#bison: oops

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP1 | Bison + Trigger-Happy

This was the moment that had me bent over in two laughing. Fadel's face. BITCH WE HAD TO RELOCATE BECAUSE YOU DUMB DUMB.

[lazzarella]

And the way Style keeps trying to coax Fadel away from his current life without giving himself away? Why don't you find a new job that lets you love? You don't have to live someone else's life. And so on. The way he tells Kant he's getting kinda attached to Fadel (at least in the subs), but when he's talking to Fadel like this, you know it's more. Because he's trying to steer Fadel to a life where they can be together. No obstacles. No danger.

But he can't say 'please stop killing people because I'm worried about you and I want to be with you' and he can't warn Fadel about the police because, as open as he's being emotionally, now, he's still scared and conflicted

And then, when Fadel tries to reassure him, because he's working toward a life free of danger where they can be together, it doesn't help because Style still knows what Fadel doesn't (again), and I love that play between the one who knows being the one who feels off-kilter, and the one in the dark—though he thinks he isn't—being the one who feels like he's on solid ground

And then it's flipped again at the end! He's so happy to finally see Fadel again, and I don't think he thinks they're home free or anything, but he is happy and he looks relieved. But then Fadel is told Style and Kant are the snitches and now he's one step ahead. He's the one who knows the thing keeping them apart. And it reminds me of that tit for tat they had in their early encounters, where they were always one-upping each other, but now the stakes are higher and the angst is angsting and it's so gooooooood and ugh!!!!

Anyway, this is a mess, and I'm honestly not sure where I intended to go with it, but I'm just really enjoying the writing and the acting and everything in this show

[lonelyy-clown]

day dreamer mini dump because i havent been posting art here much

im learning how to shitpost if you can tell :o)

not art i just like this pic lol

[redvanillabee]

About 10 years ago I spent a few months in Alberta as an exchange student. I'm from a very dense, very mountainous city with little land and lots and lots of skyscrapers. In very sharp contrast out of my dormitory window you can see just an unbelievable stretch of flat land with very low-rise buildings, almost all the way to the horizon. And it's not just the view of it all; it's the mental awareness of how much flat land there is around you. Whichever direction you turn, bar some rivers and a lake here or there, it's all just flat land. Just more and more and more land. For someone who lived her entire life by the sea this was unfathomable. What do you mean all the land is flat? What do you mean there is no physical border to this land? What do you mean this land doesn't end somewhere, like at a sea or an ocean? What on earth???

[remxedmoon]

“the valiant bison. it leaps to protect its fellow creatures, but not you.”

hooved

2 power - 8 health - 3 blood

protector - when a creature on this card’s side of the field is about to take damage, this card will jump forward to take the hit instead.

sharp quills - once a card bearing this sigil is struck, the striker is then dealt a single damage point.

BISABEAU!! YIPEEE! and a fancy custom sigil to go with him! wow! writeup below, as always

that custom sigil huh!! i had to rewrite that description SO MANY TIMES and it STILL ISN’T PERFECT GRAAAA. i couldn’t fit it into the proper description, but isa’ll return to his original spot after taking the hits. he basically redirects all attacks on his teammates to himself. like a moleman but in reverse.

also ^ he won’t try to protect terrain cards! because that’s a boulder. not his friends. the entire concept around the sigil is based around him protecting his friends from harm.

sharp quills is there to let him counterattack while covering for his allies! fun fact, in my original concept for this card, this was replaced with the mighty leap sigil?? for some reason??? even though airborne cards can’t attack cards on the field?????? idk what my thought process there was. thank god i caught that before finalizing his card

don’t ask how he has sharp quills btw. it’s uhh. his horns. yes. the quills are his horns.

i went back and forth between calling him a bison or a buffalo. his design was based more on water buffalo than american bison? but i ended up going with bison just because it was shorter lol. plus the bisabeau pun. i am beholden to the pun.

you might’ve noticed that the patch is in a different spot here! i couldn’t find a spot that didn’t cover an important part of the card. so i had to go through the miserable experience of moving the patch and cutting it out even more thoroughly to prevent it from messing up the pixels around it. somehow that damn patch was harder to make than the CUSTOM SIGIL.

speaking of the sigil patch. he gets burrower! which makes him move to any empty space that’s about to be attacked. functionally, this means that ALL damage on the board will get redirected to him. except for airborne attacks i guess

this card doesn’t have a hidden trait! and there’s a reason for that! because…

“a meek, unassuming calf. it has not yet learned its own strength.”

hooved

0 power - 2 health - 2 blood

fledgling - a card bearing this sigil will grow into a more powerful form after 1 turn on the board.

clinger - when one of your creatures is placed in a space, a card bearing this sigil will move towards them as far as possible.

TWO CARDS!! he gets to have a fledgling form :3

fledgling is self explanatory i think? i wanted to keep some kind of reference to his Change and this was the best way i could think of! lil baby thing based on his past self…

clinger is a sigil from act 3! it’s like. only on the lonely wizbot i think. initially i was just going to give them sprinter (which makes them move to a different space after attacking) but it felt… too similar to the elk fawn for my liking. and it felt more appropriate character-wise

this card is also part of the reason why i went with bison. buffalo calf is a long name!!!

idk how well it comes across but they have their lil braid!! i wanted to include the glasses in some way but it felt a little out of place with the card design. so they only have the braids. a necessary sacrifice

i realize that burrower is a TERRIBLE sigil for this card but! i had to keep it consistent with his mature form. hope your bison calf doesn’t fling itself into danger and die! oops!

that’s everything to do with these cards! phew! that was a lot of text. here’s the patchless versions!

[soullumii]

this is trouble | joel miller x f!reader

part 2

summary: it's been three weeks since joel last fucked you. tonight he finally has the time.

warnings/tags: 18+ smut mdni, filth. was meant to be plotless but sort of has plot now oops. fem!afab!reader, fwb, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, secret fwb, dirty talk, bratty!reader, grumpy!reader, dom!joel, soft!joel as fucking always (i’m a romantic, what can i say?) little bit of feelings oops, some angst at the end oops, pet names, no use of y/n

word count: 4.6k-ish

a/n: couldn’t find a gif of joel stroking that damn guitar so i made one. lowkey hate this but i needed to upload something so here i hope u enjoy

so when you give that look to me,

i better look back carefully cuz this is trouble, yeah this is trouble

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

It’s been a good few weeks since you last fucked Joel.

Since this whole friends with benefits thing started between you. 

And tonight you’re kind of set on getting his dick back inside you again. Since, y’know, it’s been so long.

You’ve been craving it for a while, but tonight it’s kind of all encompassing. Kind of been the only thing on your mind since Tommy and Maria invited you out tonight. You and Joel, the latter who for the past three weeks has been busy with god knows what. 

You’re kind of pissed at him. Kind of really pissed. And your horny, pent up brain doesn’t help much with keeping your cool. 

At least you’re a few drinks in now, which has cooled your temper down some (though has spiked your libido quite a bit). Maria and Tommy are totally not picking up on your bad mood, though, thank god.

You swirl the last few dregs of wine in your glass, hardly listening to what Maria is practically shouting to you from the other side of the booth, since it’s so fucking loud in here. Your mind is caught on Joel standing at the other end of the Tipsy Bison.

You’ve been eyeing the way his hands curl around his glass of whiskey. The way his flannel stretches over his broad chest. The way his mouth moves as he talks to one of the stable hands named Harry. 

You remember the feeling of that mouth between your thighs.

Fuck, how much longer is he gonna make you wait? Another damn week?

He looks over at your table, eyes catching yours from across the room. You glare at him, trying to convey the frustration and lust and want you feel.  

His lip twitches in a smirk, seemingly having received your message. He pats Harry on the back, and then he’s sauntering back over to you and your little group of friends.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He slides into his seat next to you in the booth. His scent of pine and sandalwood envelops you, a silent torture in and of itself. “Harold doesn’t know when to stop talkin’.”

Tommy laughs boisterously. When he’s had one too many drinks, he’s impossibly loud. “Man, I remember when he kept me at the greenhouse for an hour talkin’ about some bullshit.”

“He's a good guy. Just likes to talk." Maria glances at the radio perched in the corner, a new song playing through the speakers sprinkled throughout the bar. “Oh I love this song! Let’s go dance!”

Joel looks over at you, and you’re still kind of out of it, eyes fixated on the way the sleeves of his flannel are rolled up above his forearms, showing off the veins that snake across his skin, the muscles that shift with each drum of his fingers on the table top.

You’re not in any condition to dance at the moment, and Joel is certainly aware of it.

“I think we’ll stay here,” he says. “Y’all go enjoy yourselves.”

“Suit yourself.” Maria drags Tommy out to the dance floor, leaving you and Joel at this little booth tucked in the corner all by yourselves. 

Alone. 

In the dark. 

And you’re drunk. Joel, probably on his way there.

This is not going to end well. Or maybe it will. For you, at least. Just…not for any poor suckers who might stumble across whatever is about to take place. 

Joel lazes in his seat, casually stretching an arm over the back of the booth, pressing in close to you.

“Howdy,” he says.

“Hi,” you say.

“…You doin’ alright?” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice rather than any real concern, and you know he knows exactly what’s wrong with you.

“I’m fine,” you respond coolly.

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“I’m havin’ some trouble believin’ that, since you’re poutin’ like crazy right now, sweetheart.”

“I am not pouting-“

He laughs, full on fucking laughs at you. “Uh yeah, ya are. You’re actin’ like a lil brat. Givin’ me those goddamn eyes from across the room.” 

“Eyes? What eyes?”

His voice dips into something dangerously low, only for you to hear. “The ones practically beggin’ me to eat your pussy. Those ones.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel!” you hiss, turning your head to hide your embarrassment. You drain the rest of your drink and immediately wish you had more. Or some water, at least, to cool down the warmth settling high in your cheeks. 

“That’s what you want, ain’t it?” 

“I don’t fucking know. Are you actually going to do it? Or are you just gonna leave me high and dry again?”

He sighs heavily, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose and why is he the frustrated one here?

You’ve gone three fucking weeks without his dick in you! After he and you made a deal! You should be mad. Not him!

But maybe…maybe that’s just it. Maybe he isn’t fucking you because he just doesn’t want to anymore. And that, scarily enough, makes your chest ache and your eyes get all teary and wow you are so drunk right now. 

“Listen—“ he starts.

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Joel,” you snap, folding your napkin into little squares to distract yourself from how upset you are. 

He pulls back, and you think he might just get up and leave you to stew angrily again. You could afford to throw yourself another pity party. There’s a bunch more napkins on this table that need folding.

He doesn’t leave, though. Instead, his hand settles warm on your thigh. Your fingers stall around the napkin. 

“I know I’ve been busy, but I intend to keep my promise this time,” he says softly, his hand squeezing your bare flesh, your sundress already having ridden up your thigh. “Don’t think you’ve been the only one cravin’ this.” 

His hand caresses down your inner thigh until his palm is cupping you through your panties, his knuckles brushing over your clothed entrance, and you’re grateful that the booth is angled the way it is, that you’re tucked on the inside, because it makes it a lot harder for anyone to see what he’s doing.

And it makes it a lot easier for you to give into it.

Your legs fall open, providing him more access to where you’re slick and ready for him, your knee pressing into his jean-clad thigh.

“Mm, there we go,” he smirks, stroking you through the fabric, and a tiny whimper escapes you. He leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your ear when he murmurs, “You’re such a drama queen when you’re horny.” 

Motherfucker…

Okay, yes. You can be a bit dramatic. But it’s not only your body that’s horny for him…your heart is kind of horny too. Joel is your best friend and to not see or talk to your best friend for three weeks is practically torture, especially when they’ve been giving you the good dicking down that you deserve. You have a right to be dramatic. 

You send him a scathing glare but it melts the moment his fingers pull your panties to the side and slip beneath the fabric.

You’re wet as hell. You know it. He knows it. But you’re still mad at him, and kind of drunk, so…

“Don’t you say fucking shit.”

“I wasn’t goin’ to.”

It’s a damn lie. He loves commenting on how wet you get for him. While it’s a bit humiliating for you, it only boosts his ego. Like hell he needs an ego boost, though.

His finger lightly swipes up your folds, and he bites down on his lip to try and hide the arrogant grin on his face at the way you thrust your hips forward needily with a breathy pant, but he’s failing. It’s practically impossible for The Joel Miller not to make things about himself.

“How often did you touch yourself thinkin’ about me while I was gone?”

Case in point. 

“Hmm…I don’t think I ever did.”

He circles the pad of his finger around your entrance, and stares you down with dark eyes, looking straight through your core, his voice dipping into something sultry and ragged and downright criminal. “You’re such a damn liar.” 

You feel like you might melt into the faux leather booth. Your thighs are already sticking to it, why not just become part of it at this point?

He slowly sinks his finger inside you, his thumb stroking your outer lips as he does so, and you’re boneless against the cushioned back of the booth.

“I’ll be honest for the both of us. Practically came to the thought of you every night,” he mumbles against your ear and lightly bites your earlobe. “Was thinkin’ ‘bout how much I missed you… ‘bout your body… ‘bout this perfect pussy.” He emphasizes each word with a pulse of his thick finger inside you. 

You shudder, your body lighting up at the thought of him lying in his bed, his hand closed around his cock as he came with a moan of your name on his lips. 

“Why didn’t you just come see me?” You huff, choking on a breath when he crooks his finger inside you, stroking your walls.

“Too much was goin’ on. Maria had me on patrol every morning, then I had guard duty to watch the folks that just left town. I wanted to see you, but I didn’t have enough time. You know I like takin’ my time with you, sweetheart.”

His excuse is valid enough, and he really does like taking his time with you. Content to just plant himself between your legs for hours to coax you through orgasm after orgasm. Or fuck you slow and deep, pulling back just when you’re on the crest to watch you squirm before he builds you up again, over and over until you’re practically screaming at him to let you cum. 

Still…he couldn’t have stopped by once to explain his situation? 

He slides in another finger, and you vaguely register that the song Maria and Tommy sauntered out to the dance floor to is coming to an end and another is starting in its place. They’ll be back soon.

“We can’t do this here,” you hiss, attempting to pull his hand out from under your panties, but it’s half hearted. You don’t want him to stop.

But he pulls back anyway, “If that’s what you want.”

It’s sweet, it’s considerate.. But he’s a damn jerk, because he knows how long you’ve been waiting for this. He knows you want him to keep going. Especially judging by the way he’s looking at you, eyes dark and hooded, the corner of wicked his lips twisting up…

He just wants you to fucking say it.

“Joel…” you grumble.

“What? You change your mind?”

Your fingers curl around his hand, tugging it down again, pressing it up against your throbbing core. That’s gotta be answer enough.

He’s not having it. “C’mon baby. Use your words…”

You scowl at him, muttering, “Don’t stop.”

“Speak up, sweetheart. Can’t hear ya. It’s loud in here.” 

Ughhhh! “Please touch me, Joel. Please don’t stop.”

He smirks. “As you wish.” 

Princess Bride reference. Cute. Makes your heart flop a little in your chest.

Joel eases his fingers back inside you agonizingly slow. He strokes the pads of his fingers inside you. A tingle unfurls in your chest, starts in your toes and spreads up your calves, and a low moan tumbles from your lips.

Thankfully, from anyone passing by, it would look like you two are just deep in a private conversation. Joel, pressed against you, leaning in close, and you, shielded from view by his broad shoulders, listening intently to whatever he’s saying.

They just don’t know that he’s breaking you down, brick by brick. That he’s making you leak all over this fucking booth. That it’s pure filth he’s muttering in your ear and not a juicy secret.

“God, you look so pretty takin’ my fingers, like you were made for 'em. Such a good girl."

“Joel, oh my god…”

Your breaths are coming out hotter, heavier, especially when Joel’s fingers slip out only to glide up through your folds to run delicious patterns over your clit.

“Fuck…” You whimper, the heat in your lap pooling thick and abundant. Your hips chase after his fingers, grinding against his hand.

You’re dangerously close.

“That feel good, baby…?” He eggs you on, his voice a rough rumble of thunder against your ear. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly, how enthusiastically you’re nodding, and Joel slips his fingers back inside you, his thumb coming down to rub circles on your clit as he fucks his digits up and into you.

The music is loud, but beneath it, you can hear the wet sounds of your pussy as Joel takes you apart, stroke by stroke, a steady metronome. 

You grasp onto his forearm desperately, your nails digging into the muscles there with a gasp of his name. “Joel-“

Shit. You’re seriously going to cum in this shitty little moth-eaten booth in the only bar in this entire town. You won’t be able to live it down. But you can’t bring yourself to care–you’re close, on the precipice, and you meet Joel’s dark, dangerous eyes, urging you to cum on his hand with a C’mon baby, you can do it, give it to me and you might, it’s right there it’s—

“…-ere did you learn to do that?”

The unexpected sound of Tommy’s voice has you frantically ripping Joel’s hand out from beneath your dress and scrabbling for a napkin to wipe up the mess on your thighs, on the fucking booth, your orgasm rearing back angrily and setting into a dull buzz in your limbs.

The wicked man beside you scoots himself further under the booth, likely to hide the hard-on he’s sporting. He wipes his hand on his thigh. You think you can hear him grumbling angrily under his breath at the interruption, but you’re not sure, ears instead trained on the sound of your friends getting closer. 

You reach for the drink menu, pretending to read it.

“I took dance classes in my free time before the outbreak,” Maria says as the couple closes back in on the booth you and Joel were totally not defiling. She shimmies at the both of you. “You guys really missed out on some of my great moves while you were moping.”

“We weren’t moping,” Joel defends.

“Sure…” Maria drawls.

If she only knew.

“I’m just not really feeling well,” you say. 

Maria’s playful grin falls into a look of concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired. Need to go lay down, I think. It’s been a long day.”

“Let me walk you home,” Joel says, grabbing his coat he had slung over the booth and strategically positioning it over his pants when he stands.

“Thanks.”

“Feel better!” Tommy says, and you give him a grateful nod as Joel’s hand settles on the small of your back and he steers you out of the stuffy bar and into the cool summer night.

Katydids sing in the dark as you and Joel stroll down the street to your house tucked at the end of the cul-de-sac. Fireflies light the asphalt. An owl hoots overhead. 

“You really feelin' bad?” He asks quietly, once you’ve reached your front porch. 

"No. I just wanted to get out of there."

He hums. "Are you still mad at me?"

“I dunno.” Not really. You’re just pissed you were interrupted. Still, he needs to feel some remorse for his radio silence, so you don’t elaborate.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely as you unlock your door. “Really I am. There’s no excuse. I should’a made the time to at least tell you what was goin’ on. I’m sorry.” 

You open your door and pause in the warm light from the foyer. “You can make it up to me by fucking me.” 

“As good as that sounds, I wanna make sure you’re okay. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh. Ugh. Usually Joel’s fine with pushing things to the side. Bottling things up. He does it a lot. You sort of wish he would just drop it right now. You don't want to deal with the weird feeling in your chest that's been here all night. But he’s looking at you, waiting.

"I just thought...Maybe you were done with this. With me."

He frowns. “Hell no. I like what we have. I don’t want it to stop anytime soon." He steps forward, wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in.

"Me too..." You murmur, hands drifting up his back, pressing him in close for a hug. "I'm glad you're safe."

He chuckles. “Course I'm safe. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," you say into his shoulder. "I just worry about you.”

"Yeah? You worry 'bout me a lot?"

You pinch his stomach playfully. "You're my best friend. Of course I do."

He pulls away a bit, huffs a tiny laugh. But it's not like his usual laughs. It's forced. Quiet. "Right."

You're a little too drunk to ask about it, and still horny enough to want to get things back on track, so you look into his dark eyes, smiling coyly, lip tucked between your teeth as you roll your hips into him. "Now that I forgive you…think you can fuck me now? Cuz it’s been way too fucking long.”

He groans softly, yes ma'am, and presses his lips against yours.

Okay, yes, he’s your friend but you also kind of kiss sometimes.

You tug him inside the house and shut the door, your mouth still latched to his. The moment the door snicks into the frame, he’s got you pressed against it, his hand rucking up your dress to bunch it around your hips while his tongue dips into your mouth.

You swiftly unbutton his flannel, sliding it down his arms. Your hands find his chest, fingernails scraping over his pecs, through his dark chest hair that thins out the further south it goes, but thickens again into a happy trail that disappears below his waistband.

Fuck, he’s so…

His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, a repeat of earlier, and you break the kiss to drop your head against the door with a thump when his fingers find your clit again.

“Jesus, you’re so wet.”

…And there he goes.

“Three fucking weeks, Joel,” you bite, though the end of his name melts into a moan when his fingers sink inside you again. 

“Didn’t know you were keepin’ count.” 

“Fuck—“ He quirks a finger. “S-shut up.”

He huffs out an amused chuckle into your cheek, trailing kisses from your jaw down your throat. His teeth sink in, and his mouth suctions over your skin, delivering a beautiful little mark on your flesh that he kisses gently after. It drives you fucking crazy.

“I’ll shut up if you let me taste you,” he mumbles against your skin, his voice vibrating pleasantly through you.

Your pussy pulses around his fingers, your clit honest to god throbbing against his palm, and now he knows you really want him to eat you out, especially when you follow up with an enthusiastic nod.

Joel slips his hand out from beneath your panties to lift you up around his hips and carry you to your bedroom. He plops you on the edge of your mattress and immediately sinks to his knees on the floor, eye level with your cunt.

“God, been thinkin’ about you for weeks. Missed this pussy so goddamn much,” he says, leaning in to kiss your inner thigh.

His lips trail down your leg as he pulls your panties off and stuffs them into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Let’s see how good I did,” he says, pulling your legs apart to get a good look at what a mess he’s made of you. He hums appreciatively at the sight of your glistening folds, licking his lips. That enough has you clenching around nothing, fingers tightening in the bed covers. 

“You seein’ what I do to you? No one else can make you this wet, ain’t that right?”

“You’re such an arrogant ass,” you growl.

He just smirks as he lowers himself again between your legs. He puffs a breath of cool air along your slit before listing over to kiss your other inner thigh, grinning when you groan in frustration.

“Joel, please.”

“So impatient.”

“I’ve waited thr—“

“Three weeks, yeah I know.”

He presses forward to lick a hot stripe up your folds with the flat of his tongue, and your hand flies to his hair, anchoring him closer to your pussy.

“S-shit,” you whimper. 

He lightly drags a finger along your slit, the slight pressure fucking agonizing. 

“Joel.” You sort of want to scream at him. He’s been teasing you all fucking night. 

“Alright,” he laughs and allows you to guide his head back down until the bridge of his scarred nose is pressed into your folds and his tongue is prodding at your entrance. 

He takes his sweet time unraveling you, alternating between licking into you and sucking your sensitive clit into his mouth. You can’t say much, reduced to wordless cries with each movement of his mouth. 

It’s messy, sloppy, but you like it. You like seeing the wetness on his face when he pulls back for air. You like the way his hair is pulled in all different directions, all because of your greedy hands. You like the way he has to push one of his hands down to palm himself in his jeans, just to relieve some of that pressure.

He clearly loves eating you out. And you very much love that he loves it.

But you’re getting kind of desperate. Kind of really want to cum. So…

Your hips begin to grind against his face as he sucks on your clit, and he seems to receive the message because he slides two thick fingers into you and starts to eat you out in earnest, delighting with a low moan when your legs clench around his head, the scruffy hairs of his beard tickling your inner thighs. 

“Holy shit, Joel.”

“Mm—“ He moans.

Your foot keeps slipping off the bed, so Joel’s large, warm hand curls around your calves to situate your legs over his shoulders. This new position grants you more leverage to chase after your orgasm with steady rolls of your hips into his hungry mouth.

He sucks your clit as he thrusts his fingers into you at a brutal pace, hitting your g-spot that has you jerking against him with each stroke. His hand plants on your abdomen to hold you down, stilling your desperate movements.

You’re getting close, the pressure building and magnifying as Joel moans against your pussy, the vibrations driving you insane.

“Fuck, Joel—hah-“

“Mm.”

“Jesus, Joel—fuck—oh my—hnhh—”

“Mhm.” He encourages.

It shatters in you, white hot and falling over you, a waterfall of warmth. Your body straightens stiff as a board, back arching off the bed, quivering as you cum against Joel’s mouth, your slick running down his chin and catching in his beard.

You try to push him away, your orgasm overwhelming on its own, but Joel hates it when you do that, wants to make sure you really feel it, so he presses himself back in to lick and guide you through it. Drawing it out.

It has your head falling back, eyes rolling into your skull, mouth dropping open on a satisfied moan. 

He only gives you a short amount of time to recover while he pulls his jeans and briefs off. You tug your sundress over your head. And then he’s rising up to meet you again, scooting you back until your head almost brushes the headboard. He sinks his thick cock into you as he presses his lips against yours, muffling your surprised and needy moan.

And then he reaches up, his large hand gripping the headboard as your legs wrap around his waist, and then he’s fucking you in earnest, each snap of his hips sheathing his cock fully inside you in a desperate rhythm.

And all you can do is lay there and take it and fall apart.

“S-shit, baby,” he grunts. “That’s it.”

“Oh God…” You whine. 

Your hands scrabble for purchase on his back, your blunt nails scratching up his sun-freckled skin, feeling the muscles bunch and shift as he holds the thumping headboard steady, his knuckles turning white as he grips it. His other hand finds its spot next to your head, holding himself up as he obliterates your pussy. 

He prepared you well for him, but you’re still stretched so full, the breaths knocked from your lungs with each thrust of his cock into you. His pelvic bone brushes your clit with the roll of his hips, the uneven pressure dragging you closer and closer to that metaphoric cliff.

And his moans certainly help, too. He’s not quiet, between strings of praises are ragged moans and tiny whimpers. It only turns you on more.

“Fuck, Joel, can’t leave me without this again.”

“Trust me baby,” he groans. “Another damn week and I wouldn’t’ve survived.”

His hand releases the headboard, slides down to tangle in your hair. He tugs your head back, and molds your lips to his. Teeth nipping your bottom lip before his tongue dives into your mouth. You moan appreciatively.

You can hardly breathe, but god it’s perfect. This moment is so fucking perfect. You want to take a picture of it. Frame it on your damn wall. 

You’re sure it looks like he’s fucking eating you right now, but you like it. You want him to consume you. Want him to be yours… Want to be his.

Stop. He’s your best friend.

He pulls back to lick a stripe from the corner of your lips along your jaw before sucking marks and kisses down your throat, his hips still thrusting into you steadily. His hand squeezes your breast, rolls your nipple between his index and thumb.

“Oh…oh—“ God… 

“You close baby girl?”

“Fuck, ye-yes… Yes need you…”

“N-need me to help you cum?”

He’s losing it. You’re losing it. Fuck please!

“Please, Joel—“

He pulls back enough to watch you, lips pink and puffy and kissed the fuck out. His eyes drift to where he’s thrusting inside you, dick slick with your arousal, sheathing itself inside you with wet, fucking nasty sounds.

“God, you're perfect. So fuckin' perfect...” 

His hand drifts down and you tremble, brows screwing together as his thumb fiddles with your clit.

White hot arousal pools in your core, unrelenting. Unstoppable. You feel like a damn metamorphic rock. Becoming something new under all this heat and pressure. 

It crests, crashing, filling your insides with hot magma as your mouth drops open on a silent scream, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy clamps down on Joel’s cock repeatedly.

He follows right behind you, painting your insides with thick, hot cum, leaking out of your entrance over his cock and down your ass cheeks.

You hiss when he pulls out, feeling empty. He gathers the cum that leaked out with his thumb and pushes it back into your quivering hole. 

“So goddamn pretty…” he murmurs. “Look so pretty with my cum inside you…”

Friends. You’re friends. 

So why the hell does this feel like so much more? Why is it that you’re so turned on by him practically claiming you?

You’re still trying to catch your breath when he lays down beside you, brushing your hair out of your sweaty face. “Feel better now? Not so mad anymore?”

“Mhm,” you hum happily.

He leans in, presses his lips against yours softer, slower…meaningfully. You kiss him back, tugging him close. His arm snakes around your waist, tugging you into him. You're pretty sure normal friends with benefits don't do this. But you and Joel have never been normal.

In those long three weeks you had started to worry maybe he'd never come back. It fucking scared you. Now, you're unsure you ever want to let go.

When he pulls back his eyebrows are furrowed, lips drawn in a frown. He looks concerned. "What's wrong?"

"What?"

"You're cryin'..." He wipes your teary eyes with his thumb.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You scramble to wipe your eyes, sniff. Smile at him. Reassure. Act normal. "Oh, no-I'm fine. Just... think I'm still drunk."

"Somethin' going on? You looked like you were gonna cry back at the Bison, too. Did I do somethin'?"

You shake your head, squeeze his arm. "No, of course not. I'm just being weird. Tired, I think.”

"You sure?"

"Mhm.”

"You can tell me anythin’, y'know?"

What? Like I think I'm in love with you? Fat chance.

"I know. Everything's fine."

You’re such a damn liar.

He can see right through you, but he lets it go. "Okay. If you're sure." He leans in to press a kiss to your jaw. Friend. Friend friend friend. "I'd love to stay but I gotta go. Ellie's probably wonderin' where I'm at."

Joel sits up, swings his legs over the edge and stands. Grabs his jeans, pulls them up. His belt buckle jangles as he slides it through the loops.

“I really did miss you, by the way,” he says, looking down at you. “You. Not just the sex.”

His words warm your cool, exposed body. Fuel the burning the realization, I love you. “I missed you, too.”

He turns to leave, and you see the fabric poking out of his back pocket.

"You still have my panties."

He smirks. "Guess you'll hav'ta come over to get them back."

You smile back, blushing. “Looking forward to it.”

He leans down to kiss your head, "Night, angel."

"Night," you say faintly.

Only when your front door slams shut do you allow yourself to give into the fantasies. To imagine what it’d be like to call him yours. To not keep things a secret. To tell people you're together. To be his.

Damnit, you’re in trouble.

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

Where the Flowers Don't Grow - Chapter 7

Word Count: 7.8 k oops

Warnings: basically everything you should be warned about with TLOU, honestly

Notes: Ladies and Gents, welcome to Jackson

Fic Masterlist

Faith had never been in a town like Jackson.

She’d seen cities before—places that used to be cities, anyway. Empty husks crawling with infected and worse things. Kansas City had been the worst. Oppressive, suffocating, full of screams you could hear even in your sleep. She’d dreamed about it for weeks after they left. The broken glass, the blood-stained windows, the way even the sky over it had looked wrong.

But Jackson… Jackson was something else entirely.

The wall came into view first—a towering structure of metal and lumber that curved around the community like a protective spine. Armed guards stood along its top, rifles in hand, eyes watchful. There was a gate up ahead, built like a fortress door from a storybook, and when it creaked open at their approach, it felt like stepping into a different world.

Ellie tightened her grip around Faith as the horse carried them inside.

Snow crunched beneath the hooves. They passed under the arch and into a town that looked like it had been plucked from a memory. Or in their case, a dream.

A wide street stretched ahead, dusted in soft snow, with buildings on either side—sturdy, well-kept, full of color and life. There was a warmth to the place that didn’t come from the cold sun overhead, but from the way people moved, spoke, lived. Strings of lights hung between buildings, gently swaying. One structure had a faded wooden sign swinging above its door: Tipsy Bison. There was also a school, and a row of other shops followed—one had an old Coca-Cola sign still hanging out front, others flew an American flag that looked recently stitched. In the distance, they could see a huge Christmas tree, decorated with ornaments and lit with string lights, like straight of a fairytale.

Children ran between the buildings in coats and mittens, some of them even building snowmen with their friends and families. Laughter echoed somewhere near a large communal fire pit. Faith stared. She couldn’t help it. People were smiling. Actually smiling.

She didn’t even know towns like this could exist anymore.

Joel rode just behind them, but his eyes were darting everywhere. Watching for exits, threats. He hadn’t relaxed, not yet.

They passed by a building in mid-construction, planks stacked outside, people working on scaffolding with actual tools—real tools, not makeshift pieces of metal scavenged from ruined garages. A man walked by with a level balanced on his shoulder, whistling under his breath. Faith blinked.

This wasn’t a trap.

This was real.

They stopped in the middle of the main street. Several people had come to a halt nearby, some curious, some wary. Faith couldn’t blame them. Three strangers brought in by patrol? She’d be staring too.

Joel’s horse slowed. He slid down from it as one of the riders dismounted. His brows were drawn, like he couldn’t quite make sense of what he was seeing—until his eyes locked onto someone just across the way.

Faith followed his gaze.

There was a man there. Tall, lean, with familiar posture and the same set jaw as Joel. Dark hair pulled back, a moustache over his lip. He’d been giving orders to someone on the construction site, but now he’d frozen. His eyes widened as they landed on Joel.

Joel’s breath hitched.

“Tommy!”

The man turned fully to face him. Faith and Ellie saw instant recognition graze his features.

“Joel?”

Joel didn’t wait for confirmation. He was already moving, pushing past the horse, through the snow, faster than Faith had ever seen him move.

“Tommy!”

Tommy stepped forward just in time for Joel to grab him.

It wasn’t just a hug—it was a desperate, bone-deep clutch. The kind of hug someone gives when they’ve been carrying grief too long. Joel wrapped both arms around his younger brother and pulled him close, eyes shut tight. Tommy didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Joel back just as hard, one hand clapping his shoulder, voice catching somewhere in his chest.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” Tommy asked him, smiling like a madman. It’d been too long, too damn long since they’d seen each other.

“I came here to save you,” Joel breathed.

Faith smiled before she even realized it.

She’d never seen Joel like that. Not this soft. Not this open. He was always guarded, even when she could see cracks forming in his armour. But there it was, right in front of hers and Ellie’s eyes—pure, genuine relief, with a full belly laugh hugging his brother back. She didn’t know the whole story between them, not really, but it didn’t matter. The emotion on Joel’s face said everything. All the miles they’d crossed, the blood they’d spilled, the cold and hunger—they’d all led here.

Tommy finally pulled back, blinking rapidly, brushing snow off Joel’s shoulder like it mattered. “Come on,” he said, his voice still thick with shock. “Come on, man. We’ll get you warm.” He looked over at the girls he didn’t know, smiling politely at them. “I’m Tommy, Joel’s brother.”

Faith helped Ellie get down from the horse and she smiled at Tommy, introducing herself and Ellie, who was uncharacteristically silent.

Tommy nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at them. “You’re all welcome here. Come on, let’s get you warm. I’m sure you’ve all had a long journey to get here.”

“You could say that,” muttered Ellie. “I’m starving”

“Let’s get you some food, then.”

(…)

The food hall was huge. It had a dozen tables in the centre of the room, and many more by the windows. On the opposite side, there were different food bars with more food than Faith had ever seen all at once, keeping it warm under a soft orange light.

They got themselves a plate each, full to the brim, unable to resist the delicious looking feast they had at reach.

“There’s more if you need it.”

The woman who had found them and taken them to Jackson was seated with them now, next to Tommy. Joel was next to her, across from Tommy, and to his left he had Ellie, and then Faith. They were too hungry to eat any slower, but neither Tommy nor the woman said anything. They probably understood their desperation, probably havin’ felt it too more than once in the last twenty years.

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Joel. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.”

Faith had to smile at his politeness. It wasn’t everyday she got to see Joel like this. It was also a reminder that he had been born into a society were manners were still taught before how to shoot at an infected to stay alive.

To put it simply, he was old school. Austin, Texas old school.

A cowboy with manners.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal,” said Ellie now, taking another bite. “This is fucking amazing.”

Joel looked at her, his eyes widening a bit at her comment. He looked at Tommy and the woman apologetically:

“Sorry,” he turned back to the girl, “Ellie, let’s mind our manners. Do like Faith, huh?” he gestured at the girl, who was silently eating – more like devouring – her plate, but still, silently.

“She’s right, though,” Faith couldn’t help her smile now. “Food’s fucking delicious.”

Joel had to give up after that.

Tommy and the woman only smiled back, clearly amused with the girls.

“It’s okay,” Tommy said, “I’m glad you like it.”

Ellie nodded at him, but then some movement caught her eye. She saw a young girl a few feet away, looking at them hiding behind a thin column, clearly visible.

“What?!” Ellie almost barked at the girl, who quickly turned around and left the food hall.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What about her manners, huh?”

“Ellie, she was only lookin’ at us,” tried Faith, nudging her softly. “You’d be starin’ too if someone new came around your town.”

“Exactly,” the woman next to Tommy said. “She was just curious. Kids around here… Don’t usually look or talk like you two.”

“Maybe I’ll teach them,” mumbled Ellie, a bit bitterly. “And I want my gun back.”

Faith grimaced. She wanted her weapons back too.

“Kids around here also aren’t armed,” added the woman.

She was basically holding a staring contest with Ellie now. Joel just kept eating, his preferences clear as day, but Tommy and Faith noticed and tried to intervene: Faith gave Ellie some extra bread, while Tommy began to talk:

“You know what? Uh… I think maybe y’all got a little off on the wrong foot.”

He wasn’t wrong, really.

“She was gonna have her guys kill us!” Ellie exclaimed, pointing at the woman.

“Well… we gotta be real careful about who we let in this place,” replied Tommy, calmly. It seemed like he had experience with talking to a teenager. “But it’s all bark. We’re just tryna’ scare off those who might wanna try us, is all.”

“You gotta’ couple of ninety year olds shitting themselves out there…” Joel tried to stop her with a firm ‘Ellie!’ but she kept on talking. “They say that you leave dead bodies around?”

“Those are the people who tried us,” answered the woman.

“A bad reputation doesn’t mean you’re bad.”

“Not always, at least,” added the woman. She looked at Joel, then at the girls, like she knew something about them they didn’t.

The woman hardly blinked. It was kinda disturbing, to be honest.

“Ma’am,” Joel spoke up, his tone polite again. “We’re grateful for your hospitality and all. But it’d be nice to have a moment here… maybe just for family.”

The woman didn’t move. Tommy did, though. Faith watched as he went to grab the woman’s hand gently, seeing they were wearing matching golden rings. “Well, uh… Maria is family, actually.”

“Oh shit!” exclaimed Ellie, sarcasm still noticeable in her tone.

“Congrats,” said Faith, trying to smile politely like Joel had before.

“Yeah, congrats,” added Ellie. She looked at Joel to her right, still silent, and she whispered. “Joel, say congrats.”

“… Congrats.” He said, with the same flat tone Faith had ever heard of him when they met in KC.

The silence was heavy after that. Ellie didn’t know much about family reunions, but she didn’t imagine them being this tense.

Faith and Ellie were beginning to eat their dessert when Tommy tried to lift the mood again:

“How about a tour?”

(…)

Apparently, they’d settled in Jackson about seven years ago. That was one year after Faith and her family had left the QZ. Maybe if they’d headed west instead of east… they could’ve had ended up here too.

Faith didn’t give much time to that thought. She had learned to avoid those who gave her a feeling of regret and despair for something she couldn’t change anymore.

She marvelled at the Christmas tree, unable to hide her excitement at seeing the hand made ornaments and the small twinkling lights wrapped around the branches.

“It’s beautiful,” she told Maria, sincerely. The woman smiled at her, saying something about how they did Christmas workshops for kids at the school in the afternoons.

“Maybe you could stop by later,” she told her, as they headed down main street with the others. “There’s lots of kids, it can be fun.”

Faith glanced at a little boy and a little girl playing in the snow nearby with their mother, giggling carefreely. When they saw her looking the little boy went still, but the girl waved at Faith, who blushed a bit at getting caught and awkwardly waved back.

She picked up her pace, walking next to Joel now. He didn’t say anything about her pink cheeks. Just glanced at her quietly.

“You okay?” he asked, instead.

Faith nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s, uh… it’s just a lot of people, at once. Haven’t been around this many in forever,” she let out a nervous laugh, before adding: “Not unless you count KC, which… we better not count.”

Joel made a small grunt of agreement, keeping close to her side as they walked.

“So there’s no infected in the area?”

“Just smaller colonies,” said Tommy, “wandered off from the cities. All this open country out here, it’s a turkey shoot. I still got my 700…”

Faith didn’t hear the rest—she was distracted again, eyes roaming the buildings they passed.

It was almost eerie, how… normal things looked.

Not entirely, of course. It was rough around the edges. Weathered. But it didn’t feel broken. People waved to one another. Doors were left open. Smoke rose from chimneys.

Society—real society—felt like a story people used to tell to comfort themselves. But Jackson was society. And after everything, after years of surviving like a stray, Faith didn’t know what to do with the stillness. With the safety. If felt… Unsettling.

So she stuck close to Joel and Ellie. That, at least, felt real.

“How do you keep this place quiet?”

“Carefully. Being in the middle of nowhere helps. Not advertising what we have, staying off the radio…”

Joel clanged at Tommy then, but his little brother refused his look. Faith remembered something about Joel telling her and Ellie that Tommy hadn’t been answering back on the radio. It was actually the reason why Joel had accepted leaving Boston with Ellie in the first place: to get to Tommy.

Turns out, Tommy had been staying off the radio on purpose.

Maria kept on telling them about their community. “… Old bank works as the jail, not that we’ve needed it.”

They stopped in front of a large pole that had a big generator on the very top, where many of the string lights that decorated the streets were connected to.

“You draw power from the dam?”

Oh, the water dam they’d seen.

Damn.

“Got that workin’ a couple years ago,” answered Maria. “After that, sewage, plumbing, water heaters, lights… Got everything goin’.”

Ellie glanced around, speaking up for the first time since they’d gone outside. “This place actually fuckin’ works.”

Close to main street were the stables and animal pens. There were also small white tents, actual greenhouses, for growing food. Faith really wanted to glance at some from the inside, and when Tommy caught her looking he actually invited her in:

“Come check it out,” Tommy offered, noticing Faith’s curious glance toward the greenhouse tents.

Faith looked to Joel without thinking. He gave her a small nod— a quiet permission.

She stepped off the packed snow path and followed Tommy inside.

The greenhouse air was warmer than outside, misty and thick with a clean, earthy scent that hit her senses right away.

It was bigger on the inside than she’d expected. Rows of raised beds lined the floor, lit with grow lights hanging from the cross beams above. Some of the beds had leafy greens—kale, chard, even romaine lettuce—thriving under the artificial warmth. Others had root vegetables, she guessed, judging by the leafy tops. There were vines climbing trellises along one wall, the faint promise of tomatoes even in winter. Shelves nearby were lined with trays of microgreens and seedlings, carefully labelled in neat handwriting.

“Holy shit,” Faith breathed without thinking.

Tommy chuckled, brushing his gloves off on his jacket. “We keep ‘em running year-round. Takes some coordination, especially in the winter, but the dam’s good for the energy, and we’ve got a few folks here who really know their stuff.”

Faith moved closer to one of the trays, fingers hovering just above a line of tiny spinach sprouts. “You’re growing real food.”

Tommy glanced at her, smiling. “That’s the idea.”

She didn’t know what compelled her to speak again, but it slipped out anyway. “You’ve got ladybugs, too,” she said, pointing at the small red dots near the base of the leafy greens. “Good for pest control. And those yellow cards—that’s for tracking whiteflies, right?”

Tommy tilted his head a bit, chuckling. “You know your plants.”

Faith hesitated, instantly self-conscious. “… A little.”

He nodded, not pressing her. “Well, if you ever want to help, we always need hands in here. Or even just someone to keep the seedlings company.”

She gave a shy half-smile, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe.”

Tommy didn’t push. He just gestured to the exit with a tilt of his chin. “C’mon. Joel’s probably getting itchy out there.”

Sure enough, Joel was exactly where they’d left him, standing just outside the greenhouse, snow crunching faintly beneath his boots as he shifted his weight. He hadn’t moved from his spot. His eyes landed on Faith the second she stepped out, and only then did he relax the tight line in his shoulders.

Ellie was beside him, brushing snow off her coat. “Took you long enough. Did you get lost in a maze in there or something?”

Faith snorted under her breath. “They have plants. Food. Like… A lot.”

Ellie’s brows lifted, but before she could make another comment, Tommy was already leading them further along the tour.

They approached a sheep pen next, and Ellie smiled, calling for Joel:

“Hey, Joel, check it!”

His sheep farm dreams seemed to be closer than they thought. There were also horses, a lot of them, peacefully standing close by.

Ellie turned to Maria then, “So are you, like, in charge?”

“No one person’s in charge,” Maria answered. “I’m on the council. Democratically elected, serving 300 people including children. Everyone pitches in. We rotate patrols, food prep, repairs, huntin’, harvestin’...”

“Everything you see in our town,” added Tommy now. “Greenhouses, livestock… It’s all shared. Collective ownership.”

“So… communism?”

Faith looked from Joel to Tommy now, not entirely sure what that word meant. Tommy seemed a bit offended, though.

“Nah. Nah. It ain’t like that – “

“No,” interrupted Maria, “It is that. Literally. This is a commune. We’re communists.”

Tommy seemed to need a moment for self-reflection, so they left him there as they approached one of the stables where Ellie had spotted a young horse, a brown foal with a big white spot between her eyes.

“No way!” Ellie exclaimed, rushing to the horse.

“That’s our newest one,” Maria went with her, as did Faith. “Couple months old. You wanna’ pet’er?”

“Yeah!”

Faith approached the foal too, smiling softly as the young horse leaned into their touch.

“What’s her name?” she asked.

“Shimmer.”

“Shimmer,” Ellie repeated, petting the horse. She rubbed her nose against the foal’s snout, giggling, making Faith giggle too. “Shimmer, you’re so beautiful.”

Joel and Tommy stood close now too, a bit awkwardly, although the girls were too busy with the foal to notice. Maria did, though:

“Well, I’m sure they’d like a shower,” she said, talking to Tommy. “And some new clothes. We can put them in the empty house across the street from us?”

He nodded, agreeing: “Yeah. It’s a decent place. Pretty much untouched since ‘03, but it’s got the heat goin’ in it.” He shrugged. “Could do worse.”

“Oh, trust me” Ellie added, still smiling because of the horse. “We have been.”

Faith didn’t say anything at first. She glanced at Joel.

He was standing a little stiffer now, eyes flicking between the others. Something about Ellie’s comment had hit a nerve—it wasn’t anger exactly, but it lingered in his jaw, the way it tightened slightly. He seemed vulnerable… and a bit hurt.

“We’ve been doin’ fine,” Faith said quietly, without looking at anyone but him.

Joel’s eyes met hers then—just for a second. Something in his shoulders eased. He gave a small nod, almost like a thank you, and she knew he’d heard her.

That was enough.

“Well,” Maria added now, a bit awkwardly at the silent exchange. “I can take the girls over there if you two wanna… catch up?” She glanced at the two brothers, Tommy especially.

Tommy seemed uncertain. It was Joel who nodded then, agreeing with a small ‘okay’.

Ellie looked at Faith in a small moment of concern, not entirely comfortable now with leaving Joel’s side. Faith wasn’t all too sure about it either, to be honest, her eyes fixed on Joel as if her pleading and nervous look would be enough to make him stay.

 “Joel,” Ellie called out for him, a bit urgently.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, already walking away with Tommy. He had his own troubles to attend to.

The girls stood there in silence watching him leave’em, until Maria spoke again:

“Shall we?”

(…)

The Tipsy Bison looked like a bar straight out of a western movie.

Joel sat on a stool at the clean, lacquered bar while Tommy poured them both glasses filled with ice and whiskey.

Nothin’ like grabbing some drinks at a bar with your long lost brother to get some sense of normalcy back.

“’Been a long time,” he muttered, caressing the sleek bar softly, as if he wasn’t sure it was really there. He looked at Tommy then, at his black shiny hair pulled back from his face, longer than he usually kept it, and a grown moustache over his upper lip that made him look more serious than Joel remembered him to be. “Doesn’t seem like you aged much.”

“You on the other hand…” Tommy smiled, handing Joel his drink, grabbing his own to toast. “Thanks for still givin’ a shit about me.”

Joel took a sip of the drink, his eyes widening a bit. It just hit him how long it had been since he’d done something so casual as sipping on a drink in a bar with his brother. And the drink itself surprised him too, it seemed homemade.

Tommy smiled, confirming it. “Workin’ on raisin’ some hogs too,” he said, proudly. “Once we get bacon, I mean… what’s even left?”

Funny thing to ask in the apocalypse.

Joel stood up taking his drink with him, walking around the room to get away from Tommy’s gaze meeting his own.

“Christmas trees and bacon?” he took a look at an old piano against one of the walls to Tommy’s right, and a picture hung above it of the community. “Pretty decent setup.”

“So… How’s Tess?” that question caught him off guard. He hadn’t talked about Tess since she died months ago. He had forbidden Ellie to do so. They hadn’t even told Faith about her. He masked the pain of losing her, though, with practiced ease sayin’ she was fine, all right. “Good then,” Tommy glanced down at his drink, looking for the courage to ask the next, “and the kids?”

Joel faced Tommy again, thinking about the girls. They were probably taking a warm shower now, and putting on some fresh clothes Maria had promised them. He was glad, even happy, that they could get some rest while they were here. It had been a long three months.

“Yeah, uh… Ellie’s the daughter of some Firefly muckety-much, tryna find her family somewhere out here. I was headin’ in this direction, so…”

He couldn’t tell Tommy about her immunity. There was something about him… Joel couldn’t bring himself to do so, not yet, at least. Not when Tommy had been ignoring his radio calls for weeks because his wife told him so, not when they were the only family they had left.

Well… the only that Joel had left.

“Really? Goodness of your heart?”

He couldn’t deny that part. Tommy knew him too well. “There’s a payment.”

“Knew it,” he smirker, sipping from his drink. “And the other girl? The older one?”

“She’s, uh… Found her in Kansas City. She’d been alone for a while, so, uh… Told her she could tag along.”

“She’d been alone?” Tommy’s eyebrows frowned. The girl didn’t look older than fifteen. “How old are they?”

“Yeah... Doin’ fine, though. Faith’s sixteen now, Ellie fourteen,” he let the words sit, then went straight to the point, “So you know where they might be? These Fireflies?”

“Well, uh… They got a base down at the University of Eastern Colorado,” Tommy recalled, walking around the bar to join Joel up front, sitting on a stool, “It’s, uh… A week’s ride south. But it is severely fucked up between here and there.” He poured himself and Joel some more whiskey. “Infected, raiders… It’s not exactly an easy trip.”

“It’ll be easy for us, seein’ as how you can headshot infected from half a mile away,” Tommy had said something earlier about that. Total bullshit, in Joel’s opinion.

Tommy’s answer, though, wasn’t what he expected. “… I can’t go.”

“Come on,” Joel scoffed. “I made it across the country. The two of us can make it from here to Colorado,” Tommy only glanced at him for a second, shaking his head. “What, ‘cause your wife won’t let you?”

“Joel…”

“She the one who kept you off the radio? Is that why you stopped messaging me back?”

Tommy sighed. “After I ditched the Fireflies, Maria and her crew found me,” he explained. “They’re good people. They didn’t have to take me in… but they did. Like you with the girls, huh? And all they ask is that I follow their rules.”

“I’m your brother–!”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” he cut him off. “They’re very protective of this place, okay? And for good fuckin’ reason. If folks find out we’re up here–!”

“ – No, I heard. Wrong people might show up,” Joel said. “So is that what I am? Am I the wrong people?”

“Joel…”

“Those things I did, Tommy, those things that you judge me for… I did those things to keep us alive.”

“We did those things, not just you,” Tommy was growing mad too, mirroring Joel. “And they weren’t ‘things’, Joel. We murdered people. And I don’t judge you for it. We survived… The only was we knew how. But there were other ways. We just… Weren’t any good at’em.”

Joel knew, deep down, that Tommy was right. If only a bit. But he wasn’t having it.

“If you knew the shit that I’ve been through, Tommy, tryin’ to find you these last few months–“

Tommy interrupted him again, leaving him silent this time. “I’m gonna be a father.”

Oh.

Oh.

So that was what this was all about.

“Maria’s a few months along now. So I just gotta be more careful,” he shifted his position slightly on the stool, feeling the nerves creep on each of his limbs. “To be honest, I’m scared to death,” he laughed a bit, and took a sip from his whiskey. “But I don’t know. I feel like I’d be a good dad.”

Joel didn’t say anything at first. He only managed to grab the bottle of liquor Tommy had left in front of them, and pour them some more of it. God knew he needed it.

The only clear thing going through his mind at that moment where memories he hadn’t dared to look back at in a long time. Feelings he had tried to bury where the light wouldn’t find them. He recalled how it was like, the first time he had held his baby girl, how he had felt, how he had sworn to protect her forever… And then, as always, it hit him how he had failed her. And that was something he had never let himself forget.

So he was bitter now because of it, he knew.

But sometimes, like right now, he really couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

Tommy frowned, looking at Joel confused and rather offended.

“I guess we’ll find out? That’s all you got?”

“What else am I supposed to say?” he knew he was being unfair to Tommy. He knew he should feel happy for his brother and his wife. But all he could feel was old and rusty anger born from twenty long years of grieving.

Tommy stood up, eying Joel seriously. He was still the little brother, yeah, but he wouldn’t let Joel make him feel little again. “Just because life stopped for you doesn’t mean it has to stop for me.”

It was probably one of the hardest things he’d ever had to tell him. But Joel had to hear it, even if he didn’t want to.

“We’ll grab some supplies and be outta your hair in the mornin’–“ Joel spat back, clearly not having this. He gestured to the drinks, “Enjoy the rest by yourself.”

He grabbed his jacket then, and left.

(…)

The house was a little farther from the center of town—still within Jackson’s walls, of course, but off the main street, tucked between a cluster of quiet trees and other modest two-story homes. The snow had been cleared from the walkway, but the wind still rustled dry branches above them as Maria led Faith and Ellie toward it, the crunch of their boots on snow the only real sound for a few moments.

It was a bit of an awkward walk. No one really spoke, and Faith found herself once again looking around at the buildings they passed—houses with lights in the windows, smoke curling from chimneys, dogs barking somewhere in the distance. The kind of silence that didn’t feel dangerous. It felt… lived in. She didn’t quite know what to do with that yet.

Maria finally approached a well-kept dark turquoise coloured house. “Here we are,” she said, opening the door with a set of keys she had tucked in her coat pocket. “This one’s just across the street from ours, so if you need anything, it’s not far.”

Faith stepped inside and was immediately hit with a sense of stillness. The air smelled faintly of dust and old fabric—like time had stopped in this house.

“It hasn’t been touched since before the outbreak,” Maria explained as they climbed upstairs, her voice low, almost apologetic. “We cleaned it up, got the heat running. It’s not fancy, but it’s warm. And private.”

At the top of the stairs were three bedrooms, each with a small, adjacent bathroom. One of them had the walls covered in pink and white stripes, and some band posters of groups Faith didn’t know. The other had pale yellow walls and shelves filled with old books, half-covered in dust. Both rooms were surprisingly cozy. A little frozen in time, but comforting in a way Faith didn’t expect. She’d never had her own room.

“There should be everything you need—towels, soap, that kind of thing. Take your time.” Maria smiled gently, and Faith caught the way she glanced at both her and Ellie. Like she was checking for something—maybe signs that they were okay. “When you’re done, I’ll be at my place. Come over when you're ready.”

And then she left, walking back downstairs and pulling the door softly shut behind her.

The house went quiet again.

Ellie had already chosen the room with the music posters and disappeared into her bathroom with a, “Fuck yes, hot water,” as she turned on the tap. Faith lingered for a moment in the hallway, staring at the door, then at the other room.

She finally stepped inside and shut the door gently behind her.

The shower was everything she hadn’t realized she’d been missing. Long. Hot. Clean. She stood there for a while, head tilted back, eyes closed as the water pounded down her spine. She washed away the dirt and blood, the dried sweat of days spent traveling, the bite of cold wind, the invisible layer of fear that clung to her skin like smoke.

When she got out, she found a bathrobe hanging behind the door. It was soft. So soft. She touched it cautiously at first—suspicious, almost—and then slipped it on and was immediately overwhelmed by how warm and comforting it was. She’d never worn anything like it. Not even close. She caught her reflection in the fogged mirror and blinked. For a second, she didn’t quite recognize herself. Damp hair clinging to her face. Eyes no longer shadowed with grime. A little less tense in her own skin.

Back in the bedroom, she realized Maria had been back while she’d been in the shower. She didn’t really know how long she’d been in there, but she hadn’t heard anyone coming it. It had been a long time since had been able to let her guard down like that.

She found clothes laid out neatly on the bed, her old ones gone; Maria had probably taken them, she figured, when she had laid out for her a thick-knit cream coloured sweater, a pair of dark jeans, clean socks, underwear and clean boots. Faith quickly checked that her backpack was still on the stool by the window where she had left it, breathing a bit easier when she saw it intact.

Beside the new clothes, a small cloth pouch containing a menstrual cup, and a note in Maria’s handwriting on a square of lined notebook paper:

"Figured you might need one of these. I'm just across the street—come see me when you're ready."

The clothes didn’t just fit—they felt like something someone would’ve worn before the world ended. The jeans were a little worn at the knees, the sweater soft with age and smell of clean laundry, was one of the most comfortable things she’d ever worn. Whoever they’d belonged to, Faith didn’t know. But she was grateful, in her quiet way.

Dressed and warmer than she’d been in weeks, she wandered around the room slowly, her fingers grazing the dusty spines of the books on the shelf. There was a faded Polaroid tucked into the corner of the mirror—a snapshot of two teenagers, grinning with arms slung around each other’s shoulders.

On the wall above the small desk was a corkboard with pinned-up notes: song lyrics, torn-out magazine pages, a faded to-do list with ‘college apps’ scribbled at the top. Someone had left that room in the middle of planning their future. A future that no longer existed.

Faith stood there for a moment, just taking it in—the arrested momentum, the stillness.

Then her gaze dropped to the desk itself.

Tucked into the corner beneath the corkboard was a small, chunky CD player, the kind with built-in speakers and a few smudged buttons. A wire trailed from the back, plugged into the wall outlet. On impulse, Faith pressed the power button.

To her surprise, the screen flickered to life. It still worked. A soft hum crackled from the speakers.

She pressed play.

The machine whirred and clicked, then suddenly music burst out—louder than she expected, a little warped with age but still clear. The opening chords of a song she didn’t recognize rang through the room.

Where are those happy days, they seem so hard to find…

Faith blinked, startled—but not in a bad way. The voice was bright and aching at the same time. The beat was catchy, poppy, but there was something sharp under the surface.

I try to reach for you, but you have closed your mind…

It felt like a time capsule had cracked open. She didn’t know this song, but the melody caught on something in her chest.

She sat down slowly on the edge of the bed again, eyes drifting to the walls, the corkboard, the shelves. Her damp hair left a small dark patch on the sweater’s shoulder, but she didn’t care. She let the music wash over her.

So when you're near me, darling can't you hear me…

The song seemed a bit too personal. Faith didn’t cry. But for the first time in a long time, she let her body rest without armour. Without tension, letting the music fill up the empty corners.

That was when she heard a knock.

Three light taps on the doorframe, followed by Ellie’s voice: “Dude. Are you seriously listening to ABBA right now?”

Faith glanced up. Ellie leaned against the open door, damp hair down curling at the ends, wearing the clean clothes Maria had left her.

Faith frowned, “What’s ABBA?”

Ellie snorted. “The group singing the song.”

Faith stood, stretching her arms over her head, the sweater lifting slightly with the movement. “I like it,” she shrugged. “I guess not all music is so bad.”

“So… is this your song now?” Ellie asked. “I haven’t forgotten the promise I made. I’m gonna find you a song that’s you through and through.”

Faith laughed a bit, nodding, “I remember, yeah. And no, I don’t think this is ‘my’ song. It’s good, though.”

Ellie nodded, smiling. “Maria left a note that said to come see’er when we’re done.”

“Yeah, I got one too.”

“Did she also leave you one of those menstrual cups things?” she wondered, wide eyed. “I think that’s one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen.”

“But useful,” she also thought it was a bit strange, though.

“Guess it is,” she shrugged. “You ready to go?”

Faith glanced back at the CD player. The chorus kicked in again, bold and a little mournful.

When you're gone, though I try how can I carry on…

She turned it off gently.

“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s go.”

(…)

Ellie and Faith crossed the quiet street side by side, their new boots crunching softly over the snow-dusted pavement. It was still early afternoon, but the neighborhood was quiet—peaceful in a way that felt both unfamiliar and a little unreal.

Maria and Tommy’s looked similar to the rest: two stories, wood-paneled, with a porch light flickering softly against the snow gathering on the steps.

Faith reached the door first, knocking gently.

“Hello?”

Ellie pushed the door by the handle, not finding any resistance. It was unlocked, so they stepped inside.

“Maria?”

The difference between this house and the one they’d been given was immediate.

The air inside was warmer, but not just in temperature. It smelled faintly of something cozy and real—maybe wood polish, maybe someone’s shampoo, maybe the trace of a cooked meal earlier that day. A small rug was slightly askew in the entryway, like someone had kicked their boots off in a hurry. A jacket was hung over the banister instead of neatly on a hook. The soft hum of the heating system was accompanied by the occasional creak of settling floorboards.

This was a home, a place that was lived in, not just a house.

They stepped cautiously into the living room, which branched off the front hallway to the left. It was modest but welcoming. Mismatched cushions on the couch. A half-knitted scarf resting in a basket near the coffee table. On the mantel above the fireplace, there was a small chalkboard, worn but carefully cleaned. And on it, written in careful blocky handwriting, were two names along with different dates underneath:

Kevin: 4/3/00 – 9/29/03

Sarah: 7/20/89 – 9/27/03

Faith’s breath caught.

Ellie tilted her head. “Huh.”

They didn’t say anything else for a long moment. The names on the chalkboard stood out starkly, white on black, like a memorial. Faith didn’t know who Kevin or Sarah were, nor did Ellie. They assumed they had been the couple’s children.

The sound of the back door opening made both of them turn.

Maria stepped into view, brushing snow off her shoulders and carrying two bulky coats folded over her arm.

“Ah, good,” she said, spotting them. “Just traded for this.”

Maria approached the girls, handing each of them a coat to try on. Ellie’s was deep purple whereas Faith’s was a deep forest green. “Managed to get you both something a little thicker for the cold,” she said. “Fits?”

“Uh, yeah…” Ellie glanced down at herself, clearly unamused. “It’s super fuckin’ purple.”

“Eggplant. Fits right?” Maria asked again.

“… Yeah.”

“Yours?” Maria looked at Faith with her eyebrows raised.

“It’s all right,” she answered a bit awkwardly. “Uh… Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” the woman nodded. “Shoes are good too?”

Both girls nodded.

“Where’s our other stuff?”

“Rag pile,” she answered simply. “Did you get the things I left you both?”

“Yeah… Probably the weirdest gift ever.”

Maria laughed a bit, then reached out to touch one of Faith’s long strands of hair.

“Who’s been cuttin’ your hair?”

“World-class salons, obviously,” answered Ellie quickly. “Only the best of the best.”

The woman chuckled, saying something about going to grab her scissors to give them a trim. No room for debate.

That’s how they found themselves in Maria’s kitchen fifteen minutes later, Ellie sitting with a towel on her shoulders while Maria stood behind her trimming her locks, Faith sitting at the table close by sipping on some warm tea. Sweet and tasteful tea, for once, not like the raw pine needle or hawthorn berries tea they usually had for the last few months.

“So this was like, your job back then or something?”

“No,” answered Maria, carding her fingers through Ellie’s hair softly. “I was an Assistant District Attorney out of Omaha, Nebraska. I put bad guys in jail.”

Ellie hummed, “Cool, I guess.” Faith thought so too.

“I always liked doing hair, though,” added the woman as she kept on snipping the ends of Ellie’s hair even. “Maybe it was a mom thing.”

Faith glanced over at the living room, at the memorial board they had seen.

Oh.

So she had lost someone, too.

“Sorry about your kids,” she mumbled, her hands gripping the warm tea cup for comfort.

“It’s okay, thank you,” Maria smiled warmly at her, in a kind of maternal way Faith could clearly recognize. “And kid. Just Kevin.”

There were two names on the memorial, though. Maria quickly cleared it up:

“Sarah was Joel’s daughter.”

Both Ellie and Faith went completely still.

The soft snipping sound of the scissors paused, and for a long moment, the warmth of the kitchen was eclipsed by the shock that fell over the table like a weighted blanket.

“ –Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything…”

“No—” Ellie was the first to speak. She kept still in her chair, soaking in the new information. “It’s okay.”

She looked at Faith, but she was staring at her tea, her hands suddenly cold despite the warmth of the cup.

Sarah was Joel’s daughter.

She didn’t look up. She felt like she couldn’t.

In her chest, something was moving—shifting. Sliding into place.

All this time. All the little moments. All the ways Joel had looked at them—at her, at Ellie. The way he always walked on the outside of the sidewalks even if there weren’t any cars, or always going ahead of them when clearing a house or abandoned shop. The way he always made sure they had food before he touched his own. The way he’d wordlessly stepped in between them and danger, every time. The way he flinched when Ellie had gotten sick. The way he’d cared for Faith when she was nearly dying from pneumonia, jaw clenched like the pain was his.

The way he’d looked at them when he thought they weren’t watching.

She’d known Joel was carrying something heavy. Had felt it like a shadow around him since the first day they met. But she had never known what it was. Never asked.

Now she knew.

Sarah. A daughter. Gone.

Faith pressed her hand to her chest without thinking, as if that would calm her breath. She swallowed, hard.

Joel had lost a child.

No wonder he’d been so cautious. So guarded. So reluctant to get close—and yet, somehow, unable to help himself when it came to them.

No wonder he seemed to understand Faith’s pain when she told him about losing her sister and her mother. This entire time, he’d known what it felt like to love someone like that—and to lose them.

Faith blinked quickly and looked up, her voice quieter than before. “She… she must’ve been really young.”

Maria looked over at her. “She was fourteen.”

Silence.

Ellie let out a breath through her nose, finding it hard to keep still. “Jesus.”

She could picture a younger Joel, a little less worn down, maybe smiling a little more. Carrying a girl on his shoulders, holding her hand as they crossed the street, tucking her into bed. She could picture the moment it all went wrong. And she didn’t want to. She really didn’t.

Joel wasn’t the type to talk about pain if he could keep it buried. They knew that pretty well by now. Faith understood. She did the same… until she had met Joel and Ellie.

“Guess that explains him a little,” said Ellie, thoughtful.

Maria looked at both girls, sighing heavily, “Look, I’m not gonna ask you what you’re doing with him–“ Ellie interrupted with a small defensive ‘good’ but Maria kept on talking. “But there are clearly things you don’t know about Joel.”

It was again Ellie who spoke up first. “Like how he used to kill people? We know all about that.”

“So then you understand my concern about two young girls travelling alone with a man like Joel…”

“– He doesn’t do that anymore,” intervened Faith, finally.

“He stopped killing people?”

“Innocent ones, sure,” both her and Ellie had seen Joel murder infected and fight off the crazy people in Kansas City. Each one of them deserved to end their days the way they did.

“Tommy did it too, didn’t he? Are you worried about him?

“… Tommy was following Joel.”

“That’s some shitty argument –” said Faith, growing defensive.

“– Just the way you two are now.”

Both Ellie and Faith had had to kill people to survive, too. Did that make them instantly bad, too?

“Well maybe we are smarter than Tommy, no offense.”

Maria finished cutting Ellie’s hair then, leaving the scissors on the kitchen counter. She leaned against the sink, looking at both girls with an intense gaze.

“There’s a whole lot you’re not telling me.”

“No offense, but we’ve just met you today,”

“Good,” Maria smiled at Faith. “Therein lies the point. Be careful who you put your faith in. The only people who can betray us, are the ones we trust. You understand?”

Ellie hummed, Faith too.

“Now come on then,” she took the towel around Ellie’s shoulders off, looking at Faith. “Your turn.”

Faith didn’t move an inch. She did shake her head at the woman, though.

“No thanks,” she refused. “I can cut my hair myself.”

“There’s no weakness in accepting some help from time to time.”

It wasn’t about weakness, though. It was about so much more.

The last time someone had cut Faith’s hair, it had been her mother. After she died, her father didn’t bother with it. They were too busy not getting killed by raiders, infected or FEDRA, anyways. Soon after, he and Dahlia died too… And from then on, only when her hair got too long would Faith cut it with anything she could find, resulting in the uneven rough ends she had now.

She couldn’t let someone else touch her hair, not just like that.

So she refused again.

And even though Maria was a very practical woman, she was not heartless. When she sensed Faith wouldn’t give in, she nodded, accepting her defeat with grace.

“Let’s go get your coats on then,” she proposed, nudging Ellie out of her chair. “We’re going out.”

“Where?”

“The movies,” she answered simply.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @kitdjarin1@christinamadsen@abtjudex@hongjoong-titties@cokoladasljesnjakom

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 10

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5 | Ep6 | Ep7 | Ep8 | Ep9 | Ep11 | Ep12)

Would you look at that, I'm finally making it before the new episode again. Can you believe. Also, when I started writing this at first I thought that this one wasn't gonna be as long as my recent ones this time, but no. It's still at over 10k words. Oops. Someone shut me up.

HAVE FUN <3

Pronoun situation: As usual, just assume Fadel and Style use the rude pronouns guu/mueng with each other unless I specify otherwise.

To recap: After a turbulent roadtrip through the country, Style finally has his boyfriend back. Yay.

No. 1: Goodbyes

(Ok yes I am cheating with this section cover pic bc I stole it from the official THK twitter account instead of taking a screenshot directly from the episode as I usually do, but I'm just upset that we never got to see Fadel grab Style in the actual episode and so I'm commemorating it here, bye <3)

Their little island getaway is over and the hitmen drop their normie-boyfriends off at Style's place. Fadel reminds Style to change the bandage regularly and Style asks if they're not gonna be spending the night together and I'm already crying, because I'm already reminded of episode 6 only two lines into the new episode. Back in episode 6 Fadel was going on a mission and Style wanted him to stay the night so bad and back then Style couldn't even tell Fadel that he was fully aware of where Fadel was going and what Fadel was doing. Now in episode 10 everyone is aware of everything and yet Fadel still won't spend the night before the mission with Style. Style isn't happy about it, but accepts Fadel's decision without an argument. He does ask Fadel to call him and keep him updated, though. And again I cry as I remember how last time Fadel went on his mission, Style didn't hear from Fadel for an entire week and was worried sick about him. Style doesn't wanna go through that very same experience again. Fadel agrees to call and keep him updated, but then immediately also says that they shouldn't be in touch for a while for safety reasons. Style nods unhappily.

Then the hitmen drive off and the normie-boyfriends are left staring sullenly after the jeep. Kant is back to his usual pessimistic self, asking "Why do I have a feeling that we won't see them again?" This time even Style is too worried to act as the optimistic counterpart. Instead, Kant's comment clearly stresses him out and he scolds Kant not to jinx it. Style looks down and Kant puts a comforting arm around his shoulder. There isn't much they can do apart from waiting it out.

No. 2: When Will Our Husbands Return From War

As if the episode 6 callbacks from the first scene weren't enough, Style and Kant are now back at the restaurant where we saw them in episode 6, too. Back then, the brothers were just about to go on their mission and Style and Kant couldn't stop them, because they couldn't exactly tell them that they knew about their plans. This time around, the brothers already are on their mission, and despite everyone being aware of everything, Style and Kant still failed to stop them. Kant especially is quite irked by this as he goes on a rant. Style agrees, and while he's not exactly happy about the situation, he still seems to be taking it fairly well considering the circumstances. Or at least he seems to be dealing with it a little better than Kant is in that moment. Style does suggest Kant does a little sniffing around to see what their boyfriends are up to, but Kant reminds him that he already knows exactly what their boyfriends are doing. The problem isn't that Style and Kant don't know what Fadel and Bison are off doing, the problem is that they couldn't convince Fadel and Bison not to do it. Kant certainly couldn't stop Bison and he's convinced Fadel wouldn't listen to Style either. Style realizes that Kant is right. As much as they both hate it, in the end there isn't much the two of them can do except to wait for their husbands to return from war.

No. 3: Let Me Help

Let me just say, considering how similar both of the FadelStyle and the KantBison reunions are, I think that before Style and Kant left the restaurant in the above scene they did come up with a plan that wasn't just "let's wait for our husbands to return from war". And I think the plan is: "instead of sitting around, if we can't keep them from going on their mission, then let's get them to let us help them by acting pouty and grumpy so that they'll agree to take us along on their mission". Because both the KantBison as well as the FadelStyle scene have the normie-boyfriends acting upset only to end with them asking to help. However, I'm not sure Style actually needs to do a whole lot of acting here. Because I think he has valid reasons to be legitimately upset with Fadel.

Also, there's been debate about whether a time skip happened or not, and personally I'm leaning towards team time skip, because Style's gunshot wound is nothing but a band-aid by this point. Although, to be fair the injuries didn't seem to be a big deal when they were playing frisbee in the ocean either, so who knows with the healing times in this show. Might as well have been just a day or two that has passed 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, the scene starts with Fadel grabbing Style out of nowhere and shoving him into something. This is the third time this has happened over the course of the series and the fourth time in total that Fadel has ambushed Style from behind. Style is genuinely startled and I do wonder if Style re-lived that trauma of having been drugged and abducted at the hospital for a second there when Fadel grabbed Style's mouth like that. It genuinely scares Style for a moment and this would already be the first reason he has to be upset with Fadel in this scene, if we're already counting that. Because as much as he loves Fadel and even if he doesn't hold it against him at all, getting ambushed, drugged, abducted, tied up and held at gunpoint is quite a traumatic string of events to go through and I like to think that it left at least some subconscious marks on Style. He was also startled in the locker room (episode 2) and in the greenhouse (episode 4), but in both scenes, which both happened pre-abduction, his heart didn't nearly stop the way it does now (first of all, he explicitly tells Fadel "You scared me" and second of all, it's also in the heavy breathing. His breathing is much calmer in the other two scenes).

Fadel apologizes and Style is confused as to why Fadel is even here without a heads-up, because "Didn't you say we needed to stay away for a while?" Fadel explains "I can't help thinking about you" and.... well, in Thai he's actually more specific than that:

I'm worried about you. ก็กูเป็นห่วงมึงอ่ะ [gôh - guu - bpen hùuang - mueng - àh] well - I - be worried (about), be concerned (about) - you - [particle]

Fadel worries about Style and he immediately proves it when he continues to ask about Style's wound. Style tell him the wound doesn't hurt anymore, but "My heart hurts more". Style is really snappy and I think some of that anger is certainly played up to reach his goal, but I do think it comes from a genuine place as he explains a bit later: "You hurt my feelings. I thought you trusted me. You know I know everything, but still you push me away." And let me just...

I'm hurt that you don't trust me. น้อยใจนะเว้ย ที่มึงไม่ไว้ใจกู [nói-jai - ná - wóiie • tîi - mueng - mâi - wái-jai - guu] hurt, upset, offended - [particle] - [particle] • that - you - not - trust - me Official subs: You hurt my feelings. I thought you trusted me.

Style is much more direct in Thai and he's actually accusing Fadel here. It's not just "I was under the impression that you trusted me now, but apparently I was wrong and the fact that I was wrong hurts me", it's actually "You are still not willing to trust me after everything and your distrust hurts me". And I think Style is right to feel upset about that. The two of them have been through so much at this point and Style has proven over and over again that he is worthy of Fadel's trust, but even now that there are no lies, no acts between them anymore, Fadel still won't trust him 100%. When Style's worked so hard to regain Fadel's trust the past two episodes. Style himself has been all in since episode 4 (he told him as much in the "be my boyfriend" scene) and I think it hurts Style that the person he loves won't return the same trust on an equal level. Especially when Style was literally here trusting Fadel even through the constant death threats, down to the moments where Fadel actually was about to shoot him dead. And yet, Style's trust remained. But Fadel still won't return the favor. Instead, Fadel is just pushing him out of his life again. That may have been a fun challenge for Style in the first couple of episodes, but now that genuinely hurts his feelings as I've already discussed in detail in my ep9 meta as well. Style loves Fadel and he cares about Fadel sooo so much and he just wants to be part of Fadel's life, dammit.

Fadel explains "Well, I'm worried about you.* I don't want you getting caught in the crossfire."

*กูเป็นห่วงมึงไง [guu - bpen hùuang - mueng - ngai] I - be worried (about), be concerned (about) - you - [particle] Official subs: I'm doing this for you.

But Fadel's worry still doesn't solve Style's issue of feeling like Fadel doesn't trust him and it still doesn't solve Style's issue of Fadel not letting Style participate in his life and it still doesn't solve the issue of Style explicitly asking Fadel to call him and to keep him updated and then Fadel just turning off his phone: "So you'd rather I wonder whether you're dead or alive? You think that'll make me happy?"

Style has been through this before. Last time Fadel went on a mission to kill Ruerat, he went completely MIA for an entire week and Style spent that week worried sick about him, stopping by the restaurant every single day (it's canon to me, idc idc). That week really wasn't fun for Style and neither was the time he's spent waiting this time around. Style hates the idea of their relationship to continue like this for the next foreseeable future. He doesn't wanna spend his life waiting to see if his loved ones live or die. Style has been through this before, and not just in episode 6, but also in his past as @nabi-unveiled points out: Style lost his mother to cancer and so he's familiar with the feeling of having to wait it out while not knowing how it will end. And back then, it ended in his mother's death. He doesn't want to go through this again. Style is legitimately upset and angry now and he voices his feelings in the most Style way possible: "It hurts more than getting shot."

And all that Fadel has to say on that? Is:

Can you not be so dramatic? มึงอย่าเวอร์ได้ป่ะ [mueng - yàa - wer - dâai - bpà] you - not, don't - be dramatic, exaggerate - can, be able to - ? Official subs: You’re so dramatic.

Fadel actually uses the slang term เวอร์ [wer] which I actually already went over in my ep3 meta. One of my irl-friends explained it to me a few months ago and I don't remember her exact wording (it was an oral conversation while we were out and about, not a written one) but she told me it comes from the English word "over" and it is used in the context of indicating that someone is being too much in the sense of someone is overdoing something (someone is doing/saying something that is "over" the level that the situation calls for). This article translates this slang term as "exaggerate" or "overstate" or "overreact". I'm going with "dramatic" for some consistency, since we've heard that in the series before.

"Can you not be so dramatic? (Can you not exaggerate/overreact/overdo it)?" Fadel asks and Style is offended at that request:

You always claim I'm dramatic. มึงก็หาว่ากูเวอร์ตลอดอ่ะ [mueng - gôh - hăa wâa - guu - wer - dtà-lòt - àh] you - [sentence link] - accuse of, claim - "over", exaggerate, overdo - always - [particle] Official subs: You love calling me that.

Yeah, Style actually repeats the slang term, so literally, when Fadel asks "Can you not 'wer'?", Style replies "You always claim I 'wer'."

This is funny, because I quickly skipped through all the FadelStyle scenes at 2x speed (no time for a proper rewatch if I have any hope of publishing this before ep11 drops) and if I didn't miss any, there were exactly two (2) instances of Fadel using เวอร์ [wer]. One of them I already discussed in my ep3 meta: when Style helps Fadel work at the diner in the scene where Fadel comes out to offer Style a burger he says "Don't 'wer'" when Style goes "You like me now, don't you?" The other instance is in episode 7 at the hospital when Style is really worried about Fadel's well-being, Fadel also tells him not to "wer". Other times when the subtitles have Fadel say something about drama, he actually uses the word ดราม่า which is literally the word "drama" transliterated in Thai letters. He uses it in the same episode 3 scene from above when he says "Don't be dramatic" after Style laments being exploited and he also uses the word "drama" when he tells Style to stop being dramatic when Style is crying in episode 8.

Either way, Fadel's words hurt Style. It hurts him that Fadel isn't taking his feelings seriously and instead undermines them. And so he tells Fadel: "If you really believe that, just go." I actually wanna share two other possible translations/interpretations of the line:

If that's the only way you think, then just go.

If you think nothing but that, then just go.

ถ้ามึงคิดแต่อย่างเงี่ย มึงก็ไปเลย [tâa - mueng - kít - dtàe - yàang ngîia • mueng - gôh - bpai - loiie] if - you - think - nothing but, only - like this, this way • you - then - go - [particle for emphasis]

And again, even if it is a ploy to get their boyfriends to yield, I think Style is legitimately angry about this. Because Style wants to be taken seriously in this relationship. Style also has feelings and he wants Fadel to take his feelings as seriously as Style takes Fadel's feelings. And he certainly doesn't wanna be told "you feelings don't matter" or "you're exaggerating" or "this is not a big deal". Only two episodes ago Fadel asked Style "You think that you deceiving me wasn't a big deal?" and Style took his anger seriously and acknowledged that what he did to Fadel was, in fact, a big deal. Now Style is the upset one and instead of Fadel taking him seriously or acknowledging Style's hurt in any way, again Style only gets told to stop overdoing it. And it's happened a couple of times. Back in episode 4 when Style was upset about getting nailed-and-bailed, instead of taking Style's hurt seriously Fadel took him out in the woods and nearly killed him (and then it actually ended with Style being the one comforting Fadel, even though Style was initially the upset one). It happened again in episode 8 when Style was crying himself to sleep and all he got from Fadel was "stop being dramatic" (Style doesn't know Fadel nearly broke and even if Fadel almost comforted him after all it doesn't change the fact that in the end, Fadel didn't, and Style still went to through the experience of crying himself to sleep uncomforted that night). And it's happening again now, where Style is legitimately upset and Fadel just undermines his feelings, telling him he's exaggerating. Style has a dramatic way of phrasing things, that's true, but it doesn't make his feelings any less real or any less important than Fadel's. And if it's always Style taking Fadel seriously and being there for him and offering him comfort, but then in return Style gets left hanging... Well, that's not the kind of relationship Style wants to have.

He wants a relationship on equal footing and what's more, in addition to Fadel not taking Style's hurt seriously, if Fadel keeps Style out of his life he might as well just not date Style at all. Because he can't just say he's Style's boyfriend and then not even participate or let Style participate in this relationship. Either Fadel is in for this relationship or he's out, but if he's out then that relationship is off, because again, that's not the kind of relationship that Style wants to have.

Style very firmly tells Fadel:

Really, go. No need to come back again. ไปจริงๆ ไม่ต้องกลับมาอีก [bpai - jing jing • mâi dtông - glàp maa - ìik] go - really, for real • no need - come back, return - again Official subs: Go, and don't come back.

The choice is Fadel's now: either Fadel starts taking Style's feelings seriously and starts taking Style's needs into consideration or Fadel can continue to keep Style out of his life, in which case Style will also keep Fadel out of his own life. In other words, they'll be over. Because this is not going to be just a one-sided relationship. Style isn't having that, no matter how much Style loves Fadel. He shoves Fadel and walks away.

Fadel catches Style's wrist. And I kinda love that, because last episode we had Fadel walking off grumpily and Style catching his wrist and pulling him back to make up with him and now we have Style walking off angrily and this time around Fadel has to make an effort to stop Style and to make up with him. And so Fadel grabs Style, pulls him back and tells him "I don't want to lose you". Yeah, exactly. Neither does Style. That's exactly what Style is so angry about right now. Because at the end of the day his anger boils down to him not wanting to lose Fadel. And now he finally gets to say what he's been meaning to say since the start: "That's why you need to let me help you." Fadel goes through a whole range of emotions while Style watches him, waiting. There is only one correct answer and Fadel knows it. And Style knows that Fadel knows it.

No. 4: Team Meeting

It worked. The hitmen brothers both agreed to let their normie-boyfriends help on their mission. Style is absolutely delighted and stoked about this, because he's fully back to confidently dropping flirty lines at any possible opportunity he gets. Fadel asks "Are you sure you want to do this?" and without missing a beat Style goes "Hell yeah. When I'm in, I'm all in, body and soul." As @clemelntine notes, Style's words parallel his words from when he was talking to Kant in the locker room back in episode 5. And if we take a look at the original wording we can see that this is even more so the case in Thai:

→ Someone like me puts all of their body and all of their heart into everything they do. คนอย่างกูอ่ะ ทำอะไรลงทั้งตัวทั้งใจอยู่แล้ว [kon - yàang - guu - àh • tam - à-rai - long - táng - dtuua - táng - jai - yùu láew] person - like - me - [particle] • do - something - enter (in) - whole, all - body - whole, all - heart, mind, spirit

For comparison, in episode 5 he says:

→ My body is already in it. ตัวก็ลงไปแล้ว [dtua - gôh - long bpai - láew] body - [sentence link] - enter (in) - already Official subs: I compromised my whole body, → And I gotta confess สารภาพเลยนะ [săa-rá-pâap - loiie - ná] confess - [particle for emphasis] - [particle] Official subs: and if we're being honest, → my heart is half in it already as well. ใจกูก็ไปครึ่ง​หนึ่งแล้วอ่ะ [jai - guu - gôh - bpai - krêung nèung - láew - àh] heart, mind, spirit - mine - also, too - go - one half - already - [particle] Official subs: I've already compromised half of my heart, too.

Five episodes later and it's not just all of Style's body and only half of his heart that is in, but now it's his whole body plus his entire heart that is in and that he also actively puts in. And not just that, his whole body and his whole heart are Fadel's, he's offered it all to Fadel in episode 8:

→ Take all of my cars, all of my body, and all of my heart. เอาไปทั้งรถทั้งตัวแล้วทั้งใจไปเลยนะ [ao bpai - táng - rót - táng - dtuua - láew - táng - jai - bpai - loiie - ná] take (away) - all of - car - all of - body - and - all of - heart, mind, spirit - away - [particle] - [particle] Official subs: Take my cars, my body, my heart.

And now here Style is, announcing without any hesitation that he actively puts his whole body and heart into everything. And what I love about this is that when he's speaking? His facial expression is serious and the tone of his voice is also very firm and determined and rather serious. But as soon as he finishes his sentence you can see just how much he fails to keep a straight, serious "I mean business" face. Style is so overjoyed that Fadel is finally including him and that he finally gets to be by Fadel's side that he can't stop smiling about it.

Fadel thinks Style is just exaggerating again and scolds him: "Don't say that just to be cool." Without missing a beat, Style replies "I'm not saying it to be cool, I'm saying it to be yours." In Thai, this is a pun on เอาเท่ [ao têh] (= "to be cool) and เอาเธอ [ao ter] (= "to get you" in the sense of wanting, taking). Also, pronoun switch! Because in his flirty line Style switches from the rude mueng that he usually uses with Fadel to the much sweeter ter. If you're unfamiliar with Thai pronouns, this is the you-pronoun that is typically used in love songs and many couples like to use it. Actors in CPs will also use this pronoun to tease their partner with a flirty line or joke. Style's deliberate use of ter makes his flirty line sound even flirtier than it already is (and I love that we actually did get a ter drop, because people were speculating about it after one of Dunk's lives this summer where he used "ter" as a pronoun to get across the gist of some scene that his mom helped him run lines for).

Kant announces that he too is all in and that he's qualified because of his past occupations. Style doesn't exactly have a criminal past or anything (as far as we know?), but he's confident in his abilities anyway:

No need to worry about my skills to get through situations smoothly. สกิลความเนียนของกูอ่ะ ไม่ต้องห่วงเลย [skill - kwaam niian - kŏng guu - àh • mâi dtông - hùuang - loiie] skill - smoothness - of me, my - [particle] • no need - worry, be worried - [particle] Official subs: You don't have to worry about me. Otherwise I wouldn't have made you be this crazy about me. ไม่งั้นไม่ทำให้มึงคลั่งรักกูขนาดนี้หรอก [mâi ngán - mâi - tam hâi - mueng - klâng rák - guu - kà-nàat níi - ròk] otherwise - not - make that, cause - you - crazy in love - me - like this, this much - [particle] Official subs: I'm good enough to make this dude fall for me, aren't I?

Yeah. Style has the audacity to say it straight to Fadel's face, not just because he's looking at him, but because he also explicitly addresses Fadel with "you". Gotta love his confidence. Style is truly in the bestest of moods now that he has his boyfriend back by his side and said boyfriend also lets him participate in his life. And again, Style can't stop smiling, especially when Fadel meets his eyes:

And again Fadel thinks that Style is just playing around and tells him off: "Stop joking. This is important to the two of us." But the thing is, Style isn't actually joking. Even if he's in a good mood right now, he still seriously means it when he says:

Your life is my life. ชีวิตมึงอ่ะ เหมือนชีวิตกูเหมือนกันนะเว้ย [chii-wít mueng - àh • mĕuuan - chii-wít guu - mĕuuan gan - ná wóiie] your life - [particle] • like - my life - also - [particle] Official subs: Your life is as important to me as my own.

Fadel is important to Style, no joke. Fadel doesn't have an answer. Bison suggests splitting up in teams to do some snooping and Fadel asks one more time if anyone wants to back off from this mission. He even looks directly at Style when he says "It's not too late to back off." But there is no way that Style is backing off now. As he told (and showed) Fadel last episode, Style is a man of his words. Also, he just wants this whole thing to be over so that he and Fadel don't have to live in fear. Besides, he's also sick of have to keep a distance from Fadel. Style is absolutely determined to be part of this mission, because he himself also has something to gain from it.

Style holds out his hand. One by one the rest puts their hand in, too. Well, except for Fadel. Kant gestures for Fadel to join and Fadel makes a skeptical face. Bison tries to encourage him with words, but it's only when Fadel looks over to Style that he rolls his eyes exasperatedly and also puts his hand in at last. As much as Fadel hates to see Style tag along on this dangerous mission, there is absolutely no way he can convince Style to stay out of it and Fadel knows it. And Style knows that Fadel knows it. He throws Fadel a very happy and pleased smile when Fadel puts his hand in and announces that he can finally have a boyfriend without being afraid of dying. When everyone except Fadel sits back down again, Fadel still looks pretty grumpy. Style grabs his hand and smiles at him encouragingly. And I'm almost offended that he doesn't kiss Fadel's hand when it's right. there. in front of his very lips. How is that not tempting?? I'd kiss that hand if it was my best friend, even, ngl.

No. 5: We're Off on a Secret Mission

Just as agreed in their team meeting, Fadel and Style go after Keen. And of course their mission has to start with them immediately bickering. We wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Fadel rebukes Style for not being inconspicuous enough and I laugh, because even though Style is the least experienced of them all, he still does a better job at it than Known Killer Bison who in a bit will just. STROLL AROUND ON THE GOLF COURSE IN HIS MOTHER'S LINE OF SIGHT????? More or less???? Make it make sense... 🤦‍♀️

Anyway, Style asks Fadel what he knows about Keen and we, too, finally get some insight into what Fadel and Bison's relationship is with Keen exactly. They were adopted together. He's the office guy. They don't actually have much to do with him, nor do they care much about him. Style feels bad for Keen. And somehow that seems right for Style. To me he seems like the kind of guy who'd want people to feel included. But then Fadel informs Style that this exact pitiful guy was the one who tried to kill them. Nevermind. Fuck this guy. Pity is out, revenge is in. Style wants to get back at him. But Fadel asks him: "What are you gonna do? Shoot him?"

Guys!! If you remember, in my ep9 meta I was wondering if all the references to Style with a gun (here's a collection, if you didn't read my ep7 and ep8 meta) was foreshadowing to Style getting shot in the store to help Fadel. But no. After a little break in episode 9, our Style + guns counter is back. We're at 6. And with Fadel asking "Can you even kill people?", in addition to wondering if Style will be shooting someone in the future, I am now also wondering if Style will not only shoot, but potentially also kill someone in the last two episodes (actually, I have been wondering if Style will kill someone since all the way back in episode 6, when Fadel told Style he needed to blend in, but then I was like nah, I don't think the show will go this dark, but he MAY at least injure someone with a gun. But now ep10 has me back on my wait, will Style ACTUALLY be KILLING someone??? bullshit dgfkjdkjgdgfk).

But for now, when asked about his capabilities of killing anyone Style just sits and re-thinks Fadel's words.

Fadel is right. Style isn't as ruthless as Fadel. Style isn't a killer at heart. On the contrary, actually, with the way he always tries to mediate just because he wants everyone involved in the incident to come to as little harm as possible. Style is even self-aware of the fact that he prefers to keep people out of trouble, he explicitly comments on it in episode 3:

I'm just a good looking young man who doesn't want anyone to get into trouble. ผมก็แค่ชายหนุ่มหน้าตาดีที่ไม่อยากให้ใครมีเรื่องกัน [pŏm - gôh - kâe - chaai nùm nâa dtaa dii - tîi - mâi - yàak - hâi - krai - mii rêuuang gan] I - [sentence link] - just - good-looking young man - who - not - want - that, for - anyone - get in trouble Official subs: I'm just a good-looking pacifist.

Yeah. There's no way Style can just up and kill anyone in cold blood, as much as he'd like to get back at Keen for shooting him. Keen gets up to leave and Fadel and Style make a run for it before Keen can spot them.

No. 6: Hide and Seek

Fadel and Style follow Keen to a hotel and watch him enter someone's room. They wonder who he could be meeting and Fadel guesses it could be his faen. Style brings up the point that it's kinda weird for them to meet at a hotel if they really are dating and asks if Keen might be hiding from Lilly. Fadel looks almost proud when he says "And you said you're not much of a detective". Style says he learned it from Fadel, but the thing is that Style actually is a smart boy. Even if he's an idiot (affectionate <3). The reality of the matter is that Style is a smart boy who sometimes makes stupid (or unusual) choices. That doesn't make him unintelligent, though.

Now the question is how they're gonna proceed from here. Wait for Keen to come out of the room again? I think Fadel misunderstands Style's question as impatience a little bit (or maybe he simply just expects Style to ditch him), because he snaps at him: "Can you do that? If you can't wait, just go home."

But instead Style tells him: "Like hell I will. I said I'd help. I won't back down." Style is a man of his words and he will not be going home, thank you very much. He's made his choice to help Fadel and so here he'll be, helping Fadel until the end. And with that he's just proving to Fadel once again just how loyal he is and that he'll be staying by Fadel's side no matter what. In fact, in the end it's even Style who thinks of a way to find out who Keen is with. Not our trained assassin Fadel.

No. 7: Truth Bombs All Around

(Awww look, it's a Star in My Mind cast reunion <3)

Style's plan is as follows: he dresses up as hotel staff and pretends to bring room service. That will give them access to the room and they'll see who Keen is with. Now that could be a good plan, except... did Style forget that Keen has seen him???? Did he forget that he's actually met and talked to Keen in the men's room of the bowling alley???? And even if Style was too tipsy at the time to remember him, only one episode ago Keen literally shot him, so like. he knows Style and Style should also know Keen knows him. What does he think will happen once he sees him????

Well, lucky for Style, it's Keen's boyfriend who opens up the door, not Keen. So that solves the mystery of who exactly he's with. Unlucky for Style, though, Keen does recognize his voice and he's also been expecting Fadel, so if Fadel's boyfriend is here then that must mean Fadel himself is also nearby. And so suddenly Keen appears at the door, gun pointed at Style. The very same gun whose bullet Style has gotten to feel on his own body before. Uncertain, Style turns to Fadel and squints his eyes a little. What now? Fadel doesn't know either. Style turns back to Keen and slowly walks inside the room.

Now, on the outside Style looks pretty calm and collected. But I think on the inside Style is actually terrified this time. Because he's completely silent. In fact, during this entire encounter, from the moment Keen first pulls a gun on him, our chatty cat Style doesn't say a single word until he kicks Keen at the end. Not a single time does Style try to talk himself out of it the way he tried when Fadel was the one pulling a gun on him or when those three men at the host club attacked Fadel. No, instead Style remains quiet, but attentive to the situation the entire time. And I think part of why he doesn't say a single word is because this conflict is between Fadel and Keen and Style is smart enough not to meddle, but I also think part of it is because he is genuinely scared.

Fadel is at the door soon after Style has disappeared inside. Keen guides him inside the room with his gun pointed at Fadel's back and orders him to drop his own gun and to kneel next to Style. Style looks tense and uncomfortable.

And again, I think Style is actually really scared right now. Fadel drops his gun onto the bed and Style stares at it for quite a long while.

That gun isn't gonna help them this time, lying on the bed like that. Fadel kneels next to Style and Style wordlessly stares at Keen, watches him as Fadel talks to him. Keen has the gun on Fadel the entire time and threatens him: "One wrong move..." To showcase what he plans to do if Fadel doesn't abide to his wishes, Keen moves the gun and points it at Style instead. Style immediately turns away.

Keen continues his implicit threat with explicit words: "...and I put a hole through his skull." Again, as calm as Style looks, I think he's actually terrified right now. He can't even look at the gun.

This is very different from any time Fadel was pointing a gun at him. Even when Style was tied up at the pool, he never really shied from the gun except for the very end of the scene where for a brief moment he thinks Fadel is actually about to kill him for real. But during that entire conversation he doesn't even turn away from Fadel that time he gets jumpscared when Fadel suddenly shoves the gun closer while putting his foot on the step and yelling at Style to shut up. But when Keen is the one pointing the gun, things are different. Because with Fadel, Style knew he was going to be fine. Style could handle Fadel. But Keen actually has it out for Style and that very gun that is being pointed at him has hurt him before. Style is severely uncomfortable in this situation. He doesn't say a single word, not even to defend himself. Fadel does tell him "No need to be scared" and I think part of it was to comfort Style, but mostly I think this was actually a stab at Keen. Especially with how Fadel immediately continues by saying "He doesn't have the gut to do that". Keen points the gun at Fadel again. Style continues to stay silent during the brothers' argument. Style doesn't meddle or interfere at all. He keeps completely quiet, paying close attention to what is happening. And so when he takes note of how Keen gets distracted, because he's too emotionally affected by Fadel's words about their parents, Style immediately uses that chance and bravely attacks Keen. From episode 3 we know that Style doesn't actually have the skills for a fight and so again we see that Style will just throw himself into a situation if he thinks he can help somehow, even if he doesn't necessarily have the skill set for it. And we also see how terrible of a fighter Keen himself really is (I had some more thoughts about it here), because Style, who is canonically bad at fist-fights, actually manages to overpower him and wrestle the gun out of his hand. In the meantime Fadel makes a grab for his own gun and threatens Keen with it. Style shoves Keen's boyfriend onto the bed and points Keen's gun at him. The Style + guns counter goes up to 7. At this point either the writers are mocking me or we really will see Style pull that trigger at some point. Keen asks Fadel not to hurt Nont and Fadel snaps: "You dare ask me to spare your boyfriend when you were going to shoot mine?"

Fadel actually repeats the word "boyfriend" in Thai:

You still dare to ask for your boyfriend's life? นี่มึงยังกล้าขอชีวิตแฟนมึงอีกหรอ [nîi - mueng - yang - glâa - kŏr - chii-wít - faen mueng - ìik - rŏr] [interjection] - you - still - dare (to) - ask for, request - life - your boyfriend - again, once more - ? Weren't you going to shoot my boyfriend? ทีมึงจะยิงแฟนกูเลยไม่ใช่หรอ [tii - mueng - jà - ying - faen guu - loiie - mâi châi - rŏr] [particle] - you - will - shoot - my boyfriend - [particle] - no - ?

And I think the repetition is probably just from the way the language works in general, but there's just something about hearing Fadel utter the words "faen guu" ("my boyfriend") that makes my heart sing after him vehemently denying it for two episodes straight. Especially considering how at the time of Keen trying to shoot (and ending up injuring) Style, Fadel was actually still refusing to call Style his boyfriend (although he also didn't outright deny it when Style called them boyfriends). And now he's finally back to explicitly calling Style his boyfriend. We love to see it.

Style still doesn't say a single word, even though he himself was actually very involved in the whole "Keen tried shooting Fadel's boyfriend" plot. In fact, he was a main character in it. Style is clearly out of his element here. This is Fadel's area of expertise and also Fadel's conflict. And so for once, Style shuts up and lets Fadel do all the talking.

First, Fadel was the one dropping truth bombs on Keen. Now Keen is returning the favor: Lilly not only killed their parents but in addition she also had Fadel's ex killed. When those news are out, Style immediately turns his head to check on Fadel:

Style has context now, Style knows Fadel thinks the ex just up and left him without a word. And he knows that this new information greatly changes Fadel's worldview. Fadel and Keen continue to yell at each other and Style doesn't take his eyes off of Fadel. The camera is on Fadel and so we only get short glimpses of Style watching Fadel when the camera moves to the side enough for us to see Style's face for a second, so it's a bit hard to interpret what exactly Style is thinking in this moment, but I think the reason why he's watching Fadel so carefully is first of all, to check on him how he's taking the information and second of all, probably also to see if he's gonna do anything to Keen. But Fadel doesn't. They yell at each other for a bit and then Fadel has to turn around and process things for himself for a moment. The fact that he actually turns his back on Keen shows that Fadel really is back to trusting Style again. Because I don't think he would have just turned away from Keen like that if he didn't trust Style to have his back if Keen tried to attack him in this vulnerable state. Style turns to Fadel a little, still clearly uncomfortable in this situation, unsure what to do or what to say, especially now that such a huge bomb shell was dropped onto the person he loves. And he still doesn't utter a single word.

Fadel takes quite a while to process and when we next see Style, he's looking at Keen and Nont again, his expression now very stern.

The fear has faded. Style is in protective mode now. But he still doesn't say a word. He still doesn't interfere. He just waits to see what Fadel wants to do about this situation. Fadel finally regains his composure and suggests Keen a deal. Then Fadel only says Style's name and gestures with his hand. Style immediately obeys, no questions asked. He grabs Nont and pulls him off the bed. Fadel threatens Keen one more time, then walks away. Style watches Fadel leave the room. Before he follows Fadel out, Style kicks Keen and shouts "That's for shooting me!" and it's satisfying to witness, especially considering that this is Style who rarely ever holds grudges.

Style pulls Nont along as he moves to walk out the room himself. Now the question is... Did Style only take Nont to the door as some sort of human shield in case Keen had any stupid ideas and then let Nont go in the hallway or something? Or did Fadel and Style take Nont as an actual hostage? I guess we'll find out next episode. Hopefully.

No. 8: Hurt/Comfort

When they confronted Keen at the hotel, the sun was still out. Now the sun is long gone. I wonder how much time has passed since Fadel found out the news and what happened in between? Did they stay together? Was Style taking care of Nont first while Fadel already went to sit outside somewhere and that's why Style arrives a little later? Or did they separate? Did Fadel call or text Style to come meet him there, because he was feeling like shit?

Either way, Style finds Fadel sitting on some stone stairs and close to tears. Style stands in front of him for a moment with a concerned look on his face, before he sits down next to Fadel. First thing he does is to gently wipe away a tear that has escaped Fadel's eyes before he asks "Are you alright?" He also tells Fadel "You can talk to me, you know?" and then he just waits. He doesn't pressure Fadel to open up, he leaves the decision to open up entirely up to Fadel. Style always does this, actually. He never pressures Fadel to share if he isn't ready to. Only last episode, when Style was asking about the guy from the picture he waited for Fadel to answer without rushing him and when Fadel ignored the question, Style was quick to apologize and to tell him that it was okay if Fadel didn't want to share. Or in episode 5, when he asked about why Fadel goes to the Rise Up meetings he also patiently waited for Fadel to speak willingly and then waited again only moments later when he asked about how Fadel's parents died. Style offers Fadel a safe space to open up, but ultimately leaves the decision to take and make use of that safe space up to Fadel. It's no different here on the stairs. "You can talk to me," Style says and he wants Fadel to talk to him, to trust him enough to open up and to share his pain with Style, but he absolutely won't pressure Fadel into it. He offers Fadel a safe space and then waits. It takes 13 seconds for Fadel to open up. And when he does, he really talks. As soon as Fadel starts to speak, he shares without any hesitation like he did last episode when he told Style about his ex in the first place. He no longer shares just a sentence or two like he did back in episode 5. It all comes spilling out of Fadel now: "You know what? I've always blamed myself. I thought… He left because of me, because he was scared of me. He didn't want a future with me." Style sits and listens intently. Fadel ends with:

So that's why I don't wanna have anyone. กูก็เลยไม่อยากมีใครไง [guu - gôh loiie - mâi - yàak - mii - krai - ngai] I - as a result, that's why - not - want - have - anyone - [particle] Official subs: That’s why I don’t want to get close to anyone.

Style thinks about Fadel's words for a moment, then looks at him, raises his eyebrows and nods like Yeah, that tracks.

This really does explain a lot. In retrospective, all of Fadel's behavior and actions make so much more sense now with the added context. Style doesn't just think that to himself, but he also tells Fadel explicitly:

Ever since I found out about this, ตั้งแต่กูรู้เรื่องเนี่ย [dtâng dtàe - guu - rúu - rêuuang nîia] since, from - I - know - this thing, this matter Official subs: Now that I found out about this, it makes me understand everything about why you are the way you are. มันทำให้กูเข้าใจความเป็นมึงทุกอย่างเลยนะ  [man - tam hâi - guu - kâo-jai - kwaam bpen mueng - túk yàang - loiie - ná] it - makes that - I - understand - the being you - everything - [particle] - [particle] Official subs: I finally understood you And why it was so difficult to woo you. ว่าทำไมมึงถึงจีบยาก [wâa - tam-mai - mueng - tĕung - jìip - yâak] that - why - you - get to - flirt (with), hit on, woo - difficult Official subs: and why you were so closed-minded before.

Fadel looks up and his jaw clenches for a split second. Style is looking back at him with an attentive expression, almost giving him the tiniest smile.

(Is it just me or does the left corner of his mouth (to our right) twitch very subtly?)

Fadel elaborates on why that is: "I don't want to have any expectations just to be disappointed." Style is still looking at Fadel, still listening intently. He gives just the tiniest nod after Fadel says this.

He empathizes with Fadel. This time Style doesn't say anything, though. He stays quiet again and just lets Fadel continue talking whenever he's ready to share more. And things just continue to spill out of Fadel under tears: "I never thought… that he'd be dead because of me. If only I didn't want to quit my job, if only I didn't get close to him… He'd still be alive." Style looks away from Fadel again, contemplating Fadel's words, his expression serious.

When he looks back at Fadel, there is something on Style's mind that he does want Fadel to hear: "It wasn't your fault. Lilly was the one who had him killed. It was her fault. Don't blame yourself." Style's voice is soft, but there is a bit of an urgency to his tone as he says this. It's important to Style that Fadel understands that he has no reason to continue blaming himself. Style ends his little speech with "You had the full right to love and to want a future with him" and his voice sounds so very gentle and kind. And I just love that the writers never made Style be jealous of the ex, but instead made him so understanding. Style is here to help Fadel work through his trauma, to support him, to be his safe space and his shoulder to cry on. And it's beautiful.

Fadel slowly lifts his head and looks up at Style. The moment their eyes meet, Style tilts his head just a little bit closer to Fadel and that makes it look like he becomes even more focused on Fadel as he waits for Fadel to say something back.

But as it turns out, Fadel can't embrace Style's words right now, can't bring himself to believe them. Because in his experience, things don't go well. And so he drops a bit of a bombshell on Style:

You see it now, don't you, Style? มึงเห็นแล้วใช่มั้ยสไตล์ [mueng - hĕn - láew - châi mái - Style] you - see - already, now - right? - Style Official subs: You see now, Style? That loving me will lead you to death. ว่าการรักกูจะพามึงไปตายอ่ะ [wâa - gaan rák - guu - jà - paa - mueng - bpai - dtaai - àh] that - loving - me - will - lead, bring, take - you - go - die - [particle] Official subs: The only thing my love will lead you to is death.

Yeah. The official translation actually completely turned around the meaning. In Thai Fadel doesn't say that him loving someone is what leads to death, but it's him being loved that leads to death. The problem isn't that Fadel can't love, no, the problem is that Fadel can't be loved. Because the moment someone loves him that person is in danger. Fadel can't allow himself to receive love, because that will lead to dire consequences. This is also why Style later says "You deserve love". It refers right back to this line here and to Fadel being convinced that he can't accept anyone's love. Fadel says "Loving me will lead you to death" and Style swallows, his expression now slightly less soft and more serious compared to how it was before.

Style, believer in the power of love, who loves so ferociously with all his heart, gets told that this very love will be his death sentence if he keeps on loving Fadel specifically. Those aren't exactly cheerful news. You can't love me, because you will die, Fadel tells him and I think that hurts Style, because first of all, it's not exactly a great thing to be told "your feelings will cost you your life" and second of all, I think he's also hurt for Fadel, is hurt that the person he loves so dearly would shy away from receiving love, because to them it's a terrible, traumatic experience. And what's more, I'm pretty sure once's he's heard that line Style understands Fadel is about to drop a break-up speech. And breaking up is absolutely not in the cards for Style.

Fadel looks at him full of desperation and says:

It's better if you leave my life. มึงออกไปจากชีวิตกูเถอะนะ [mueng - òhk bpai - jàak - chii-wít guu - tùh - ná] you - go out, leave - from - my life - [particle] - [particle] Official subs: Please just leave me.

Fadel tells Style "I won't even get mad at you" and it's kind of reminiscent of that one time in the beginning of episode 5 where he told Style he'd be cool with it if Style suddenly wanted to back out of the relationship after all. Except now Fadel needs Style to back out of the relationship, because he's terrified for Style's safety. Style looks away and thinks about Fadel's words again, looking almost a little tense now.

This really is a break-up speech and Style definitely doesn't like where it's going. He doesn't say anything yet, though. And Fadel continues:

Live the life you want to live. มึงใช้ชีวิตที่มึงอยากใช้ [mueng - chái chii-wít - tîi - mueng - yàak - chái] you - live life - that - you - want (to) - live (lit. "use") Official subs: Live the life you deserve. Don't entrust your life to me. มึงอย่ามาฝากชีวิดกับกูเลยนะ [mueng - yàa - maa - fàak - chii-wít - gàp - guu - loiie - ná] you - not - come - entrust - life - with - me - [particle] - [particle] Official subs: Don’t leave it with me.

Now Style really can't shut up anymore. "Why would you say this?" Style almost sounds kind of offended now. And when he says "It hurts my feelings, you know?" he's really angry. All that softness from before is momentarily gone. And it makes sense for him to be angry now. Only last episode he was angry when everyone just ignored his own agency in this whole thing. And Fadel is about to do the very same thing again. But Style is perfectly capable of making his own choices, especially when it's about how to live his very own life. Fadel can't decide Style's own life choices for him. And what's more: after all this time, does Fadel still not know Style? Does Fadel still not understand just how loyal Style is? Does Fadel still not believe that Style will stick by his side through life and death? Does Fadel still not believe it, despite the fact that Style was literally out there proving it over and over again in episodes 8 and 9? It makes Style really upset that Fadel has so little faith in him. And I think it also hurts him that Fadel would think of him as the kind of person who'd just up and leave the person they love the moment things get difficult and not pretty. "What kind of man do you take me for?" is a question that Style asked Fadel back in episode 3 already after their storage room hook-up. And now the very same question is relevant again. That question is the subtext of when Style asks "Why would you say this?" and Style then also goes on to elaborate on it: "I'm not the type to be scared of dying and ditch the person I love.* I'm not selfish like that."

*กูไม่ใช่พวกที่จะกลัวตายแล้วทิ้งคนที่รักนะ [guu - mâi châi - pûuak - tîi - jà - gluua - dtaai - láew - tíng - kon - tîi - rák - ná] I - not - group, community - that - will - be scared (of), fear - die - and - leave, discard - person - that - love - [particle] Official subs: I'm not the type to leave the one I love to save my life.

The anger in his voice is already gone when he says this. His tone is softer again compared to when he told Fadel that his feelings were hurt, and there is also some slight urgency to his tone again. It's important to Style that his words really reach Fadel. He really needs it to get through to Fadel that there is absolutely no way Style is leaving him, especially not now in this state, in this condition. Not in his wildest dreams would Style ever even think to just abandon the person he loves at rock bottom. Because that's not at all how he views love: "Love is something you fight for together. You stay by each other's side, no matter what obstacles you run into.*"

*ต้องอยู่ข้างๆ กันไม่ว่าจะเจออุปสรรคแค่ไหน [dtông - yùu - kâang kâang gan - mâi wâa - jà - jer - ù-bpà-sàk - kâe năi] must - be, stay - by each other's side, next to each other - no matter, regardless of - will - meet, find - obstacle - how many Official subs: Stay by each other's side through every obstacle.

Lilly killing Fadel's old boyfriend and Style's life now also being in danger is an obstacle they're facing in their relationship, but they're gonna face it together. No way Style is gonna ditch Fadel. Because: "If I was scared of you*, I’d have run away the day I found out you’re a hitman."

*ถ้ากูกลัวมึงอ่ะ [tâa - guu - gluua - mueng - àh] if - I - scared of, fear - you - [particle] Official subs: If I was scared,

Yeah. I need you to know that Style is actually more specific in Thai. It's not the entire situation or Lilly or anything else that he's referring to here. No. He's referring to being scared of Fadel specifically and he also explicitly says that. He says "If I was scared of you", in other words he's saying You don't scare me which is something Fadel really needs to hear. Style already told him that last episode when Fadel first opened up about his old boyfriend, and now Style is repeating it, both for emphasis but also as a reminder. Style is not scared of Fadel, because if he was he could have easily backed out much sooner than this. Because the reality of the matter is that initially he was scared of Fadel for a moment right after Kant told him the truth. But then Fadel never gave Style a reason to actually be scared of him and Style fell deeply in love anyway:

But that I'm still staying / But that I still stayed แต่ที่กูยังอยู่ [dtàe - tîi - guu - yang - yùu] but - that - I - still - stay Official subs: But I stay with you is because I love that you're you / is because I love you for being you เพราะกูรักที่เป็นมึง [próh - guu - rák - tîi - bpen - mueng] because - I - love - that - be - you Official subs: because I love who you are. And I'm confident, you know, that you're the person I desire. แล้วกูมั่นใจนะ ว่ามึงคือคนที่กูต้องการ [láew - guu - mân-jai - ná • wâa - mueng - kue - kon - tîi - guu - dtông-gaan] and - I - be certain, confident - [particle] • that - you - are - person - that - I - want, require Official subs: I know for sure that you're the one I want.

I'm not entirely sure about how accurate "desire" is as a translation here, but I chose it for the lack of a better word. In Thai there are actually two words for saying "want": อยาก [yàak] and ต้องการ [dtông-gaan]. I asked my friend about the about the difference and he explained that ต้องการ [dtông-gaan] is more serious, you don't want the thing because you just feel like it, but there's a deeper/more serious reason behind it. The example he gave was if you say you อยาก [yàak] some candy then it's clear that you just wanna have some candy because you feel like eating it, but if you say you ต้องการ [dtông-gaan] candy, then you have a deeper reason for it, like for example you're a diabetic who's sugar levels are getting low. Style uses the more serious word ต้องการ [dtông-gaan] here when he says he wants Fadel. Him wanting Fadel is not just a fleeting mood. Style's voice is very firm now. Style means every single word that he says. And nothing that Fadel says or does will changes Style's stance on this matter. In episode 5 Fadel told Style to judge once he's seen all of Fadel, and this right here is Style making his choice knowing the entire truth of the situation. A choice, that in reality he had already made in episode 5. Style loves Fadel and he's made his choice to be with him five episodes ago and nothing so far has made him want to change his mind. On the contrary, he's just gotten even more determined the better he gets to know and understands Fadel. And it had to be Style. The person to worm his way through Fadel's walls had to be Style. Style, beacon of hope and optimism and unwavering loyalty. Style, who is even more stubborn than Fadel is.

For the past minute, Fadel has now been the one to intently listen to Style's words. When Style finishes his little speech, a tear rolls from Fadel's eye. Style lifts his hand and wipes it away with his thumb. Then he takes Fadel's face into both hands and sighs. He doesn't want to see Fadel this miserable. Style continues to gently wipe away the tears from Fadel's face. Then he tells Fadel: "There's no need to be afraid. You and I will be fine. Everything will turn out alright. Knowing how much you care about me makes me certain that I didn't choose the wrong man. You deserve love just like anyone."

And for those who are curious, here is a more literal translation of the last two sentences:

The more I know how much you care about me, ยิ่งกูรู้ว่ามึงแค่ร์กูขนาดเนี่ย [yîng - guu - rúu - wâa - mueng - kâe - guu - kà-nàat nîia] the more - I - know - that - you - care (about) - me - like this, this much the more I know that I don't love the wrong person. มันยิ่งทำให้รู้นะว่ากูอ่ะ รักคนไม่ผิด [man - yîng - tam hâi - rúu - ná - wâa - guu - àh • rák - kon - mâi - pìt] it - the more - make that, cause - know - [particle] - that - I - [particle] • love - person - not - wrong You deserve love very much. มึงคู่ควรกับความรักมากๆ เลยนะ [mueng - kûu kuuan - gàp - kwaam rák - mâak mâak - loiie - ná] you - deserve, fit - with - love - very much, a lot - [particle for emphasis] - [particle]

When Style says "deserve" he actually uses the word คู่ควร [kûu kuuan] which my friend explained as a very poetic word that isn't really used in real life unless you're being sarcastic. Obviously Style is not being sarcastic here and I think it's sweet that he expresses himself in a poetic way.

Style's voice as he talks to Fadel now is both so firm and determined and urgent, but at the same time it's also so gentle and soft and warm. And it's so very filled with love. Filled to the brim with love. The love that Fadel thinks he's not allowed to accept, because it will lead to his loved ones dying. But Style doesn't care that he might die. Style loves so fully and so wholeheartedly and so earnestly, and he will give Fadel all the love Style knows Fadel so desperately needs. Because Fadel deserves to be loved. And Style will stay right here by Fadel's side, loving him fiercely no matter what dangers they'll face.

When Style is done with his little speech, you can literally see him trying to figure out and thinking hard about whether it's okay to kiss Fadel now. Whether Fadel will be okay with it or if it maybe overwhelms him right now after all of that. But in the end Style raises his eyebrows as he decides Fuck it, I'm kissing him.

And then he leans in slowly, very slowly, so that Fadel has more than enough time to react and to pull away if he feels uncomfortable with being kissed right now. But Fadel lets him, and Style kisses him so very gently with all the love that he has. And actually, even when Fadel has already clearly given his consent by letting Style kiss him in the first place, in the beginning Style still opens his eyes for a brief moment to check Fadel's reaction, to check if Fadel really is okay with being kissed right now.

They break apart and again Style observes Fadel's face intently. Fadel has his undivided attention, nothing matters right now but Fadel and his well-being. Style is gonna make sure Fadel leaves this place feeling much better than when he got here.

But Fadel still looks rather dejected. So Style gently pulls Fadel's head closer and kisses his forehead. Then he goes back to simply just holding Fadel's face and looking at him. And that's when Fadel really breaks. He pulls Style into a sudden hug and cries into his shoulder. It's the second time this has happened and this time Style is actually aware of it. And this time Fadel is fully aware of just how much Style actually truly loves him. Style holds Fadel as Fadel trembles in Style's arms.

Now, the trembling. I wanna talk about the trembling for a moment. Because I have a mother who works in the medical field and she's mentioned on multiple occasion how trauma release can manifest in the body through shaking and trembling. And when I saw that I was like "YES!! YES!!" Because, remember how Style draws tears on Fadel in episode 6? In the episode itself that worked as direct foreshadowing to Fadel crying tears because of Style's "betrayal" of course, but the first time I watched the scene it didn't even occur to me that this could be foreshadowing to the episode ending in Fadel's tears. No, my very first thought upon seeing those drawn tears was "Are those the tears Fadel never got to cry?" And if you read and remember my ep6 meta, when I got to this part I actually wrote:

I do hope later down the line we'll get a scene where Fadel finally lets it all out, let's out all the pain from all the trauma(s) he's been through while Style is right by his side, supporting him through it, is there for him. Because they'll do this together and Style will always be ready to happily offer and create a safe space for Fadel, just like he did in episode 5 when he was asking Fadel about his parents or when he was trying to get Fadel to let lose and dance a little in the bowling alley or now when he's offering to wear matching make-up with Fadel. And when Fadel cries (and I hope he will cry, and not just from Style's "betrayal"), then Style will offer a safe space for Fadel to cry in, too.

(Bolded for emphasis.)

And I am sooo, so happy I actually got this!! Fadel crying out all of his trauma while Style is there to support him and to hold him through it. Maybe the make-up tears were double foreshadowing after all: In episode 6, Style offered a safe space to Fadel and drew fake tears on him. In episode 10, Style offers a safe space to Fadel and Fadel cries real tears. And both these episodes are the only two episodes that ended with me just staring into thin air for a while afterwards, unable to form any coherent thought. That's it, meta canceled. I'm gonna go throw myself off a cliff now. Bye.

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5 | Ep6 | Ep7 | Ep8 | Ep9 | Ep11 | Ep12)

[29daffodils]

petition for twitter fans to actually look deep into things and not make snap judgements about characters and their trauma related manifestations (or whatever) before the 12 eps are out

i wanna scream about how bison's dom status is just as valid even though he craves affection and even if it's (probably, most certainly) a trauma response

i really need people with good meta skills (like the OOP) to actually take everything into account and write unbiased analyses because WHAT IS THIS BRO

(p.s. : i'll expand on this dw, i have a huge rant ready)

[gorgeousmanfounddeadinacroptop]

finally watching thk ep 10 after some evil work days

-there they are kant and style in there fuck ass standing on business pose how i missed them

-bisons a loose cannon

-i told you actually we all told you

-ok so he still ordered the hit

-i fear none of the punches in this show look real

-so it was keen!

-is everyone in this bowling alley gay?

-kants gay little run

-how romantic!

-sorta kinky ngl

-very intense for like a two month relationship

-wait that staring contest was sorta hot

-he literally asked if he wanted to get punished omg

-ah yes kdrama arm grab

-i dont understand does fadel think he can ever win with style? like you couldnt win w a gun to his head!

-style my beloved

-the ill fitting hat over his big ass head

-its like he threw the hat up and walked underneath it

-them just not giving a fuck about their third brother dkdkrkr

-im sorry is that an ohio shirt??? where is all this american memorabilia coming from

-except you two fucked in hallways and on the floor of his dads garage before making it to a bed!

-this thats so raven ass episode 

-doing this in front of your loose cannon murderer boyfriend is RISKY

-mind you she has a husband at home

-all this over the lady who killed your parents

-ok now he knows

-style is INSANE

-and like we know that but he keeps shocking me

-shit

-he needs a bigger hat or a smaller head i know its a tense moment but this is absurd

-this bluff but god bless

-style kills me character of all time

-QUE THE BRITNEY

-oops i did it again i played with your heart got lost in the game

-someone pointed out how deranged this scene is and now i cant stop thinking about it

-oh theyre talking about the titanic

-mind you he made you jump

-thats less kissing and more sucking

-why are they in the pool where fadel wanted to kill style

-you tell him style! dont let him blame himself got something he didnt do

-oh and he calls style dramatic your a drama queen too diva

-style really is character of all time

-honestly nothing short of cheating is gonna get rid of style

-im gonna ask this every time WHY IS THERE A WHITE POLICE OFFICER IN THAILAND

-if they do everything ep 11 whats ep 12 gonna be?

[pixelplushies]

TY Beanie Baby time!

From left to right we have:

Roam the Bison, purchased from a charity shop on Edinburgh in October 2023 (I think?)

Jersey the Cow, eBay purchase May 2021

Olé the Bull, another eBay purchase April 2021

Frosty the Bull, eBay 2021

This blog is a bit Oops! all Cows!

[delicatebeauties]

Thank you op for the video.

Yes kant & style resort to seduction and bratting when the ones they love are slightly out of reach.

Style breaks when he is ignored while Fadel is battling his very real feelings

While Kant breaks when he sees the one he loves hurting and calls stop.

Style 🤝 Kant

Having zero self preservation skills

[paalove]

Well *now* I wish you would write a superhero/villain AU for THK :/ (how would that even work for Kant though.)

so this is about my tags on this post:

#oh btw superhero/villain au where hes developing spiderman powers but has not noticed#hes Decided hes in the civilian/antihero (just a murderer in a mask) romance so hes ignoring the webs. thats just his cum hes pretty sure#the heart killers

which means that fadelstyle's plotline is sorted, yeah. specifically, fadel is a cult-popular "antihero" but bison is a widely recognised straight-up villain (he teams up with hero teams when fadel's on them from time to time but nobody knows theyre actually in on anything together). meanwhile, heroes in general have a tenuous relationship with law enforcement - it's more a "vigilante menace" perception than anything else.

which is the crime that this kant gets caught for, that lets the captain of the anti-super taskforce get him over a barrel.

...

Bison's nemesis is cute.

Trembling, he says, "Don't-" as the knife tears his mask.

"Oops," Bison laughs, as it catches on his skin. "Call it a shaving mistake."

Then he leans in and tastes Black Mask's breath.

Licks the blood.

"What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" he asks.

...

yeah this makes him and fadel occasional coworkers, and also makes this my second firstkhao superhero/villain romance 💖🥰

[jamiemak0]

i still don’t understand the honda/dhalsim hate ESPECIALLY since they’re the cast of sf2 like oops sorry that a silly sumo guy and a yoga monk is on the sf6 roster instead of what you wished for because they’re one of the old popular characters of… sf2. this also to blanka, deejay, guile, & BISON.

you guys SIMP for chun-li and cammy who are BOTH in sf2. you milk ryu & ken content because they’re important to the lore who are BOTH in sf2.

i think their haters are proving their hypocrisy lol. god forbid a character to join a game just to keep up with their lore and development and story. if y’all hated them so bad why don’t you beg capcom to delete their popular characters and keep on sexualizing your women of street fighter by giving them big tots and making porn bait works? or make foot fetish content with juri? or mischaracterize the hell out of them?

[chopprface]

ive been playing an absurd amount of risk of rain lately and ive started to wonder about a BW au where they ended up on petrichor V (maybe the preds replacing the contact light and the maximals replacing safe travels?) so heres my altmode ideas for the cast

rattrap: blind vermin > spitter

depth charge: one of the wandering vagrant variants (maybe the juveniles from the first game)

inferno: beetle guard (megatron has the queens gland?)

megatron: scorch wurm > magma worm > gilded wurm

dinobot: elder lemurian (dinobot II can be acrid cause i love acrid)

optimus primal: stone golem > stone titan > aurelionite (he fuses with him instead of prime)

tigatron: mini mushrum

airrazor: swift/alloy vulture

tigerhawk: kur ska the heretic (idk just makes sense to me)

cheetor: wisp > greater wisp > ancient wisp

rampage: void devastator (sand crab could work too but i wanted him to be a boss to point out his power)

blackarachnia and tarantulas: mechanical spiders

waspinator: aspid

terrorsaur: blind pest (different from vermin, pests are fliers)

quickstrike: lemurian calvary

silverbolt: evolved lemurian

scorponok: sand crab

ravage: imp

rhinox: bighorn bison

i mightve forgotten one or two of them.. oops

[soullumii]

it's a risk but babe, i need the thrill | joel miller x f!reader

part 1, part 2

summary: everything finally comes to a head

warnings: 18+!!! smut! unprotected piv, gentle smut

tags: angst, reconciliation, fluff, pining, smut (but it's light compared to the other two parts), halloween vibes (i was supposed to finish this in october, oops)

word count: 5.8k

a/n: guys. i am SO SORRY for the wait. this was so hard for me to finish i almost gave up so many times. i'm still unhappy with this but i can't make myself work on it anymore so here u go. thank you all so much for your patience, i really appreciate it. special thank you to @joelsfaveouritegirl for your support... i probably would've never finished this if it weren't for you, so thank you. <3. and thanks to all of you who kept me accountable. i hope you enjoy this fucking mess. also, this is probably the last joel fic i'll write for a while. i'm sorry. still, i hope you like this.

______________________________________________________________

There are only two seasons in Jackson, Wyoming: winter and not winter.

Where other states might have a gradual shift from warm to cold, in Wyoming, it’s like a slap to the face, quite literally. The moment you step into the evening October air, it feels as if you’ve walked into a wall of cold. 

You shiver in your thick coat, and pull your scarf over your frosty nose as you meander down to the plaza.

While Jackson residents enjoy their time indoors and close to the fireplace during the colder months, they still love to celebrate outdoors, relying on their booze to keep them warm.

You don’t stop by Joel’s for a drink this time, he’s likely already in town square, dragged there by his daughter. Or… sort of daughter. He’s told you how he feels about Ellie, but the girl has her own opinions. Sure, she might deny that he’s like her dad, but she sure as hell treats him like he is. 

You’re meeting them there. 

The stars are already twinkling in the sky when you reach the throng of people. All of Jackson’s residents are in the plaza tonight for Halloween, dressed in homemade costumes and ones raided from the Party City in Idaho Falls. Jack-o-lanterns glow menacingly in corners and scarecrows are propped against brick walls. A few people in particularly frightening costumes prowl about, startling kids and adults alike.

Stalls line the edges of the plaza, each one providing something different. Tipsy Bison’s stall is run by Tommy, serving alcohol for the adults of the town. Seth’s stall is serving pork and brisket sandwiches. There’s a few stalls down the road advertising pumpkins and pastries, and you get a whiff of apple cider. Barrels of fire are scattered about to provide warmth. Lights are strung from the roofs of buildings, spread across the road, like clothes on a clothesline. 

It’s incredibly cozy, and already, you feel much warmer than you did walking out of your house. 

Within moments of passing Seth’s stall you hear Ellie’s voice ring out. 

“She's here!”

You can’t see her weaving through the crowd but you can see Joel trailing behind, his arm trapped in front of him. He politely excuses himself and apologizes to those he bumps into as his daughter drags him through a crowd of people. 

You can’t help but laugh, especially when you hear him say, “Jesus, kid, slow down.” 

And then she’s in front of you, smiling and bouncing excitedly on her heels, dressed as one of the superheroes from the comics she reads. Joel is behind her wearing a black blindfold with the eyes cut out, and a felt superhero crest is stitched to the front of his black sweater. He looks very adorable. Clearly, Ellie forced him to dress up. His gaze catches yours, full of something you can’t quite grasp, a small, embarrassed smile on his lips.

“Hi,” he says, voice soft.

“Hi,” you repeat.

It’s been… well… you’re not quite sure how to describe how it’s been since you told him to stop kissing you. 

It’s not like you guys have stopped seeing each other since then. Or that it’s been more awkward or anything. It just feels as if you’ve been depriving your body of what it needs, like you’re actively starving yourself. 

You’d feel full while he was fucking you, and yet there was a hole in your chest, gnawing at your thoughts, a hunger so deep rooted that it’s been taking you longer to come. 

Joel had noticed, too. Noticed your struggle and your frustration. He took it as something he was doing wrong, even though you insisted that wasn’t the case. Still, he took his time with you, trying to meet all your needs, and that, funnily enough, just made you feel worse. 

Your meetings have grown fewer. Sometimes you would go a couple weeks without seeing each other—at least like that.  Funny, how before you were so upset when he hadn’t been with you for a while. And now… now the distance is needed.

You still went out to dinner with him and Tommy and Maria. You still stopped by to say hi to Ellie and ask Joel how he’s been. Things have been normal, besides the overwhelming feeling of longing that strikes your breast the moment you see him. 

You worry that it shows on your face, especially because of the dreams you’ve been having, like some lovesick teenager. Dreams that don’t involve just having sex. Dreams that frame the two of you as lovers, as parents as… growing old together. 

Sometimes you’ll wake up crying, wondering if maybe you should just stop seeing him, talking to him, being around him all together. But then you’ll see him in town, or on patrols, and you know you’d never be able to stay away.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, and turn your attention to Ellie. 

“Hey kiddo!” You greet, plastering a smile on. She doesn’t seem to notice your being off. 

“You’re not dressed up,” she remarks, arms crossing over her chest. 

“Um. Yes I am,” you gesture to your black sweater and black pants. “I’m a black cat.” 

“You don’t even have ears or whiskers and a nose. That's a terrible costume.” 

Joel squeezes her shoulder with a frown. “Hey, quit.”

“No, she’s fine. She’s right,” you sigh. “This was super last minute.” 

“Cat is doing face painting down by the haunted house. You should let her paint some whiskers on you.” 

You take a glance at Joel and he shrugs. God he looks ridiculous in that costume. Your heart constricts. You might as well be as ridiculous as him. 

“That sounds great,” you say. Ellie looks like she’s about to drag you there when Dina comes running around the corner, practically slamming into her. 

“Hey!” Ellie laughs, “Slow down.” 

“You have to come with me. We’re going to do the haunted house, Jesse is already waiting for us. Come on,” Dina says, and pulls Ellie away before you and Joel can say a thing. 

The two of you stand there for a moment, watching the kids with fond smiles before finally looking at each other. 

His gaze seems to soften impossibly more when it lands on you.

“Your costume is kinda lame,” he says after a moment. 

“Oh shut up.”

**

The paintbrush glides smoothly over your skin as Cat paints the tip of your nose black and whiskers on your cheeks. You keep sneaking glances at Joel who waits patiently for your face painting session to finish.

Once you’re done you stride over to him, grinning.

“Well?” You prompt, turning around and showing off your newly improved costume. “Not so lame anymore, huh?”

He chuckles, eyes roaming your figure. Heat simmers low in your belly at the glint in his dark eyes. “Much better.”

He pauses, eyes catching on your face. “Hey, wait.” He grabs your hand and pulls you in close. He’s warm, a nice contrast to the cool October air. You want to just snuggle up to him, wriggle your fingers up under his sweater to share his warmth.

“You got a little somethin’…” he trails off, hand coming up to press his thumb to your skin. He gently wipes off a stray black smudge from beneath your eye. It takes no less than five seconds, yet it feels like an eternity. Your chest presses into his, his hand is warm as it cups your cheek. His breath puffs against your lips, an almost kiss. And his eyes, focused so dearly on the smudge, slowly drift up to lock with yours. 

“Perfect,” he mumbles, gaze never straying from yours. His hand never leaves your cheek, his thumb brushing carefully below your eye once more, a soft, subconscious caress now.

“Thanks,” you breathe.

Time feels like it’s stopped. 

A kid rushes by with a delighted scream as another kid in a costume chases after him. You and Joel jolt apart, snapped back into motion.

He clears his throat and you swallow hard.

“You want somethin’ to drink?” he asks.

“Yes, please.”

***

Tommy is beaming with his own little flush of alcohol when you and Joel come across his stall.

Maria hangs by his side, but her eyes follow every action happening around you. Ever the diligent leader.

“Howdy,” Tommy says, and Maria takes the time to glance over at the two of you with a welcoming smile.

“Hey,” Joel says, and you nod your head in greeting.

“You guys lookin’ for a drink?” Tommy asks. “We’ve got spiked apple cider.”

You bounce excitedly on your toes at that. Joel laughs lightly at the way your expression brightens. “We’ll take two.”

“Comin’ right up.”

“You’ve done a great job planning for this, Maria. Everything looks amazing,” you say.

She turns to you, and to your surprise, she looks a bit bashful. “Thanks. Everyone on the council helped a lot. I’m glad we can provide something fun like this.”

“The kids really need it.”

“I think the adults do, too. It’s nice to be able to scream without it being true fear.”

“Amen to that,” Tommy pipes up and sets two mugs of steaming spiked apple cider down. 

“Thanks, Tommy,” Joel says, and hands you a mug.

“There’s a haunted house down the road, you guys should go check it out. Laney and Paul spent a long time on it,” Maria says.

“We will, thanks. See you guys around!”

You wave goodbye to them and make your way through the plaza. Joel’s hand finds the small of your back, warm and steady. You’re glad for it, as scarers prowl along the streets, jumping out randomly and thrusting their hands in your face.

The haunted house lingers at the edge of the road like a ghost. Party City decorations blot the yard: gravestones, plastic skeletons, witches with rotted cloaks. It’s like everything they could manage to carry was dumped here. 

A line curves outside the door, kids bouncing on their feet as they await their turns. You feel a little ridiculous joining them, being your age, but Joel probably feels even more ridiculous so you push the thought from your mind.

“I’m actually kind of nervous,” you tell him as screams ring out from within the house.

“This thing ain’t nearly as terrifyin’ as the real world,” Joel says.

“Yeah, but still. I’ve never been a fan of being scared.” 

Joel takes a sip of his spiked apple cider and shrugs. “I’ll protect ya.”

“My hero,” you coo and run your hand over the superhero crest stitched to his chest. He smiles. 

Soon enough you’re at the door. 

“You go first,” you tell Joel, and shove him in front of you, but you don’t let go of him.

"Good to know you're not afraid to throw me to the wolves."

"Your sacrifice will not be in vain."

He rolls his eyes but lets you fist one of your hands in his sweater and hold onto his arm with the other. You peer around him as the two of you venture inside. 

A radio plays spooky sounds from all directions as you trail behind Joel through the house. Your eyes flit across every crevice, searching for who is going to scare you. Still, you don’t notice everything.

From seemingly nowhere, someone pops out in a Michael Meyers mask with a fake knife. You screech and hold tight to Joel. He hardly even flinches.

“How are you so chill?” you ask with a pout once you’ve recovered. Red lights flash in the hallway. Your voice is shaking. God, you’re a wimp.

“Because I’ve got someone I need to protect. I can’t act all scared, now, can I?”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s just making shit up. He’s not scared at all.

You get closer and closer to him as the house progresses. Your hands are now interlinked, your cheek pressed against the warm muscle of his shoulder blades. You’re practically on top of him, trying to stay as close as possible. 

Even with Joel acting so nonchalant, you’re scared. You get jump scared a few more times as you continue, thankful that your hands are preoccupied with holding onto Joel else you might’ve punched one of the scarers.

Eventually you make it to the end in one piece, your heart racing. You know it’s ridiculous—Ellie probably got through this with a straight face. Still, it’s kind of fun, being scared. You’re giggling into Joel’s sweater by the end of it, and he’s tucked you into his side, hand still interlocked with yours as you meander back to the plaza.

Warmth blossoms in your chest. Is this what it would be like if you were truly together? You feel the urge to push up on your toes to kiss him, but you shove it down. Guilt tugs at the back of your mind at the thought. 

“You’re such a scaredy cat, I guess that costume is fittin’,” he muses, rubbing warmth into your waist.

“Sorry we can’t all be macho men like you."

You go to pull away, to create some distance. You can’t keep getting close to him like this. It weighs too heavily on your heart. But Joel squeezes your hand and tugs you back into his side, and you’re so very weak. You melt into him despite yourself.

“I think you rather like my macho-ness,” he says.

Heat pools in your belly at the smirk on his face, the darkness in his eyes. You avert your gaze with a small smile, warmth coloring your cheeks. “Yeah right.”

He turns toward you, towering over you. His hand splays heavily on your hip, and you shudder. “Playin’ coy now, huh? Where was this yesterday when—“

“Joel!” Ellie screeches, skidding to a stop in front of the two of you. You feel the urge to jerk away, but Joel only shifts so that he’s no longer in your face. He still keeps you close. 

“What’s up kiddo?” 

“There’s a campfire, everyone’s asking us to play a song.” 

That piques your interest. Joel has played guitar for you a couple times, though he’s always very shy about it. You’ve stumbled across him playing on his own with no one to watch. It’s fascinating what the music does to him.

It’s like he’s transported somewhere else, his eyes closed as his fingers pluck the strings of his guitar, his foot tapping to the beat, his head nodding along as his hands tell a story through the notes. 

You’ve never seen him play a whole song like that, he’s always noticed you before he could ever finish. And when you’d ask him to keep playing, there was a bit of stiltedness. You realized it was nervousness… he wanted you to be impressed, to like what he was doing. 

You’re not sure how you ever could dislike his playing. 

“You should do it,” you say. 

Joel’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. “I dunno—“

“What, you’re not scared, are you?” you tease.

“Don't talk to me about being scared. Pretty sure you stretched out my sweater with how hard you were holding onto me,” he counters. 

“Will you two stop bickering like a married couple? Joel, they’re waiting. Come on!” Ellie says and grabs his hand, tugging him along. You laugh as you follow, though her little comment sticks in your mind. 

***

Joel settles down on a log with his guitar in his lap. Ellie sits at his side. You got a spot a couple logs away, so you could get a good view of them. The campfire lights his silver hair copper, reflecting like stars off the wood of his guitar. 

“Any fans of Bread here?” he asks, and a few hoots and hollers sound out. Joel laughs at that, and Ellie rolls her eyes. You've never heard of the band, but you wait with bated breath. They tune their guitars, and then Joel takes a deep breath and counts down. 

One, two, three, four…

Soft strumming fills the air. Ellie keeps the main melody, but Joel plucks more of the details. He sings first.

Baby I’m-a want you

Baby I’m-a need you

You’re the only one I care enough to hurt about

His voice is smooth, a bit shaky from the nerves, but it washes over you like a warm wave of water. Immediately, you’re drawn in. It’s unrealistic, but you still think that Joel could save the world with his voice. It’s scratchy but soft, if one can be both of those things at the same time.

He looks up through his lashes, his gaze catching yours.

Maybe I’m-a crazy, but I just can’t live without

your lovin’ and affection… givin’ me direction

Like a guiding light to help me through my darkest hours

Lately I’m-a prayin’ that you’ll always be-a stayin’

Beside me…

Your breath catches in your throat while he sings.

It’s just a song, you tell yourself. But the way he’s looking at you… it’s as if everyone else has disappeared. As if the words were created specifically for you. As if… as if maybe he chose this song for a reason…

Ellie picks up the prechorus with her angelic voice, and you’re brought back into the present. But then Joel starts the solo, his eyelids fluttering shut as the music takes over him. His head nods along to notes as he plucks each one out with precision and skill. His foot taps in time with the beat, and people cheer, but you can’t stop staring. 

The solo ends all too soon, but Joel’s voice merges beautifully with Ellie’s harmonies back on the prechorus once more. 

Lately I’m-a prayin’ that you’ll always be a stayin’

Beside me…

Used to be my life was just emotions passin’ by. 

Then you came along and made me laugh and made me cry

He gives you a small grin, secret, for no one else but you.

You taught me why…

Baby I’m-a want you. 

Baby I’m-a need you. 

Oh, it took so long to find you baby

Baby I’m-a want you.

Baby I’m-a need you.

Your chest constricts at the sight of him, at the sound of the last few notes being plucked expertly by his fingers. At the blend of his voice with Ellie’s. You can't bear to sit here at this campfire, watching him only as a friend, a fellow neighbor, just like everyone else. You want him to sing this song for you. To know that it’s only you he’s thinking of as the last few strings are plucked by his nimble fingers, ringing out into the dark, cold night. That it’s only you he sees clapping and cheering him on. But you can’t even grant him that, already on your feet the moment the song ends, practically sprinting away from the campfire as your throat grows tight and tears spring to your eyes.

You hope no one has noticed. You hope the footsteps you can hear crunching on crimson leaves are just someone walking past. Of course they’re not though.

“Are you okay?” the familiar timbre of Joel’s voice asks.

God, no! Why! 

You frantically wipe the tears from your eyes, sniffling snot so it doesn’t drip down your lip and betray you. 

“Oh,” you start, and internally curse the way your voice shakes. You turn toward the one who has been unraveling you at the seams with a trembling smile. “Hi, Joel.”

“Christ, what’s wrong, baby?”

“Don’t—don’t call me baby,” you say, and it’s not at all what you mean to say. You mean to just reassure, to just brush this off and bury it deep inside and never let it out. But you don’t. 

Joel’s face hardens, and he steps in closer with a hand stretched out but at the look on your face, thinks better of touching you.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he says. “Why are you crying? What happened?”

Nothing. It was just a pretty song.

Was it for me?

Nothing. I’m just being hormonal.

Do those lyrics mean something to you?

Nothing. 

Enough. Enough with the excuses and the rules and the lies. 

“You happened,” you spit. 

He takes a surprised step back. “What?”

“You and your stupid fucking—your stupid fucking friends with benefits and your stupid fucking big heart and your stupid fucking guitar happened, Joel.”

This is probably the first time you’ve ever rendered Joel speechless outside of sex. He looks so stupid standing there staring at you with his wide eyes and his dropped jaw. And yet all you want to do his pull him in and hug him and tell him how much you love his stupid fucking face. Instead, you take a step back. 

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” he mutters. “You’re freezin’. Let’s head back to my place, we can talk about it there—“

“No. No. I won’t let you just fuck me and then pretend like whatever’s between us doesn’t exist.”

“That’s not—“ he starts, but then must register what you said because his brows furrow over his ice cold gaze. “Me? I pretend like it doesn’t exist?” 

“Yes!”

“No I don’t. You’re the one that told me you didn’t want me to kiss you anymore. You’re the one that’s been keepin’ me at arm's length all this time. You’re the one pretending.”

You go to yell back at him, to deny, but the realization that he’s right kills the words in your throat, and you fall silent. 

Joel steps closer, his voice dropping. “You can act like I’m the one that’s been torturing you as much as you like, but it just ain’t true.” 

His eyes flit across your face wildly, taking in the tears in your eyes, the tremble of your lips, the tint of your cheeks from the cold. He softens.

“Darlin' I... I have been in love with you since the first time I heard you laugh. Since the first time you even glanced my way. Every god damn day is torture wanting all of you when all I can have is some of you.”

You can’t speak, can hardly even breathe. 

“If you don’t want to make this anythin’ other than sex, just tell me,” he whispers, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw. His breath condenses into steam in the cold air. “Tell me you want to keep pretending, and we can keep pretending."

“I…I don’t.” You shake your head. “I don’t want to keep pretending.”

His nose brushes yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Tell me you don’t want more.”

You swallow harshly. “I want more.” 

“Tell me you’re sorry you made me stop kissing you.”

“Please, kiss me, Joel.”

“You’re not very good at followin’ directions, are you?” he says, grinning, and you can’t help but laugh into the kiss when he pulls you in.

His lips are soft, deliberate when they meet yours. He coaxes you open, makes you slow down, pulls you into it so you feel it entirely. Reminds you of what you were missing when you forbade him from kissing you. 

God, you missed it so much. Missed him. 

Joel’s arms wind around your waist, his hands sliding along the fabric of your coat, and it’s so cold but god you wish you had less layers on right now. You’re sure the warmth of his hands could keep you from hypothermia. 

“I’m sorry I forbade you from kissing me,” you say. 

He hums, “I guess I can forgive you. Might need some convincing.”

“Oh shut up,” you grin, and pull him back in again. 

“I hate pretending like I don’t love you,” he murmurs against your lips, hands gripping your waist.

“You… really love me?”

“Did you not hear my speech earlier?” 

“I did. I just… can’t really believe it.”

He pulls you in close and gently grasps your jaw with his large hands. He kisses you again, thumbs brushing against your cheeks. 

His lips find the corner of your mouth. “I love you,” he says. 

A kiss to your cheek. “I love you.”

A kiss to your eyelid. “I love you.” 

When he pulls back, he’s smiling again. It’s strange to see Joel smile. He really doesn’t do it often around anyone. But you guess you’re an exception.

All that time you had spent pushing him away, agonizing over how much you loved him, fearing that he’d leave you if you so much had hinted that you were in love with him, only for him to be in love with you all this time? Holy shit. The world feels like it’s turned upside down. 

“Okay, I think I believe you now,” you say in a laugh. 

“You haven’t said it back, which I guess is alright—“

“I love you too, Joel,” you interrupt. 

He softens again. “I love you,” he murmurs, and pulls you in again for another toe curling kiss. God, you were an idiot for making him stop.

He wipes the tears from your eyes with a calloused thumb. “Your face paint is smudgin’.” 

“It was a stupid costume anyway.”

“No, it's cute. But…” Joel glances about, lips quirking in a smirk. He leans down, and his voice is so low you almost don’t hear it. “I think it would look better on my floor.”

“Well…” you fight the grin on your face, delighting in the heat curling low within you. “I guess since you love me and we’re kissing again and aren’t exactly friends anymore… we could really put that statement to the test.” 

“I think we should,” he says, and leans down to kiss your neck. 

You hum in approval. “What about Ellie?”

“She had plans to go to Dina’s after the festival,” he says, between kisses. “Come over, please? Or do I need to send you a letter with a wax stamp and everythin’?”

“Well… since you said please, I guess that will do.”

The whole walk to his place he has his arm slung about your waist, proudly displaying that you’re his. 

You nuzzle yourself into his side, grateful for his warmth and companionship. Your heart feels so full, so light, as if you might actually drift up into the air. Thank god Joel is holding you to keep you grounded. 

You smile at Maria and Tommy when you pass by them, and they exchange a look that says something like Finally. 

Then you’re at his house, and he’s unlocking the door and letting you go in first. And this time when you’re welcomed inside, you’re no longer worrying about rules or how you feel, or how you might fuck this up. It’s so fucking freeing. 

Joel doesn’t ravish you the moment the door closes. Instead, he kind of just stares at you. 

You squirm under his attention, growing self conscious. “What?”

He smiles, hands gravitating to your hips. “Nothin’. I just love you.” 

You grin. “I love you too.” 

He kisses you again, and you don’t think you could ever get enough of it. You kisses you roughly against the door, hips colliding with yours, over and over, and soon enough you’re shaking with want. Mind muddled, whispering a single word into his ear, “Bedroom.” 

It feels different here this time. All those times in the past had felt restrained, now, everything feels exactly as it should. 

When before you used to strip down quickly just to get him inside you, this time, you both take your time. He carefully unwraps you like a present as he noses kisses down your throat. He peels your thick black sweater off, and slides the straps of your bra down your shoulders, his dark eyes locked with yours. Joel reaches behind you and undoes the clasp with ease. You can hardly hold back your shaky sigh. 

Your hands smooth over his sweater-clad chest before pulling it up and over his head. That jagged scar is there on his stomach, a reminder of everything he’s been through. You run your hand along it, and he shudders. 

“Sit down,” he says. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, and he kneels before you. Then, he grabs your boot-clad foot and sets it on his thigh. He undoes the laces and carefully takes the boot off. He does the other, and then hooks his fingers around your waistband and pulls it and your panties off together. 

“I was right,” he says. “It really does look better on my floor.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, and pull him back into you. His lips catch yours gently, but the kiss intensifies when your mouth parts eagerly as his tongue swipes across the seam of your lips. His tongue slips in, and a moan tumbles out of you as your hands scrabble at his shoulder blades, your nails lightly scratching over thin scars.

His nose squishes against your cheek, and his large, hot hands slide up and down your body, like he just can’t keep them still. Like he wants to catalog all of you right now, remember it forever. 

He rocks against you, still confined in his jeans, but you can feel the hard shape of him brushing against your sensitive core, the friction incredibly delicious. Your hands find his button and zipper, undoing them both with as much concentration as you can muster, though it’s really difficult when he’s kissing you like you contain all of the world’s oxygen. 

Finally, he allows you to breathe, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin of your throat as he mouths hot kisses down your skin. He grips one of your thighs, setting it against his hip, large, rough fingers splaying across the whole of it. God, you love how easily you fit in his palms.

He grinds his hips into you over and over and you moan, aching for the feel of him inside you. You tug at his waistband again. “Joel, please take these off already.” 

“Not yet,” he says, and releases your leg, his hand skating across the skin of your thigh, brushing gently along, making you shudder in his hold. You can feel the warmth of his fingers as he nears where you want him most. 

And then, his fingers are on you, swirling in gentle circles, unraveling you at the seams. Your head hits the mattress and your back arches. He knows exactly what to do to make you putty in his hands, has had so much time to practice. But this time, it feels so much better, knowing now that he loves you. That you’re more than just friends. 

Your palms find his face and you pull him in for a slow, meaningful kiss, trying to tell him just how thankful you are for him. How glad you are that he loves you. How sorry you are for not letting him kiss you. It’s kind of hard to kiss him, though, when he’s making you feel this good. Your fingers curl into his hair, tugging at it, and he moans into your mouth. 

He slips one, two fingers inside you, pumping them at a steady pace that has your hands gripping his hair tightly and your hips scrabbling for that pleasant release dangling in front of you. He urges you on with encouraging, quiet words, his dark eyes boring into yours. Your mind, body, and soul feel hot.

When his thumb finds your clit it’s only moments until you’re shattering against him, warmth flooding your body. Your hips jerk, your legs shaking as he takes you over the edge. 

“Pants off. Now,” you huff between breaths, and he finally listens. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Then, he shifts you up the bed… it reminds you of the first time the two of you had sex again after he was so busy. So much the same yet so different. His hand moves up your body, cups one of your breasts, kneading it gently. When his thumb ghosts over your nipple, you shiver. 

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’,” he murmurs, and grasps your knee, pulling it over his hip. 

And then he’s sliding in, and the stretch is blissful, so welcome, so familiar and yet so new. You hold onto him, keeping him close as he begins to move. You feel full, mind faraway with bliss.

“God, Joel-“ you hiss. 

He groans out your name, and it rumbles through you like rolling thunder. Lightning lights a fuse at the end of your spine. 

You’re out of control. He tends to do that to you. Make you angry, make you sad, draw all the emotions you tend to not want to deal with out of you. Frustrates you, makes you so hungry with want that you throw all semblance of rational thought away. And he likes it. You like it. 

God, you love him so much. 

You move together as one, pushing and pulling. Everything shrinks down to just this. Him. You. Where your bodies meet. 

“More,” you moan, and he huffs out a laugh, but obliges, thrusting into you deeper, harder, and you’re as tight as a bowstring. 

Every anxious thought, every worry, every single doubt dissipates with every movement of his hips. You shift your own to meet his thrusts, and soon he’s gasping into your skin, growling your name. His hand winds into your hair, and he breathes with you, eyes locked with yours. 

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs. “Come for me.” 

Well, who are you to deny him? He pushes you over the edge in an instant, your body going taught, eyes rolling back into your head. His name flows out of you like a mantra.

Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel. 

“I love you,” he says into your throat when he follows you, hips jerking with sloppy thrusts as he comes inside you. 

Joel collapses next to you, pulling you into him, his arm slung heavily across your waist. When you can finally catch your breath, you say, “I love you, too.”

His grin is sated, eyes heavy when he pulls you in for another deep kiss. “We’ve said that a lot, huh?”

“Just making up for lost time. I think it’s alright.” 

“I should’ve said it a lot sooner,” he says, calloused fingers brushing against your cheek as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“Me too. Telling you not to kiss me was really dumb.” 

“Probably not the smartest thing you’ve said.” 

You scoff in mock offense, pushing at his shoulder. “Asshole.” 

“Yeah, but you love me.”

You roll your eyes, but scoot further into him, laying your head on his chest. 

It might have been a risk to fall in love with your best friend, but God, you’re glad you did. 

“Yeah, I really do.”