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silverskye13 · 1 month

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Helsknight showing up bloody at Welsknight’s base please I need suffering 🙏

There was something to be said about the stupid things he was willing to do in the name of self preservation. Damn his fears, and the unfairness of the universe, and the uncertainty of living [and dying] and everything else. The unknown had always been his greatest weakness, his greatest betrayer. Pity it was also one of the few inescapable things about living in general.

To say Helsknight stepped into Hermitcraft would be a terrible injustice of what stepping normally, let alone gracefully, looked like. What he actually did was stagger and drag himself into Hermitcraft on unsteady and shaking limbs. There were holes in him. He hadn't really taken inventory of them yet. Admitting he had a wound [or several] was enough. The minute he admitted the wounds were bad, in certain terms his mind could comprehend, was the minute shock would steal his senses. He was on Hermitcraft for the specific reason of dodging death, and it seemed to him shock, on any level, meant dying. If he wanted to die and roll the dice of respawn, he would have died in hels, in the alley he'd been jumped in, where he could at least take comfort in familiar cobblestones and the knowledge he'd dragged all his attackers down with him. But he didn't want to die, so he was here.

It was dark. He was inside a building. He was bleeding. Wels was nearby. Those were the only things he needed to know for certain. Helsknight looked around, trying to ignore the sluggish tilt his vision offered when he moved too quickly. The double vision of trying to parse memories of a place that weren't his battled with his wounded animal double vision and together they made him feel nauseous, more so than his wounding already did. Helsknight balled a fist against his sternum, like he could hold himself together that way, and concentrated very hard on walking and nothing else.

Helsknight didn't like being this close to Wels. Not while he was this injured. He could feel the awareness of his other half like a spider on his skin. There was a reflex-like urge to shout and try to shake it off, the instinct-like certainty that if it rested on him long enough it would find a reason to bite him. And he knew, in the way only experience could teach, that if he could feel Wels, Wels could feel him. Helsknight had the sensation of walking a tightrope: his body insisted speed was the only thing that could save him, while his mind insisted he must stay unnoticed. He must balance necessity with making his thoughts and emotions small, and it was hard work to do when he was losing blood.

Helsknight blinked slowly, tiredly. He picked a direction and walked, a hand pressed to the wall, keeping himself upright. Wels's potion room was nearby, a borrowed half-memory informed him, he just had to get there. He searched his drifting thoughts for a poem to repeat in his head, to keep fear and uncertainty from rising. His heartbeat was quickening, a symptom of something; panic, or fear, or blood loss, or all three combined. He was fixing one of those things. He needed to carefully manage the other two, before Wels felt them. The only poem he could think of was in Middle English, and mostly gibberish to him, which told him it came from Wels's memories somewhere.

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

Tak doun o rode my derworth child,

Or prik me o rode with my derling!

[Rhyming child with child was a lazy, but this was written back when one could convincingly spell "down" as "doun" so he supposed he shouldn't be overly critical. The real trick was figuring out if "derling" was supposed to mean "darling", or some other archaic word lost to time. He could only figure out so much from context clues. "Mourning" apparently transcended centuries, and that seemed fitting. Everyone knew mourning, in some form or another.]

An ache opened up beneath his clenched fist, or it had always been there, and his body was only just now reinforcing the fact that it was important. It felt like the mother of all cramps in his muscles, and he stubbornly pretended that's what it was. He needed more potassium in his diet or something, and the gods would forgive him the smear he left on the wall when he leaned on it, waiting on the intensity of his pain to ebb. The doorway he was walking towards seemed close, but also very, very far. Closing distance with it was going a lot slower than he thought it would, and it was only one short hallway. He was glad he'd decided to do this, instead of his other half-considered option of attempting to walk across hels to the Colosseum. He wouldn't have made it.

Dread pooled in his stomach. Dread, and other more physical things, like blood, probably, but he pretended the dread bit was more important. He could feel Wels pricking on his skin again, an insistent spider twitching at a breath on his web. Helsknight breathed out the steadiest breath he could manage.

More pine ne may me ben y-don

Than lete me live in sorwe and shame;

As love me bindëth to my sone,

So let us deyen bothe y-same.

[Sorwe. What medieval idiot thought "sorrow" was spelled like "sorwe"? Maybe it had something to do with inflection. Poetry was half words, half rhythm. Maybe "sorwe" was supposed to indicate they wanted the reader to pronounce "sorrow" as a single syllable, so it sounded more like "sore". That's also probably why "bothe y-same" was sitting there like word vomit. They meant "both the same", but wanted it read without a pause between the first two words. It was really the method for the madness that mattered with poetry.]

Helsknight blinked. He was in the potion room. He couldn't fully remember the walk down the hallway, but that didn't matter. What mattered was there should be health potions in here somewhere, his salvation. Relief edged his vision in stars, and he once again felt Wels's attention cant in his direction, confused and curious. Wels didn't associate feelings of relief with Helsknight. It wasn't an emotion they felt in each other's presence, and it was far too strong to be muffled by the distance to hels.

[He knows I'm here.]

Helsknight opened a chest and rifled through it. His vision was protesting. Stars and tilting that would turn to spinning soon made a clutter of his eyes. It got hard to distinguish the colors of the stoppered bottles. He picked up one that felt overly warm to his cold and shaking fingers. He was pretty sure it was a health potion. It felt too hot, but he reminded himself he was cold from losing blood, so it should feel hot. Hesitantly removed his fist from where it was balled in front of his sternum, and let his eyes unfocus when he grasped the bottle's stopper. His hands were so unsteady, it took a couple tries just to grab it, and when he pulled on the cork, his fingers slipped off weakly. He tried again, eyes closed with concentration, pouring every ounce of his strength into the act of pulling a stopper out of a bottle, only for his hand to slip right off again.

Frustrated, nearing desperate, he looked down at himself for a clean place to wipe his hand on his tunic. It was a mistake. He knew it as soon as he did it. His eyes were inexorably drawn from the fabric to the poke-holes in it, to the wine-dark stain that flowed down his front and still dripped tak-tak-tak slow and inexorable onto the floor. It was a woeful amount of blood. He was honestly surprised he wasn't dead yet. Chalk it up to fortitude, and ignorance, and size. He had more blood to lose than some people did.

Helsknight's world suddenly gave an awful twist, vertigo and the crescendoing, cramping agony of his wounds, only staved off by how his now shattered ignorance, kicking him off his feet just as surely as a horse could. He slumped against the wall, and then to the floor, and the awful jarring of it hurt him worse. Half a dozen other wounds on him aired their grievances, and the big one near his sternum pushed blood onto his fist when he clutched it. Helsknight sat pinned, unable to breathe for many long seconds, feeling a bit like he'd been struck by lightning. The pain was blinding and numbing and overwhelming all at once.

Why-- have no-- have ye no-- something something...

[Words. Breathe. Think of words.]

[Gods... But it hurts......]

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

[And what the hels did "routhe" mean, anyway? He knew the word "route". He knew the name "Ruth". Neither of them fit, unless his bloodless brain was missing something. There was a chance "routhe" was supposed to be read like "bothe", as a double word slurred together, but that still left "routhe the" which made less sense in context than "routhe" did.]

Right. He was supposed to be doing something other than bleeding to death on the floor. Helsknight blinked, looked down at his hand and realized the health potion he'd grabbed was gone. He must have dropped it when he slumped over. Looking around, he spotted it just to the side of his left boot, unbroken, thankfully, but it might as well be a lifetime away for all the good it did him. Helsknight knew without a shadow of a doubt he couldn't reach it. The idea of tensing his muscles and dragging himself forward to reach was exhausting, and he hurt so much he knew the movement would feel like tearing himself in half, and there were just some things a mind couldn't power through. Helsknight laughed dismally and let his head fall onto his chest. Both motions were white hot agonies, but all his pains were starting to blur together into a smear of overwhelming sensation that took thought away. It occurred to him he was breathing too fast, like he'd run too far too fast, and his fluttering heartbeat agreed.

[... It hurts...]

[Gods and saints it hurts.]

[I'm dying.]

A feeling he could only describe as doom fell on his shoulders, a cold grasp of fear that wrapped stony hands around his heart and squeezed. He'd heard of this. Never felt it himself. The utter sureness that if he didn't do something now, he would die. All the unconscious bits in his body in charge of keeping him working all unanimously agreeing they needed divine intervention, preferably right now, before they started shutting down. It wasn't something he often had occasion to feel, though he had heard people tell of it after particularly grizzly matches and bloody tournaments. Death was normally too quick in the Colosseum, or else he'd won his match, and even if he was falling to pieces there was a health potion too close to hand to let him dwell on his harms. This was so terribly different. Death stalked toward him unhurried and unbothered, waiting on him to finish drowning in blood. He might panic, if he wasn't already so cold and scared.

"Ah. This makes some sense, anyway."

Helsknight, who had stopped seeing the world in front of himself without really closing his eyes, refocused his vision on the open doorway. Wels stood there, an angel of death in azure and silver, his sword in his hand. His eyes were the ruthless blue of hels freezing over and lifeless corpses, and Helsknight thought there was no one else in the world he would rather not watch him die. But the universe hated him, so here Wels was, just as surely as if he was fated.

"I didn't think all that fear could possibly be for me."

Helsknight tried to reply, but all he managed was a dying-animal noise that strangled itself out when he tried to breathe a little steadier. He tried again, and this time managed a very weak, but vaguely defiant, "Fuck off."

"Rude," Wels said chastisingly. A glow of something like smug satisfaction prickled Helsknight's skin. The feeling came from Wels. "Especially given I'm the only person who can save you."

Helsknight chuckled, and then stopped when his body seized painfully around the motion. "We both know you don't want to save me."

"No," Wels admitted. "But I don't want to do a lot of unpleasant things I agree to do anyway."

"How... charitable."

"It is a virtue."

"Sure."

Wels didn't move. Well, he did move, but only to sheath his sword. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, the image of patience, as though they had all the time in the world.

[Hungry spider. Waiting on a web for something to struggle.]

"If you're waiting on me to beg," Helsknight informed him through staggering breaths, "I won't."

"Too prideful?"

Helsknight searched himself momentarily for pride, and came up short. Pride would've dictated he die in the alley, instead of here where Wels could lord it over him. This was something different than pride.

"No."

"Then why not?" Wels asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's easy. Just say, 'Welsknight, please give me a health potion'. Or if you're feeling monosyllabic, just 'please' will work."

Helsknight managed a smirk. "Why not help me out of the kindness of your heart?"

"I don't have any kindness for people like you."

[People like you. What a loaded phrase.]

Have ye no routhe on my child?

There was an entire philosophical debate that could happen in the phrase 'people like you' that Helsknight had neither the time or the energy to bother with. Besides, it was all words Wels knew. Wels pretended to be a chivalric knight. Chivalric knights helped the weak. Chivalric knights saved the defenseless. Helsknight, for all the grievances of his existence, was both right now. Then again, the chivalric knights were also supposed to make war against their enemies mercilessly, so he supposed Wels would be in his rights, as a chivalric knight, to walk away and let him die slowly and painfully on the ground.

As if sensing his thoughts, and likely because he could actually sense his thoughts a bit, Wels said, "You are always going on about how I need to be a better knight. There's something ironic here. No matter what I decide, I think you'll owe me an apology regardless."

The feeling of doom, of bone-deep, agonizing dying mantled over Helsknight again and Wels stopped existing to him. His sense of urgency, of desperation to live clawed its way up his throat. He tried to move his arm, his leg. He got his fingers to twitch. He tried to lean forward, to drag himself with willpower alone towards that stupid potion just out of reach. The potion he wasn't even strong enough to open. His vision collapsed in quickly, and he only knew he'd cried out because he was breathless. But he hadn't moved, besides managing to lull his head forward onto his chest again. Cold fear crawled around in his empty guts, a relentless, caged animal that refused to stop squirming.

[I'm dying.]

[Breathe.]

[I'm dying.]

A shadow fell over him, a presence freighted with hate, and deserving, and dissonant guilt. Wels had come forward, only to stop short when Helsknight's terror swept over him like a wave, and he stood baffled by it, and guilty for it. The fool knight probably thought Helsknight was scared of him. If only. Helsknight thought he would prefer that. At least then he could manage to die gracefully. Wels's fortitude bricked itself up against him then, a bitter soul trying to will itself to be cold and cruel, and Helsknight was thankful for it. It staved off his fear, if only a little.

"What did you do to bring this on, anyway?" Wels asked breathlessly, trying to recover his resolve. Looking for a reason to hate him.

"I was... walking home."

"That's it?" He sounded so skeptical, it was almost funny.

"I committed the terrible sin..." Helsknight laughed out a breath, "... of being fearless when I should have been cautious."

"Hubris."

"Habit."

"Yeah right."

"If I got stabbed like this every day, I wouldn't have come crawling here."

Wels glowered, parsing this statement for truth. Helsknight might have mustered some hate in him for it, if he wasn't so scared. His vision had taken on a permanent blur, and he was getting cold. He hadn't gone numb yet, which was something he found profoundly cruel. He wanted to be numb. To stop hurting. To stop fearing.

[Breathe.]

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

Tak doun o rode my derworth child,

Or prik me o rode with my derling!

[Derworth... "Dearworth", probably. Beloved. So "derling" was probably "dearling", which turned into "darling". Middle English was strange. Just slightly to the left of normal. He didn't think "tak" was a word anymore, except where it existed as pieces of words. "Tak" to "take", to take hold, maintain, maybe. "Tak" to "tack" like a nail. "Prik" also, like "pricking" flesh, like a point digging.]

"Hold down the road, my dearworth child," Helsknight muttered. "Or pick me a road with my darling."

"What?"

"Stupid poem."

"How much blood have you lost?"

Helsknight laughed, and his whole body flinched, and for a moment he couldn't breathe because his pain was so alive and electric it almost stopped being pain. The concern from Wels was laughable. He wished Wels would make up his mind about whether or not he cared. Then he could get on with dying, and the terror would stop, and the universe would take him or it wouldn't, and if it didn't, he would respawn and sleep for a week. He felt Wels's hand on his wrist, which was its own kind of hilarious.

"Trying to figure out how many heartbeats I have left?" Helsknight asked.

It would be nice to know. If Wels figured it out, he hoped he would share the information. Then Helsknight could keep count.

"Your heart's too fast."

"That happens."

Wels stood up and paced, all nervous energy, back and forth across the room.

"You don't deserve my help," Wels told him scathingly, angry for how conflicted he felt. "You don't. You've been nothing but cruel ever since we met."

More pine ne may me ben y-don

Than lete me live in sorwe and shame;

["Pine", like pining. Or pain. More pain? Punishment maybe. "Don" to done. Something like: More pain to me could not be done than to let me live in sorrow and shame.]

Helsknight decided whoever wrote this poem had never been stabbed. He'd felt both sorrow and shame, and neither of them packed quite this amount of punch, in his opinion.

"It probably goes against my tenets anyway," Wels continued, still pacing. "And yours too. Aren't you the one who follows some crazy death god?"

"... Saint... of Blood and Steel."

"He probably thinks dying in a puddle on my floor is glorious."

"... they."

As love me bindëth to my sone,

So let us deyen bothe y-same.

[Maybe he was just getting better at this, or maybe this part was just easy. "As love I'm bound to my son, so let us die, both the same." It didn't flow very neatly when it was simpler. Maybe Middle English wasn't that stupid.]

"I can't help but think you did this on purpose to... I don't know. Test me somehow. Prove you're better. Weak again, Welsknight! For helping your enemy when you should have let him die, or speed him along. Don't you know knights are supposed to be cruel?"

Helsknight tried to call up his own tenets, or Wels's tenets, or anything to do with knights and their duties. He got a little lost on his way, his thoughts meandering and dying, and gasping back to life again when they remembered they were supposed to be searching for something. Something he was scared of. Dying. A wave of fear crashing over him that made Wels flinch, and bid Helsknight keep breathing, because any agony was worth not confronting that one, great, crippling unknown.

"What would you do in my place?" Wels asked him suddenly. "Answer me that, perfect knight. What would you do if the person you hated most showed up one day bleeding on your floor?"

That... was an excellent question. Helsknight searched briefly for the answer, and found it wasn't very hard to find.

"I would help."

"You're lying," Wels said guardedly.

"I... can't lie."

"Then you're dodging the truth. What would you do?"

"I would heal you if I could. Or I would kill you if I couldn't." With strength he didn't know he even still had, Helsknight leaned his head back against the wall. It was easier to breathe that way. To talk.

"Why?"

"No creature is deserving of dishonor or pain."

"That's not a tenet."

"It's not a chivalric tenet." Helsknight shrugged one shoulder weakly. "Chivalry states you can hang my guts from the ceiling if I'm your enemy."

"It does not."

"It might as well."

Wels didn't seem to have a ready reply for that.

"What is routhe?"

Wels blinked down at him, guarded and confused. "Routhe?"

"Routhe." Helsknight repeated, as though it were helpful. "Middle English."

"As in?"

"Poetry."

"Use it in a sentence."

"Why have ye no routhe on my child?"

"Ruth." Wels said, a bit too quickly, like he'd known what Helsknight was asking and was trying to avoid the answer. "We don't use it as ruth anymore. It shows up in rue, like regret, or sorrow. And... ruthless."

"Merciless."

"Yes."

Why have you no mercy on my child?

"Why are you asking about Middle English while you're bleeding to death on my floor?"

Helsknight let out a breath. It hurt, but everything did. "Stupid poem."

"Can I hear it?"

"I'm busy bleeding to death on your floor."

"Tell me and I'll heal you."

There it was again, asking for an excuse. That was Wels's real cowardice, his failing as a knight. He was scared of making decisions. Scared of dealing with the consequences of his actions. Paralyzed by indecision. He wanted to hate Helsknight because it was justified. He wanted to watch him suffer, because hatred allows suffering. He didn't want to label himself cruel, nor be accused of weakness, or softheartedness, if he showed mercy. And he didn't want to pick up his sword and kill, if it meant killing someone defenseless. He wanted Helsknight to give him a reason to act, so he could blame it on him later if it turned out wrong. Given it would likely be Helsknight rubbing his nose in it later if it was wrong, he couldn't really blame him for that.

Helsknight closed his eyes and counted his heartbeats, and pretended he wasn't scared.

"Do what you will."

An hour long minute ticked by. Helsknight felt the time moving like it was physical, like he was falling through it and he couldn't catch himself, and he was nearing his limits. He thought the only thing stopping him from begging for it all to stop was the crushing weight of his fatigue, the exponential strength it took to take his next breath, and that stupid poem, skipping in a circle in his head. It kept his thoughts away from his fear, from bearing the weight of the unknown that came next. It was still there, a nameless, formless anxiety that formed the undercurrent of his thoughts. But he didn't have to think about it when he was busy being annoyed about a poem stuck in his head.

Wels moved. He stooped to pick up the potion Helsknight had dropped and unstoppered it deftly. He was surprisingly gentle as he helped him drink, aware that every movement could cause pain. Helsknight could feel Wels's caution in the air like wings, like a bird hovering before it lands. The first potion wasn't enough to heal him completely, so he got a second from his chests and helped him with that as well, one hand hovering over Helsknight's wounds, waiting on the skin to knit back together. Helsknight got to his feet, shaky, and feeling like he'd been wrung dry of all vitality. There was no pain to speak of, but he was thirsty, and hungry, and exhausted.

"You should rest before you go anywhere," Wels said, words of pragmatic care that sounded stilted coming from him. "I can get you some water."

"I'll be fine," Helsknight told him, allowing himself some hesitant pride now that the smothering pain was gone. Even exhausted, he could think so much more clearly now -- think at all, really. And he thought the longer he stayed here, the higher the chance Wels would come to regret his decision to heal him. They were not made to like each other. They didn't even respect each other as enemies. And Helsknight knew if they fought now, he would lose, and he might lose very badly, if Wels decided to leave him to bleed out again. It was something Wels had never done before, but if he could convince himself Helsknight deserved it, he would.

"Do what you will, then," Wels said, bitterness creeping into his tone. He probably thought he was being coy and ironic. Helsknight mostly thought it was annoying.

"The poem isn't mine," Helsknight said. "It's one you've read before. Middle English. Why have ye no routhe on my child. I don't know the title. It might just be the first line. I think it's a lament."

"... I see."

"Next time you find yourself bleeding out on someone's floor," Helsknight snorted, "Pick something stupid like that. It makes things... manageable."

"Right... manageable."

Helsknight gave a helpless sort of shrug, as though what he'd just said were perfectly normal.

Wels mustered an enviable facsimile of concern when he said, "I've never felt terror like that before."

Helsknight felt his already parched mouth somehow go drier. The sympathy he felt rolling off of Welsknight was sickening. Literally. He could feel himself becoming nauseous.

"What are you so scared of?"

Shame, red hot and searing, clawed at the inside of Helsknight's ribs. He wished so badly he could hide it. Distract himself from it. At least turn it into anger. But he was tired, and he didn't know how to bring his emotions back to heel, and Welsknight was already giving him an open, piteous look like maybe they'd stumbled onto something significant. He could feel hope there, like maybe there was a reason they hated each other like they did, and if Wels could figure out where that fear came from, they could find common ground -- or at least the leverage Wels needed to make Helsknight relent.

"I don't need your pity, white knight," Helsknight snarled. "Go sate your savior complex somewhere else."

Wels scowled. A cold wall of loathing, resigned and inevitable, closed itself around anything else he could possibly feel.

[As it should be.]

Hours later, home and safe, Helsknight cracked open his journal and wrote:

Why have you no mercy on my child?

Have mercy on me, so full of mourning;

Take down the road my dearworth child,

O give me a road with my darling!

More pain to me could not be done

Than to let me live in sorrow and shame

As with love I am bound to my son,

So let us die then, both the same.

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ficjoelispunk · 3 months

Text

TIPSY’S GIRL

"Say yes to heaven,

Say yes to me.

I've got my eye on you."

Summary: Sometimes everything you want is right under your nose. All you need is a little push.

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: just a love story, happy without anguish, thank God.

Oneshot

A/N: As everyone is already tired of reading in my notes, this is another translated Oneshot. I hope I don’t disappoint so much with English. Please don’t give up on me.🙏

"Good night, Joel"

You said as you passed by for the thousandth time, a damp cloth through the counter.

"Good night"

It was visibly noticeable that only his carcass was present there. Deep and tired eyes, hair with curls slightly - perfectly - messy.

"You look tired, a lot of movement outside?" You asked with a gentle smile on your lips.

Joel leaned over the - now, clean - counter.

"Yeah…" he hummed, "with the winter many hordes of them move in search of warmer places"

You were pouring an shot of whiskey into the glass. You didn't need to ask, Joel always came to Tipsy after long patrols, sat in the same place since you remember, and drank exactly the same thing, every time.

"Smart Creatures..."

He smiled with your comment.

"Since I arrived in Jackson, I've never left these walls again" you handed the glass to him "we used to do walks, picnics, hiking, all the fucking weekend..." your eyes were stuck in the wood of the counter, several images taking over your mind, like flashbacks, "I miss nature" you snapped your tongue "well, I'll let you rest" your hands patted the counter "enjoy" you smiled.

Joel raised the glass towards him.

"Thanks"

***

Tiredness took over Joel's old and worn-out body. It had been three long days of patrol. Sleeping outside was becoming a big nightmare for the back. He just wanted to get home, take a long shower and rest.

He just needed a drink first. It was what he repeated to himself, as if, the fact of repeating this to himself sometimes enough, was capable of deceiving his own brain.

The truth is, he started attending Tipsy more for a single reason. You.

A woman with such a beautiful smile, that if the light of the world ran out, your smile could certainly illuminate the planet without a shadow of a doubt. Your lips filled the contour of your smile so perfectly. Your soft skin. The curves of your body. You are so beautiful. Kind. Polite.

Every time he’s close to you, his nerve endings fall asloment. He's afraid to say something wrong. He’s afraid you'll misunderstand him. Whenever he thinks about the possibility of having you, touching your skin, your lips, your body... he drives away the desire. He's not worthy. The things he's already done. It didn't seem right that the same hands that kill could be able to touch you correctly. You deserved more.

Too old for that kind of thing. So, all that was left was for him to observe her. At least from afar he couldn't lose you.

"If you keep looking at her like this, you'll make a hole in her skin," Tommy whispered to his brother, squeezing his shoulders.

"Shut up, Tommy"

"Seriously, you're a man, Joel. Call her out, it's not a big deal"

Joel just stared at his brother.

"C’mon man… She looks at you too... you're a nice guy"

"She's just being polite. Very kind to just kicking me out from this place"

"No other man would be good enough for her here, and you know that, if you continue with this shit, you'll end up having to watch any asshole take her home..."

Tommy shakes his head while waiting for you to come and serve him too.

***

Working at Tipsy was a quiet thing, most of the time. There were few nights that you had to put up with someone who ended up drinking too much, and inflating the courage to say things to you that would be at least impolite. But overall, it was something quiet. Decreased the feeling of loneliness - which you had also been used to dealing with - the end of the world does not provide healthy experiences, and keeping mental health in line is a daily exercise.

You had just left the library, selected another book - which you knew you would read in a maximum of three days - the plan was to sit on your old couch, cover your legs with the wool blanket you had knitted, and keep next to a good herbal tea that you had harvested in your garden in the morning.

The cold this afternoon was more severe, you walked looking for the sun, to warm it up, thinking about removing your heavier coats from the closet.

"Hey!"

The known and panting voice had just rested a soft hand on your shoulder.

"Hey! Maria, how you doing?"

"I’m fine. You? Did I get in the way of your thoughts? You were closed in your private world"

You smiled.

"I'm fine, thank you. I was making a mental note to remove the married people from the closet, it seems that we will have a merciless winter this year"

She nodded.

"Do you work tonight?"

"Not really, today is my day off. Do you need help with anything?"

"Yeah, I do. I was wondering if you could help me with the recipe for that Arabic salad you make, I've tried it a thousand times and I don't get it... Tommy will get sick if he doesn't eat this salad..."

You smiled.

"Yeah, shore. Tonight?"

"If you don't care..."

"No, of course not. At 6 p.m.?"

"Sounds great! I'll wait for you."

You nodded.

“See you there”

Maria has always been an amazing woman since you arrived in Jackson. She and Tommy welcomed you in the best way, with patience and care. As much as your plans were to stretch your legs up, you could never say no to this couple to whom you owe so much. If you were in a safe place today, it was because they had provided you with it. You know that Jackson is the closest to life you once had, and no matter how much it was a long way of pain and suffering, living was still an act of courage, which you were proud of day after day for having the courage to choose to live.

Tommy welcomed you with a smile on his face.

"Maria is making the baby sleep, can I help with anything?" He said as they walked to the kitchen.

You took a look at him, smiling.

“What? I'm a great co-pilot in the kitchen"

You raised your arms.

"I didn't say anything"

You laughed. Tommy taught you how to navigate the kitchen, left the ingredients at your disposal, while killing time talking. He was a very communicative man. It was no wonder that the community respected him, he was able to maintain order and protected about 300 people. Only someone articulate enough was able to keep the nerves of 300 people under control.

You were teaching how he should cut the tomato, when he got distracted looking behind you.

"Look at you man, did you take a shower!? Well, thankfully, because definitely Joel is more skilled than me in the kitchen"

You turned around smiling, Joel was... just Joel, a man whose presence did not have any explanation. He was a little older than you, a crease always demarcating the forehead, fierce eyebrows, outlined face, beard covering the face, perfectly messy hair, demarcated jaw. He had all the characteristics of a man, masculine, strong with a striking presence.

He wasn't a talker, few times you have the pleasure of seeing him smile, always worried, nervous or too tired, you had the feeling that he not had a good night's sleep for decades. The tension he carried on himself was something so poor that sometimes you have already found yourself wondering if you would be able to relieve the lines of insistent expressions that he carried on his face. If you would be able to make him feel relaxed, calm and serene.

But, although you could also swear to see him several times - a considerable amount - looking at you, every time - also a considerable amount - that you tried to pierce his shell, he always pushed you, gently and respectfully, away.

Today, however, you had never seen so many expressions passing through Joel's face at the same time. Surprise, nervousness, hesitation... he seemed paralyzed since he entered the kitchen.

"Hi" you said, your voice seeming to pull you into the world again.

He blinked.

"I'll see if Maria needs help" Tommy walked to her brother "can you help her?"

He stared at his brother, still motionless, but nodded. He slowly approached you.

"Are the tomatoes giving you trouble?" He asked pointing out where Tommy left the job in half.

You smiled.

He reached the cutting board with the knife to continue.

"You don't have to, I can..."

"I'll help you"

He looked at you so deeply, the luminosity of the house was dim, you have never been like this side by side, always separated by a counter, or far enough away to just greet each other with a nod. You had to look away, focusing on the cucumbers you were cutting.

He followed the cutting pattern you set to Tommy, and clearly more skilled, in fact. The big arms holding the small fruit, in such a subtle way, contrasting with the big hands and long fingers. The movements outlining the muscles over the tissue of your flannel. Hypnotizing your eyes with every movement.

"Am I doing something wrong?"

You almost got scared, when you heard him, too concentrated in that man's hands, making it difficult to take care of policing yourself so that he didn't realize that you had your eyes fixed on his movements. It was only then that you realized that you were biting your lips. You cleared your throat.

"No" you shook your head, trying to clear your mind, returning to focus on the cucumbers "no, you’re natural, like a Cheff. I didn't know you were a good cook"

He snapped his lips. A crooked smile crossed his lips.

"I have some skills"

You smiled.

"How does it feel to be on the other side of the counter?"

He shrugged, and looked at you again.

"At this moment, I feel better than ever"

You was fully aware of the heat that invaded your face, and burned in your stomach. You couldn't say many other things.

Joel stayed by the side until the end of the salad preparation, reaching all the materials you needed. Sometimes your arm or hand ended up brushing Joel's skin and body. Your body was so tense that it seemed difficult to breathe. The air was a little thick and the kitchen seemed very small.

Maria and Tommy came back for a while - which seemed very long - later. Maria prepared a meat, removing it from the oven as soon as you had just prepared the salad. You dined to the sound of maternity reports. Raising a baby was not easy, and raising a baby in this world was twice as difficult. Although Maria and Tommy had been blessed with a calm and healthy baby, a child who slept all night, and was quite calm during the day.

Maria served you a wine that someone from the commune had produced, with natural fermentation with grapes produced there inside Jackson itself. Tommy helped Maria organize the dinnerware, while you and Joel were sitting outside the house, in upholstered chairs that Tommy and Joel had made before last winter.

You hugged your knee, holding the glass with the wine, in the hope that the liquid would make its due effect and warm your body.

"Are you cold?" It was the first thing he said after cutting the tomatoes.

It was surprising that, although immersed in a silence, there was nothing uncomfortable to be next to him and to be silent.

You sighed.

"I haven't taken the coats out of the closet yet..."

Joel got up, covering your back with his jacket. You closed your eyes with the feeling of warmth around your body. He was hot. Your hands pulled the fabric to cover more of your body, which made you think how small you were close to him, the jacket could easily become a blanket.

"Better?" He was sitting in front of you.

You nodded.

"Thank you"

Your cheeks pressed your shoulder. The smell of him invading your senses. You were warmed by the heat that radiated from his jacket. And it was numb by the smell that the fabric exhaled. So comfortable. So cozy.

When you had finished the wine. Your eyes blinked lazy, it was time to leave.

You got up, unrolling yourself from your jacket.

"Time to go" you leaned over to deliver the jacket to Joel, but he also raised "Maria, Tommy, always a pleasure to spend time with you guys"

"There is no possibility of eating this salad if it is not made by you," Tommy said, hugging Maria.

You smiled.

"Always available, for you. Maria, give a kiss in that little one for me"

"Of course! Thank you for dinner, it was delicious"

She leaned over to hug you.

You were still holding Joel's jacket. You was going to say goodbye to him, but he was faster than you.

"I'll follow you to your home"

"You don't have to..."

"I make a point, I'll also take advantage of the ride and go home"

You nodded. He said goodbye to his sister-in-law and brother. Walking next to you to the exit of the house. Once they were walking through Jackson's deserted streets, he pulled the jacket from your arms, stretching it on your back again.

"It's cold, you can get pneumonia and die"

You smiled, making a face.

"So dramatic"

He was close enough to bump into your arm, with every step you took, his hands in the front pockets of the jeans. Slow steps. Your house was not far away, but the path seemed to drag under your feet.

"I'll stay here" you stopped in front of the stairs on your balcony.

You was going to start sliding the jacket.

"No, stay with her" Joel said.

"No, I'm going in and I'll be safe and warm. You still have the way home" your hands stretched the jacket for him "I don't want you to get pneumonia and die" you smiled and rolled your eyes.

His big hands held the jacket, brushing your hands. Even with his jacket, your hands were cold, the warmth of his touch could easily melt your skin. He was so warm. You two faced the place where your skins were. His thumb stroked your hand.

Your body was taken by an anticipation, an anxiety was making room in your stomach and it was as if you were getting hollow inside, burning the cells of the body.

Joel took a step towards you, shortening your distance. He was dangerously close to you. Your face were tingling.

His free hand rose slowly towards your face, as if he were giving you time to scold him. But you didn't. He touched your face. You stared at each other painfully, his warm fingers slid down the side of your face, and from your neck, moving your hair away from behind your shoulder.

He took another step, his eyes danced between your mouth and your eyes. He was leaning slowly, in your direction. His eyes holding your gaze. His hand holding your head. His nose touched yours.

"Tell me, if I do something you don't want" he murmured, close to your lips.

You nodded, your noses sliding on each other. Your head tilted to the opposite side of his head. Joel pressed his lips on yours, hesitant, kind. Moving away millimeters, bringing his body closer to yours, and pressing his lips on yours again. Longer.

You felt the softness of his belly, his firm breasts. You slowly opened your mouth to him, his tongue slid down your lip until he found yours. He tasted like the wine you had. You sighed.

Joel threw his jacket on the floor, his hand slipped down your waist and then down your back, pulling your body to him. One of your hands slid down his waist, grabbing his shirt. The other got entangled in his hair, your fingers in the middle of the messy curls.

The kiss became more and more intense, your breaths were heavy, your body was glued to his hot body, his heat taking over all your senses.

His lips separated from yours, his foreheads were united, Joel joined your lips in a long kiss, moving away again, you smiled. Still hugging. He moved far enough to find your eyes, running his fingers through the length of your hair.

"Do you want to come in?" You asked, almost pleading.

Joel brought your head to his lips, placing a kiss on your forehead.

"I should go home, sweetheart" his lips brushed the top of your head.

You were numb, your face practically glued to his chest, his smell, his body. His eyes were closed trying to record the maximum of this sensation.

"Okay..." you murmured.

"But can I see you tomorrow?" He asked, holding you against him.

You got just far enough away to look at him.

He smiled.

"I wanted to take you to a place"

You smiled, unable to prevent your lips from arching in happiness.

"Is it a date, Joel Miller?" You bit your lips.

His hands went up to hold your face.

"Yeah... would you grant me the honor of your company on a tour?" The thumbs of his hands caressed your face.

Your arms were around his waist. You pretended to think, pouting in the corner of your mouth.

"Yes, I would grant..." you ended up finishing.

He pulled you for a hug, caressing your back.

"Good! I was already thinking about how to persuade you"

You laughed, - as if it were necessary - you took advantage of the warmth of his arms for another moment, until you walked away, reluctant - it didn't seem that neither of you were happy to let go - taking a few steps back, until you climb your stairs.

"See you tomorrow morning" Joel said as he took his jacket from the floor, and took slow steps back.

He waited for you to enter the house.

It was difficult to contain the outbreak your body exhaled. You were feeling like a fucking teenager. Since the first time you saw Joel, your pupil has dilated. He was a man who drew attention, the kind of guy you wanted to wrap you in his strong arms, the kind of guy who made you fantasize about things. The way he walks. The way he speaks. Always looking so distant and mysterious, but shy and gentleman.

You noticed his looks at you. But he seemed so distant, he seemed to be so involved in this end-of-the-world thing, so hurt by the pain that, obviously, everyone went through that, it didn't make sense for you to fantasize something, it seemed unlikely that he was willing to be distracted to the point of risking having feelings for someone.

People always commented on him. When people can't pierce someone's bubble, when they can't explain their questions, they always end up attacking. There have always been buzz about how cruel and merciless man Joel is. About the things he was able to do, because he had already done.

But with you he has always been kind and respectful, up to this point, this is a matter of education, only. However, you knew hundreds of people who were very good and not even if you wanted education could sustain for a long time, depending on the scenario.

There were, of course, many women who were sentimentally frustrated with him. Joel wasn't really in the mood. Beautiful, strong and intelligent women, fragile and petty women, he was the kind of guy who made any woman's type. That, for sure, also raised a lot of gossip.

Working at Tipsy was something that made you, whether you like it or not, end up listening, seeing and being a victim, of all kinds of things, even more so in a bunch of people, in which everyone knows everyone, and, unfortunately, everyone is busy with everyone's life.

Little by little you learned to filter the things that reached your ears. And, anyway, for you, Joel has always been a respectful man, above all. Your mind was clear and aligned with the possibility that he was someone difficult before Jackson, but who wouldn't be? There are things that could be justifiable, and there are things that perhaps, were not justifiable, maybe not necessary. But the moment wasn't the best either. Extreme moments, sometimes they ask for extreme attitudes. Anyway, it didn't make much difference to you.

What made a difference was that he was a kind man, he was never rude, not even when someone was being inconvenient. It was never disrespectful, not even when he drank too much. He was always willing and available to the people - which he certainly knew - spoke of him behind his back. And, what caught his attention the most, he was always protective, careful and loving with his daughter, Ellie.

It wasn't easy to raise a teenager before, you knew, now it should probably be terrifying. Even so, he kept himself patient, eyes always attentive and full of tenderness, ready for any sign that Ellie could think of giving. Always ready for her. That was one of the things that moved your heart the most. It was visibly noticeable that he would cut without blinking a limb for this girl. This kind of love was something you appreciated.

Joel knocked on your door, shortly after the sun settled in the sky. The morning was cold, there was a considerably dense fog hovering over Jackson's streets. The snow would not take long to start giving its first signs. The thermometers already marked low enough temperatures to roll up scarves and wear three layers of blouse, and maybe a cap, if you wanted to increase the look.

"Hi," you smiled at him.

"Morning, sweetheart" he leaned hesitantly towards you.

Your feet forced themselves to stay at the ends, in an attempt to reach him halfway. Joel pressed his lips on yours, time-consuming, needy. You smiled, he slowly walked away, you climbed up your body to give another quick kiss.

"Ready?"

You nodded.

"I hope so, should I bring something?" Your eyes catch the backpack on his back.

He shakes his head.

"No, don’t worry, I have everything we need"

You nod, closing the door behind you.

***

Anxiety has always been something that tormented Joel's head. Before he thought too much for fear of not being a good father to Sarah. Then he blamed himself for Sarah's mother having left, and how it would affect Sarah's life. And then came the concerns about how he would solve life and be able to provide a good future for Sarah. Oh, how painful it was to think about the future and Sarah.

There was a moment when anxiety and sadness entangled so much in his mind that there was only room for these two feelings. Apart from, of course, the responsibility of keeping Tommy well, alive and safe.

Of course, things got better when Ellie arrived. There was the time when the fear of losing her consumed him. Now she was big enough to push him away, to make the decisions by herself. Even so, she will always be a good child, and he loves her unconditionally, he will always be there for when she needs it. There was the anxiety and the worry of keeping her safe. There would always be. But he knew Jackson was safe. He himself made sure to keep Jackson safe for her.

But now for the first time in a long time, the anxiety he felt was whether he would find you on Tipsy, if he would know how to answer your questions well enough that you didn't think he was an idiot. He felt the anxiety of, needing to contain himself, of needing to control the desire to touch you. Or one day you end up knowing that you finally found someone to be. He needed to control the impulses to drive away the men who flirted with you. To observe the malicious eyes that lingered on you. Joel could read the guys' minds as if their fucking brains were on a big screen. And just that, it was enough for him to long for just an opportunity to punch these men in the face.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt like this, about someone else. He dreamed of you. He was nervous about the idea of meeting you. He liked your voice, your smile, the way you moved, the sweet way you looked at him. Your hair... he knew that if he approached you, he would be at risk of wanting you for him, for the rest of his life.

Tommy invited him to dinner, without telling him that you would be there. He knew the moment he saw you, that Tommy was pushing him. And he can't blame him. Tommy knew him as well as he could know himself. Joel saw you arrive, he saw you settle down, he saw you building friendships, he saw you wisely dealing with people, he saw you being simply you, as if the fucking world was not over, and you had managed to stay perfectly good.

At all times, he can't take his eyes off you. He vividly remembers the day you met him - because, he already knew you - the soft and basically sacred skin of your hands gently shook Joel's hands. Your big Corsican eyes, slightly closed when your lips drawn by God's own hands, opened in the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

And then he was there, holding your body against his, your mouth merging with his. Your heavy breathing, as inviting as he could imagine, was difficult to hold the impulse of wanting to drag you to his bed, immediately undressing your body, and warm it up with his body on yours. Finally being able to feel the taste and flesh of your lips. Your smell and the small sounds you made when he pulled your body closer to his.

He had found the passage to paradise.

Now he could only be anxious to be good enough for you, good enough to have it, and enough to keep it.

You were beautiful in the morning, properly wrapped up, which was good, you were a little cold person, he had already noticed. Maybe it was because you were a small woman, the wind overtook you easily. He smiled with the thought.

Joel bends his arm next to your body, so that you could hold his arms. You hooked yourself next to him, leaning your cheeks against his arm for a moment. It was deliciously satisfying to feel you snuggling next to his body.

"It's cold today" you speak rubbing a hand on his arm, in an attempt to warm your fingers with the friction.

Joel puts his hand on your own, which firmly hold him, feels you shudder little by little.

"It will snow soon” he watched the sky, and then you.

"What are you taking me to, Joel Miller?"

He smiles.

"You'll like it, trust me"

You two walked towards the stables. Joel had already left Callus prepared for you.

"Are we going to ride a horse?" You ask, your voice seemed curious but hesitant.

"Are you nervous?"

You shook your head. But your eyes said something else.

Joel finishes checking the sadle buckles, and walks up to you. He slides a lock of your hair behind your shoulders.

"Do you trust me?" He asks.

Your deer eyes force him to get a little closer to you.

"Yes, I trust you"

Joel kisses your forehead, holding your hand, to lead you to the horse.

***

How to explain how difficult it was to trust someone these days? You trusted Joel, he was a man to whom you naturally transmitted security. But it was impossible to avoid the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

He helped you get on the horse. Your arms around his waist, as he led you out of the gates.

"Joel?" You couldn't stand it.

"Mhmm?"

"Where are you taking me to?"

"Isn't you a fan of surprises?"

You laughed. Feeling unfair to him, whatever it was, it seemed unfair to steal whatever he took the trouble to plan. So used to always having everything under your control, knowing very well where you are stepping, what to do and when to do it, you was not used to not having control. Trusting without knowing what to expect.

"I'd like to show you a place, just it"

You smiled. It was almost as if you hadn't stopped smiling since the night before.

"All right, sorry”

You two rode for a long time, but it wasn't boring at all. You couldn't remember the last time you left Jackson. It could be a fantasy of your head, but the air looked different outside, everything was so much more alive. Nature was something imperial, only it had a place outside. The burning orange colors of the leaves of the trees with winter coming, the almost dead landscape had a melancholic beauty. The silence, only the horse's paws, you and nature. Joel stopped Callus on the slope of a mountain.

It helped you go down, holding your waist, sticking you to the floor.

"Let's walk a little now, okay?"

"Yeah, sure"

He held your hand.

"You said you liked hiking, that you missed nature..." he looked at you "I thought it would be a walk you would like."

Your heart almost jumped. You said a lot of things to Joel when he passed by Tipsy, but you could swear that he was just nodding out of politeness, it didn't seem like he was absorbing the information, keeping your words to himself. That was very cute.

The trail went up the mountain, and at no time did he let go of your hand. He said that he had already come here with Ellie, - which was very sweet, you understood that it was an important place for him - you talked about trivial things in life before the outbreak. You already knew some things, such as, for example, he and Tommy worked with construction companies, contractors, things like that. It was a surprise for him, when you say that you was a biologist.

"Fancy..."

You shook your head.

"It's not like this profession is very useful now, you know. Builders are much more fancy."

He smiled.

You said that you did a lot of field work, research and always ended up in the middle of the woods, these experiences were what ended up helping you survive in the first years of the outbreak.

Being walking around there, next to Joel, the strongest of him holding yours, surrounded by nature, one of the places where you felt most comfortable, filled your senses with peace and calm.

There was a patrol post in the middle of the way, Joel passed by, he didn't take long, he just removed a guitar from somewhere very well kept there.

"I'll leave it here for when we're going to do longer patrols..." he explained as he slides his hand through the instrument.

"I didn't know you played..."

"You will find out why, of almost no one having the joy of knowing," he said ironically.

You laughed.

When you reached the top, you had to hold back the urge to cry. Joel let go of your hand, watching you take small steps, looking at the view in front of you. You've been to beautiful places before, but being there, with the world in that scenario, next to a man who thought about the fact how much you would like something like that, was simply indescribable. Such an affectionate gesture on his part.

Your hands covered your mouth. You looked at him with teary eyes. The view was stunningly beautiful, exciting. The mountains in the background. The green, the trees. The sky. Him. Everything was perfect.

"Did you like it?" He asked quietly as he approached you.

"Joel..." you looked back at the landscape that looked millimetrically hand-painted "it's perfect... I loved it, this place is amazing"

He smiled, hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your head, his arms around you. You stayed there for a while. The cold wind cut you, a painfully pleasant feeling of knowing that you were closer to the sky.

Joel opened his backpack, extending a blanket on the floor, removing fruit, water, and a bottle of tea. You sat down, Joel leaning against a trunk of a tree, you in the middle of his legs, resting on his breasts, his hands on yours, separating just to reach some drink, or some fruit, your fingers intertwined stroking each other's hand.

He played the guitar for you. This man's voice is a threat to your heart.

"I wanted to be a singer when I was younger"

"You would have been a star. Women would go crazy"

He laughed.

“You are such good lier”

You tried to convince him that he was really good at that. But he was a modest man, and too shy to receive so many compliments.

The silence was comfortable too, you had a book in your hand, feeling the sun on your skin, the birds flying in the sky. Joel was also reading.

"Joel?" You tilted your head back, leaning against his chest, to look at him.

"Mhmm?"

"Did you plan all this?"

He nodded behind you.

"You simply, you just eliminated any kind of competition, you know that, right? After today, it will simply be impossible for anyone to surpass you"

He sighed a smile.

"When you told me you missed nature, this was one of the first places that came to my mind.”

“Thank you, I really liked it”

“Yeah… I just didn't imagine that I would have the opportunity to one day bring you here"

You turned to look at him.

"Why?"

He seemed to be embarrassed.

"I didn't think you would give me a chance"

You settled to face him.

"What do you mean?"

He looked away, looking beyond you, at the landscape. He seemed afraid to say the words. One of his hands that were at your waist, reached a small and thin branch on the floor to distract his attention.

"Did you really think I was going to Tipsy just to drink that damn whiskey that Seth serves?"

You kept analyzing his face. Without answering.

"Tommy and I got better whiskeys when we went on patrol" he threw the branch on the floor, looked at you again "I'm going to Tipsy because I wanted to see you"

It took you a while to process the information.

"Joel..."

"I wanted to spend time with you, but look at you..."

You frowned.

"I never imagined that a woman like you would waste some time with a man like me, and... besides, I didn't want to bother you"

You tilted your head, your hands held his face, affectionately directing his gaze to you.

"Joel, what could a woman like me want, if not a man like you?"

He smiled, embarrassed and tried to divert his face from his touch.

"Look at me," you said, holding his face again, "you are a kind, generous, polite, respectful, honest man, I would waste any time with you"

His eyes seemed painful, as if your words were being stuck in his skin, as if he were being forced to believe your words, as if he himself was not able to recognize the man he was.

You caressed his rebellious hair, approaching him, to kiss him, soft and gentle in the beginning. But this was gradually being replaced by a needy pain, when his hand went up to your neck, the other fixing your legs so that you were on his lap, putting your legs around his hip, your arms leaned on his wide shoulders, he pulled you close, his hand sliding through the hem of your blouses, letting some fingers brush your skin. You moaned in his mouth, your skin shivering, his tongue plunged into you, making you press yourself against him, putting your body stuck to his, his hands went down to your hip, but his fingers squeezed the flesh of your ass. You were about to start moving your hips in search of relief when he walked away from you panting.

His forehead stuck to yours. You smiled.

"Sweetheart” he said “Maybe we should go back..."

"Yeah, it seems like a good idea"

You made a slight cuddle on his hair, he pressed some quick kisses on your lips, before you got up, put things away, and made the trail back.

The way back to Jackson was faster. Joel left Callus in the stables, it was almost incredible that you spent almost the whole day together, it was almost the end of the afternoon when you were making their way back to your house. You still had to work at night. Everyone who passed by you two, delayed their eyes, your eyes caught some women whispering among them. You pretended not to see it.

You were almost in front of your house.

"I hope I didn't make you tired, you still work tonight, right?"

"That’s right, but I'm not tired, it was basically like recharging the energies"

He smiled.

You were about to climb the stairs from your balcony. He held your hand.

"Can I see you tonight?" He looked at you looking for any kind of approval on your face.

"Joel, you can see me whenever you want"

He seemed satisfied.

"But you can come in if you want. I still have some time, until I start my shift"

You held his hand harder. Almost as if he had no choice but to accept. He nodded. You went up the stairs, opening the door, pulling him behind you.

As soon as you were inside your house, he pushed you against the door. Kissing you, slipping his tongue inside your mouth, he put his knee in the middle of your leg, causing a perfect pressure for the friction you needed from the heated kiss you gave on the mountain, you shook your hip, he moaned in your mouth. His cock was already hard and arching.

Going down kisses down your jaw, your fingers pulling his hair.

"I won't be able to wait until after work for this," you murmured.

"I was hope not" he said in his skin.

He could feel your need by rubbing your hip on his leg. Fuck, he wanted to feel you, sink into you, he thought about it so much for so long, that it was the realization of a fucking dream, kiss your beautiful mouth and have your perfect body like that for him.

His hands slid up your ass, pulling your body to him, you moaned. Your hands pushed his coat to the ground, desperately unbuttoning his shirt.

He pulled you up, so that you were on his lap, your legs crossed his waist, his hands on your ass holding you.

"Where is the room, babe?" He asked panting.

"Third door on the left"

He walked with you in his arms, while you kissed messy, you pushed your coat to the floor along the corridor. Cursing the - now - exaggerated amount of clothes. Joel put you on the floor, helping you undo the buttons on his shirt. Pulling his blouses by his arms, you undoed his belt, the button of his pants, he pulled the last shirt he wore by his body.

God! He was beautiful, so hot. You kissed the firm skin of his chest, he pulled your last blouse by your arm, and almost whimpered when he saw your naked breasts for him - you were not a fan of bras - your nipple was hardened, your skin goosebumps.

“Fuck, you're more beautiful than I could imagine," he murmurs, pushing you to bed.

His hands deliciously squeeze the soft skin of your breasts, he goes down a path of kisses through your collarbone, slipping his lips through your skin, until he finds your nipple, he gently passes his tongue through him, while the other hand squeezed your other breast, your silky skin against his big, calloused and warm hands, his mouth closes over your nipple, sucking you there.

You can't contain the moan that rises from the bottom of your chest, arching with the feeling of his mouth on your body. He slides his mouth to the other chest, doing the same to him. Your hands get tangled in his hair.

He slides his lips down your belly, deposits a kiss just below your navel.

"Are you sure of that?" He pauses, looking at you.

“Yes, Joel”

He kisses your belly once again and pulls the jeans by the legs.

Your panties had a shamefully damp spot.

"Fuck, babe" he slid his finger over hot and wet fabric "are you needy for me all day?"

"From the moment you suggested leaving" you were panting. "You are a bad man"

He smiles.

"I'm going to reward you"

You smiled. Breathing stuttering.

Joel hooked his fingers pulling your panties, throwing somewhere lost on the floor, crawling to the middle of your legs. He put a leg on each shoulder, it took him a second to appreciate the image of your pussy in front of him, you felt his warm breath approaching you, until he pressed a kiss on your clit. Your breathing trembles with the sensation.

He ran his tongue painfully from wandering from your hole to your clitoris.

“Tastes so fucking good..."

You moaned and he sank his tongue in your heat, moaning too, without avoiding the good taste you had, his hand passed by you, reaching your clitoris, your back arching for him.

He was literally eating your pussy, devouring you while you moaned arching at his touch, you were dripping, more and more wet while his tongue worked on you in a way you didn't even know was possible. He sank a finger inside you, feeling you contract as he stretched you, your breathing getting more and more panting, your hands ran to his hair. He bent his finger inside you, making you choke on the perfect feeling, pressing your clit more, you arched and undone around it, with a strangled moan, pushing deeper into you. He smiled, as he felt your body collapsing with pleasure for him.

He dragged his lips through your body, the wet and shiny beard, you were out of breath. He separated just enough to look at you, your hands were around his face.

"You're still sure..."

You pulled his face to yourself, kissing him, tasting you on his tongue. Your hands went down to push his jeans. He got up to take off the rest of his pants and underwear.

And, it was almost impossible for your to get better, but you had, he had a gloriously perfect cock, leaking from his swollen, big and thick head.

He knelt in the middle of your legs, taking his hands in your middle gathering your wet, passing over his length. Joel lowered his cock so that his head was in your hot and wet entrance, lay down on you, his body warm and heavy.

"Tell me if it hurts, and we'll stop, ok?"

You nodded.

***

He rested his forehead on yours, closing his eyes trying to focus on something other than your soft and naked body for him, something other than your incredibly hot pussy in which he was about to sink.

You passed your hands through his hair.

He pressed the head of his cock, and only then your pussy already clung to him tight. He pushed slowly inside you, little by little, giving you time to get used to him, desperately trying to focus on anything else, but your hands slid down his back pulling him against you, it was amazing. God! You feel so damn good.

He knew, he imagined it would be amazing, you were equally amazing, your beauty, your skin, your smile, he did not contain the grunt you made when you felt your hips meet and know that it was totally inside you. You clung to it, squeezing it, so hot and soft. The volume of your breasts below it, your body. Your mouth. You licked his lips.

It had been a long time since Joel felt this way, you fell so good, the feeling was painfully too hot, he could never dream of something as good as you taking him totally, deep in your wet heat.

"Fuck" you gasped in his ears “you feel… oh my God”

He felt you, every part of you, every muscle contracting, the weight of your breathing, your arms moving as if you wanted to touch most of it you could.

“I know, sweetheart” he kissed you while he was deep inside you. Starting to move, your hip moved to meet him, you moaned in his mouth “You taking me so well”

Joel was slow, he couldn't press too much, he would cum too fast. He took his time, savoring every part of you, every kiss, and every movement he made, listening to the beautiful sounds you exhaled through him.

When his cock was painfully tight on you, he moved faster, more urgent, your fingers stuck in his skin, your legs intertwined his back, he knew you wouldn't last much longer, your walls squeezing around his cock. Your breathing stuttering.

"I won't last much longer..." he murmured on your shoulders "where...?"

"Inside me..."

He growled. While fucking you harder, faster, sinking deep inside you, your body faltered, with involuntary spasms, Joel held your body against his.

"Fuck, that’s it, cum for me" he said, feeling your walls pulsing around him “c’mon babe, that’s it”

He can't stand it, falling apart inside your heat, pulsing inside you. Your hands pressed his back causing him to somehow sink deeper into you. He moaned on your shoulder, feeling his fucking leaking from you, through his balls, on your leg.

His body collapsed on top of you, you kissed his shoulder, his neck. After his breaths stabilized, he raised his head to kiss you, soft, affectionate. He moved so you could lie down and bring you to lie on his chest.

"You're amazing" he said, moving your hair away from your back.

"And, you wouldn't ask me out, like, never"

He smiled.

"I think you need to reward me for lost time"

He looked at you. Smiling satisfied.

"I can start with today, after your work"

You snapped your eyes, you were going to get up quickly, but he held you.

"You can be a few minutes late"

You snuggled up on his skin.

“Sweetheart?”

“Mhmm?”

“When you said I eliminated all the competition, were you serious?”

You looked at him smiling.

“It’s not like there’s a line of men at the door of my house, but, yeah, I was serious, I mean, I’m not crazy not to take advantage of you”

He kissed the top of your head.

“You are a dangerous woman”

"Yeah?..." you bit your lips.

He pulled his leg to be on top of his.

"Yeah" He said quietly, knitting his eyebrows.

You kissed the skin of his chest, he slid his hands down your spine. Your arm grabbed his waist, his fingers caressed your arms.

“You’d better get ready, because if you’re willing, I intend to be the last man of your life”

Maybe you missed your work on this day.

#joel miller smut #joel fic #joel fanfic #joel x reader #joel miller fanfics #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller x y/n

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vodika-vibes · 2 months

Note

(You know who this is)

May I have Sev x female IT Ambrosia and Corriander a nsfw/steamy scenario for Sev's reaction and thoughts to what he sees and what he reads in the filthy sketchbook/journal please? 🥺🥺🥺🙏

(Lol, I keep picturing him just holed up somewhere for three days, reading, sketching and getting off and it makes me giggle x3)

Thank you either way hun.💛

You are an amazing writer and I hope to be as good as you someday! 🌻

The Journal pt II

Summary: Sev's thoughts when he has the journal, and then his first time with you.

Pairing: Clone Commando Sev x F!Reader

Word Count: 953

Warnings: Smut

Prompts: Ambrosia - love is reciprocated, Coriander - lust

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Sorry that this took so long...and that it's so short. Sev didn't want to agree with me here.

Sev absently runs his fingers over the fine leather cover of the borrowed notebook, the images etched on the paper flashing through his memory as he settles back in his bed and opens the book to the first page.

The first couple of pages are rough sketches.

Rough sketches of her, his pretty little artist. Some of the sketches are more detailed than others, others are much more rough, just outlines, but even so, Sev can’t look away.

How someone so talented is living her life as an IT specialist for the GAR is beyond him.

He flips past the sketches, pausing every now and then to admire some of the sketches of his brothers, or plants or buildings, before he gets to the first image of him.

Well. The first image of them together.

It is a very good drawing, very detailed, though he knows that she would have had to use her imagination on some parts. Even so, the image on the page could have come from his own imagination…or his own fantasies.

He skims the words written on the opposite page, but Sev quickly finds himself unable to focus on the written words in favor of the images on the pages.

And here he thought that his crush was wholly one-sided.

He’ll have to do something about that. Later.

Sev flips through the notebook quickly, glancing at the pictures and skimming the half story that she’s written, a small smirk crossing his face as he looks at the pictures.

His cute little cyar’ika is kinkier than he thought, at least, she is if these pictures are accurate depictions of her fantasies.

He wants to fulfill all of them.

Sev shifts, uncomfortable with how tight his blacks have gotten due to his arousal. That’s something else that he’ll handle at some other point in time. Later tonight, maybe, when he’s in the shower.

It’s the only place he gets any damned privacy after all.

He scans one of the images one more time, and then reaches for a sheet of paper and a pencil. If his cute little cyare is going to fill an entire notebook with her fantasies, the least he can do is share one of his own.

It’s only fair after all.

Sev is crowding into your space, his arm is folded over your head, and his free hand is resting gently on your hip. You know that your face is flushed, with embarrassment, yes, but also arousal.

He leans in and catches your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. And you eagerly lean into the kiss, into him.

Roughly he nips your lower lip, and then pulls away, but only far enough that he’s able to speak. “Where’s your room, cyar’ika?” He all but growls against your lips, and you really shouldn’t find that so attractive, but you really, really do.

Wordlessly, you take his hand and tug him further into your home, until you’re standing in the door to your bedroom.

And that’s when Sev takes over again.

He crashes his lips against yours again, and walks you backwards until you topple on the bed, landing with a startled squeak. A squeak that’s swallowed by him, as he follows you down to the bed.

Everything about Sev is intense.

You know this. You’ve known this. It’s part of the reason that you were so attracted to him from the start.

But now that he’s here, pressed against you, his hands sliding under your shirt to remove the material from your body, you’re finding yourself a little overwhelmed.

Sev pulls away and peppers kisses across your face, and then he pulls away a little more to strip your shirt off, and he tosses it to the side. And then he stops for a moment, and he lightly presses his hand against your cheek.

Something soft and adoring crosses his face, “Beautiful,” He murmurs, “I’m going to make you feel amazing,” Sev promises, “I bet you’ll be gorgeous when you fall apart around my cock, angel.”

Your face heats, and you turn your head to press your face against his forearm.

“Aww…my sweet girl is feeling shy?” He presses a kiss to your neck, down to your collar, and then kisses down between your breast and lets his lips linger on your stomach.

Your gaze meets his, and you smile softly as you reach out to thread your fingers through his hair.

Sev hooks his fingers around the waist of your pants, and slowly tugs them down, “I need you to know, cyare.” He murmurs as he presses light kisses to the newly exposed skin, “I must have gotten myself off to those images five or six times.”

You giggle softly and then gasp when he nips your hip.

“Kept imagining you with me in the shower.” He murmurs, his gaze remains locked with yours as he slides down your body, “Your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, looking up at me with your pretty eyes.” Sev groans at the memory, “Soaking wet…and not just because of the water.”

His name slips from your lips in a breathy moan, and he chuckles, “Kept imagining you getting off on getting me off. Getting yourself all worked up because of me and my cock-”

“Sev, stop teasing-” You whine.

He laughs, “I haven’t even started teasing you yet, cyare.” Sev slides up your body, and kisses you, slowly and deeply. “I’m going to make you feel amazing.”

“Please.” You whisper to him.

“Well,” Sev kisses you one more time, “How can I deny you when you ask so nicely.” And then he pulls back and strips his shirt off, tossing it to the side. “I’m going to ruin you, cyar’ika.”

#star wars #tcw #vodika-vibes follower celebration #clone commando sev x reader #sev x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fics #18+ fic #clone thirsting #answered asks

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anjelicawrites · 4 months

Note

We’ve got now in the throuples:

• Aemond Targaryen, Osferth and reader

• Michael Gavey, Billy Washington and reader

https://www.tumblr.com/valeskafics/736195229604036608/holiday-cheer-billy-taylor-x-reader-x

May we please have Billy Taylor, Tom Bennett and reader???

🥺🙏

First thing first: go read @valeskafics fic linked in the ask, if you haven't already, you'll thank me later!

Embracing my crossover polyships era, NSFW and 18+ under the cut!

Warnings: finering, p in v sex, overstimulation, kissing.

You wake up surrounded by warmth. Billy is still hugging your front, his face against your sternum, breathing your calming smell deeply, Tom is behind you, his long arm on your body, hand on Billy's side.

It's rare that the three of you manage to sleep, and wake up, together, your schedules are chaotic enough that, usually, one of you is coming back from work, or already getting dressed, while the other two are still asleep. For this reason you luxuriate in the warmth of your two lovers, of their smells mixing with yours as the sun filters through the curtains. You wish you three had the chance to bask like this every morning, not every once in while.

Slowly, careful not to wake them up, you put your hand on Tom's wrist and move your legs to entwine them better with your lovers' and lay where you are, listening to their breathings and the sounds of London waking up outside.

You've almost fallen asleep again, when Tom's lips kiss your nape, as light as a feather that you think you've imagined them, if not for his hips gently rubbing against your arse.

"Mmmh, good morning." You whisper, your ass following his movements teasingly. "Yes. Good morning to me, indeed." He drawls, his hand landing on your hip to control your movements. "Be good, Mr. Bennett." "But you like when I'm not behaving, doll."

You can feel his cock growing against your naked arse, fluids already leaking as he rubs himself against your skin.

"You'll wake Billy up. Let him sleep." You whisper, poor Billy was so tired yesterday that he needs all the sleep he can get! "Maybe, just maybe, he wants to be up for this."

His hand slowly travels to your cunt, his fingers finding your pearl, and Billy's soft cock nestled between your lips: it's not Tom's fault that, by teasing your clit, he does the same to Billy's cock head, right?

"Tom, Tom!" You whimper as the pleasure spreads through your body with every slow motion of Tom's fingers.

You're following Tom's movements, your hips moving slowly as Billy's cock swells between your lips, his eyelids slowly opening, soft sounds of pleasure escaping his lips, his body following yours even in his half asleep state, until he wakes up, babbling, hand grabbing your hip on instinct.

Billy stares at you as if you're a gift from God, as if seeing your naked skin is a miracle; he can't help it, ever since the first time you welcomed him in your bed, he stares at your body as if he can't believe you're his, that he can touch and kiss and make love to you until his body gives up. He doesn't realize his hips are moving, until pleasure explodes in his brain and he moans, eyes screwed shut, hand curling tighter on your hip.

You feel the pleasure pulsate in your cunt, its tendrils spreading through your nerves, your hand reaching backwards to grab Tom's short hair as wetness coats his fingers, your legs trying uselessly to close around his hand and Billy's fully hard cock, the dual feeling of your clit and lips being teased propelling you towards orgasm.

"Tom!" it's an high pitched whine. "Tom, I'm going, I'm going!" "I know doll." He growls in your ear, his own pleasure cresting. "Give it to me, you know you need to".

For a second you lose control of your body, the orgasm exploding inside of you like a white supernova that erases everything, your breath coming out in short puffs, your hole clenching around nothing, hungry for your lovers' cocks.

You don't truly realize what Tom is doing, until he maneuvers your leg over his, opening you up to his erection, and Billy's adoring gaze.

"Give us a hand here, will you?"

Tom's needy words break the spell Billy was under, his hand pushing the bed sheet out of the way, until your trembling body, and Tom's, are fully uncovered. Billy moans when he sees Tom's cock enter your cunt with a swift push, you're so wet and loose already, Billy can hear the squelch of your wetness. His fingers find your pearl, his forehead against yours as you pant and whine, your cunt still reeling from the previous orgasm, now is fucked open for your lovers to use, your muscles trying to curl around Tom's thick cock, only to be forced to accept his invasion.

Your hips move erratically, your brain torn between following the pleasure Tom and Billy are bestowing you and running away from them, body trapped, mewls of overstimulation escaping your lips, before your lovers invade your slack mouth, trapping you in their embrace.

Your nerves are singing, your whole body trembling violently, your cunt a fist around Tom's cock as he pushes violently against your spot, Billy's fingers slippery on your engorged clit, until you come, a scream of pleasure barely trapped by their lips on yours. Tom follows you, three vigorous thrusts and he spills with a grunt.

They hold you tight, you're trembling and crying, your screaming nerves winning over your sense of self.

It's Billy's gentle fingers drying your tears and Tom's lips on your nape, that help you come back to yourself, brain still muddled with pleasure, but not enough not to feel Billy's cock hard against your tummy.

"Will you have me?" He gently asks, like every time you're two making love, even though he knows he can have you whenever he wants, that you belong to him. "Yes, Billy." You moan your response.

You don't have to tell him to be gentle, that you're still coming down, he breaches you slowly, following your body and its signals, until you're flush against him, your legs around his slim hips, hands going to his hair.

His thrusts are slow and short, aiming at opening you up to his invasion, his lips are kissing your face as your body accepts him, his cock delicious against your tired walls as Tom's rough fingers play with your nipples, each pinch traveling to your clit, sparks of pleasure ignited by his actions and the grinding of Billy's pubic bone against your bundle of nerves.

Your eyes cross when Billy sheaths himself in fully, a long moan escapes his lips at the way your walls are hugging his hard cock, his head against the rough patch inside of you that makes you whine and beg, your muscles an impossible hold around his manhood, your cunt feeling every inch of his cock.

"Come with me, please?" He manages to beg and you're not sure you can manage another orgasm. "Be good." Tom's fingers find your clit, the callous skin dragging deliciously. "One last time, doll, you can do it."

You whine and beg in their hold, your nerves screaming with pleasure and overstimulation, your cunt clenching desperately around Billy's cock, until the angle is perfect and you come, taking your lover with you.

All you can feel his your lovers' skin on yours and the smell of sex in the bedroom. Billy's face finds refuge again against your chest, your smell the only thing that keeps the nightmares at bay. Behind you, the rustling of the bed sheets as Tom covers you three again, long arm aiming to hug the two of you.

"Go back to sleep." He murmurs against your ear. "It's awfully early to have breakfast."

Outside, London is already awake, in your small bedroom, you three fall back asleep, tired and happy.

#answered #war boys polycule #tom bennett x reader x billy taylor #tom bennett x y/n x billy taylor #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x y/n #billy taylor x y/n #billy taylor x reader #tom bennett #billy taylor

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floreuce · 2 months

Text

this is going to be a weird post mutuals look away i just really need an answer on something and am too embarrassed to ask anywhere else 😭 sorry this is so long.

i have a very complicated relationship with religion. as much as i would love to believe it, my brain just refuses to let me. i’m not opposed to believing in something if my mind does change someday, but as for right now, i just can’t. the only strong beliefs i hold are superstitions like luck and gut instincts and all that, leading me to do research into pagan stuff because it’s the only thing i even sort of find myself believing in.

i’ve always felt a strong pull to hellenic polytheism, and while i guess i do sort of “practice” it, i also just believe that everything i’m doing is for fun and just because i can. i don’t think i truly believe any of it is real. a few years ago, i had two little altars, one to hera and one to persephone. i truly did view these purely as room decor. i wrote little notes that i would give as “offerings” to the altars but it was just a game to me. i stopped after a while because i got bored.

which brings me to the present. i recently started feeling a “connection” to aphrodite if you can even call it that. i randomly started thinking about religion again and aphrodite just stood out to me all of a sudden. for the past few weeks i’ve been “praying” to her but still i viewed even that as just talking to myself or organizing my thoughts. then about a week ago i was in the middle of cleaning my room and i noticed i had a lot of aphrodite-like items. seashells, fake (fake is important) pearls, heart shaped things, dried roses, etc. i had a free spot on my shelf so i put all the stuff together to make a little aphrodite altar. i had a heart shaped jewelry dish that i put at the center in case i ever wanted to put any offerings but i didn’t think i was going to.

then today, maybe two or three hours ago, i was tidying up again and i absentmindedly placed two things on the offering dish. the first was a bracelet from an ex boyfriend that i had had in my main jewelry box and didn’t want there anymore. the second was a five leaf clover (i have a million of them because i’m crazy good at finding them but that’s an entirely different story) because i thought it was cute and lucky. i didn’t think anything of these items, i barely considered them offerings. up until this point all of this was still just for fun. after i finished cleaning, i took a shower. i feel like it’s also worth noting that this was an extreme everything shower like i was really spoiling myself. i read somewhere that acts of self care can also be seen as offerings to aphrodite but that wasn’t my intention.

so finally here’s the reason i’m making this post. i need help. after my shower i was sitting on my bedroom floor brushing my hair. i wasn’t near anything else, it was just me and my hairbrush and open space around me. as i’m finishing braiding my hair, i brush a stray piece to the side with my hand and onto the floor rolls a pearl. a real genuine pearl. it came out of my hair ???? i literally don’t own any real pearl jewelry, and even if i did this pearl couldn’t have come from it because it doesn’t have a hole, it’s not a bead. genuinely how did a real authentic pearl get into my hair. im completely at a loss for words. i feel like it might have been from aphrodite???? i can’t see any other logical explanation. which is what im looking for, a logical explanation. please help me make sense of this 😭🙏🙏

#im dead serious about all of this and i really do want some advice #pagan #paganism #pagan witch #helenic polytheism #hellenism #hellenic polytheism #hellenistic #greek mythology #aphrodite #religion #witch altar

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yaut-jaknowit · 1 year

Note

I’m officially back to bother you; MxM some angsty & nasty argument where it takes a bit til either side is willing to talk it out and admit their mistakes😩🙏? also happy new years!:)

Glares from Across the Room

Paring: Mai'tuiudh (Male Yautja) x Male Reader

Warnings: just a hint of spice if you squint, cursing, nasty argument, angst

Word Count: 2828

Summary: When you're stuck with only one other being in space, how do you think that'll go?

Author Note: Whoops, I made this with a dripple of spice. Couldn’t help myself… It's always fun when you come to bother me, loving it! Happy new years to you as well!

Masterlist

Ao3

An uncomfortable position crawled up the length of your spine. Irritation. Your teeth gritted together as all you could do was glare at the floor. You can’t smack your mate. That would be a bad idea and rude in general. He’s your other half. Let’s not forget that detail. That was probably the only thing holding you back from wringing his neck.

Something had Mai’tuiudh being stone cold towards you. At least far more than usual. No words. Mai just takes what he wants from you. If you’re holding a tool he needs, Mai takes it. Even your book that he couldn’t even read. It’s his now. And that was almost the straw that broke the camel’s back. Your hands shook at your sides.

What was the point of taking the damn book?! It’s not like Mai could read it. The only reason the two of you could converse without difficulty was the translator stuck underneath the skin behind your ear. Mai couldn’t even tell you what he was doing before pinning you down and shoving it into your skin. Many curse words echoed around you, throughout the ship for the rest of the day. You didn’t even dare look at the Yautja for about three days. It was on your mind that’s what you get for somehow saving the brute’s life. That was the only reason you were with him in the beginning. A life for a life or something like that is what he told you after you left the safety of the storage room.

With the book no longer in your possession, all you could do was stand there in complete shock that morphed into anger. What has been his problem? He wasn’t next to you when you woke. He’s been running diagnostics on the ship all day long. Not a word sounding from him. Just rumbling clicks as he harshly typed things in.

Mai slammed a fist against the wall next to him and gave a short roar that echoed off the walls. You jumped in your spot before turning towards him slowly. Again, “What the fuck is your problem, pussy face?” you snarled at him and glared daggers at him from across the cockpit. Dumbass is going to hurt himself by throwing a tantrum. Your arms crossed over your chest, a hip jutted out as you placed most of your weight on one leg.

Everything went quiet in the cockpit, but you didn’t feel any of the fear you should’ve. Mai’tuiudh’s head slowly turned, tresses sliding off of his shoulder to hang freely. The predatory look in his eyes should’ve made you turn tail and run. No, you have had enough of this attitude. You can take so much before firing back at the Yautja.

Sharp mandibles twitched as burnt orange eyes bored holes into your flesh. “You wanna say that again, soft-meat?” he bit back, claws flexing at his sides.

You didn’t move an inch. Maybe it was fear starting to creep along your veins. Or maybe you just didn’t care what he did. He needed to hear the truth sometimes. Like right now. “What the fuck. Is your. Problem. Pussy face,” you paused ever few words, dumping it down so he could hear you clearly. Mai knew what you were doing and was swift to stand.

The tool in his other hand clanged when it bounced off the ground. Mai’s low tusks flexed, eyes sharp. He knows what the name calling means and the fact it was demeaning. “An soft-meat ooman has no right to know what I am doing. You’re too stupid to understand.” You took in a quiet, sharp breath through the nose at that. That’s it. If he want’s to push all your buttons in the wrong, so be it. He’ll meet with the consequences one way or another.

“Say’s the one who’s been working on the ship all day along. You’ve been huffing and puffing, blowing steam through your ears. I come to greet you only to be greeted with hostility. You fucking brute,” you snapped back at him. This, you took a step towards in a threatening way, swinging an arm door to draw an invisible line through the air. “Also, if I remember correctly, you kidnapped me! I was living happily when you crashed, literally, into my life and fucked it up. Maybe I should’ve let you die in my living room.”

The words were already out of your mouth before you could even think about stopping them. It would’ve been a lie to say it made your heart ache afterwards. But you kept your brows lowered with a glare set on the alien.

Mai’tuiudh’s head lifted just an inch, barely showing the shock on his alien features. You didn’t notice anyhow. Paya, you oomans just loved to act like you’re the center of the universe. Contrary to belief, you aren’t the best species out of here. “I would’ve survived without you, pathetic soft-meat. I am Yautja and you are nothing but dead weight. I am better than you. I follow the honor code. That’s the only reason you don’t stand dead were you are!” he snarled and took two large steps in your direction.

Less than four feet apart separated the two of you. Each of your rage swirling with one another now. Your upper lip curled up, yet not exposing your flat, non-threatening teeth to him.

His words hurt. They only fueled the fire starting to burn your heart painfully. “That’s you’re fucking problem, asshole. Thinking you’re better than me.” You snorted angrily at him then let your shoulders drop. You returned to stand up straight and look the alien in the eye. “I made a mistake loving you. You’re just a monster. You can’t love anything.”

They were out of your mouth in the heat of moment before the logic side of your brain could put on the breaks. Your jaw dropped for a second, body faltering to keep on a mean attitude before acting like what you said did nothing to you.

Hurt flashed in the alien’s eyes. Maybe he’ll finally understand that this whole act today has wounded your heart.

Then, Mai filled his lungs with air and bellowed out a roar, right into your face. Spittle landed on the skin there, making you internally cringe at the feeling. But you stayed standing strong and scowled at him. Mai huffed heavily at your lack of reaction before pulling away and faced the console that was behind him.

There you had it. You said it. The words were already said. He had heard them. Every single word you had said was heard by him. The only other person, being on this ship. The other creature you had started to have feelings for. You just fucked it up by opening your mouth. There was nothing you could do now.

The heart had been already broken.

Now, it was time to retreat. That’s all you deserved. The guilt already surging through your veins, eating away like acid from the inside out. You had hurt him. At the moment, you wanted that, to see him flinch or react in a way that portrayed pain. You had done that. To him. Fuck.

Saying anything more at the moment would worsen things. You gave his toned back one last look before retreating out of the room. You didn’t dare go to the share bedroom. Instead, you trekked to the first place you had called your own in this place.

The storage room.

It was still dark, dingey, and cool in here compared to the rest of the ship. The door slid shut behind, leaving you to be alone, by yourself, and think about the prior words exchanged. Yet, that lingering anger still butted it’s way through the guilt. It whispered in your ear that he deserved it. Deserves worse for all the things he’s put you through. You rubbed subconsciously at the translator hidden behind your ear. Asshole. Your heart ached.

Over at the other end of the ship, Mai stayed like a statue, eyes unfocused. His mind reran the words the two of you said to each other. The way the anger in your eyes and flickered with injury at a couple things he spoke. He tried to convince himself it was the truth. That it didn’t make his chest hurt as he thought about the names he called you. He’s thankful you aren’t a female. He would’ve called you a name that would’ve gotten him thrown across the room if you were.

He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there before letting his shoulder drop their tension. Your presences has been bothering him lately. The smell of you as you laid oblivious in his bed made his emotions go out of whack. Maybe you were right, you should’ve let him die. It was better than dealing with the overwhelming swirl of emotion tormenting him from within. That includes you too. Just the smell, taste of you in the air. Mai growled lowly.

This ship wasn’t going to fix itself. It was your fault really. You continued to distract him daily. Just your presence on his ship made him loose focus on the necessary things needing to be done. All your fault. You distract him. He never should’ve brought you onto the ship. You saved his life and he kept you safe while healing in your home. That would’ve been enough to satisfy the honor code. He could leave and let you live with the knowledge of his people. But, no. Instead, he took you and forced you to live on his ship with him.

It was your fault he’s spending all waking hours to ensure his ship won’t malfunction and kill the two of you. Advanced or not, it’s machinery and needs to be tuned and repaired every once in awhile. Something he’s been neglecting for awhile now. It’s your fault. Not his. It’s never his fault. He’s a Yautja. He wasn’t distracted by you.

Maybe it was the truth he could’ve survived his terribly injuries. His two hunting partners gone, left him alone to hide from a prowling beast on the hunt for him. Said beast had already murdered one of his partners, taking her head as a trophy. Back to the enforcer hunting him down. It was seer luck Mai’tuiudh landed on your balcony or else the Night Caller would’ve gotten him.

That wasn’t something he wanted to think about. He’s far away from the Night Caller, off planet where she couldn’t get him. That thing couldn’t kill him, let alone touch him.

What’s he going to do now? You were raging when you left. He still felt the heat of his own coursing though his veins. It would take time, time he didn’t have to waste on apologizing to you. It was your fault. You distracting him. His ship needs more repairs then it would’ve if he stayed on target. Far from the mothership and earth.

It was his fault.

When the last green check mark popped on his screen, the Yautja relaxed his entire body in his pilots chair. It had been hours since he first started. Since then, everything that could do wrong, did. From his ship to the confusing relationship he had with you. The repairs took even longer, distracted by you clouding his thoughts. You weren’t anywhere near him and still affected him. Pauk, what was he going to do?

Mai stood up from his chair and stretched as if his muscles were tired. Nothing he did today was anywhere what his body couldn’t handle. Instead, it was his mind that felt sluggish. He dreaded on having to find you and at least say something to you.

Before he exited the cockpit, his mind was already supplying the first place to check. He should’ve used the room more as time went on but he’s refused to fill it. His feet begin to carry him across the ship, tongue following the lingering scent of anger.

His feet stopped in front of the closed door of the storage room. Your heavy odor struck him with that familiar rage but with salt in the air. Mai took a step forward. The door slid open at his presence. It revealed a sight that made the remaining anger vanish from his veins. It was his fault.

There you were, back against the furthest wall and head leaning against the adjoining wall. You were snoring lightly, eyes closed and chest taking shallow breaths. Your arms were still crossed but the anger on your face had completely went away with sleep. This could be his chance to make it or break it with you.

He knelt next to your sleeping form and lift you up in a bridal carry. Your head lolled to rest on his shoulder. At the movement, you started to wake, eyes blinking groggily. You groaned then snuggled into the warmth hugging into your side currently. A short purr snapped you wide awake, eyes finding burnt oranges peering down at you. You tried to fight the beast to force him to set you down. But Mai easily kept you off the ground and in his arms.

“Let go, you asshole! This is my place. Leave me alone since I’m not important enough to you,” you cried and punched his shoulder. It did more damage to you than him. You hissed as pain zipped up the offending arm then glared at him. Damn him and his toned muscles.

Instead of listening to you, the Yautja twisted your body in the way he wanted. Now, your back was to the wall while his body was slotted between your legs. One of his own held up you. Mai used a hand to hold your chin and force you to look up at him.

Yet, the words were stuck in his throat. You were glaring half-heartily at him. Hurt filled up the rest of your iris’. He didn’t have the right to be in here. This was your space, your safety from him in the beginning. Safety from the monster that doesn’t know love.

“Fucking spit out. I don’t have all day to be here.” You ignored the position he forced you. Ignoring the way your cock twitched in your pants at the show of strength. It was you could do right now.

The large, blue Yautja leaned forward, breath fanning over your face. His eyes searched through yours before letting his shoulders and head drop. Mai’s forehead rested on your shoulder. The action making your entire body freeze. What in the world was he doing? He’s never touched you in this matter. Barely grazing touches when it was necessary when you lived on the same ship together. This was completely out of hand for Mai’tuiudh. You couldn’t tell if you liked it or not.

“I…” Just say the words, damnit! You’re a Yautja for Paya’s sake. “I apologize, ooman. I do not mean the words I spoke earlier.” You’re jaw dropped to the floor. Never in the entire year or so you’ve been with him has he ever apologized. Today was a learning experience by the looks of it.

Your form relaxed underneath him. You’ve been mauling over the words for the entire you were awake inside of this room. Thinking of ever word said to him. How rude you had been to him. Every single thing.

You don’t know what made you think it was okay, but you leaned your head to side, resting it against his own. The Yautja didn’t even react. “I’m sorry too. It was the heat of the moment and everything was building up since that morning. I shouldn’t have said those words to you. You aren’t a monster. Will you forgive me?” you apologized as well.

As much as you wanted to bring a hand up to stroke the crest of his head, you stopped yourself. Baby steps. One thing slowly after another. Can’t rush this.

Mai prevented a sudden keen from sounding. This was a touchy moment. He didn’t need it to be more embarrassing for himself. “Yes,” he lowly whispers into the crook of your neck, refusing to move.

In all honesty, he loved this. Loved how soft you were pressed against him. Loved how you didn’t try to hide your neck; a vulnerable spot to you. Loved hearing your heartbeat quicken the longer he stayed glued to you. “Will you forgive me?” is what he asks.

“I do.” You are quick to respond, though barely trusting your own voice at the moment. As for touching him, you settle with a hand on his forearm. He doesn’t react in a outwardly manner.

The two of you stay like for an unknown amount of time. When you separated, Mai kept a hand on your shoulder and invaded your personal space as the two of you walked out. Not that minded he was so close.

Eyes soften and so do hearts.

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