’s gonna be the day!’ it never was though... you always chickened out or someone got in the way the second you opened your mouth to tell him the speech you rehearsed.

your eyes were locked on sodapop as he went under the hood of a random car. you couldn’t care less about what steve was complaining about—nor what vehicle this is.

“why’re you even ‘ere? you don’t even work today, y/n!😒”

“steve—she can come n’ go. don’t act like you don’t enjoy her visitin’.”

“what? jumpin’ in to save your girlfriend?”

soda paused before throwing a rusted screw at steve, hitting his bicep. you laughed quietly, watching the two bicker back and forth.

“ain’t you got a register to run?”

“….touché🤨…”

steve mumbled before whispering something to soda, covering one side of his mouth so you wouldn’t see. you rolled your eyes at his immature antics—not finding them amusing when it doesn’t involve you as much.

“what was that?”

“nothin’, y/n…”

he answered with a giggle as soda looked flustered and annoyed. steve practically skipped away, leaving the two of you alone.

even though you two knew each other since grade school, the air in the garage was awkward. like the two of you didn’t know how to start a conversation in your 16–almost 17–years of living.

“so..”

“so?”

with that you went on a rant about a rumour goin’ around. ‘it’s total bullshit!’ you’d shout with a huff. what was this rumour? you n’ soda are secretly dating.

“that’s insane.”

“i know! and it’s like—i do love you like that it’s jus-“

OH. OHHHHH. OHHHH MY GOD.

OF COURSE YOU HAD TO SCREW IT ALLL UP BY SAYING SOMETHIN’ STUPID! you’re soo cool for that, y/n. wow. good job.

soda paused, his body tensed before a sigh left his lips. he chuckled, standing up straight as he slammed the hood of the door closed, looking over to you with a smile.

“well—it ain’t really a rumour, is it?”

“…it isn’t?”

“not if you’re free at 8 tomorrow.”

maybe you’re both stupid, maybe you’re both young, or maybe it’s actually gonna work out this time. you smiled as you nodded, confirming you had no plans.

“oh my glory—finally.”

“FYM FINALLY, STEVE??”

“I MEAN, FINALLY. am i gonna be the best man, soda woda😍?”

“hell nah.”

“man, fuck you and your loving partner. happy ass couple, pissin’ me off in my own store.”

Darry Curtis ;

chocolate cake. who doesn’t love it? sure as hell not the boys that run in and out of the curtis’ house, stuffing their faces with this. they eat it like they’ve never eaten in their lives.

apparently it was up to you and darry to supply the next batch. darry (and the boys) announced it oddly ominously.

“we’re low on the supply.”

“….supply of what, darry? …what’re you’re jobs again?”

“cake.”

“OHHH. yeah okay—let’s go make some.”

and that’s how it started. you flicking flour at darry’s darkened hair, making jokes about him ‘finally looking his age,’ darry laughing as you stood there with pride before he grabbed you by the waist and picked you up, putting you on the opposite side of him.

‘he wants me sooo bad😭😭😂😂’ ‘they looks so pretty when they’re smiling.’

duality of man am i right

caught up in the moment, giggles filling the room, your mind empty, you began to mumble somethin’ stupid to yourself.

“jesus—i love you.”

“mh?”

darry hummed, wide eyed with brows raised as he turned his head to face you. you stared back—an awkward expression across your face.

“nothin’.”

all darry did, however, was lightly chuckle as he brushed back a strand of your hair that fell out of place.

“you’re a real treat.”

he’d mumble before confessing somethin’ stupid just as you did.

“i love you too. always have, y’know.”

the cake was forgotten about for 10 minutes. within said time—you two were giggling about the times you tried to confess to one another

“AW, WHAT THE FUCK?”

“kissing? in front of my cake?”

“i knew it…”

“ight…are y’all done?”

“yesssir.🫡”

Steve Randle ;

steve got into another fight—real bloody and real ugly. and who’s job was it to patch him up—as always? you, of course! who else would it be other than his ‘bestest friend’?

“glory, steve! who were you fightin’? the hulk?”

“with the way i was fightin’—i might as well be the hulk. you shoulda seen me!”

he began to mimic the punches he threw earlier as he sat on your kitchen counter—mumbling small ‘bam!’s and ‘boom!’s. you chuckled quietly as you dampened several cotton balls with the alcohol.

“yeah, you wish.”

“you jus’ don’t see the vision.”

steve mumbled, rolling his eyes as you brought the cotton balls up to his open wound on his cheek. he hissed with pain at first, searching for your hand to squeeze.

you realized what he was doing—your ears beginning to burn up. you allowed him to grab your hand, letting him use this as a way to ease the pain.

“OWUH! CAN YOU DO THIS ANY HARDER?”

“i’m doin’ this to help you, steve!”

“OWWWWW”

“oh my god—shut up! i love you n’ all, but shut up!”

steve stopped his over exaggerated complaining to look at you with parted lips, his face getting red.

“like…love, love? or just ‘i love you, man’?”

he tried to get clarification so he doesn’t start geeking in front of you like a loser over something he could’ve gotten wrong.

‘LORD IF YOU CAN HEAR ME—LET IT BE WHAT I THINK IT IS🙏🙏!! I’LL START GOIN’ TO CHURCH EVERY SUNDAY, TRUST!!’

“like—i love, love you.”

you mumbled, putting down the cotton ball as you tried to regain your posture. ruining it all by saying somethin’ stupid was always somethin’ you thought you’d do—but never actually do.

steve slowly got a grin on his face—seemingly ecstatic at the news. he jumped off the counter before putting both hands on your shoulders.

“really?! ‘cuz i’ve always thought you’d never feel the same, and i’ve always been so scared about that! the gang’s not gon’ believe me!”

he rambled, smiling from ear to ear as he said he felt the same way as you. maybe being an idiot sometimes ain’t all that bad.

“‘m the gonna be the best boyfriend ever.”

“i know you will be.”

“….TEEHEE😍🥰🤭”

Two-Bit Mathews ;

drinking was you two’s favourite pass time. you always said he made the hangovers bearable—he always said you made drinking way more fun.

stumbling out of bucks bar, you grabbed onto two-bit’s arm to stabilize you. he chuckled before wrapping an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close.

“didn’t know i was that irresistible.😍”

“SHUDDUP-“

you pushed away from him, laughing to yourself as two-bit took a step closer—obviously way more sober than you are.

walking down the sidewalk at night, talking about whatever topic came to mind. sure, most of your nights consist of doing this. and sure, your mind always wanders to how cute he looks under the streetlights.

but WHO CARES?! you need to know what happened in the newest episode of the mickey mouse club house!!😖😖

you looked over at two-bit who’s hands seemed to be flying everywhere as he complained about what goofy and donald had been doing.

“i love you.”

“AND THEN HE-what?😀”

he paused in the middle of his sentence, whipping his head around to look over at you. maybe it was the drunken haze that made you say somethin’ stupid—you didn’t really care.

“yeah. always have.”

two-bits silence scared you more than the confession—the anxiety causing you to sober up slightly. however, the wide grin he got and the small chuckles eased you back.

“cool! i-i mean—cool. i love ya too.”

two-bit said—his words coming out quickly and jumbled together. he cleared his throat with tightened lips before wrapping an arm around your shoulders once more—expect you don’t pull away.

he later continued his rant about goofy and donald—holding you close.

“so…what made you realize😍🥰?”

“i like loser men.”

“YOU WHAT?😰”

#2knightt #the outsiders #listen to somethin’ stupid by frank sinatra #or else #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #johnny cade x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #steve randle x reader #darry curtis x reader #two bit x reader #two bit mathews x reader

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