#in lust with each other without ever communicating

[queerstudiesnatural]

these gay people have been rotting my brain since august last year and it's not letting up. like i love that stupid movie so much i'm glad you're enjoying it

i can't believe i just watched this like it's so silly and unrealistic and over the top but that's what romcoms are supposed to be!!! and it's so loving and joyful and honest and the conflict is always external which makes the relationship so easy to root for, it's like they kept all the classic romcom tropes except for the fight that breaks out around the end of act two because some big secret comes out about how one or both parties are actually deceitful or there's a misunderstanding etc. instead we get two people who love each other. and are unsure about how to navigate that love publicly but never doubt or hide their feelings for each other in private. and it's beautifully filmed as well, there's such a sturdy and peaceful and luminous aura around their love at all times and idk i was just grinning like an idiot the whole time :')

[ireneispunk]

Duty

Jacaerys Velaryon x female reader smut

After a rough start to your marriage, whispers from the palace cause you and your betrothed to start what you should have done months ago; produce an heir.

w.c: 1487

c.w: SMUT 18+, NO use of Y/N, not exactly enemies but y'all beefing, hate sex (if you squint, but more like dislike sex and its more just sass idfk), mention of pregnancy, breeding kink, afab reader, p in v sex, fingering, overstimulation, pls let me know if i've missed any

a.n: so i recently watched the queen charlotte bridgerton spin off and i absolutely loved it, this is very inspired by charlotte and george's earlier dynamic tee hee.

Four months and 3 days. That is how long it has been since your wedding, and how long you have loathed your husband. The two of you were not exactly close before your betrothal on account of the rapidness of it but the tensions that spread between parts of his family did not help. You both seem to fight every conversation you had thereafter, so it became easier to avoid each other. That was until around 3 months into your betrothal that questions of when you would need your dresses altering had you worried. You were supposed to making heirs but you both exploded whilst in the same room as each other.  You’d visited the prince in his separate room and communicated the issue, he was reading by the fire. You played with your fingers in your hands as he eyed the flaw, thinking intently. He placed his book face down on the table as he petted the bench beside him. You hesitated for a moment, before sitting next to him. “Once a week, we will fulfil our, uh, duty to try and produce an heir. Once you are with child we will stop.” You thought for a moment, before nodding. You couldn’t help but feel your heart sink. This was not what you had wished for in your marriage. Jacaerys was a painfully handsome man, dark curls that framed he chiselled features.

“It is the end of the week today, your grace.” You spoke, not fully considering the implications of the statement. But the quicker your belly was full the better.

He turned to you, hesitated for a moment before moving closer to you and pulled you onto his lap. You were surprised by the sudden closeness of someone, let alone your husband. He looked up from beneath you with a glimmer of what he had on your wedding night, without the naïve hope. His hands slid up from your hips to the bust of your dress, he looked into your eyes before giving the bodice of your dress a quick tug down allowing your breast to spill out. You gasped as his hands cupped over your breasts, massaging them before running a thumb over your nipple. You brought your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt a warmth spread over your body. You didn’t dare look him in the eye, keeping your eyes shut or trained on the ceiling. You felt as one hand left your breast and hike up your dress further up your hips. He sighed to himself slightly, at the sight of your exposed cunt. He could not believe his luck the first time he had saw you. You were quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and unfortunately that did not change the more you both disliked each other. If anything, it grew. Seeing you from across the room at formal engagements, gluing to his side when you needed to seem like the happy couple. It made the frustrations between the two of you even more palpable over the past few months, given the lack of relief. You opened your eyes to see his dark eyes looking up at you. He brought his two first fingers up to your lips, “Open.” His soft tone contradicted the demand and look upon his face. His fingers slid into your mouth, gliding across your tongue as you closed your lips around them. Out of sheer lust you grinded your hips against him, needing to feel some release and gaining small jolt at the feeling of your cunt rubbing against his clothed cock. His free hand shot to your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He removed his fingers from your mouth, admiring his spit covered fingers for a moment before they reached between your thighs and lightly grazed across your clit. You jolted, leaning forward to grip the bench behind him.

You could not stop the moan that escaped your mouth as his fingers slowly ran circles across your clit. He smirked as the noises that fell from your lips, knowing how much you couldn’t bare to be around him but fell apart in his arms was a satisfying feeling.  “I did not know you were so needy, dear wife.” The honorific felt like a pin prick. Insincere and laced with sarcasm.

Despite the tightening growing in your stomach, you could not let him have the final word as usual. “You hadn’t been paying close enough attention, your grace.” A flash of frustration flashed upon his face as his hand moved to grip your hair and fingers plunged inside of you. A gasp left you as his fingers thrusted deep inside of your cunt, you had gone from strolling towards an orgasm to being thrown at it. The tips of his fingers curled slightly, deliciously massaging that spot inside your pussy that drove you wild. You jaw fell open, eyes going wide at the loss of contact when he removed his fingers from you. You went to protest before seeing his cock in his hands, brows furrowed as he stroked the length.

You couldn’t hold off any longer before you took a hold of his wrists and pushed his hands away to his sides. You took his cock into your hand giving it a few pumps, watching an expression of lust spread across his face. You leaned over slightly, letting a ball of spit leave your lips and watch as it slid down his cock. He hissed, returning his hands to your hips pulling you closer to him. You took the hint, angling his cock towards your pussy, rubbing the tip over your clit for your own pleasure a few times, before lining him up and sliding down slowly, a large groan left his lips as be bottomed out inside of you. You had forgotten just how big his cock was, and just how good it had felt filling you up. You began to raise your hips up and down, moans leaving your lips as you did. You worked at a steady pace but after being accustomed to his hands began to push up and down with the movements of your hips moving you faster. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders as he pounded into you, no matter how much your stifled your moans, you gave him the satisfaction of them loudly leaving your lips. His hand reached up to yours, removing it from his shoulders and moving your fingers between your legs. You immediately got his instruction, fingers latching onto your clit. You worked tight circles into it as you got filled over and over with Jacaerys’ cock. A familiar tightness returned to your stomach as your head dropped back and numerous illicit words left your lips. Recognising your peak, he pulled you forward by your thighs, almost pressing your bodies against each other as he quickened his pace. Your orgasm cascaded over you, feeling your pussy tighten around Jacaerys’ cock and your body buzz from the overstimulation. You rode out your high atop of him, watching as his eyes screwed shut and his thrusts became sloppier.

You took the opportunity to return your knees to the bench either side of him and bob your hips up and down as fast as you could. His fingers reached the lip of the bench gripping it until his knuckles turned white. “Mmm, my grace,” You moaned out. His eyes shot open, his heart pounding at your remark. “Please fill me with your seed.” You pleaded and moaned, half doing it for a reaction, half because it felt too good. His jaw hung open in shock for a split second before he sputtered a moan from his lips, hips snapping into yours. You felt satisfied as a warmth filled your pussy. Your hips moved slightly, slowly thrusting his cock inside of you still. His hand shot to your hip, mumbling something, before you placed your hand flat across his chest. You bobbed a few more times on his cock, being sure to be as full as possible with his cum. You smirked to yourself seeing his head throne back, lip quivering, veins prominent in his hands gripping your waist, sweaty curls sticking to his neck. You slowly raised yourself off of his cock, standing to your feet and trying to mask your wobbliness as adjusting your dress.

You stole a glance his way, admiring his beauty before he spoke and ruined it. He panted through his mouth, arms outstretched over the sides of the bench. You smirked to yourself, admiring how he too had crumbled for you. The opening of his doorhandle caused him to call your name from behind you. You glanced at him and smiled. “Goodnight your grace, see you in seven eves’.” He opened his mouth to response, but you had already shut the door behind you. You hoped it would be sooner before he fucked you again.

[astrolook]

🔥 Synastry Myths That Need to Die (Or at Least Be Roasted) 🔥

Because people act like one Venus square Mars = toxic disaster, while a chart full of trines = fairy-tale romance (hint: neither is true). Let’s break down some biggest synastry myths and how to actually interpret them. 👀✨

🚫 MYTH #1: Squares and Oppositions in Synastry = Relationship Problems? Nah, That’s Just Spicy Drama. 🔥😈

🔥Reality: No, they keep it interesting. A little conflict is necessary to keep things engaging, otherwise, y’all will be bored to death in six months.

🔹 Sun square Moon – Keeps things dynamic—you challenge each other emotionally and grow in the process. Passionate debates turn into deep emotional bonding. It could feel like you live in two different emotional worlds sometimes. 🔹 Venus square Mars – Enemies to lovers. Like a slow-burn romance novel where neither of you admits your feelings until you’re in too deep. Fights can get heated and so as passion. 🔹 Mercury opposite Mercury – Mentally stimulates each other a lot. Never boring.

💡 A mix of soft and hard aspects is 🔑. Too much "ease" = stagnation. A little friction? Sexy and exciting.

🗣️Some of y’all are out here begging for a “perfect” relationship, but are you sure you want one that feels like watching paint dry?

🚫 MYTH #2: Too Many Conjunctions = Soulmate Energy! Nah, You're dating yourself!

🔥Reality: Or suffocating as hell. Y’all might as well be the same person, which sounds cute until it’s not.

🔹 Sun conjunct Sun – "Omg, we’re so alike!" Yeah, for now. But do you really want a partner that mirrors you 24/7? 🔹 Moon conjunct Moon – Emotional twins, but can become too comfortable. Who’s pushing who to grow? 🔹 Venus conjunct Venus – Great for shared aesthetic and love language, but too similar = potential complacency.

💡Some conjunctions? Great. But throw in a few oppositions (for balance) and squares (for energy), or you might end up dating yourself.

🗣️You ever had a bestie you LOVED but couldn’t be around too long because y’all were literally the same person? That’s what too many conjunctions feel like in a relationship.

🚫 MYTH #3: "Saturn in Synastry = Restrictive. No, It's Just A Commitment Test!

🔥Reality: Without Saturn, relationships fall apart. The real problem isn’t Saturn—it’s immaturity.

🔹 Saturn conjunct Moon – Can feel like parent/child dynamics, but if handled well? Deep emotional security. This is forever. 🔹 Saturn opposite Venus – Challenges in expressing affection, but also high commitment potential when worked through. 🔹 Saturn trine Mars – Passion with stability—this is the "we still find each other sexy at 80" type of aspect. Slow and steady passion.

💡 If you have Saturn in synastry, embrace the responsibility but set boundaries so it doesn’t feel suffocating.

🗣️Saturn isn’t the fun drunk at the party, it’s the sober friend keeping you from texting your ex. You need that sometimes.

🚫 MYTH #4: Venus-Mars = Everlasting Passion? More Like a Telenovela.

🔥Reality: Yes, it’s hot at first—but will you even like each other in five years?

🔹 Venus conjunct Mars – 🔥 Chemistry? Through the roof. Emotional compatibility? That depends. 🔹 Venus opposite Mars – Can flip between passionate and exhausting, depending on how you handle conflict. 🔹 Venus square Mars – The sexual tension is wild, sparks fly in all directions. It's an exciting aspect.

💡If you’ve got Venus-Mars magic, add some Moon, Mercury, or Saturn connections so it’s not just lust with an expiration date.

🗣️Chemistry can only carry a relationship so far—do y’all actually like each other outside the bedroom?

🚫 MYTH #5: Moon Sign Compatibility = Everything? Okay, But Can You Communicate?

🔥Reality: Yes, emotional compatibility is important. But have you tried... actually communicating?

🔹 Moon trine Mercury – Emotional understanding and easy conversations (a great underrated aspect). 🔹 Moon opposite Mars – One is moody, the other is impatient. Passionate emotions and spicy debates. 🔹 Moon conjunct Saturn – Deep emotional security, but can also feel heavy or restrictive.

💡Don’t just look at Moons—how do your Mercury, Venus, and Saturn interact? Emotional security is great, but if y’all can’t communicate, it’s pointless.

🗣️Just because you both like to cry during sad movies doesn’t mean you’re soulmates.

🚫 MYTH #6: Twin Flames Can Be Seen in Synastry!

🔥Reality: No. Astrology does not confirm Twin Flames. Stop it.

🔹 North Node conjunct personal planets – Yes, this feels fated, but not every karmic relationship is "meant to be." 🔹 Pluto aspects (especially Venus or Moon) – Yes, this is intense and life-changing—but it can also be obsessive and toxic. 🔹 Vertex aspects – Yes, these can feel destined, but that doesn’t mean it’s permanent.

💡If a relationship is healthy, growing, and balanced, that’s what matters more than any hyped-up label.

🗣️Just because someone feels "fated" doesn’t mean they’re your forever person. Sometimes, the lesson is letting go.

💖 Want to know what the stars say about your love life? 💖

Whether it’s soulmate potential, karmic lessons, or long-term compatibility, I dive deep into your unique synastry & composite charts and let's see what the cosmos has in store for you! 🌙💫💖

✨ DM me for a personalized love, marriage, or relationship compatibility reading! ✨ 💌 Check out my pinned post for pricing & details! 💌

[jmliebert]

☆ astarion x shy!virgin ☆

oh, this one I adore...

think of Astarion at the beginning of your journey. he's restless, looking for someone he could effortlessly manipulate—someone who could be of use to him

some silly little creature like yourself, delightfully naive, shy, with cheeks that turn crimson every time he says something even slightly wicked

one of the first nights, Astarion was feeling so weak and sooo thirsty...he simply had to taste you. he needed to sink his fangs into your lovely skin, but you caught him and his body froze for a second shit

yet, instead of killing him (or at least trying to), you gave him a hesitant permission to drink from you. as he knelt before you, sinking his fangs into your delicious neck, he realised for a sweet, little moment that you were perfect—so good for him, your body beneath his, at his utter mercy

it did things to him, things he didn't yet understand

from that moment, Astarion's gaze was firmly fixed on you. he began to test the waters, offering playful flirtations, and your responses were utterly endearing...you were shy, deliciously shy, but it was clear you wanted him. everyone desired him, naturally, and you were no exception

or maybe you were?

as the two of you conversed more and more, he found himself increasingly drawn to you, though he wouldn’t admit it, not even to himself. he took pleasure in how effortlessly he could provoke you, especially when your eyes darted away under the intensity of his lustful gaze

it was clear you hadn't had much experience, so he took his time with you, careful not to scare you, as he needed to keep you close

or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself—an excuse, really. the truth was he truly enjoyed the slowness of it all

he gave you small but very deliberate touches, soft smiles, sweet words. oh god, he was really good with his words

Astarion felt a thrill when you were dancing around each other like this, clearly desiring one another, yet hesitating to act on those desires

it felt incredibly liberating to take his time with you, moving slowly. it felt so different from the hellish existence he once knew, of fucking senselessly

one night, when you were particularly lovely, nestled in his arms and slightly tipsy from wine, you told him you were a virgin

"a virgin, you say?"

well, as it was said before, it wasn't hard to tell you lacked experience, but Astarion surely didn't expect you to have none at all

if he didn’t already have such a strong feelings for you, he might have laughed. instead, he found your innocence endearing and oddly hot?

questions filled his mind: how did you manage it, why had you remained untouched, what was it like? and pondering these questions like that made him unexpectedly melancholic

mindfull even

so his touches were gentle, his kisses soft and reassuring. you were holding your hands a lot—an experience as new for you as it was for him

truthfully, it seemed that you both were discovering your sexuality together for the first time

Astarion would find his feelings for you deepening, and though it was complicated, and fucking scary, he couldn’t imagine being without you, although it might seem somewhat pathetic it was the truth

and he wanted to keep you safe, as you kept him

when the moment felt right—ideally after Cazador—his longing for you would be undeniable, and his neediness would be more apparent than ever

he would press his lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss...then moving to your neck...then down to your collarbone, exploring every inch of your lovely skin

Astarion would took his time, making sure you felt every sensation, every touch, every kiss, every hooded look

he genuinely wanted to make this feel just... right, for both of you

his fingers would work wonders, his voice husky with desire

"so perfect. do you feel good, darling? tell me, does this feel good?"

he was very attentive to communication, eager to hear that you were enjoying every moment

his fingers would found your core, sliding in and out with a rhythm that made you go completely feral

after, what felt like a lifetime, he would slowly push the tip of his cock into your wet insides, stretching you gently

"Gods, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice thick with lust

and then more of the same questions would occur; "do you like this? does it feel good?"

and then; "you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?

oh my

his hips would move with a skilful rhythm, each thrust precise and perfectly timed. and as you reached the peak of your pleasure, he would bite your neck so beautifully displayed by you, his fangs sinking into your willing body

Astarion had fantasised about this moment for so long you see—being inside you while drinking your warm, delicious blood. it was undeniably erotic and felt indescribably amazing

after a few more of his tender thrusts, accompanied by sweet words and eager hands, your climax would overwhelm you, making you see star

as you clenched so deliciously around him, he felt an overwhelming urge to quicken his movements. he yearned to thrust harder, but he held back, mindful of it being your first time

yet! as you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer and encouraging him to move harder, he found it impossible to resist. your touch spurred him on, making him lose himself a little in the overwhelming pleasure and that's exactly what you wanted

his rapid thrusts, the feel of your warm blood flowing in his body and your tight wetness around him made his own release inevitable

he came with a deep groan, his eyes shut tight, his cock throbbing inside you

it felt so good he was literally trembling

despite his attempts to hide it, he was clearly touched by its intensity of it all. he held you tightly, wrapping you in an affectionate and soothing hug and for once he didn't utter a single word, there were no need to

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about astarion ♡here♡

also! my halsin x shy!virgin headcanons are right here...

[takes1]

[final part] asahi x reader grinding

thanks for tuning in :)

warnings. nsfw, minors DNI

details. mutual pining! / mutual!inexperience / skipped!talking phase / mutual lust! / asahi has a crush on you / forced proximity / asahi is hung / premature ejaculation / praise / asahi has horrible endurance / lap sitting / beach setting / grinding with clothes on / implied mutual virginity / asahi is a soft top / 3.3k words

links. my masterlist. part one. more haikyuu. got any requests?

Your chest rose and fell quicker, your heart beating harder, your hands twitchy in your pockets. You felt glued to the concrete. You never expected him to catch you so off-guard.

"Was I-," Asahi looked back and forth between your eyes, then down, a little sheepish, "-Wrong, to assume...?"

"N-o," You winced at your terribly huge crush ceasing to be a secret anymore.

"You're not wrong-," When you took a tentative step forward, and he met you in the middle. You were both hesitant to look at each other, let alone do anything else, "If that's what you wanted."

His tone came as a shock to you.

"I thought I made it pretty clear what I wanted."

Every little thing he said or did today rushed through your mind, now laced with the connotation he was trying to communicate the whole time. There wasn't much else to say.

It was funny entering the hotel, just you two, walking as quiet as possible across the vast first floor. You even nodded to the receptionist on your way to the elevator. You only started giggling when the doors closed.

Upon arrival last night, the team had made the delightful discovery that this elevator moved at a snail's pace; Getting to your floor would take at least a minute.

"How long do you think we could stay up here for?" You pressed 9 on the number pad, surprised when you turned and he was closer than you assumed.

He read your shock as disinterest. When he backed up to the wall, reddened at his failed attempt, thinking of a realistic timeline, you closed the distance again.

You were as close as you could get without touching. He had his hands on the built-in railing but didn't lean away from you.

"Maybe..." He looked down at you, words sounding distant as they left his mouth, "An hour?"

Tentative, you watched your own hands place themselves gently onto his big, bulky shoulders. You had been wanting to feel him there again ever since that impromptu hug weeks ago, after a big win against Date Tech.

"That sounds like plenty of time," You kept your voice from shaking by being as quiet as you possibly could.

He seized your wrists and placed your arms around his neck for you, hands flying back to meet your waist and pull you flush onto his front. Your breath stalled when he squeezed you, fingers grabbing as much of you as he politely could.

Your skin was left prickling anywhere he touched.

You weren't sure how this hour was going to go, what you'd do, but you knew you had to start with a kiss.

It was gentle, and soft, and felt like a quiet question- like the kiss itself was asking for 'more, please.'

"Holy shit," You sighed against his pillowy lips. It got so heated, so fast.

You went in for another, then another, and another, and forgot you needed to breathe.

Neither of you were very experienced, but you had the passion to keep trying, to keep making up for it and trying again for each kiss that didn't seem quite as satisfying as you wanted.

Asahi stumbled back with a laugh when you pushed on him- you pressed your lips onto his open mouth and caught a bit of his tongue in the process. It was way hotter than either of you expected.

"Mmn," His little moan into your mouth practically liquified you- he scooped you up in his big, strong arms and you barely moved in time to wrap your legs around his waist.

You were both so surprised at yourselves and each other, but didn't want to stop for anything.

The elevator door opened slow and creaky.

He carried you a short distance down the hall to your assigned room, not his. You tried your luck at sucking on his neck.

"Are we- augh- are we- really doin' this?" He struggled to mumble his words out, keep his wits for the both of you in this painfully public hallway, handle how good your tongue felt right there, and swipe your room card at the same time.

You weren't exactly sure how far he thought 'doing this' meant, but you also weren't sure how far you wanted to go, either. It was a simple, yet powerful feeling. All you could guess was that it was a simple, powerful solution.

"Mm...As long as you're into it."

Your momentary letting up, in order to answer him, made room for the spare second he needed to get inside.

Once you were in, you decided to hop down and kick off your shoes since he seemed so out of breath. But all he did was lock the door, kick a towel under the crack in the bottom, get his shoes off, and pick you right back up.

His voice was rushed, breathy with the need to have you right now. It sounded like he could've been rolling his eyes at how obvious the answer was, "Yeah- I'm into'it."

You yelped and instinctively wrapped your legs around him while he wasted absolutely no time putting you on your back.

It was so exciting that you had to giggle at his enthusiasm, and once again, his ability to throw you around.

"You're so strong," Your eyes danced around his face between messy, perfect kisses, delighted to see that your compliment embarrassed him a little.

His warm forehead pressed against your shoulder with a chuckle, shy and huffy.

Your fingers took every precious moment they could to take his headband off and rake through his long hair, nails across his scalp in the hopes to make him feel good.

"Ohh," His eyes squeezed shut, legs slowly joining the rest of his body onto the mattress. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and pulled away from you.

He sat back on his heels, flushed with the realization that his body was parting your thighs open under him.

Hair a mess, eyes unfocused with a fuzzy warmth to them, jaw tight- he looked completely undone.

"Can I take your clothes off?" It sounded like more of a hushed admission, of sorts, rather than the question that it was. Like he was revealing he'd been wanting to do that for longer than you could imagine.

You had to keep from squealing out the answer- "Yes."

Everything was so quick and distracting that even you forgot you were wearing your swimsuit underneath. He grinned with your shirt still balled up in his fist.

"That's- really cute," His eyes bounced between your tits, starting to pull your shorts off as he muttered to himself, "I guess I would've seen it all anyway, today."

You scoffed, trying to hide your nerves by not making a big deal of it, "I wasn't gonna wear this in front of everyone."

"You were gonna get in the water with everythin' on?" He grinned and slid to meet you for a hungry kiss, satisfied to hear this was still all for him and no others idiots on the team.

His fingers were digging into your fleshy bare hips, his groin against your needy sex with hardly anything separating you.

Your unruly whine was swallowed up but not ignored.

"You're'sooo perfect," Was a rushed and heady sigh, something in between a whisper and a groan right under your ear where he tried to mimic your unsuccessful attempt at a hickey.

The heat rushing to your face, the dizzying weight of his body, and your feverish desire to have him made it hard to think.

Your breath was tough to catch. A clumsy attempt to take his shirt off was your only solace in the buzz of it all.

You were given a picture perfect view when he sat up again and pulled it from the back of his collar- his lightly flexed arms, the reveal of his strong frame and kinda fuzzy chest made you infinitely more curious. Your hands jutted out to feel him.

You just couldn't help it, "Woww."

He chuckled watching you sit up, hands scouring his body like you were on the hunt for something. You palmed his chest, fingers filled with muscle as you squeezed- his laughter only grew to full volume when you stuck your face between his pecs and nearly knocked him off balance.

"Okay, okay-!" He giggled and rested his hands on your shoulders to pry your off, ecstatic about your obvious fascination.

You wiggled out of this position and met him on your knees for a big, messy kiss. It was starting to feel more real now that you had gotten a bucket list item out of the way.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," You groaned against his lips -still curled in a smile-. You palmed both of his arms simultaneously, then stretched over his shoulders to grab onto his back.

He couldn't have been more amused. It was crazy to think that he didn't understand how hot he was.

"So," His hands, much more reserved, much slower, than yours, spread the bottom of your ass and you were suddenly sucked back into reality, "You must like guys with a lot of muscle, right?"

The span of his fingers meant that some of them were awfully close to the inside of your thighs- he knew it, too. He kept palming you and reaching further into the warmth there.

"Uh-," You lost your breath, arms tighter around him, unsure if you wanted him to feel you or not, yet, "I just like you."

Asahi chuckled at your answer and, buzzed with the preoccupation of how hot and wet his fingers were getting, muttered, "I can tell."

You flinched at his heated words and tore away from him- he let up and was all sheepish, again, "I didn't mean it in a mean way-."

When he held his wet fingers between you, your face flushed at the sight and you had to look away, missing the chance to see him suck all of it off as he settled onto his back.

"I like you too," He addressed your previous admission, placing his hands on your hips as you tentatively made your way onto his lap.

His eyes just drank all of you up, sitting like this. You'd be lying if you said you didn't like it, but it did make you nervous. No guy had ever seen you this undressed.

"Ever since you joined."

"No way," You rolled your eyes, calling his bullshit immediately, "You didn't know my name until three months after I joined."

Asahi grinned, palms sliding up and down your bare thighs. You could feel his cock flex under you and he reveled in seeing your little jump.

"I couldn't remember your name because I got so nervous. I couldn't think when you were around, and I played like an idiot," You grinned at some irrefutable truth in his little confession, "I had to relearn how to be a normal person."

You recalled how mean and gruff he seemed to you as a freshman. He was the only member of the team who wouldn't talk to you. It felt like you couldn't even stand in his vicinity without getting stared down- who knew it was all amicable? It got easier to manage as time went on, especially after he left and came back, leagues more friendly thanks to the new freshman class. But your longstanding crush never wavered; he had always been your type.

"Well," You leaned forward, nose-to-nose with him, twirling some of his hair in your fingers, "You came across as a real big jerk."

It seemed you couldn't just talk to each other. Your gaze grew hungrier. His big fingers dug into the crease of your thighs, hips, and ass.

"Oh, yeah?"

Your lips crashed against each other's again, starving for more; your fingers of one hand were all tangled in his roots, the other free to feel the rest of him.

All you could think about was how big he felt, how it might fit in your hand, or your mouth, or your cunt.

He made the prettiest sounds when you pressed your palm against it- it was so warm, swollen under your touch and you thought of how long he had been hard for, how painful that probably was.

And you were amazed at how easy it was to make him so messy.

Your hand worked back and forth over his clothes- he was getting worse at kissing you because of his lack of focus, so you pulled back a little to look at him.

He was so cute. Brows screwed up at the crude and simple pleasure, pupils blown out and the sounds- shit, the choked groans. Like he was just short of begging.

Your hand dipped to feel him- you wanted to at least see his cock.

"I really like you," He muttered, hot and quick on your ear you almost didn't catch it. "I don't want you to think I'm into you just for--,"

Fingers slipped past his waistband and you barely got a feel- it was burning hot to the touch.

A very cute, unbridled moan got cut short by his awkward laughter. He nabbed your wrist.

"Ah-! Haha," He cleared his throat and let you go quick, "Sorry, I guess- I--,"

He clearly wasn't comfortable with that yet, so you slid your hand back to his tummy instead.

"No, it's okay!" You readjusted to sit on top of his hips, face burning at the pace of it all as you tried to put yourself in his position, "I just got...curious. We can stop there?"

You may have reacted the same if he tried to go that far with you. Everything was happening so fast.

Asahi stammered over himself for a second, face burning darker as he tried to explain.

"Nonono, I-I don't'wanna stop," His eyes kept darting to his print taking up the space between your legs, "I...just..."

It wasn't a malicious attempt to make him reconsider, nor was it trying to accomplish any distraction-like motives, but you found that you just couldn't force your hips to stay completely still when you could feel him pulsing through your flimsy clothes.

And he was perfect. Just a marble statue, really, who you could tell would only age like wine. His strong chest filled and shrank with a powerful shudder. His face looked pained-- his jaw tight and worked, his eyes unsure where to get their fill of you.

They settled for the most part on your hips, slowly raking back, and forth, and back, and forth over his swollen cock.

Part of his briefs sported a darker black from all the precum he was leaking. You desperately wished you could pull him out and use it as lube.

"I don't wanna stop," He said definitively.

It didn't need to be discussed. You ravished in the light of his daunting, but exhilarating attention as you got off just rubbing on his restrained print.

You let your head fall back, praying you looked like some kind of fantasy, and found yourself gasping at the yummy tension building once he bucked against you.

This could work. It was kind of? Like sex. Not really, but it was perfect for two people who weren't ready yet.

With his knees a little bent, and his forearm weighing on your lower back, there was more of an even distribution of work beginning to form. He was gentle and slow with the motion of his hips.

If he looked gone before, he was completely lost in it now.

He followed your natural rhythm without obstructing anything- you began to slowly, very minute increments, feel his hands trembling against you.

"This is--mm, this is'nice," You laughed- it made him smile and you bit your lip to keep from grinning too wide.

His big hands laced through your hair, pulling you down, gently directing your eyes to him.

"You have no idea- ah-h, how...God, how good that feels."

This was all you had wanted to do in that stupid golf cart. You moaned freely into his roughening kisses, swimming in the simple, slick, nonpenetrative pleasure sliding just right against your clit.

"I think I do," You sighed, whine caught early in your throat, "It's-mmmnh-!"

While you had planned on telling him how good it made you feel, you found you didn't have the physical capability of talking that much.

It would've been a tall task anyway with how insatiable his appetite was for your kisses.

"Damn-," His groans were deeper, needier, "You sound- ahh,"

Those big, rough hands were scouring up your sides, past your bikini top, grabbing as much of your breasts as he could. He was getting so rough, now- like he was searching, prodding, grasping for more of you.

"So-! Ah- Hot-,"

It was harder keeping up with his intensity, but you tried, enthusiastic and buzzing with his praise.

He felt amazing, but it was starting to seem like it felt better for him.

His breathing was hotter and heavier. It was turning you on to no end, and one of the only tangible encouragements you had, so you kept up what was already working.

"Mmn-h," He sighed. At this point, with his grip stronger than the rock of your own hips, he was using you as some sort of toy.

You thought back to practices where you were handing him a towel, or water, and how he struggled to thank you, breathless and flushed and sweaty. How often you pretended for many nights that he had been made that way, just for you, and not the sport that brought you together.

"Augh- fu-ck!" He whined, loud, and curled a little forward as if he'd gotten punched in the gut- he wasn't kissing you anymore, but his mouth was open, so you weighed him down and stuck your tongue inside.

You couldn't recall any other time he had ever said 'Fuck.'

That last buck of his hips took the breath out of you. A sharp moan at the perfect friction racked through you and spilled onto his lips.

But, suddenly, it was more teeth than lips that you were trying to kiss.

You pulled to look at him and, however steamy that wince on his face was, it confused you. You took a short breath to ask, in the midst of all the panting, but he muttered:

"I think, I-," He squeezed his eyes shut with the humiliating realization. The next word out of his mouth so quiet you didn't understand he said until you looked down. "Came."

You were sitting back on his lap, both palms covering your bitten, swollen lips, eyes wide at the semi-clear mess painted on his tan stomach.

Your heart was still pounding, you were so wet it was slick down your upper thighs, and looking at the vulgar, intimate sight before you made you want him even more.

"Are you okay?" Was all you could think to ask.

He laughed, "Am I--? 'Am I okay'- Yeah," He sighed, one more disgusted look down at himself, "I'm fine."

You were trying to be gentle, especially careful to not laugh with him, "...You don't seem okay."

"That's- it's- just never happened to me before," He stumbled over his words again, palm sliding over his side so he didn't drip onto the sheets.

There was so much of it. Did you really feel that good to him? You didn't hear him apologize past all your loud thoughts.

"That's so hot..." You said on the tail-end of a wistful sigh.

You had never seen somebody's expression change so quickly before. He started off looking like a kicked puppy, once it sunk in that you didn't find him the most abhorrent creature on the planet, he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

"Is there usually-," He flinched, wide-eyed when you traced your fingers on his glazed stomach, "This much?"

Amazed, he shook his head.

You were teeming with pride and he was coming back around his insecurity to meet you.

"Let's keep going."

♕VIP♕

@integers @yuchacco

my masterlist. request box.

[andy-wm]

How to speak without words

a simple guide, by Jikook

This post is all about context, so for context 31 March is Trans Day of Visibility.

Its a day be your authetic and true self and to show the world that trans people exist.

I'm also going to use it as an opportunity to talk about something that comes up over and over, especially with Jimin & JK.

How do we share our story if we can't speak directly?

In the spaces around Jimin & Junkgook, there's a lot of discussion about the messages they are or aren't sending.

For some people these messages aren't significant enough to validate or even to make them wonder. They don't see the broader context or the cumulative effect of the many small moments. Its easy to dismiss it all as isolated incidents.

But for those of us who are seeing the whole picture, nothing is lost or ignored or dismissed.

We understand how these small moments fit together to create a complex story because we see the wider context. They are individual threads in the tapestry of their lives.

When JK goes live on Weverse on White Day wearing a white shirt and not much else and has a drink with ARMY, and we know Jimin is not around, we get what's happening. When Jimin posts a photo of the two of them wearing white on White Day, he doesnt need to say anything else.

When JK sends a thirst trap birthday message for Jimin and ends it with a clunky 'happy birthday bro', we know why.

When he uses the sign language for love on a stage in front of the whole world and directs it at Jimin, we see what hes doing.

When Jungkook presents himself as the vampiric stereotype - lusting for the forbidden - in his photo folio and Jimin parallels this with his own mythic themes and darkly sensual imagery in the same project, we can't misunderstand the symbolism.

When Jimin says "hurry up and be me soon", when he presents feminine for one concept and masculine for the next, when he stands on the Miss Dior red carpet in a cape and full face of make-up but with his bloodied knuckles on full display, we can't pretend we don't see it.

When Jimin & Jungkook wear matching outfits, even even when they're not together...

When they publicly conform to couple stereotypes - off stage and outside of BTS...

We know. We see it all as a single woven story and we know.

And like any truly committed couple, they're there for each other in good times and bad. They celebrate their successes, comfort each other, and stick together when times get tough.

And no, they've never verbally confirmed or denied. The context of their lives makes any such declaration incredibly difficult, if not impossible. Regardless, they owe no explanation. But being so visible would be confirmation enough for almost any other couple to be acknowledged.

They tell us over and over who they are.

Showing so undeniably that they are always there for each other is more than enough, honestly. If you can accept all the things you cannot see, how can you look at these two and not see love?

💜💛

That's essentially what the Trans Day of Visibility is about.

Showing that you exist.

Being seen and believed.

You don't needs to make a speech or an announcement. You can if you want to of course. You can go to a rally if you want to be with the trans community, and in the current political climate that might be safer if you want to be seen.

Maybe you just want to drop a hint ... iykyk

But you don't have to be seen at all if you choose not to...

Shout out to all the trans, gender diverse, gender questioning, and gender non-conforming humans in the world and all our allies and supporters too.

On this year's Trans Day of Visibility, I understand more than ever why people might prefer to remain invisible. It's dangerous out there.

Nevertheless, celebrate yourself today and every day. Being authentic and living your life as your genuine self in a way that makes you happy is your right.

If you aren't there yet, take your time, be brave where you can but be safe, and know that you are amazing.

Trans right are human rights.

And in case it's needed, here's a message for the haters: You will never win. We've always been here and we will always be here. Just like every other human, we belong here too 🏳️‍⚧️

[pearlessance]

Lust Among Thieves [part two]

[part one]

Summary: Fifteen years after escaping your captors, leaving them and the cabin in the woods behind, you end up in a community named Jackson and find yourself repeating the same old habits. Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, angst galore, mild infidelity (Tommy is with Maria but he and reader share one [1] kiss), canon typical violence, mention of kidnapping, mention of blood, angssssttt but with a happy ending (reader ends up with one brother!!!) NOTE: this is a cowrite i've done with my BFF joelmillersgirlfriend!! make sure to go and read her other stuff on A03! thank you guys so much for all the positive feedback on this one, I'm glad you guys are liking it! let us know what you think about the ending <3 [MASTERLIST]

The sun is so warm that it’s beginning to melt the snow, turning it from soft and fluffy to a wet sort of slush. A comforting relief, because the winter holds memories you’re better off leaving behind. Memories of scowls and whittling knives, of the taste of whiskey and lighthearted laughter.

After fifteen years, you thought you’d grow out of the feeling, that you’d grieve the loss and go on instead to appreciate the recovery of your autonomy. But every winter, without fail, you remember your time in that cabin. You remember them. 

You’d never grown out of the feeling and you’d never grown into the now tattered canvas coat. If you closed your eyes and imagined the burn of the winter snow grazing your skin, you could remember how Joel smelled. You could remember how Tommy’s lips tasted.

But years had passed. The memory was now a faint one and one that you tried not to dwell on for too long. You have met a lot of people over the years and had dangerous encounters daily. Why was this one different?

Joel and Tommy had turned you into a new person within the four walls of that cabin. You weren’t the same afterward, now you were sculpted into a being with a sharp tongue and a toughed exterior yet… the core of you was soft. If you dug deep enough, the creature that Joel and Tommy had created was still inside of you, tender and vulnerable. 

For a while, you considered what you would do if you ever encountered them again. You were so far away from the outskirts of the Boston QZ, the death of your father and the weight of the situation turning into a calloused scar instead of a leaking wound over time. Over the past fifteen years, you had made your way across the country, searching for something. Whatever that something was, you weren’t sure of yet.

If you saw the brothers, would you be angry? Would they? They were heavy on your mind that morning as you made your way through the abandoned, ice-covered streets of Jackson Hole Wyoming.

You had left a compound back in Nebraska weeks ago. The people there weren’t bad, but it felt like another washed-down version of living under FEDRA. Constant patrolling, ridiculous rules. It was no surprise that you felt trapped because you had always felt trapped. It was only a matter of time before you ran away. It was the only thing that you were good at. 

You jumped from house to house in Wyoming, occasionally spending a couple of days if you were tired of the constant headache of moving every day. Most of your days consisted of you laying on an old, lifeless mattress, staring up at the ceiling and asking yourself ‘What if I never left?’ Would you have more of a purpose now? Would you not be alone?

You practiced your regular routine of bouncing through dilapidated houses, grabbing what supplies were still left, which was practically nothing. For an area where you had encountered absolutely no one, the houses were surprisingly scarce. 

It was getting late in the evening, and you had picked a house to settle down in for the night. The house had a rough exterior, similar to yours, but the inside was surprisingly still in good condition. You crept through the house, picking through each drawer and cabinet to once again, find nothing.

Truly, the master bedroom should have been an indicator to leave, but you were always a sucker for taking things that did not belong to you.

Just when you were about to call searching the house quits and crack open a book from your bag, you noticed a shifted floorboard in the bedroom. You hummed to yourself in curiosity, reaching down to investigate the suspicious piece of wood. It came out of the floor easily, revealing the contents buried inside. 

Ammo, water, packaged food, medicine. 

But most importantly, a bottle of Jack. Jesus, how long had it been since you had seen one of these? You laughed to yourself when you pulled it out of its hiding spot, half empty but still the perfect amount for a lone wanderer. 

You grabbed your pack, slipping all of the things you had found into it before you heard the voices. 

Fuck.

Moving swiftly, you grabbed everything you could before glancing around the bedroom. Footsteps and conversations were coming up the stairs, and you couldn’t believe how stupid you were for not checking the perimeter of the neighborhood before poking through the houses. 

“Jesse, go get the stuff from the master. Maria is gonna be pissed that we weren’t able to find more. Might as well bring back what we can,” you vaguely heard a gruff voice say. 

Into the closet you went, quietly tiptoeing across the room. Your hands were shaking as you grasped the straps of your bag, praying that luck would be on your side, just this once. 

The second you faded into the darkness of the shadows in the closet, a man stepped into the bedroom. You could see him through the panels of the closet door, especially if you squinted in just the right way.

He appeared young, with long dark hair that fell into his eyes when he glanced around the room. You held your breath when his sharp, determined eyes shifted to look over at the closet momentarily. It didn’t last long, which you were grateful for. You could feel your pulse ticking in your neck as he moved away to check the floorboards, knowing that he wasn’t going to be pleased with what he found. 

He was turned away from you so you couldn’t physically gauge his reaction, but his voice told you all you needed to know.

“Uh, we have a problem here. Stuff’s gone!” he shouted, standing back up quickly to unholster his gun. He glanced around the room once more, waiting for his partner to shout something back.

The voice was distant when it spoke, most likely still downstairs, waiting. “What do you mean, gone?”

The man who was only a few meters from you sighed, shaking his head. “I mean, it’s gone, someone must’ve taken it!”

You could hear heavy footsteps, every movement clearly laced with annoyance as he climbed the stairs. And then they stop a short distance away, and you hear the familiar click of his gun. 

In the holster strapped around your thigh sits your pistol. You have only two bullets—enough to kill a clicker in a pinch, but not enough to fend off two grown men who are also armed. You tighten your fingers around the handle of the old knife, leather now cracked with age, formed perfectly to the hills and valleys of your fingers.

Heart hammering, you know and accept the fact that you’re going to have to take your chances and run. You could already see the shadow of the man entering the room, grumbling at having to come up the stairs. His back was to the closet, approaching his partner.

“It was here two days ago,” he began before quickly stopping. His hand reached out, gesturing towards the ground. Your eyes squinted, following the gesture down until you saw what he found. Wet footprints.

You lunged out of the closet before anyone could even move, and latched onto the man's back like a starfish. You looked at the first man, Jesse, before pressing your knife against the second man's throat.

“Just let me leave. Let me leave and I won’t kill him,” you said coldly, the tip of the blade pushing into your prisoner. 

Jesse’s eyes widened, his hands spread in an attempt to calm you. “Hey, wait a second. We’re not looking for a fight. It doesn’t have to be like this,” he spoke, loosely holding his gun in his hand. You glanced at it with hesitation, which was enough time for your prisoner to grab your wrist and whip you around.

He was much larger than you, probably almost three times your size. There was no way in hell you would’ve been able to keep him restrained for long.

You whimpered in pain at the feeling of your wrist being twisted, the knife dropping out of your hand and clattering to the ground below.

“Stupid girl,” the man said, turning slowly to face you. There’s something about the way the words sound in his mouth that twists up your insides, a timbre that makes your hands tremble and shake. “Shouldn’t make threats when you’re outnum—” He stops. 

And your heart does, too. “Joel?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just narrows his eyes and clenches his teeth, jaw feathering. His hair has gone a little gray and there are defined wrinkles around his mouth and a scar across his nose that didn’t exist the last time you’d seen him, but you’re sure of it. As sure as you are of the ground beneath your feet, you’re sure that a ghost stands before you. 

His eyes soften as the realization hits. You know you’ve aged, too—though perhaps not as drastically.

Jesse is the one who speaks. “Do you know each other or something?”

“Yes,” Joel says, in perfect time as you answer, “No.”

“O…kay.” Jesse shifts uncomfortably on his feet before he closes the space between himself and the place you and Joel stand in what seems to be an eternal face-off. He plucks your knife up from the ground and hands it to you, hilt first. “Here. We don’t want any trouble.”

The shine of the blade catches Joel’s eye, and he scoffs as he processes what he sees. He takes the knife from Jesse’s hand before you get a chance to do so. He raises it in front of his face, no doubt inspecting the two letters etched into the metal.

“T.M? Tommy?” Jesse’s brows furrow as he turns his attention to you. “Is this Tommy’s knife?”

Neither of you answer him. Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and sweat beads your hairline. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and every cell in your body urges you to run as far and as fast as you can. 

“Joel,” Jesse says, voice a little more firm. 

“Just let me go,” you plead, staring Joel in the eye, trying to hide your fear. Not of him, but of the feeling that rises in you upon seeing him. The yearning, the desire, the familiarity. You’d convinced yourself it’d be gone by now, eviscerated. But feeling the warmth of his skin, smelling the pine scent of him—it all comes flooding back with a vengeance. “Please. Just give me the knife and I’ll walk away and we can pretend—”

“She’s coming back with us,” he tells Jesse. “Feed her. Get her some new clothes. If she wants to stay, there’s that empty house over by the cemetery. Fixed it up last week.”

“Stay? Where?”

“A town,” Jesse answers. He smiles at you and it’s warm and inviting, something you haven’t seen in some time. “A community.”

Your stomach growls at the thought of a decent meal, but your fear has you shaking your head. “No, I can’t. I’m—”

“You what?” Joel’s voice cuts through you. “Don’t got anywhere else to go. God knows how long it’s been since you last ate.”

You want to protest, to argue with him, to prove him wrong. But you can’t, because he’s right, and that fact enrages you more than anything else. 

Still, you agree. One night, you tell yourself. A good meal and a good night’s sleep and then you’d leave, never to be seen again.

Jesse helped you onto the back of his horse, leading the way back to the settlement while Joel followed. Every time you glanced back, unable to prevent yourself from looking at Joel, you saw his icy gaze watching your own. You swallowed nervously, pulling back into Jesse. You wondered what Joel was thinking. If he remember everything, if it meant anything to him.

Jackson was huge. There was food and people and walls. It wasn’t like the QZ. People lived like a family, working together for the better of humanity. It brought tears to your eyes to see. 

You felt overwhelmed as you trailed through the streets of Jackson, still mounted upon Jesse’s horse. Random strangers on the street greeted Joel as he led the way like he was some sort of beloved member of the community. All you could do was force a smile and nod during the random greetings, wondering if they knew who Joel really was.

“That jacket looks real familiar,” Joel spoke, gesturing at the worn coat swallowing your shoulders. It was large and had outlived its life, but you couldn’t let it go. It had been with you during some of the coldest winters, keeping you warm. 

“Looks a lot like the one my daddy gave me before he passed. I went crazy, thinkin’ I misplaced it. All this time, it was just you stealin’ shit that don’t belong to you,” Joel scoffed, but without malice. You stuttered, closing it around your body to cover your chest, a habit stemming from pure nerves.

It had been your jacket for years, your only source of comfort during cruel winters. It belonged to you just as much as it belonged to him. You were the one who had taken care of it all of the time.

Joel chuckled at your reaction, grinning down at you. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna ask for it back. I’m happy that you’ve gotten some use outta it.”

It was bewildering, how one sentence he spoke could come across filled with resentment, with ire, and the next be filled with something that felt sort of like relief.

But even back then, even fifteen years ago, you’d never been able to quite understand him. And though his anger was a kindred spirit to yours, Joel was so confusing. 

Once in the stables, Jesse helps you dismount. Before you even swing your leg over the horse, Joel’s handing his reins off to the stable hand and rounding the corner, disappearing from sight. 

Jesse sees your attention follow him, no doubt reading the expression of confusion on your face. “Don’t worry about him,” he says. “Joel can be a bit of an ass sometimes.”

You think that might be the understatement of the decade, but you keep that to yourself. 

“C’mon. Let’s go meet Maria to see where we should place you for housing and then I’ll let you get settled in.”

As Jesse leads you through the streets of Jackson, you can’t help but feel a bit of shock at the way things operate here. There are so many people you can’t keep their faces straight. Children of all ages, people your age, and elders. A rare occurrence these days.

There’s electricity powering lights strewn between the buildings. A carpenter and a grocer and a bar. It feels like something out of a dream.

Jesse leads you into what looks like a cafeteria. There are a handful of tables with hundreds of mismatched chairs around them, and a low chatter that greets you the moment you step through the doors. 

You notice him in a second.

Tommy’s laughing. His hair has grown out long enough that he can tuck the dark blonde strands behind his ear now, curling just slightly at the ends. 

He’s got a couple more freckles and wrinkles around his soft eyes. And seeing Joel was jarring, but it’s Tommy and his boisterous laughter and that wide grin on his face that makes your chest crack wide open. 

You love him, and you’ve always known it. You love them both, but it’s the loss of Tommy’s warmth you’ve felt the deepest since escaping from that cabin. It’s taken you a long time to accept it, but you have—and seeing him brought back a burning feeling that you thought was long gone.

Tommy notices Jesse, waving at him wildly, looking past you as if you were transparent. He didn’t recognize you yet, which wasn’t surprising. You were standing a handful of meters away, and from what it appeared, you seemed to be a ghost from a past life. One that he never anticipated seeing again, with how settled down he appeared to be now.

“Jesse! You have to hear this shit, man! Get over here,” Tommy gestured, a shit-eating smile still filling his face. You noticed the way Jesse looked at you first, evaluating your reaction, which was little to none. You’d grown good at hiding your emotions over the years, a calloused exterior being your own personal form of protection. A shell.

Your brain felt like it was pounding against the walls of your skull when you followed Jesse over to Tommy’s table. You kept your eyes glued down at your feet and prayed, that maybe, he wouldn’t notice you. But, of course…

“Hey, Tommy. I think I found an old friend of yours,” Jesse starts off with, the bastard. Tommy’s soft eyes move over to you, staring blankly for a couple of beats. The noise from the cafeteria droned out as you looked into his eyes, locked on those deep irises that you had dreamt about for years.

The sound of Tommy’s metal chair scraping against the floor pulled you out of your haze. His arms wrapped around you, engulfing your frame - swallowing you in his own body. He was so warm and firm. You hadn’t touched another person for so long, not like this. 

But you still were so uncertain. Your hands wavered, shaking nervously as you considered hugging him back. Things were so complicated, incredibly taboo, and filthy. You shouldn’t want to hug him back. You opt on loosely hugging his waist, too nervous to match the pressure of his embrace.

He pulls back, his large palms coming up to cradle the sides of your face. It reminded you of that night all those years ago when you first kissed him. You could still taste the bottle of Jack on his lips, warm and heavy against your tongue.

Tommy was contemplating kissing you, you had seen the look before. It was all too familiar.

His eyes were heavy, but the look left almost as quickly as it had appeared. He awkwardly shifted back, pulling out of your incredibly loose embrace. Jesus, Tommy was just as conflicted with you. His remorse for what had happened was clear on his face, those heavy puppy dog eyes searching your face desperately, praying that you would forgive him. Forgive Joel.

It was all too much - your head was spinning and your tongue was stuck to the roof of your mouth. Tommy glanced over at the table he had jumped up from, directly at a woman who was sitting next to his seat. Her freckled face was etched with a frown, one that was full of confusion about the situation.

“Christ, you’re alive?” Tommy whispered, wavering away from you. His disbelief wasn’t one that you had expected, nor had Jesse. The young man was still standing beside you, watching the events unfold with wide eyes. 

“I’m not really hungry, Jesse,” you turned and said, needing to get out of there immediately. Something was unraveling deep inside, what that something was, you didn’t know. Your palms felt slick with sweat, your legs unintentionally pulling you back, protecting you from the conversation.

“Please,” Tommy begged, “Let’s talk. Settle in, get used to everything, but don’t leave town without comin’ to talk. And for the love of God, eat .”

You nodded, backing away from Tommy like a scared puppy. The sound of your heart beating filled your brain as you turned and walked away, Jesse hot on your heels. You heard Tommy’s voice speak, “Maria, come on, we gotta go over some things.”

The air is cool against your heated skin, and you greedily swallow the icy air. You press your palm against your sternum, trying to will your heart to slow and your blood to settle in your veins.

“Hey,” Jesse says, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder that makes you jump out of your skin.

When you turn to face him, you don’t even remember unsheathing your knife from the holster strapped to your belt. He has his hands held up in surrender, that friendly smile on his face, and guilt begins to trickle down your spine.

“Alright, alright,” he says. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You lower the knife quickly, returning it to its rightful place at your hips. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry, too. Uhm…instinct, I guess.”

“I get it,” he says, and for some reason, you believe him. There’s such understanding in his voice that it’s hard not to. “Jackson is a lot to adjust to. Doesn’t happen overnight.”

You nod slowly in response. 

“There’s an empty house over by the cemetery. I can show you, and you can rest or look around or…you know, do whatever you need to. There’s hot water, you can shower, and some staples in the pantry if you feel like cooking. I can run to the community hall and get you some new clothes and drop them off if you want some space.”

The words sound foreign in your ears as if he’s speaking a different language. Cooking, showering, hot water …the thought crosses your mind that you’ve somehow died and this is all some kind of strange hallucination. 

But a moment along sounds like bliss, and a shower sounds like heaven, so you find yourself nodding and following him through the streets of Jackson. Jesse tries to make small talk, but you’re not in much of a talking mood and he seems to pick up on it and doesn’t press for much more information.

He tells you there are towels in the linen closet in the hall upstairs and promises to return in less than ten minutes with a basket of clean clothes. “I’ll set them just inside the door,” he said. ”Take what you want. If there’s anything that doesn’t fit, I’ll bring it back to the hall later.”

The house is nice, bigger than any of the places you’ve ever holed up in for a few days, and more secure, too. Upstairs there’s a massive bathroom and before you do anything else, you turn the handle to the hottest setting. The water spits and spudders and is freezing at first, but the second it begins to warm you’re stripping off your clothes and stepping beneath the stream.

And you’re not quite sure why, but the sensation of it brings moisture to your eyes, salty tears mixing with the warm spray from the showerhead. The water that pools at your feet is dark and grimy, ridding you of the dirt that clings to your skin. 

You scrub your skin raw and still don’t feel clean enough. But when the water runs cold, you leave wet footprints on the wood flooring of the stairs and find that Jesse stayed true to his word. 

Just inside the front door is a laundry basket full of clothes; denim and fleece, cotton t-shirts and undergarments, socks, and even a half-decent bra. You settle on jeans and a hoodie that’s just a little too big, but still hold tight to the old coat you’d stolen.

He also left a plate of food, which you assumed was from the cafeteria. Even though you didn’t think you could’ve eaten earlier, not after seeing Tommy, you were suddenly famished. The food was gone in under a minute. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had something fresh, rice, green beans, onions. It was life-altering.

There’s a big bed in the center of one of the bedrooms upstairs, and you tell yourself you’ll rest just for a few seconds. A few minutes. But the moment your head hits the pillow, you know it isn’t true and you don’t have the energy to convince yourself otherwise. 

When you finally wake, the room is dark, and the rays from the rising moon are silhouetting the bedroom in a blue haze. You sigh, relaxing into the bed sheets. It was crazy to reflect on your current circumstances. Just a day ago, you were starving, sleeping on an old rotted mattress with a gun held tightly in your hand. Now, you could hear the laughter and shouts of children from the street outside your window.

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes as you stood up, deciding to leave the house and explore. It would be beneficial to know where everything is, you think. If for nothing else than to know the best escape routes, to become familiar with the routine of the watchers on the walls.

You brush your teeth before heading out, the night air rushing against your face when you step onto the front porch. Even though it’s late in the evening, the streets are still filled with people; families walking back home together, couples holding hands. It almost feels unreal.

Walking past the cemetery, you notice some people crouched at the gravestones, crying. Even when you were somewhere safe, you could never escape the horrors of loss.

It felt like you were floating through the streets of Jackson, an outsider peering in. The closer you got to the center of town, the more people you stumbled upon. Icicle lights were strung across the powerlines and street before you, random strangers greeting you in passing. 

You finally grew tired of the attention, the stares, the forced conversations. You ended up pulling up the hood of your jacket over your head, shielding yourself from gazing eyes. 

A small church was planted near the center of town, and the doors cracked, allowing you to glance in. Though it wasn’t entirely full, many people filled the pews and watched the priest give his sermon. You could pick up a few words from where you were standing, but you didn’t really care to hear. You gave up on a religion a long time ago. 

A couple of meters away was an open space that had a bonfire square in the middle, with a handful of picnic tables spread across the space. The hum of the people talking drew you in, despite not knowing anyone, or so you thought.

“Settlin’ in good?” you heard from behind you, the voice making you jump in surprise. You turned back to see Joel, his dark eyes watching you from a couple of feet away. Those dark eyes still made your palm sweat and your cheeks burn bright. He had always held something in him that made you docile. 

You cleared your throat, subconsciously pulling at the strings of your hoodie. “It’s surreal here. Not like the QZ.”

Joel huffs, nodding in agreement. “Thank God it ain’t.“

There is an awkward pause where you stand shyly in front of Joel, uncertain of what to say next. Making small talk with him was never your forte, because typically he never even wanted to speak with you. Now, here he is, actively trying to pull a conversation out of you. He had changed. 

“You’re not like how I remember,” you say, your lips moving quicker than your brain was able to think. Joel stiffened, rubbing the scruff of his beard.

“Yeah? And how do you remember me?”

It’s a test, one to see how you would describe your relationship with both him and Tommy. A mutual romantic bond? Or something much more sinister, much more taboo? You don’t fall for the trap because you aren’t even sure how you want to interpret everything. Not entirely.

“Quieter. Less gray hairs too,” you said, not expecting the warm sound of Joel’s laughter to hit your ears. He smiled down at you, the grin boyish and full of hidden memories. It made you ache for something you never even had. 

“It’s been a long time. When you left…” Joel trailed off, his expression morphing into a dark cloud. You knew that leaving would hurt both of the brothers, and it felt shameful to admit that sometimes you regretted your escape. Yes, you were free, but what difference did it make? You had lost companionship. Love?

“We both hated to see you leave, but we understood.” Joel was no longer looking you in the eye but was instead staring down at his feet. “What happened there? It wasn’t right, the things we did with you. I can be the first to admit. It was the actions of two desperate, lonely men. But I’m not here to make excuses.”

His eyes moved back to look at your face, to gauge your reaction. 

“I’m sorry. Tommy sure as hell is, he beat himself to death over all of it. You don’t have to forgive me or forgive either of us. But, please, just hear him out. He wants you to come over to dinner tomorrow so you can meet everyone. Then maybe we could all talk?”

You stepped back, crossing your arms and shaking your head. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you tried to explain. The idea of being trapped in a house with people you didn’t know didn’t exactly sound appealing. Joel had apologized for both him and Tommy, truthfully, there wasn’t much of a point to even go now. What more was there to talk about?

“Joel!” shouted a voice from where the bonfire was taking place. Both you and Joel turned to watch a young girl run over to where you were standing. When she arrives you’re able to get a good look at her - pretty blue eyes and a smattering of freckles across her nose that reminds you of the constellations.

For a moment you considered that maybe he had a kid. She looked no older than sixteen - it could be possible. But she didn’t look like Joel, much too soft in the cheeks. Joel had strong features while this girl was the epitome of a cherub, her rounded lips turned up into a smile as she grinned at you.

“Joel. Is it alright if I spend the night at Cat’s? I don’t have garden duty until the afternoon so I’d have plenty of time to get back,” she explained. Well, if she wasn’t Joel’s daughter then she was certainly Joel’s something. The sick thought crossed your mind that maybe something was wrong here, but the moment Joel reached over to tousle her hair, you knew that you were wrong.

“Of course not, El. Be back by dinner tomorrow,” he said, shooting her away, back towards the crowd at the fire. She gave you a farewell wave, one that you returned, as she ran off to find her friend.

Your face was warm when you thought about how you had considered that Joel might’ve been in a relationship with her. Joel noticed your embarrassment, watched the way you huffed into your palm, and shook your head.

“What?” Joel questioned, the distant fire casting a fire over his face. It reminded you of the cabin, of the fireplace. Of his warmth.

“You kidnap her too?”

The small grin that he had on his face disappeared in an instant, replaced with rage and disappointment.

“Of course not,” Joel sputtered, scoffing at the accusation. “I would’ve never- I mean, she is just a child,” he hissed.

“And I wasn’t?” you whispered back just as angrily, pulling your hood off of your head. You wanted him to look at you, to see you. 

“I told you, I’m sorry. I’ve had fifteen years to reflect and I can admit that I was,” Joel pauses before snarling, “a goddamn monster back then. But, Ellie, she’s like a daughter to me. She gave me a purpose. With her, things were different,” he sighed, shaking his head in frustration. 

Tears were burning the back of your eyes, but you forced yourself to keep it together. You weren’t going to show Joel that he had hurt you. That you had missed him. 

“And why wasn’t it different with me?” you questioned, a genuine curiosity behind the words. 

Joel only stood, looking down at you with his lips pressed into a frown. This girl, Ellie, had broken Joel, but you hadn’t. What was so special about her that she was able to receive his empathy?

The answer to that question was easy. You knew that deep down, it was never about you. It was about Sarah. 

You hated that you weren’t able to watch him grow and change, to help him change. He never gave you the chance. 

“I’m going to go,” you said, turning to leave both Joel and the conversation behind. Before you could walk off the sidewalk, you felt a familiar hand wrapped around your arm. A heat rose in your chest and settled in between your thighs just by being touched by Joel. 

His dark eyes softened as he took you in, his gaze tracing the lines of your face, your body, your palms. His large hands dwarfed yours when he pulled you towards him, wrapping you in a hug. It was different from Tommy’s, one that was full of surprise and longing.

Joel’s was tender and soft, his large palms moving in small, gentle circles as if he was afraid he’d break you. 

“Is this okay?” Joel questioned, one that took you by surprise. He had changed, that’s for sure. You nodded, melting into his touch, practically cemented between the pressure of his arms. It had been so long since you had been touched, focused purely on survival. It felt good, to feel wanted.

“When you left we searched for you,” he spoke into your hair. “With the raiders and all, we thought that maybe more had come and taken you. Took us a little while to realize that wasn’t the case. We understood why you left, why you felt like you had to leave, but… fuck .”

He had pulled back now, unable to meet your eyes. “I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to be by your side until it was too late. I fucked up. We both did. But it was me who treated you badly, who excused it. So, I’m sorry.”

It was Joel’s third and final apology of the night. You had decided that you did forgive him, for all of it. There was no point in wallowing in anger forever. You had to let it go.

“I know,” you whispered, reaching to hold his palm in your hand. He wasn’t a bad man. He had never been, and it hits you only now that maybe you’ve always known from the very first moment that he’s not bad …he’s just like you. 

Quick to anger, quicker to self-preservation. Neither of you has ever seen the best in others before the bad, your psyche molded always to expect the worst, tragedy burned in like a bad memory.

“I know,” you say again. “And I forgive you.”

His shoulders deflate as if setting down something so heavy he’d become accustomed to the weight of it after all these years. He gives you this smile, but it’s sort of sad and the sight of it quietly breaks your heart. 

But Joel regains his composure quickly, casting his eyes away from you and clearing emotion from his throat. Your hand still sits in his, a firm, warm hold on you, full of surety, devoid of hesitation. You try not to think about how much it feels like home. 

“So, would you think about dinner then?”

You don’t know these people. You know Joel and Tommy but everyone else remains a mystery, and though nothing about Jackson raises any immediate red flags, there’s still a nagging warning that rings in the back of your mind. Don’t get close. This is only temporary. You don’t belong here. Yet still, you find yourself nodding, pleased with the look of further satisfaction that finds its way onto Joel’s face. “Okay. Dinner.”

When he releases your hand, it feels like a loss all over again. You swallow it down, bury it deep, pretend it’s not there like you’ve always done. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then,” he says. “I’m going to try and get some sleep. Been a long day.”

You nod and force the words out of your mouth even though all you want is to beg him to stay, to wrap his big hand back around yours and pull you into his side. “Goodnight, Joel.”

Even though it makes you feel a little pathetic, you watch him walk away. But he’s turning back to face you, slowly walking backward as he quickly says, “You’re free to take any leftovers, by the way. No, uh…no thievery needed.”

It makes you laugh, the joy of the tender moment seeping deep between your bones. “Good to know,” you say. “I’ll keep it in mind, but don’t be surprised if I pocket a silver spoon or two.”

You hardly sleep the entire night. All you can think about it the weight of his calloused palm, of the timbre of his voice as he told you they looked for you.

No one’s ever looked for you before.

Just before sunrise, you allow yourself a moment to regret running. It’s the first time in all your life that you think maybe flight was the wrong response. 

Tommy knocks on your door early. He’s got on a pair of Levi’s and a black and red flannel, and there’s a long-barrel rifle slung over his shoulder with a scope attached to it. “Morning, sweetheart,” he says. The familiar sobriquet sends a warmth slithering down your spine. “Thought we could go out today. Just the two of us. That sound okay?”

Before you have the chance to think better of it, you're stepping outside and closing the door behind you. Tommy chuckles softly at your lack of hesitation and throws an affectionate arm around your shoulders. You can’t resist leaning into him, can’t think of another place you’ve ever felt safer. 

But then you think of that day so long ago, with Joel wrapped around you, his strong arms encircling your waist, and you think tucked into Tommy’s side might be the second safest place in the world.

The streets of Jackson are relatively empty compared to yesterday. The sun is up, casting orange shadows over the puddles of melting snow, and the lack of prying eyes makes you curious. “Where is everyone?”

“It’s Sunday,” he says simply. “For one day of the week, no one’s got any jobs to do.” 

Truthfully, the concept of a weekday or a weekend has been foreign to you for so long you’d nearly forgotten its existence. “Oh,” is all you can rebuttal. And then a few moments later, “Where are we going?”

“Hunting trip,” Tommy explains. “Just like old times. Joel says you still got my skinnin’ knife.”

The words hold some accusation, making you flush, but there’s a proud smile on his face and you know he’s not angry for your stealing. You can feel the weight of it at your hip, and pull it from the sheath attached to your leather belt. Slowly, you turn it in your hand, polished silver glinting. 

“Figured you’d taken it when I couldn’t find it. Looked everywhere for that thing. Looked everywhere for you, too. But…I just hoped it kept you safe. Wherever you were, I kinda liked the thought of, ya know…just being able to protect you somehow. I’m glad you had it.”

His confession cracks your chest wide open and leaves you bleeding. You think of all the times his knife had done just that; protected you, fed you, saved you.

“S’alright,” he says. “Go on an’ keep it. S’yours now, sweetheart.” 

You slide the blade back into its home on your hip and follow Tommy as he feeds and speaks softly to an all-black horse in the stables. He saddles it quickly and with precision before pulling you up onto the horse behind him.

Instinctually, you wrap your arms tight around his waist and rest your cheek against his spine, inhaling the familiar but long-forgotten scent of him. The watchers on the walls let the two of you pass with only a nod to Tommy, and you ride slowly through the wet grass until you come to a clearing in the woods.

There’s a tree blind, hidden at the edge of the brush. Tommy ties the horse’s reins to the post and he lets you climb up the ladder first. 

Once you’re both safely inside, the horse grazing on the grass below, Tommy sits the end of his rifle on the edge of the window before settling into one of the rickety wooden chairs that have been hauled into the blind. 

You take the one beside him. Even though you know a big part of hunting is the silence, a million questions press against the back of your teeth. After a few minutes pass by, you can take the pressure no longer and ask, “Who’s Maria?”

A smile climbs onto his face. Unsure of what to expect, it surprises you as he answers simply, saying, “My wife.”

“ Wife ?” It raises a plethora of new questions. How long have they known each other? Did Tommy ever tell Maria about their time in the cabin? Did the two of them build Jackson together? Why does his answer sting?

He seems to sense the confusion and reaches across the open space to squeeze your hand in his. “After you left. Jesus, I think both Joel and I had a moment of realization. I missed you like hell, the feelin’ of you, the warmth. To think that you had gone back out there, with raiders and God knows what else, because of me and Joel? Christ.”

Tommy sighs, pausing before staring out into the wooded distance. You could see how much he had on his mind, an unbearable weight that he had been holding for years. It was wearing him down, weakening his bones. 

“I know Joel talked to you, but I really can’t explain to you how sorry I am,” Tommy began. You glanced down at his palm which was still holding your own, large and heavy against your skin. 

“There’s no excusin’ it. You were so young, and innocent. Something that we hadn’t been around for so long. We had seen horrible things, had done awful things. We took advantage of you. I took advantage of you.” He turned to look at you, a deep sincerity held in his eyes. “Please, forgive me. I don't know how I’d be able to keep livin’ with myself if you don’t.”

There wasn’t anything to forgive. You had wanted everything that happened, at the end of the day. You had missed both him and Joel. 

“I’ll forgive you if you forgive me for stealing from you,” you said in an attempt to break the ice. You knew it worked from the way Tommy’s face broke out into a toothy grin. 

“You’re forgiven.”

Tommy explained to you what had happened after you ran away from the cabin. How he had gone back to the Boston QZ in search of you, eventually abandoning Joel there to join the Fireflies. From there he had ditched the Fireflies, deciding that their methods were too extreme, and then, he met Maria. She had saved him, washed him of all of his sins, and gave him a purpose again. 

“She’s a good woman. An amazing woman, Jackson wouldn’t even exist without her,” he said, but it felt like he was convincing himself and not you. Tommy looked over at you, a dark lust behind his eyes that you hadn’t seen since the last night you shared in that faraway cabin. 

“She is,” he breathed. “But… sometimes I think about how different things would’ve been if I made better choices back then. I’m happy here in Jackson, beyond happy, but-“

You closed the distance quickly, knocking your wooden chair into his own. His lips were warm and soft, just like you had remembered them. It was easy kissing Tommy, like second nature. He hummed into your mouth and didn’t push you away. There was no huge rush of passion behind it, but something much more important. Catharsis. A conclusion.

“For closure,” you whispered into his lips. Tommy nodded, kissing you once more before leaning back in his seat, his hand still holding yours.

“For closure.”

On the way back, Tommy fills you in on Joel’s relationship with Ellie. They met in the QZ, where he agreed to take her across the country to Salt Lake City. When you ask why, Tommy insists it isn’t important, that if it was he would tell you. “It’s Ellie’s secret to tell, anyway,” he says.

You let it go, far more interested in something else entirely. Your arms are wrapped around his waist on the back of the horse and you’re breathing a little easier now as you ask, “Does she make you happy? Maria?”

There’s a moment of hesitation. Or rather contemplation, perhaps. But then he nods slowly and says, “Yeah. Yeah, she does.”

You’re glad to hear it. Truthfully. Even with all that’s transpired, you’re thankful Tommy was able to find this slice of bliss in the hellish affairs of the world. 

“Does she know? About what happened?” you asked shyly. Tommy sighed, nodding.

“She knew bits and pieces but not at all of it. After Joel and Jesse found you, I told her everything. It wasn’t fair for her not to know.”

You would’ve guessed that he told her. He seemed to really love her, to trust her. If Joel even trusted her, then that showed the strength in the relationship. It didn’t bother you that she knew. It was for the best.

“And…Joel? Do you think he’s happy?”

This time it’s definitely hesitation. Tommy’s throat bobs as he swallows hard. He lets out a long breath, misting in the cool air. “He hasn’t been the same since…”

“Since Sarah, right?”

Tommy shakes his head. “No. I mean, yes, but…”

There’s something he’s holding onto, and you’re not sure if it’s for your sake or for Joel’s. Either way, this is the secret you decide you need to uncover. “Tell me.”

“When you left…I mean, I know I already said it was hard but it was different for Joel. I had the Fireflies and then I had Maria and Jackson, all things that filled the emptiness but Joel…I don’t know. S’like he never came back from it. From losin’ you.”

You can see Jackson in the distance now. A silhouette of a town, of a home. Your stomach turns, thinking that all this time you’ve both been suffering from the same plight and the cure has simply been forgiveness. 

But can you live with entirely forgiving Joel? Completely? He advocated for your death, held you hostage, and shot you in cold blood. You can acknowledge and accept the fact that he’s changed, that you all have, that you’ve grown and matured and established a firm line between what’s right and what’s wrong, something the three of you once lacked.

You’ve finally found closure enough to move on from this, but if you let go of your anger, let it dissolve into nothing, what would be left of what you feel for him but longing?

If you let it all go…there would be nothing left inside you for Joel Miller but love, and you’re fairly certain that that would be even more difficult to navigate than your anger. 

Once back in Jackson with nothing to show for your hunting trip but ease in your shoulders, Tommy secures the horse back into the stables and offers to walk you home. You laugh and joke the whole way and it feels natural, just like old times but perhaps even better now that you’re here of your own volition. 

Once in front of your house, Tommy takes your hand in his and kisses your palm. “I’ll always care for you,” he whispers, dancing around a word far more intense. Once again, you’re not sure if it’s for your benefit or for his, or if it’s for Joel’s.

You lift his hand to your face and lean into his caress, feeling the warmth on your cheek, the roughness of his skin brought on by age and hard labor. “Me too,” you admit. And then quieter, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I know it was…”

Tommy shakes his head. “No, sweetheart—don’t you ever apologize for that.” He used his free hand to thread his fingers through your hair, not dissimilar to the way you’d first touched him all those years ago. “You needed it. I needed it.” 

He wraps his arms around you and you lean in close, soaking up his warmth, his safety.

You share so much in one embrace—longing, lust, regret, forgiveness. And when he pulls away, it all fades into the ether, leaving nothing behind but this deeply rooted fondness for him, a desire for him to be happy above all else. 

“If you need anything, and I mean anything, come and find me. We live next to the daycare. Maria said to be there after nightfall tonight,” Tommy spoke, knocking his shoulder across your own playfully. “I hope you’re ready for a home-cooked meal. How long has it been?”

You stand, truly considering his question. Eating in the QZ wasn’t exactly pleasant. Typical meals consisted of stale bread and watered-down soup. You couldn’t even remember your last fresh meal.

“Too long,” you sighed. Tommy smirked, his warm smile making the skin of your cheeks burn.

“Soon enough. See you tonight.”

The day goes by quickly. You fill the empty space with exploration, walking through the greenhouses, around the buildings, and through the one currently being constructed in the northwest corner within the walls.

The people begin to emerge a little after midday, socializing with one another, smiles on their faces and ease in their shoulders. You see Jesse at one point while you’re walking the perimeter, checking for weak spots, and he waves at you and it feels so strangely normal that it startles you. 

When the sun begins to set behind the heavy clouds, you find the house beside the daycare and stand a few feet away. You can see through the open windows that you’re likely the last to arrive—and for a second, you consider turning back and running as far away as you can. 

Because beneath the yellow light, they all look so happy. Maria, Ellie, and someone else you can’t put a name to, all work together setting the table, six place settings with mismatched cutlery.

Joel and Tommy can be seen in the kitchen, sharing a few concerned looks between warm smiles, once in a while knocking the neck of their glass bottles together. They’re all at home here and have all curated a routine, a familiarity. 

And you know without a shadow of a doubt that if you walk in there, you’re going to disturb it. You’re going to break the tranquility they’ve worked towards, you’re going to be the odd one out, the sore thumb in their causal, familiar cacophony. No matter what, you’re not going to belong. 

The only hope you have is trudging through the unfamiliarity until it becomes familiar, hoping to integrate yourself into their already established lives. 

But after all you’ve done since leaving that cabin, after all the blood on your hands, is that the sort of thing you’ve earned?

It’s not. You know it. You turn to leave.

The front door swings open, yellow lighting silhouetting his familiar frame.

He must see the terror in your eyes, must see the flight response kicking in because he’s off the porch in a second and taking your hand in his. 

You’re shaking your head and your breath feels stuck in your throat, amassing into a stone of instinct that sits heavy on your chest. 

“Tell me,” is all Joel says.

The words come spilling out, mechanical, one after another. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve this. I don’t belong here. I’ve killed people. I’ve lied and stolen and—”

He takes your face in his strong grip and forces you to look at him, the sight of adoration in his eyes like a balm to your heart. “It doesn’t matter if we deserve it,” he says. “Do you want it?”

More than anything.

Tommy’s voice cuts through the intensity between you and Joel. “Dinner’s ready,” he says. “Come eat, sweetheart.”

You do. Maria’s made a whole platter; roast and vegetables and some sort of broth soup with rosemary. There’s red wine and whiskey and sweet tea. Joel sits beside you at the table. Ellie sits across from you, beside her girlfriend who you learn is named Dina.

They’re all incredibly nice, asking you questions about your life before Jackson, never pressing too much, sensing when a topic is brought up that you don’t particularly want to recall and quickly changing the conversation.

The chemistry flows far easier than you’d imagined it would. You find you even like Maria, and you especially like that fond look in her every time she glances over at Tommy. 

The food is delicious and you’re bringing a forkful of roast to your mouth when Dina asks, “So, how did you meet Joel and Tommy?”

The table goes quiet then, and Dina and Ellie share a confused glance. You chew slowly, hoping someone else will answer the question or, better yet, ask something else entirely. 

But then Ellie jokingly says, “What? Did guys kidnap her or something?”

You nearly choke, Tommy lets out a long breath, and Joel is stone still apart from the feathering of his jaw. Even Maria looks uncomfortable. 

Ellie sees the unsaid words and quietly mutters, “Oh shit.” She turns to Joel then, eyes narrowed into slits. “You kidnapped her?”

“It wasn’t like that,” you supply. “Not exactly. I stole from them first. Back when food was a lot more scarce.”

“So you held her captive,” Ellie corrects, unrelenting.

“A story for another day, maybe?” Maria suggests. “How’s the soup, El?”

You can tell she’ll circle back to the conversation the moment she can, but for now, Ellie lets it rest. And you’re thankful for it, because you’re not sure how to explain a moment of your time spent in that cabin even to yourself, let alone someone else.  

After dinner, you help Maria clean while the brothers drink beer out on the back porch and watch Ellie play guitar. From the kitchen you can see Dina stretched across the wooden floor, propped up against the rails of the porch. The sound of Ellie missing a couple of strings makes Maria hum in amusement. 

“Joel’s been teaching her for a couple of weeks now. She picks up quickly,” Maria informs you, taking a now cleaned dish from your hand to dry it. It didn’t feel weird, being around her, despite the fact that you had kissed her husband just a couple of hours ago. 

“Yeah. She seems like a good kid.”

Maria places the plate into the cabinet before turning to you. She leans against the counter, taking a moment to look you over. 

“You weren’t how I imagined you when Tommy told me about everything.”

Her words didn’t feel rude or passive-aggressive. They were more so honest, and revealing. 

“How did you imagine me?” you asked, continuing to wash the dirty dishes in the sink. Focusing on the soapy suds melting off the plate the more you scrubbed it distracted you from the conversation. You knew that Maria was trying to understand you, but it made you feel anxious either way.

Maria sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not so quiet. Fiery, like Ellie. I suppose you are, deep down, especially if both the Miller brothers like you.”

You used to have more of a spark inside of you, but over time, it had slowly fizzled out. You had killed too many people, done too many awful things. After your father was murdered, you lost the majority of the fire that was meant to burn in your chest. You learned how to be a drifter and not get attached, because getting attached meant losing them someday.

The only exception were the brothers who you could hear laughing loudly from the back porch. Even after all this time, after leaving them, they had found a place to call home where they could love freely. 

“They both care a lot about you. You had Joel pacing back and forth, wondering if you’d actually show up.”

A warm blush washed across your face and didn’t stop until it reached the bottom of your spine. Joel was waiting for you? How was it that he had shut you off, practically hated you all those years ago, but now, suddenly was worried about you? What had changed?

As if she could read your mind, Maria spoke. “Ellie helped him open up a lot. According to Tommy, she’s got that same spitfire energy as Sarah. Maybe back then, it wasn’t the right time. Joel was too far gone. But now, it could be different. You could take advantage of his weaknesses this go around if you think it would make you happy.”

You understood why Tommy loved Maria. She had created this town, a haven, and even cares about people she doesn’t know. She allowed her husband’s people to be her own.

“Maybe,” you agreed, focusing your attention back on washing the dishes. Maria didn’t pry and instead moved back into the pattern of taking clean dishes from your hands. 

Once you finished, you followed Maria onto the back porch, trailing through the sliding doors. Ellie and Dina were so focused on singing a Foo Fighters song that you hadn’t heard for years (that you were sure Joel introduced them to) that they didn’t notice your approach. Tommy and Joel did, Tommy smiling at Maria before extending his arms. She walked to where he was sitting and joined him, sitting on the edge of his lap. 

You were glad that you didn’t feel anything but happiness to watch the intimacy of the couple.

Joel’s eyes were watching you, dark and full of thoughts you wished you could understand. You wondered how he would react if you closed the space and sat on his lap - not that you had nearly enough courage.

“I think I’m gonna get ready to head home. I gotta organize the pantry in the morning,” you said, glancing over at the two girls who had moved on to singing some song you didn’t recognize.

All three of the Millers looked disappointed in your confession. “At least let me walk you back,” Joel begged, but you shook your head.

“No, stay. Don’t wanna miss out on this,” you said, glancing back over at Ellie and Dina singing. 

There was something like hurt that flashed across his face, but it didn’t linger long. 

“Feel free to come back any time,” Maria said.

“For anything,” Tommy adds. 

Joel says nothing, even though you linger there on the porch for several seconds, secretly hoping he would. But you nod silently, thank them for all their hospitality, and compliment Maria on the food, before parting ways to the soft sound of Ellie’s strumming on the guitar. 

For several days, you find yourself grappling with a decision. Should you stay, or should you do what feels most natural and flee? 

Fleeing would be what you’re used to. A rehearsed, calculated event. Premeditated. You’d been thinking about it from the moment you set foot in this place. Take a backpack full of supplies; food, medicine, water. You’d probably even get away with taking a horse and a couple of guns from the armory.

You’d do it first thing before the sun rises on a Sunday morning when the whole of Jackson is sleeping apart from the watchers on the walls. You wouldn’t say goodbye because you know Joel and Tommy both would convince you to stay. 

Instead, you’d leave a note on the table in your kitchen. One Saturday night you even sit there with a pen in your hand, but all you can manage to scribble down are the words I’m sorry. 

You trash it before sunrise. And that morning, Ellie stopped by to ask if you’d help her tend to the greenhouse. “It’s an eight-hour shift,” she explained. “Four with an extra set of hands. They have that dance going on tonight, down at the community hall. Dina really wants to go.”

Of course, you agree. And as the hours tick by, you understand Joel’s attachment to her. Ellie is probably the funniest kid you’ve ever met. Intuitive too, and so smart it’s jarring. You like her, mostly because she reminds you a little of yourself when you were her age. 

She talks briefly about her journey with Joel to Salt Lake City. Says he started out as this gruff, overbearing man, but towards the end, he was the only source of comfort remaining in her grasp. She says Joel saved her life but then gets really quiet for a while afterward. 

You don’t pry. The silence is comfortable, the dirt between the creases of your palms and beneath your fingernails is warm, and you realize that fleeing is going to hurt an awful lot more than you thought. 

After your shift in the greenhouse with Ellie, you begin to consider staying. Jackson is a good place, a safe place. One without the tyrannical rules of a standard QZ.

The following weekend, a fight breaks out between two men at the Tipsy Bison. One is drunk and sloppy and he has a knife strapped to his belt. You watch from a far distance as the drunken man stabs his opposition between the ribs, blood pooling in the mud beneath his feet. 

You don’t see Joel right away, too focused on the commotion that breaks out over the event, but the moment he steps in he’s hard to miss. He has that strong, domineering energy about him. He breaks up the fight in a second and has the man with the knife unclenching his fist, silver glinting in the pool of blood as the weapon drops to the ground.

Maria and Tommy arrive a short moment later and the man with the stab wound gets carted off to the infirmary. Joel towers over the man with blood on his hands but says not a single word.

You’re not sure why, and you’re too exhausted to attempt unpacking it, but the way he just… controls the situation so easily has your thighs pressing together.

Joel and Tommy take the man someplace, but you don't stay around long enough to find out where. You half expect them to make some scene of it; whippings in the center of the town, a public execution as a display of power. You’ve seen such things before in the QZs you’ve drifted through. 

But nothing like that happens, and all anyone can talk about is Rick’s miraculous recovery and what they plan to bring to him in the infirmary. 

You ask Jesse what happened to the drunken man who stabbed him, wondering if they killed him someplace away from prying eyes. 

Jesse laughs and shakes his head. “No, we didn’t kill him. He was exiled.”

You’re not sure why it surprises you, but it does. 

The next time you see Joel, he’s in the stables. The first taste of summer has presented itself, spring slowly giving way, the earth thawing further each day. He’s wearing a navy t-shirt that stretches tight across his biceps and a good-fitting pair of blue jeans, and you watch from a safe, non-conversational distance as he moves haybales from one end of the stables to another, making room for the new ones loaded into the back of Tommy’s truck. 

A light sheen of sweat coats his sun-kissed skin, and it makes your mouth water. All you can think about is that first time with him, how he’d gripped your hips with calloused fingertips, how he’d kissed your lips until they were swollen, how he’d pressed himself between your spread thighs.

You run home so fast you’re out of breath when you close the door, and the moment you make it up the stairs and to your room, you're slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your jeans to alleviate the ache that has settled and made a home between you legs. 

Telling yourself it was a fluke, you don’t think of it again. In fact, you try very hard not to think about that day in the cabin, you try not to think about the way he looked at you before leaving you and Tommy in the bed on that last day, you try not to think about the way his muscles flexed in the stables. 

You fill your time with chores. The greenhouse, watch, patrol, shifts at the Tipsy Bison. Anything that keeps your mind from Joel you greet with ready and willing hands.

But it happens again. Of fucking course it does.

It’s raining hard and has been for several days. The western wall begins to flood, and it’s an all-hands-on-deck situation, moving sandbags from one end of Jackson to the other. Everyone is running around, moving as fast as they can, piling them into the back of one person’s truck and then someone else’s the moment one pulls away. 

Maria woke you up in the middle of the night with a yellow raincoat in her hands, and of course, you didn’t waste a moment before you put on your sneakers and ran out the door with her. 

She stations you at the western wall with a handful of others, unloading the sandbags and stacking them as high as possible to detour the pooling water.

Joel stands two feet away from you, yelling orders over the sound of the rain, commanding the situation in that way of his. You’re shivering, even with your raincoat, and as Joel’s hand brushes yours when he helps you lift a sandbag onto the pile, it sends an electric jolt down your spine. “Jesus,” he huffs. “Here. Take off your jacket real quick.”

You do, in time with him as he removes his canvas coat, soaked through with water. He pulls his flannel off and hands it to you, and normally you would argue he needs it more considering your dry t-shirt, except you’re freezing.

The soft fabric is warm and it’s a little too big but it’s the most comfortable thing you’ve ever worn. It smells like him, like pine and rain and Joel. For a moment you consider not returning it back to him and adding it to your collection of clothes you’ve taken from him. But for now, you relish in its heat, in its softness. 

He goes right back to instructing others after shrugging his coat back on, as if the act of kindness was nothing, as if he’d give just anyone the shirt off his back. And maybe he would, but you’ve never stuck around long enough to find out. 

It’s still dark when you finish, sunrise still a while away. Maria and Tommy thank everyone for their help and send you home, telling everyone to try and get some extra sleep, that shifts will start an hour later than normal. 

You do as she says, noting the way the muscles in your back ache from strain but finding it strangely satisfying, feeling less like you’d lost sleep and more like you’d protected something that was worth protecting. 

Joel’s flannel remains on as you climb back into bed. And though you’re exhausted, all you can think about enveloped in his scent is how he would feel beside you, on top of you, between your legs. Heavy and warm, strong and so incredibly safe.

It doesn’t even feel like there’s a choice when you wiggle your fingers beneath the elastic of your panties. And even though it only takes a matter of minutes to make yourself reach the pinnacle of bliss, it feels unsatisfying. Like it’s not enough, like it’ll never be enough.

You still wear Joel’s flannel while on patrol with Jesse later in the day. You vow to return it, promising yourself this is your chance to change. To be a better person, to reinvent yourself here in Jackson, to stop running, to stop thieving. 

But you don’t return it. Several days go by and you practically live in the goddamn thing.

You lost count of how many times you squirmed against your pillow with the flannel pressed against your lips, imagining that Joel was there. 

“Just like that, baby girl,” Joel would say gruffly, his strong palms pressed against your thighs to make your hips rock. “Missed listenin’ to those little moans.”

If you squeezed your eyes closed just enough, you could feel him on you, guiding you. You prayed that he still thought about you, but you were scared to know what it meant if he did. It would mean that Joel reciprocated your lust, your feelings.

One evening you walked past Joel’s house after a long, tiring day of helping create concrete for the expansion of the South wall. The summer project was to create space for new houses. Jackson was growing day by day, getting stronger. 

You stopped outside the concrete steps, looking at the path to the front door. Would you have the courage to walk up that intimidating trail and knock on Joel’s front door? Would you have the courage to ask him to kiss you, to show you how much he missed you?

Your question was answered once Joel’s front door opened, and a dark-haired woman stepped out. She was turned back, telling Joel something that you couldn’t quite make out. The steps of your sneakers crunched across the gravel of the road, your feet carrying you as far away from Joel’s house as possible. 

One last glance back allowed you to witness the faraway silhouette of Joel passing something over to the woman, something that you were much too far away to see. You had done something stupid again - assumed that Joel was single. You weren’t trying to jump to conclusions but Tommy was married after all. It would make sense that Joel had found someone too, someone to settle down and raise Ellie with. 

The happiness that you felt seeing Tommy and Maria together was not what you felt when watching Joel with another woman. A big, ugly, green monster bubbled inside of you and threatened to crawl out of your throat. 

You hated this feeling. You hated it so much that you’d ended up going to Joel’s house later that, shortly after his bedroom light had turned off. The streets were completely empty except for the night shift patrollers walking towards their posts, the day saying its last goodbyes in the same way you meant to. A basket with Joel’s flannel and his original jacket from fifteen years ago was left on his porch. They were rejected and discarded, like how you felt. 

The basket mocked you when you walked away from his porch, a visceral reminder of what you were actually returning. Your devotion. 

It was impossible to sleep that night, too many rampant thoughts running wildly through your head. You stayed up the remainder of the night, a scratchy wool blanket tucked beneath your chin as you sat on the couch.

The moonlight streamed in through your living room window, painting colorful silvers and purples across the peeling walls. It was eerily peaceful to watch the earth sleep.

A stark opposite to the peaceful moonlight was the sudden rough knocks banging against your front door. You couldn’t help the way you jumped up, your bloodshot eyes glancing over to watch the wooden frame shake with each knock. 

You move over the back of your couch to glance out the front window to see who is pounding at your door. The top of your head peeks over the blanket, your eyes straining to see. It’s Joel, of course, it’s Joel, and seeing him with that frantic look in his eye has your heart in your throat.

When you open the door to ask what he wants, you see both his flannel and his coat clutched in a knuckle-white grip. “Is this your way of saying goodbye?” 

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” You open your mouth to speak but he raises his free hand and stops you. “An’ don’t lie to my face, don’t…don’t look at me and tell me you’re staying just to disappear in the middle of the night.” There’s a kind of aggression in his voice you’ve never heard before, even when he shot you. “You’re leaving.”

It’s not a question this time. And you know he’s reliving it, remembering every moment in that cabin, the same way you’ve been since setting foot in Jackson.

The urge to comfort him rises in you, to promise to stay, but you can’t. Not when all you can see is that dark-haired woman on his doorstep. So, you swallow thickly and cast your eyes away, staring at the clothes you’d return instead. “It doesn't matter. Keep them, Joel.”

“It does matter,” he insists. “How can you say that?” He pushes into your house, this desolate place that suddenly comes to life with him in it. “After everything we’ve done, after everything we’ve seen… it matters. This place matters. You —”

Your breath catches at his near confession. It’s the first you’ve heard it from anyone, and the young girl you were fifteen years ago silently begs for him to finish it. She begs to be seen, cared for, and loved. 

But you’ve spent so long shoving her into a box in your heart that it’s second nature when you do it this time. Joel shakes his head. He begins to speak, stops, and tries again. “I…you…”

“What, Joel?”

He runs an exasperated hand down his face. Whatever it is he’s trying to say is bothering him, an irritation dug in deep like a tick. “Don’t…”

You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s none of your business, yet you still find yourself crossing your arms over your chest and saying, “Should you even be here right now? Isn’t there someone else you should be giving the pleasure of your company to?”

Confusion sinks in quickly. “What are you talking about?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, so I can’t lie to you but it’s fine if you lie to me? Typical, Joel. You’ve always been a hypocrite.”

"Hypocrite? What are you talking about? I’m here, trying to convince you to stay in Jackson because it’s safe. Even if you want nothing to do with me, if you want me to…to stay far away, that’s fine. But this place needs people like us and we need it.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel—I saw her. Don’t fucking play dumb.”

“Saw who? ”

You throw your hands up, anger rising to the surface of your skin. “I don’t know! And I don’t want to know! She was leaving your house with a really big smile yesterday so I guess I should say congrats, right? To you and Tommy both, for finding whatever it was you were looking for in me fifteen years ago.”

Joel shakes his head. “No, no—you’ve got this all wrong. It’s not like that.”

“Right,” you say indignantly. “Because that’s believable.”

He closes the space between you and wraps his hand around your elbow, holding tight enough to bruise. Joel stares at you with his eyes filled with intensity, so much of it that you actually start to believe him when he says so quietly, “There’s been no one. No one since you.”

“Oh, so it’s just the start I interrupted then? My bad, Joel, should I apologize?”

“Will you stop?” His jaw ticks, and you can see his irritation as it rises, a near palpable thing. His neck flushes, and his eyes narrow. “She’s Dina’s mom. She came over to meet me formally since Ellie’s been staying over there so often. She doesn’t mean anything. Not like…”

“Like what, Joel?”

“Not like you,” he finally says. It feels like a breath of fresh air, and you think he must feel that way, too. Because his grip on your elbow loosens, his shoulders drop, and his eyes soften instantly. “You…you mean something. To me. An’ I don’t…I want you to stay. I’m…I’m askin’ you to stay. Please.”

In all your life, in all the places you’ve passed through…not once has anyone ever asked you to stay. Not once has anyone seen you like this, seen and known you well enough to know when you’re tempted and have enough time to deter your decision. 

Well, until now. Until Joel. 

“Don’t do that,” you say, shaking your head, trying to clear the moisture that pools in the corner of your eyes. 

He takes your face in his hands, calloused palms rough and warm against the tender skin of your jaw. “Stay,” he says. And again, softer this time, a plea. “ Stay.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, don’t give me false hope.”

Joel presses his forehead to yours. “I mean it,” he promises, and you want so badly to believe it, so you do. “Do you have any idea how long I looked for you? And even when I stopped lookin’ I saw you everywhere. Saw you in everything. That first winter without you…Christ, couldn’t think about anythin’ else.”

All you manage to say is his name like an escaped breath. Your skin prickles at his closeness, and you’ve never been good at resisting your impulses so you don’t even try to keep yourself from pressing your lips to his. 

His hands slide into your hair, pulling you in closer, his tongue running across your bottom lip. You grant him access in the form of a moan that he echoes the moment he tastes the inside of your mouth. 

You forget everything. Everything. All you know is the way this feels, and you suddenly think that maybe all this time you weren’t running from anything. Maybe you’ve been running to him. 

“It’s always been you,” he says against your lips. His hands trail down your spine, gently caressing your soft curves.

The pad of his thumb brushes against the bare expanse of your spine where the smallest bit of your shirt has ridden up, but you feel the touch like lightning skittering across your skin. You wrap your hands around his neck, anchoring yourself against him, and it feels like second nature when he pulls you closer and lifts you off your feet. 

In fifteen years nothing has changed—you still melt against him, defenses giving way, legs wrapping around his waist. You break the kiss long enough to whimper direction, saying, “The bedroom is upstairs, second door—”

“On the left, I know. Tommy and I fixed it up a couple months ago. Talked about you the whole time,” he says. And you’re not sure why but the knowledge has your heart flipping in your chest.

It’s almost like he knew, like they both did. Like they could feel you somehow, out there, wandering, finding your way back to them.

Joel lays you down and strips your clothes off slowly, fingers familiarizing themselves with every inch of your skin as if he’s learning it for the first time. He kisses your lips until they’re swollen, leaves marks in the shape of his mouth down your chest, and leaves moisture from his tongue over the hardened peaks of your nipples.

When he parts your thighs and tastes you, he’s still fully clothed. And you begin to feel exposed, like the two of you are standing on uneven terrain, but then he lets out a feral-sounding moan and you think maybe he’s suffered in your absence even more than you yourself have. 

His tongue is soft and hot and makes your back bend off the mattress. Twice he makes you come undone with nothing but his mouth. And when he rises to his knees, peering over you, he looks sated. Relieved, somehow. As if being this close to you has healed him, stitched up some long-opened wound. 

Unhurried, he begins to discard his clothes onto the floor beside yours. His flannel first, and then his t-shirt, and you let out a pathetic moan as you drink in the sight of him. His scarred, masculine hands working at the metal buckle of his black leather belt, his toned arms and his soft tummy, and that trail of thick, dark hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans. 

Everything about him ignites you, calling to you like some sort of beacon. Your skin prickles as he discards the remainder of his clothes. 

And before you have a chance to speak aloud your fervent need, he’s settling between your thighs and pressing the head of his cock to your entrance. He cradles your face in his hands, gently smoothing your hair away from your face, and there’s so much devotion in his voice that it makes you tremble as he says, “You were made for me, little girl. Do you know that?”

You think you do. You think you’ve always known it, always known that whatever god-like, mystical being that resides in this world had crafted you with Joel in mind. All you can do is nod and bask in the moment, in the sanctity of your creation, in the wickedness of his. Carefully, he pushes his cock into you. 

The stretch is painful at first, even with how wet he’s made you. But it’s a bearable pain, a sweet ache, especially with the way he whispers in your ear and presses soft kisses to your cheek with each breath. “S’okay, you can take it. I know you can. See? There you go. So fuckin’ proud of you, baby. You’re so perfect. Perfect for me.”

Joel rocks his hips against yours at a gradual pace. There’s nothing rushed about it, no aggression in his movements. It’s so different from the last time but the change in him just brings the two of you closer. Your orgasm builds like a fire in your belly, burning more and more with each thrust, heightened by the gruff moans that escape him, by the pressure of his body on top of yours. 

He’s so warm and he feels like home. A sensation you’ve never felt since leaving that cabin, a safety like you’ve never known since. You love him. You forgive him. And so you tell him.

And as the words escape your lips, as you make that final confession that will alter the course of your life forever, his breath stutters in his chest, and that fire that’s been building in your belly reaches its full height, flames licking at your skin. He says, “I love you, too, little girl,” and it tips you over the precipice.

You reach the high of bliss together, at the same exact time, and everything but this feeling fades into nothing. All that remains is you and Joel and this otherworldly closeness. There’s nothing left to forgive, nothing left to navigate. As one, singular soul, you simply are. 

He takes the time to clean you up afterward. You shower together, and he massages body wash into your skin, relieving the ache from your muscles. You don’t ask him to stay because you don’t need to; he just does. Because he knows you like no one else ever has. 

You fall asleep quickly. It’s late and you’re exhausted, but for the first time in fifteen years, you feel stable. He holds you through the night. 

But when he shifts just slightly, it wakes you a few hours before sunrise. His eyes are wide open and bloodshot, clearly straining to stay awake.

Shifting on your elbow to lean up, you ask, “What’s wrong?”

Joel just shakes his head and gives you a small smile. “Nothing,” he says. “Just go back to sleep. Get some rest.”

It’s clearly a lie. Something is tugging at him, and you’re determined to fix it. “Tell me,” you say.

He hesitates for a moment, working over his words in his head. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it, and tries again. And then he says quietly, unable to look you in the eye, “I wanted to be able to talk you out of leaving. If you changed your mind again.”

The words break your heart, cracking open your ribcage and allowing a trace of bitterness to settle there. It’s your fault, you know. Your fault he worries about you leaving so much, that he allots time to talk you down from a ledge you’re not quite sure even exists anymore. You swallow down the tears that threaten and crawl into his lap. You kiss his face a hundred times, leaving no space untouched until you’re both quietly laughing. “You can sleep easy tonight,” you say.

He nods as if he believes you, but you can tell there’s still anxiety lingering within him. It’s quiet for a long time. He just holds you tightly, arms wrapped around your middle. You think he may have fallen asleep, but then he whispers into your hair, “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Just don’t leave me behind again. Please.”

It’s a plea. He’s begging, in his own way. You kiss him hard, and in only moments he’s snoring with his arms locked around you.

You only wiggle out of his grip when the sun rises, yellow and orange hues cast across your bedroom through the glass pane of the window. You pull Joel’s t-shirt over your head and make your way down the stairs as quietly as you can.

This will be the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. You know it will be. You know Joel will pull things out of you you’ve been shoving down deep, know he’ll poke and prod in an attempt to heal all within you that’s been broken. 

Because that’s the kind of man he is; one who takes care of those he loves, who sacrifices his own comfort for others. You don’t deserve someone like him and you know it. No matter how much you forgive, no matter how many times you try to wash your hands clean, you know it’ll never be enough for his devotion. 

You stand in the middle of the kitchen, eyes glued to the front door. It would be easy to leave, you know. Second nature. Instinctual. You wouldn’t have to face all you’ve done, wouldn’t have to unearth all you’ve buried, wouldn’t have to open that closet with all those skeletons. 

Hands trembling, you try to catch your breath. Try to make that final decision, try to forgive a little more. Not to forgive Tommy or Joel, but to forgive yourself. 

The longer you stand there in the kitchen, the less you believe you’ll ever possess that sort of absolution.

But it’s worth a try, isn’t it? To find mercy in a place it’s never existed.

You take a slow breath.

And then you put on a pot of coffee.

taglist; @arizonadreamingg @sirendyes @untamedheart81 @pinkiec6-rubi @galway-girlatwork

[lchufflepuffcorn]

Dragon whispers

Masterlist

Dragon!Hybrid masterlist

Warning : None currently, slight allusion to past fun!adult time. I do not own the gif.

As they are linked to dragons!spirits, the Targaryens have different ways of communicating with spirits and shifters. Some have mental conversations, some only have feelings, and others fight constantly with themselves. 

Helaena: 

Between her dreams and visions, Helaena doesn’t differentiate between her thoughts and her dragon’s anymore. All she knows is that she thinks. Sometimes it’s in images, words, and sounds; other times it’s with feelings. And all the time, it’s very, very real. 

It’s late when she knocks at the door of your chambers. Freezing fear changing her blood into ice inside her veins. Cradling her children to her hips, she waits for you to open the door. Naked feet on the cold ground, heart beating in her ears. 

Fear fear fear. 

Your face came into view through the small opening of your door. 

“Helaena? What’s wrong?” 

Always soft. Soft-soft. Soft tone, soft hands, soft eyes. Helaena shook her head, cradling Jaehaerys and Jaheara closer to her, looking toward the darkness of the hall. 

“The rats, they’re everywhere.” She didn’t mean for her tone to be so distressed. But as you look toward the hall to verify her words, before opening your door to let her and the twins in, she knows it was the right decision to come to you. You listen. 

You help situate the twins into smaller beds you kept in your room. It’s not unusual for Helaena and the children to come and hide in your chambers those days. Her head swimming with visions and nightmares. And Aegon keeps undermining her fears. That makes your blood boil.

Warmth, safe. 

Helaena’s head is clearer when you wrap your arms around her, gently keeping her steady near the fireplace, rubbing a hand to her back. 

No questions asked, no lust or need or obligations. Just peace, quiet, and safety. 

Rhaenyra: 

Rhaenyra and her dragon spirit, Syrax, are in sync most of the time. They think alike and feel alike. A harmony rarely seen within the shifters. For one very tiny difference: you. 

Syrax liked you much more than she liked Daemon. Caraxes was not included in this debate, however. She never let Rhaenyra forget about that preference. This was the only discord the shifter and her spirit ever had with each other. 

‘Where. Jorrāelagon.’ The thunderous voice of Syrax boomed in Rhaenyra’s head as she sat at the head of her council table. She only rubbed her forehead. Syrax knew pertinally that you were not to attend the council meeting, as you were not part of this effort of war; you were only a victim of the destruction of the Targaryen family in two colourful clans. A growl made Rhaenyra shiver as Daemon stood next to her.

‘Want. Jorrāelagon.’ Syrax would not be appeased without you, and the council would not have you while they are discussing. Rhaenyra shook her head, soothing Syrax to the best of her ability, promising that the meeting would be short. A chuckle made Rhaenyra lift her head toward Daemon with a small frown. 

“Needy.” Was all he said, a teasing grin on his lips. Rhaenyra smiled back at him, and Syrax growled inside her head. 

‘Not. Needy.’ 

Daemon: 

Daemon and Caraxes are symbiotic. If anything, Caraxes gives Daemon more space than he’d truly need (or should have), but as their interests are exactly the same, neither really care. 

Nose buried in the juncture of your neck, wings covering the both of you from the pesky light filtered through the curtained windows. Daemon couldn’t remember when the night had ended for him. Too much wine and passion to truly remember, the echoes of his name whispered wantonly, making him smile against your skin. The thought of waking you up with his mouth crossed the Prince’s mind, but a shadow darkened it. 

The image of your peaceful face, lips puckered in a tired pout, crossed his mind, a memory from a previous morning. Caraxes was pleading for your rest. 

“Byka azantys needs to restore their strength.” Daemon agreed after a moment, and more memories shoved in his mind’s eyes. He could feel the spirit inhabiting his body purr, nearly letting it get out. But he managed to keep it under wraps. 

Aemond: 

Aemond is not the type to overlook his dragon spirit when it speaks to him. And Vhagar was an old spirit. She mostly didn’t speak anymore, some words escaping her when she felt other types of communication would be too difficult, but her feelings were always strong and always just right. 

Aemond woke up with the feeling of something important missing. Like he was falling down an eternal pit and something wasn’t there. His only remaining eye not used to the darkness in which he held his room, the prince patted blindly at the bed, searching for you. 

Empty. Dread filled his heart. 

Empty rooms, empty heart, gone-gone-gone. You’d gotten tired of him. Aemond rose from the bed, hazily grabbing a shirt to cover, fixing the patch on his face, but he couldn’t make a step before the cavernous voice in his head spoke, quieting the panicked riddle mind he had been listening to. 

‘Hush, īlva qēlos iksos daor tolmiot.’ 

A dagger had made it’s way to his hands, and Aemond had no recollection of when it happened. The door of the room opened, and his wide eye turned to you. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, and Aemond felt the shame burn through his spine, making its way until it reached the base of his neck. 

“You were gone.” He gruffed out, somehow. Pathetic, vulnerability was a weakness. 

“I’m right here.” You told him, tugging him toward your bed, opening your arms for him to bury into. His tail wrapped around your legs; he hadn’t felt it shift out. In his mind, he heard a comfortable sigh before sleep took him again. 

Jacaerys: 

Vermax is young and enthusiastic. If Jacaerys seems calm, under the surface, he’s probably battling Vermax’s claim toward a higher price. But they stay united most of the time. 

It had taken some time for Jace to realize that he’d been nesting. Pillows recovered from other rooms, fabrics bought at high prices in markets, jewels and perfume hoarded and kept jealously in his room, the prince hadn’t thought it weird, at first. Baela had an impressive collection of books in hers, after all. Jace only caught the weirdness of his behavior when you refused to follow him into his chambers as you landed in Dragonstone. After weeks of being away. 

The whine he’d let out wasn’t his own. Pure distress that had you taken aback and then coddling him, worried. And he hadn’t liked that much better either. 

‘Not good enough. Disgrace!’

And Jace couldn’t help but feel ashamed about the thoughts his spirit had shared with him. What wasn't good enough? He was trying to piece together the wails his dragon spirit was making in his mind whilst still trying to listen to the words you were saying, patting his arms. 

“... greet your lady mother and Lord Daemon. We can’t just lock ourselves away like we please!” 

‘Why?’ Huffed Vermax in his head, getting restless, wanting out of his little prison. Jace fought to keep control of his body. He managed to keep it, mostly, wings stretching out of his back, flapping angrily in retaliation. 

“Why? We’re betrothed, and you’d be chaperoned.” He countered, siding with his spirit, wanting answers, walking you back toward the castle from the dock. Flying wouldn’t leave much room for conversations. 

Vocabulary :

Jorrāelagon : Love

Byka azantys : Little soldier

īlva qēlos iksos daor tolmiot : Our star is not far.

Taglist :

@lady-dragon-rider

[astonmint]

heir !

➘ mafia & arranged marriage!au lance stroll 𖥻 18

✶ nsfw due to suggestive content under the cut!

lance stroll was a living nightmare in more ways than one. his heart was fueled by spite and ambition, thought to be incapable of feeling any emotion except for greed. he was someone you never wanted to cross. even as a child, watching him stand by his father’s side like a perfect little soldier, you knew treason would be punishable by a long, painful death.

unlike other mafia leaders, lance wrought fear through his icy demeanor, not through words or aggressive actions. his silence carried more weight than fists ever could, and when he did speak? it was instantly codified into law, no questions asked.

despite this rugged reputation, he was always kind to you. he never hurt you, instead seeking other ways of releasing pent-up anger and frustration, such as through his hobby of racing cars.

his life, as the heir to a mafia empire, was grueling and demanding, but he always made time for you. even if he had an urgent meeting, stakes risen to an intangible amount. if it threatened to seize time away from you, his bride-to-be, his lover, then he would not hesitate to cast it aside. every wednesday, he would invite you to dinner — a quiet affair, but nonetheless enjoyable. you never pressured him to speak, instead filling the silence with your own stories, something he was extremely grateful for.

after another dinner spent in each other’s company, he would drop you off at the front porch of your family’s mansion, the night air thick with humidity and the threat of rain. he would press a soft kiss to your forehead, and noiselessly slide back into his glossy aston martin, the only sound the slick tires moving against the pavement.

you didn’t mind that he rarely spoke; you could tell he was affectionate towards you, even if it was difficult to distinguish. gentle reminders, like the gift of freshly bloomed roses or a letter in the mail tempting you to play chess with him, was enough to satisfy you.

and, oh — how could you forget? the insatiable way his fingers would trace your curves, his pupils dilating with lust as he pulled you flush against him. sex before marriage was frowned upon in your community, but the both of you could not wait. his lips would crash against yours, teeth gnashing as your hands frantically undid each other’s clothing. his muted groans only electrified you, goosebumps rising against your skin.

the armor that lance so carefully constructed was laid bare in these moments. he was unafraid, passionate, eager to please. he had quickly learned where your most tender spot was, exploiting it in order to shatter you over and over again. but he never did it without your consent, never wanting to cross your boundaries.

“i love you,” lance had murmured one night while you were tucked under the crook of his arm, spent from the continued tidal waves of pleasure he had brought upon you. his declaration had surprised you, but you had responded immediately.

“i love you too, lance.”

▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▀

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ did you enjoy this? comments, likes, and reblogs are immensely appreciated .ᐟ

꩜ want something else? send me a request in my inbox .ᐟ

[jaegeraether]

Unknown Territory (Alexia and Ridley) - 2

Sunsets and Footballers - ONE-SHOTS

(*1k*) - Lil one!

Masterlist (other parts here)

ALEXIA POV

As soon as they were in the car, Ridley took Alexia’s underwear out and twisted it around her wrist like a bracelet.

Alexia smirked to herself, knowing she enjoying this. Their little claims on one another. It’s something she never wanted or needed until that first moment she’d seen her in the bar, and at that moment, it had hit her harder than anything she'd ever experienced. The deep-rooted need she felt for her. And not only that, but the need for others to know.

Alexia was getting used to teasing Ridley at this point. She enjoyed it. In any other situation, in any other relationship, it would be a power-play. But it never was with them. It was just their way of expressing their feelings. Communicating.

As they drove, she saw the whites of Ridley’s knuckles as she gripped the wheel, knowing just how hard she was trying to be respectful and give Alexia her space.

But she didn’t want it.

They’d been apart for over a month, and only had a few days together. She wanted them to get as much of each other in during that time as possible. And both being so stubborn and lacking in the communication department, sex was the most pure way they could show their obsession for each other.

Alexia unclipped her belt and slid her dress as far up her thighs as she could get it, a little of her bare lower hip showing - the part that cut in where her underwear would usually be.

She held it there and looked over to Ridley who’d spotted it immediately, trying to cover a groan of frustration.

She sat there for a minute or so, letting Ridley really suffer while she admired her. Alexia was not at all the type of person to feel out of place in a relationship, but sometimes she did catch herself daydreaming at how it was possible that Ridley was hers. Even to the point where she was already thinking of their life and what it may look like beyond her footballing days.

She was completely and utterly hers. So why would Alexia just sit there needily, and not take full advantage of that?

“Nice bracelet.”

Ridley groaned, her eyes still very much pinned to the road outside to avoid Alexia’s body on show. “Lex..”

“I don’t think the wheel deserves to be strangled.”

Ridley rolled her eyes, but relaxed her hands slightly. Alexia reached over to claim one of her hands gently, lowering it to her thigh, just inside the knee.

"But I do."

“Lex..” This one was a warning. And that just made her want to push even further.

Alexia curled her fingers around the bicep of the Australian’s extended arm, her other hand over Ridley’s, ever so slowing dragging it down her inner thigh towards where she needed her.

“Alexia.” A harder warning now, but she didn’t stop. Ridley was hers, and she needed her… so she would take her.

Alexia continued to drag her hand down her thigh, her legs parting and without any pause, she guided Ridley’s hand and lifted her hips slightly, sinking down onto her fingers with a soft whimper.

“Fucking hell.” Ridley gasped in English, her eyes wide with surprise and lust. “Lex.. what the fuck are you-”

“You’re mine, and I need you.” Was all the explanation she gave as she started to rock onto her fingers, getting the penetration she needed.

Alexia closed her eyes and let her body follow its needs, her fingers tightening around her bicep and her face joining them, whimpering into the fabric of Ridley’s jacket.

She was slightly bouncing now, her hand ensuring Ridley’s stayed where she needed it. That pressure and angle just as she needed it.

“Lexi…fuck.” Ridley gasped, sending a tingle down her spine. She loved having such an affect on her. But she could also tell from the sound of her voice that she was looking at her.

Her head still pressed against Ridley’s bicep, she reached up to grab her by the jaw, twisting her head.

“Eyes on… argh.. the road. No spee…oh fuck… don’t s..peed.” She whimpered as she rode, the delicious sound of Ridley’s fingers in an out of her now louder than the tyres.

She braced her foot on the door and gripped onto her arm for dear life as she felt herself getting to the edge. She was only riding for a matter of minutes, but that’s all it ever took when it came to Ridley.

“….fuck…” she whimpered, her voice higher and more desperate than before as she reached the point where she knew she was about to cum. 

“You’re fucking perfect, Lex.” Ridley said, her voice strangled, her lips somehow finding her forehead to whisper. “Cum for me.”

Alexia heard herself agreeing desperately as she reached her end; the thrill of the car speeding down the highway, being in another country, seeing the woman she loved after a month, fucking herself using her hand. All of it contributed to her body tightening and pulsating around Ridley’s fingers. 

She was pretty sure she was breathing, most definitely crying out and even more certain that it was the best orgasm she’d ever had… in a car. She thrust a few more times, harder and deeper than the others just to drag out the feelings before her body relaxed into a state of bliss.

After a minute or so, she released her grip on Ridley’s arm, kissing her bicep and smoothly pulling her fingers out of her.

Sitting back in her seat, she clipped her seatbelt back on and readjusted her dress, meeting Ridley’s incredulous look.

“Where in the fuck did that come from?”

Alexia shrugged with a lazy, fucked-out smirk. “You’re mine and I wanted you.”

She enjoyed the look of Ridley’s mouth opening and closing, her jaw locking as they drove. Taking her hand, she sucked the taste from her fingers, watching her girlfriend’s eyes roll in need.

“Lee?”

“La Reina?”

“You can speed now.”

[bitchlesshazard69]

MCD Rant? Okay, but who reads these? Everyone likes having their own opinion

Laurance time and time again has actively protested for woman and protected them. Over and over has he told Aphmau that if something was too much, she can back out. Over and over did he try to tell her that he was there for her, no matter how her feelings ended up. He constantly tries to give Aphmau the knowledge that if she didn't like something, it didn't have to be, like their relationship. Over and over has he protected woman, like Isabelle from her abuser- he even defended his own S'Aer (Michi).

Why was Aphmau still scared of him? Well, he's quite terrifying if we're honest. The hostility of his Shadow Knight side is so intense that when she looked him in the eyes, he almost killed her if not for Aaron's intervention. If Laurance's curse was so bad, then why didn't Aphmau just outright end their rising relationship? If it was too much? People pleasing goes a long way. Unfortunately, the situation just got worse without the proper communication.

If I were Aphmau, the proper thing would've been to talk it out with Laurance and say that each other should seperate to focus on themselves, giving full closure that cannot be mistaken. No one truly has a real grudge against Aphmau and Aaron's relationship in Minecraft Diaries, just how it formed. Out of miscommunication and angst of each other's lives.

If it were different, and Aarmau's relationship wasn't born out of lust and an escape from the world around them, it could've been better. The lust part is all the viewers really see when it comes to their relationship. How, instead of Aphmau ending things off officially with Laurance, she decided to do some very interesting things...in the woods...with Aaron. That's why at the end, she was viewed in such a negative light. I don't think anyone truly hates Aphmau, and it's especially not for her gender, but for her actions.

I stopped talking on Tumbler because time and time again I would see so many posts about how Laurance's and Aphmau's relationship was just one thing, while no one was able to see how dimensional all of it was, when really they both had an understanding side to it. Laurance wasn't treated as he should've been and left with no communication, even though he, himself, did his best at communication. Aphmau was expected to be able to have a steady relationship when it wasn't possible.

Both acted like children in a sense. Aphmau didn't want to speak her OWN needs and Laurance couldn't identify his disability in having relationships. Do I think one is more in the wrong than the other? Sure. Do I think both of them are clean? No. Aphmau couldn't have POSSIBLY known how bad it was to be a Shadow Knight, nor truly understand what is going on in Laurance's head. She could have never understood or predicted what could happen. Aphmau (and Laurance too) had to start realizing Laurance cannot be saved with the power of love. I do hate how "he's doomed forever because of this" message that MCD sent, I do not condone it at all, but that's what's there.

Laurance could've done his very best when it came to communication with each other, which he did, every episode almost, did he try to speak with Aphmau, but he couldn't be priority number one. Maybe in my own bias, I believe Laurance did nothing truely wrong, because everything that he ever did was out mental illness not being treated correctly by the people around him. The only person I can recall treating Laurance for how he wasn't like any other human was Vylad. Vylad seemed to be the only person that could look at Laurance and truly say "Yes, he is not fit for a romantic relationship. In his incapable form of mind, he cannot consent to this."

I'm tired of the back and fourth sexism of how they treated each other MUST'VE been because of gender. "Laurance is mentally ill but did all he could? No! His clinginess is assumed to be entitled misogyny. Is Aphmau a multidimensional feeling being who can make her own decisions but mishandled it? Nope! She's an abused bean that needs to be protected because everyone grapples to her with no real respect."

I can't believe I just said that, geez.

Summary: The gender wars on who's right really pushed me off of the platform when the original thing wasn't about gender at all, nor is it the stereotypical man abuses woman trope everyone says it is. It's always been about their quality of character and in my opinion I've shared how I feel about their quality of character. Neither character was truly an evil person with no redemption. Jess figured Aaron to be better for the MC and decided to try and slowly make Laurance some irredeemable, unsavable, psycho to Aphmau so Aphmau could have an angst and pregnant arc... (She didn't do a really good job IF this was the case because I don't see Laurance in that light at all and I still believe that Aphmau is more capable than she's written off to be) In the original planned version, it's clear to see that the message wasn't always "doomed forever and villainized from mental instability"

That's just how the viewers see it now. I need to to take my meds, bye.

(Stan OCD Aphmau and her little autistic brother Laurance for life, they need a sibling arc and a make up arc where they can just be happy and eat apples together while they both annoy Garroth to death because he's the true villian in all of this everyone blame him and let Aphmau and Laurance be besties)

[livelaughlesbian00]

I'm tired of the limited and often subpar lesbian representation non lesbians expect us to settle with or even lap up.

Please can we have representation where the lesbians actually LIKE each other? I'm not talking sexual chemistry, lust, or even love. Can we please also make them fundamentally understand and like one another?

Didn't love watching a toxic and abusive oppressor x oppressed large power disparity lesbian relationship be endgame on screen. If it were presented as a tragedy, maybe it would be more digestible for me. But from Arcane context clues and interviews, the writers clearly wanted people to root for CaitVi. And so many non lesbians are getting defensive about the lesbians who refuse to eat this up!

I especially hated watching Vi, the masc presenting lesbian older sister that I loved and resonated with so much in season 1 repeatedly be beat or taken advantage of by characters around her and her own girlfriend: a girlfriend who showed no tangible signs of progress or even reflection by the end.

Didn't love seeing the treatment of the masc lesbian downgrade from a main character in season 1 to a plot device, occasional eye candy, or a supplement to other characters' arcs due to lack of writers' personal interest in her. (This attention shift was confirmed by recent creator's comments btw). Her season 2 writing was not trauma informed, lesbian community history informed, nor did it consistently make sense with the values and background the writers assigned to her in season one.

The writers were clearly trying to present that ending as bittersweet or hopeful. But it was hard watching a traumatized masc crawl back to an ultra rich, privileged, and recently fascist criminal girlfriend who never apologized, fundamentally does not understand who Vi is, and who took advantage of her loyalty... And then they had Vi call herself the dirt under Cait's fingernails at the ending. I know all the interpretations of that line and I don't care. Impact over intention. That line had negative connotations that rubbed many people the wrong way given their dynamic's power imbalance and Cait's arc.

Cait got her bittersweet ending and got Vi without having to earn it. But Vi was written to receive more suffering and trauma up until the end, and her "bittersweet ending" is being severed from her community with no family left, stuck uhauling in a blimp with the only person left in her life: a rich toxic girlfriend who only ever liked the idea of her?

It was not bittersweet knowing that Vi would continue to be microaggressed, misunderstood, or even abused by Cait and it was frustrating that it was framed as a happy ending for CaitVi. Frankly, Cait has been and would likely continue to be the main person benefitting from the relationship given the dynamic's unaddressed power imbalance.

Everything that happened to Vi in season 2 felt less like intentional, well written tragedy and more like suffering for the sake of having her suffer because writers didn't know what to do with her. Even their attempt at a bittersweet CaitVi ending was further suffering for Vi.

Vi please, while the mongoose isn't looking and is unarmed, RUN!!!

[theanimearchivist]

A New Face in the Delta: A Stack and Annie Story

Pairing: Stack/ Annie

Summary:

There’s a new face in the Delta and Stack thinks he should make himself known.

The twins vividly remember the first time they met Annie. It was a couple of weeks after they got back from the war. They were staying in between Uncle Jed’s and Mary’s mother’s house. This week it was Mary’s mother and she sent both boys into town to pick up a couple of things from the Chow’s market. Stack was the first to notice her. Clarksdale was a small community so it wasn’t nothing that word spread around about two new arrivals from Louisiana. Annie was inspecting a green bell pepper when she caught Stack staring at her and their eyes locked. He couldn’t look away. Her eyes, that was the first thing Stack noticed: there was something about the way her they didn’t seem fearful like most people’s when they see he and his brother, they were firm, powerful like she didn’t take no mess, they were kind too. Stack let his eyes leave hers and without shame he let them roam the rest of her. She has smooth, pretty dark skin that he bet smelled like cocoa butter and full lips that looked soft. She was wearing a pair of blue chandelier earrings and a stack of beaded necklaces the same color. She wore a short sleeved dark blue dress with a low collar that showed a healthy amount of pillowy looking cleavage that he would love to lay his head on.

“You gone speak or just keep staring at me.”

Annie’s body was fully facing Stack now only the produce stand between them. She had a basket in her right hand and her left hand was on her hip. Those beautiful, kind eyes Stack had been admiring were now accompanied by a raised eyebrow and a look of slight irritation. For the first time in his life, Stack was rendered speechless. Usually, it was Smoke who was the less talkative of the two of them.

“Well.” Annie asked with pursed lips.

Stack finally spoke and put on her signature charm.

“I’m sorry, baby. I couldn’t help myself. I haven’t seen your gorgeous face ‘round here before,” he grinned at her. He made his way around the stand of produce separating them.

“Elias Moore, ma’am.”

Stack gave Annie one of his signature dimpled smiles and offered his hand. Annie didn’t take it but she did return his big smile with a half one.

“I know who you are. You and your brother have quite the reputation. Are you the one they call Smoke or are you Stack?”

“I’m Stack, ma’am,” he answered with a bit of a chuckle.

“Ma’am huh, I reckon we the same age. The only ma’am is my grandmama and she ain’t here now.”

Stack sucked his teeth and finally put his unshaken hand down.

“Alright, so what can I call you?”

“Annie.”

“Nice to meet you, Annie. How you enjoying the Delta so far?”

“Fine so far, can’t say I’ve been here long enough to form an opinion.”

“Well, if you ever need an escort around town, my brother and I would be happy to show you. I promise we ain’t as bad as people say.” Stack reached for Annie’s right hand, the one with the basket, and attempted to kiss it.

She pulled it back before he had the chance, but she didn’t seem angry. She seemed more amused than anything.

“I’ll do that. It was nice meeting you, Stack.”

“Likewise, I hope we see each other real soon, Annie.”

Annie took the bell pepper she’d been holding and made her way to the register. Stack watched her walk away and his eyes stayed on her until she left the market. He licked his lips.

“Who’s that?” Smoke came up behind him with their groceries in hand. He now along with his brother was watching Annie walk away.

“A new face in the Delta.”

Stack didn’t take notice, but his twin was now staring at Annie with the same lustful eyes.

[lovesickf-fics]

That omega silco x alpha reader noncon fic is still lovingly rotating in my mind and I'm wondering if I could request a second part?:0 could be either smut or just pure angst up to u! XD - 🐺 anon

Fur and wool look cute together

tw : post knot, knotted together, omegaverse, overstim, knot tugging, cum spilling, biting, soft sex, mate bites, scenting, breeding

character(s) mentioned : Silco (arcane)

reader pronouns : he/him

summary : pt 2 of this! fic, after being bred and knotted like the good omega silco is, you show him why you knew that he needed an alpha in his life

a/n : a hint of angst and a lot of smut because that's a yummy combo, but oh, this was so fun to write

The assumption of hatred wasnt wrong. When silco awoke he tried to scamper, yelling and flailing. The tugging making the skin at the base of the knot ache.

Gripping him made him squirm more, twisting and tugging until the alpha had to groan, his body not letting up or go of the omega.

Silco learned eventually, the grip on his hips and the pained sounds making his insticts lean in, to help his mate. His mate, who he never asked for, never wanted and someone who took advantage of him.

Silco starts to shake, not from fear but from bitten back tears. He holds the omega, no other choice all while silco does everything in his power to hide his feelings from the man tied to him, through emotions, soul and lust.

Silco had spent years building himself up as himself, no alpha to hide behind, using his own wit and power to rise to the top and now it was ruined. He smacked at the alpha, hitting him over and over but it did nothing, he could do nothing.

It takes time, for silco to calm, to turn, to even look at him without glaring, but the time is too much to ask because as soon as the omega opens his mouth the second wave of his heat hits. The knot beginning to deflate made the smell of his alphas cum stronger and it triggered the cycle to go again.

Silco soaks everything. The sheets beneath them, their thighs, and his knot. Nothing but desperation in the air, the smell of uncertainty wiped away.

They would have to talk but first he had to make his omega calm again. Slower this time, to show him everything he's gotten now that he tied them together

He moves silco, so instead of spooning, he's behind them, the perfect position for letting his omega feel every inch, and to see silco's ass move with every thrust, but that wasn't the full priority.

Silco is perfectly content, if not impatient, now that the pheramones and hormones are in overdrive he has no thoughts to spare on being angry, all of him focused on being the perfect mate so he can be knotted and bred.

He doesn't make the omega wait, gently fucking into him, the loosening knot making each thrust addicting, the slow pull making it feel tight all over again, pulling to the tip and lowering slowly, making him every inch, and he does.

He practically collapses, legs weak to the point the alphas hands are supporting all of him, he lays there half hovering while his omega cock dribbles into the sheets, making a new puddle in the nest.

Fucking silco feels like nothing he'd ever felt before, and doing it like this? slow? caring and even a little bit loving? It's making him go crazy, pheramones, and insticts to love and care for his omega are nothing but content.

Silco takes it all, his whole body made for this, he melts entirely, letting his alpha, his mate take care of him.

Hands start to wander, making love is great, but it sure can get boring, He touches the omega all over, down the curves he had hidden under shirts and vests, up to his chest where his perky little tits sat, omegas were built so perfectly and cupping the omegas tits in his hands proved that.

He took his time with silco hoping that after this round they could speak, communicate and love eachother properly.

He slid his hand down, fingers playing with the omega's cock, tugging until he moaned louder, then he slid down, using his hand he tugged the omega's cunt more, stretching him, reshaping him ontop of the knot, making it slip deeper as it starts to swell once more

With the knot teasing him again, silco moans, pushing back with each gentle thrust, his body ricocheting with the attempts, the knot is covered in slick, the smell is getting stronger, all signs that the omega feels good, making the alpha want more.

The soft doesnt last with them like this, silco is mumbling about being bred and knotted, his brain mush from the feeling of being fucked and it's something he cant ignore, he starts going a little rougher, till the smacking of hips to ass echo louder than the muffled moans silco is producing.

Theyre small, timid and weak, the opposite of what he acts when he isnt in heat, its endearing and it makes the alpha want to see everything else silco can be, heat or not.

He keeps going, tip to base harder and harder until he feels himself struggling to pull out, close to popping his knot once more he leans down to silco, gently pulling out just to turn them, so theyre facing eachother, he pushes back in, one motion, making silco bite him. Silco bites, hard, breaking the skin and now the bond is shared, silco cums as it connects them, the overwhelming feeling of being owned and also owning taking him over the ledge.

With the help of the new load of slick and cum the knot slides in, popping and connecting them together, and he cums, breeding silco again while the omega nuzzles slightly, scenting the alpha as his own.

They lay like that, knotted, tangled and scenting eachother as they come down from their highs.

Silco knows that alphas being bitten back isnt common, it means something, it means mutual respect. Maybe, just maybe they can talk it out

[hellaverse-reimagined]

Imps of Hell: Stairways AU

All imps are immune to fire and can see in the dark.

Wrath: Reddest of the imps. Hide is a mix of scales and thick skin. Some can breathe fire (a technique that can be learned if properly trained) Average wrath imp can lift 10x their size. Strength-testing competitions are very popular. All wrath imps have hooves. Features can be any mix of pig, lizard, or cow. Farming community that values toughness and strength above all else. Doesn't like outsiders. Many pray to the Horseman God of War for triumph over adversity and their enemies. Speak with US deep south accents.

Greed: draconic, flightless. Big claws for digging ores. Long, thick tails to balance themselves. Heaviest of the imps. Can grow gem-like scales if they eat the right minerals (gemstones) Have sharp molars for grinding up stone. Greed imp children are enrolled in schools that specialize in law, science, and mathematics. They can continue their studies at maturity (Greed for knowledge is still Greed), but most go to work in the mines. Have special organs attached to their lungs that filter out particles and contaminants in the air (evolved for mining and breathing in smog). This makes them resistant to airborne particulate effects such as pollens, stun powder, sleep powder, and airborne poisons, and strengthens their immune systems. They also smell with their tongues.

Envy: amphibious - can breathe water and air. Skin is smooth like an eel, have neon freckle-like spots that generate electricity. Fins on forearms and tails. Fast on land, and even faster under water. Second pair of eyelids. Sharpest teeth and strongest jaws among any of the imps. Have a second set of jaws like a moray eel. Many become pearl harvesters in torment or pirates on the seas’ surface.

Sloth: wooly and goat-like, resistant to cold. Have big, curved horns. Hair is white to match the tundra. Can style their wool into intricate designs as a fashion statement. Can scale any wall that isn't 90 degrees. Have 4 sets of canines teeth with the rest being incisors and strong molars for eating roots and things encased in ice. Can speak in pitches that only other Sloth imps can hear, evolved so they can communicate between mountain tops, which evolved into sonokinesis powers (sound manipulation/vibration based power) and lovely singing voices. One of the more educated race of Imps, Belphagor has schools of medicine and technology, many Sloth imps work at St. Oozing's Home for the Unwell to perfect the art of medical malpractice. (Imps are drawn more to the harming arts than the healing arts). The sloth imps that get into tech jobs often do grunt work, either in factories or in office settings.

Gluttony: vibrant colors, more reptilian. Can spit venom. Many have frills. Long, prehensile tails. Adept at climbing and survival. Live in tree top communities in the Jungles of Gluttony where there are bountiful psychedelic fruits. High metabolism. Typically laid back, but get aggressive if they go too long without eating. Very community and family-focused. Rarely ever seen on the jungle floor, too many things there that will eat them. When bored of the tree tops, younglings will visit Flesh Pit Park or go on adventures to other rings, oblivious to the rules and caste system beyond their tree top home. With cross-breeds, visible traits are dominant, ability traits are recessive.

Lust: Evolved natural poisons and bright-on-dark coloration to ward off predators. As the Urban sprawls of Lust grew, their poisons weakened in potency and now have minor psychotropic effects that are only deadly in large doses. Different imps have different potencies and effects, but these only develop around puberty, as the poison develops with the endocrine system. In schools, teachers often have to stop their imp students from licking each other in class. These poisons are non-toxic to other lust imps and produce mild pleasurable effects, while for non-imps the poisons can render even large demons incapacitated. The most common poisons are hallucinogenic and cause non-imps to foam at the mouth. Another common poison is depressants, which can knock out a large demon, but not kill them, waking up with splitting headaches. Poisons with stimulant effects are very rare, but the stimulants only have positive effects for imps themselves, and while non-imps can get a "high" from it, the stimulant is too powerful and often results in cardiac arrest. Because of this, Hellborne in Lust refrain from biting imps in combat.

Pride: Beyond the urban sprawls, Pride is home to many misty swamps that addle the mind. Pride imps have evolved to be immune to these swamps as well as magicks that affect the mind. While these small imps don't have any potent magicks themselves besides being able to produce minor illusions to deter predators in the swamps, they are naturally drawn to magic. Many Pride imps seek to the employ of mages such as the goetia, only to be disappointed with roles like butler or maid. Sinners may be at the bottom of Hell's hierarchy, but more Pride Imps have found satisfaction working under Powerful Overlords than the Goetia, as Overlords are more likely to give them evil tasks of mischief and trickery. In turn, however, they risk being ostracized by their imp peers.

[hlficlibrary]

hey babes, um looking for stories like h&l meet eo/like eo but one has to work in another place so they stop seeing eo and time pass and when they are together again, one of them, or both are in a relationship but still like eo and they are jealous of the current partner or smt similar. thank youuu <3

Hi, anon! You're very welcome! Here are some fics that I think fit what you're looking for...

Hold You Now by solvetheminourdreams / @cursethedaylight

The string within Harry's own sweatpants is now dangling outside of his pocket, stretched so far out that the seams of his pants have tightened. His eyes remain hyper focused on Louis, how oblivious he is—scrolling through his phone without a care in the world, while Harry feels his tilt on its axis.   Three years ago, Harry Styles said goodbye to communications consultancy firm McQuiston Worldwide, leaving a life of travel and agency PR behind. When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

Next to your Heartbeat (where I should be) by jaded25

"We were meant to be but a twist of fate made it so we had to walk away"

All it takes for them to fall in love is one night. All they have to do is wait one year to see each other again.

Yet, when Louis returns after his year abroad, the boy who's got his arms wrapped around Harry isn't him. It isn't a stranger either, which should make walking away all that easier. After all, friend's don't lust after their mate's boyfriends.

Technically, doing the right thing should be easy - but when has Louis ever been known to taking the easy way out?

Far Away. by dimpled_halo / @comebackassholes

Harry swallows hard, clearing his throat. “Hi Lou,” he says, looking at Louis reluctantly. He’s even more gorgeous than he remembers, so much, he feels uneasy looking directly at him, he’s so beautiful. Louis looks at Harry, does a quick once-over and smiles, eyes so bright and blue—just how Harry remembers. “Harold!” He gets up out of his seat and embraces him into a warm hug. It’s a friendly platonic hug; one that ends way too soon. Harry wishes it would last longer so that he can breathe Louis in and memorize his new but somehow still familiar scent. It instantly leaves his body aching for more.

Harry returns to London after five years. Stuck in the past with "what ifs" and "what might have beens", he sees that his friends and ex (and possible love of his life) Louis have all moved on with their lives while he finds himself questioning his own life choices, past and present.